Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret (8 page)

On March eighth I was twelve years old. The first thing I did was sniff under my arms, the way my mother does. Nothing! I didn't smell a thing. Still, now that I was twelve, I decided I'd better use deodorant, just in case. I went into my parents' bathroom and reached for my mother's roll-on. When I got dressed I went down to the kitchen for breakfast.

"Happy Birthday, Margaret!" my mother sang, bending over to kiss me while I was drinking my orange juice.

"Thank you, Mom," I said. "I used your deodorant."

My mother laughed. "You don't have to use mine. I'll get you your own."

"You will?" I asked.

"Sure, if you want to use it regularly."

"Well, I think I'd better. I'm twelve now, you know."

"I know-I know." My mother smiled at me while she cut some banana onto my cereal.

Grandma sent me a hundred-dollar savings bond as she does every year-plus three new sweaters with
Made Expressly for You… by Grandma
labels in them, a new bathing suit and an airline ticket to Florida! Round trip, leaving from Newark Airport at noon on April fourth. Was I excited!

In school Mr. Benedict shook my hand and wished me a lot of good luck in the coming year. He led the class in singing "Happy Birthday" to me. Nancy, Janie and Gretchen chipped in and bought me the new Mice Men record album. They gave it to me at lunch. Nancy mailed me a separate birthday card signed,
A million thanks to the best friend a girl could ever have.
I guess she was still scared I'd give away her secret.

That afternoon Mr. Benedict announced that for the next three weeks a part of each school day would be devoted to committee work. We were going to do projects on different countries. Janie, Nancy, Gretchen and I gave each other looks saying we'd work together, of course.

But that sneaky Miles J. Benedict! He said that since he wanted us to work with people we hadn't worked with before he had made up the committees already. Well, that's a first-year teacher for you! Didn't he know that was a bad idea? Didn't he know he was supposed to let us form our own committees? Teachers never come right out and say they've picked who you should work with. It's bad enough that they fool you a lot by pretending to let you choose a subject when they know all along what you're going to do. But this was ridiculous!

I guess Mr. Benedict didn't think it was ridiculous because he was already reading out names of committees. Each group had four kids in it. Two boys and two girls, with one group left over that had three girls. I really couldn't believe it when he read my group. Norman Fishbein, Philip Leroy, Laura Danker and me! I glanced sideways at Janie. She rolled her eyes at me. I raised my eyebrow back at her.

Mr. Benedict asked us to rearrange our desks into our groups. I was going to have to talk to Laura Danker! There would be no way of getting out of it. I was also going to be spending a lot of time with Philip Leroy, which was pretty exciting to think about.

The first thing Philip did after we moved our desks together was to sing to me.

Then he pinched me on the arm-really hard! Enough to make tears come to my eyes. He said, "That's pinch to grow an inch. And you know where you need that inch!"

I knew it was just a joke. I knew I shouldn't take it seriously. For one thing, I did not smell like a monkey. I was wearing deodorant! And for another thing, it was none of Philip Leroy's business whether or not I needed to grow an inch
anywhere
! As far as I was concerned, Nancy could have him. They deserved each other.

To make matters worse I had to sit facing Laura Danker. I hated her. I hated her for being so big and beautiful and having all the boys stare at her, including Mr. Benedict. Also, I hated her because she knew she was normal and I didn't know a thing about me! I hated Mr. Benedict too-for sticking me with Norman Fishbein. Norman was such a drip!

So all in all my birthday, which started out to be the most perfect day of my life, ended up being pretty rotten. I couldn't wait for spring vacation to come. The only good thing I had to look forward to was my trip to Florida. I was sick of school.

At home my mother said she'd never seen me in such a bad mood. The mood lasted the whole three weeks of that dumb committee project. To top off everything else our group voted three to one to report on Belgium. I wanted a more exciting country, like France or Spain. But I lost.

So I ate, breathed and slept Belgium for three weeks. Philip Leroy was a lousy worker. I found that out right away. All he did was fool around. During project time, while Laura, Norman and I were busy looking things up in reference books, Philip was busy drawing funny faces in his notebook. On two days he snuck comic books inside his notebook and read them instead. Norman Fishbein tried hard but he was so slow! And I couldn't stand the way he read with his lips moving. Laura was a good worker. But of course, I never told her that
I
thought so.

During the third week of Project Belgium Laura and I got permission to stay after school and work in the library. We needed more time with the encyclopedias. My mother was going to pick me up in front of school at four-thirty. Laura was going to walk from school to church because she had to go to Confession.

Now that really started me thinking. For one thing, I never knew she was Catholic. For another, I wondered what she said in Confession. I mean, did she talk about what she did with boys? And if she did, what did the priest say to her? Did she go to Confession every time she did something bad? Or did she save it all up and go once a month?

I was so busy thinking about Laura and the Confessional that I nearly forgot about Belgium. And probably I never would have said anything at all if it hadn't been for Laura. She picked on me first. So she was really to blame for the whole thing.

"You're copying that straight out of the
World Book
word for word," she whispered to me.

"So?"

"Well, you can't do that," she explained. "You're supposed to read it and then write about it in your own words. Mr. Benedict will
know
if you've copied."

Normally I don't copy word for word. I know the rules as well as Laura. But I was busy thinking about other things and anyway, who did Laura think she was giving orders like that? Big shot!

So I said: "Oh, you think you're so great, don't you!"

And she said: "This has nothing to do with being great."

And I said: "I know all about you anyway!"

And she said: "What's
that
supposed to mean?"

And the librarian said: "Girls-let's be more quiet."

And then Laura went back to work. But I didn't.

"I heard all about you and Moose Freed," I whispered.

Laura put down her pencil and looked at me. "You heard
what
about me and Moose Freed?"

"Oh-about how you and Evan and Moose go behind the A amp;P," I said.

"What would I do
that
for?" Laura asked.

She was really thick! "I don't know what
you
do it for. But I know why
they
do it… they do it so they can
feel
you or something and
you
let them!"

She shut the encyclopedia hard and stood up. Her face was burning red and I saw a blue vein stick out in her neck. "You filthy liar!
You little pig
!" Nobody ever called me such names in my whole life.

Laura scooped up her books and her coat and ran out of the library. I grabbed my things and followed her.

I was really being awful. And I hadn't even planned it. I sounded like Nancy. That's when it hit me that for all I knew Nancy made up that story about Laura. Or maybe Moose and Evan made it up just to brag. Yes, I bet they did! Moose was a big liar too!

"Hey Laura! Wait up," I called.

She walked fast-probably because her legs were so long. I chased her. When I finally caught up to her I could hardly breathe. Laura kept walking and wouldn't look at me. I didn't blame her. I walked alongside her. I took four steps to every two of hers.

"Look," I told her. "I'm not saying it's wrong to do those things."

"I think it's disgusting that you all pick on me because I'm big!" Laura said, sniffling.

I wanted to tell her to blow her nose. "I didn't mean to insult you," I said. "You're the one who started it."

"Me? That's a good one! You think it's such a great game to make fun of me, don't you?"

"No," I said.

"Don't you think I know all about
you
and your friends? Do you think it's any fun to be the biggest kid in the class?"

"I don't know," I said. "I never thought about it."

"Well, try thinking about it. Think about how you'd feel if you had to wear a bra in fourth grade and how everybody laughed and how you always had to cross your arms in front of you. And about how the boys called you dirty names just because of how you looked."

I thought about it. "I'm sorry, Laura," I said.

"I'll bet!"

"I really am. If you want to know the truth… well, I wish I looked more like you than like me."

"I'd gladly trade places with you. Now, I'm going to Confession." She walked on mumbling something about how the wrong ones always confessed.

And I thought, maybe she's right. Maybe I was the one who should confess. I followed Laura to her church. It was only two blocks from school. I still had half an hour before my mother was due. I crossed the street and hid behind a bush watching Laura climb the steps and disappear into the church.

Then I crossed back to the other side of the street and ran up the brick steps. I held open the front door and looked inside. I didn't see Laura. I stepped into the church and tiptoed up the aisle.

It was so quiet. I wondered what would happen if I decided to scream; of course I knew I wouldn't, but I couldn't help wondering about how a scream would sound in there.

I was really hot in my heavy coat, but I didn't take it off. After a while I saw Laura come out of a door and I crouched down behind a row of seats so she wouldn't see me. She never even glanced my way. I thought it didn't take her very long to confess.

I felt weird. My legs were getting weak. As soon as Laura left the church I stood up. I meant to leave too. I had to meet my mother back at school. But instead of walking to the front of the church and outside, I headed the other way.

I stood in front of the door that Laura came from. What was inside? I opened it a little. There was nobody there. It looked like a wooden phone booth. I stepped in and closed the door behind me. I waited for something to happen. I didn't know what I was supposed to do, so I just sat there.

Finally I heard a voice. "Yes, my child."

At first I thought it was God. I really and truly thought it was, and my heart started to pound like crazy and I was all sweaty inside my coat and sort of dizzy too. But then I realized it was only the priest in the booth next to mine. He couldn't see me and I couldn't see him but we could hear each other. Still, I didn't say anything. "Yes, my child," he said again.

"Yes?" the priest asked me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered.

I flung open the door and ran down the aisle and out of the church. I made my way back to school, crying, feeling horribly sick and scared stiff I would throw up. Then I saw my mother waiting in the car and I got in the back and explained I was feeling terrible. I stretched out on the seat. My mother drove home and I didn't have to tell her any of the awful things I'd done because she thought I was sick for real.

Later that night she brought a bowl of soup to my room and she sat on the edge of my bed while I ate it. She said I must have had a virus or something and she was glad I was feeling better but I didn't have to go to school tomorrow if I didn't feel like it. Then she turned out the light and kissed me goodnight.

Are you there God? It's me, Margaret I did an awful thing today. Just awful! I'm definitely the most horrible person who ever lived and I really don't deserve anything good to happen to me. I picked on Laura Danker. Just because I felt mean I took it all out on her. I really hurt Laura's feelings. Why did you let me do that? I've been looking for you God. I looked in temple. I looked in church. And today, I looked for you when I wanted to confess. But you weren't there. I didn't feel you at all. Not the way I do when I talk to you at night. Why God? Why do I only feel you when I'm alone?

A week before spring vacation the letter came. Only it wasn't from Grandma and it wasn't about my trip to Florida. It was from Mary and Paul Hutchins, my other grandparents. Now that was really strange because since they disowned my mother when she got married naturally they never wrote to her. My father, having no kind thoughts about them, really hit the roof.

"How did they get our address? Answer that one simple question please! Just how did they get our address?"

My mother practically whispered her answer. "I sent them a Christmas card. That's how."

My father hollered. "I can't believe you, Barbara! After fourteen years you sent
them
a Christmas card?"

"I was feeling sentimental. So I sent a card. I didn't write anything on it. Just our names."

My father shook the letter at my mother. "So now, after fourteen years-
fourteen years,
Barbara! Now they change their minds?"

"They want to see us. That's all."

"They want to see
you,
not me! They want to see Margaret! To make sure she doesn't have horns!"

"Herb! Stop it! You're being ridiculous-"

"
I'm being ridiculous
! That's funny, Barbara. That's very funny."

"You know what I think?" I asked them. "I think you're both being ridiculous!" I ran out of the kitchen and stormed up the stairs to my room. I slammed the door. I hated it when they had a fight in front of me. Why didn't they know how much I hated it! Didn't they know how awful they sounded? I could still hear them, shouting and carrying on. I put my hands over my ears while I crossed the room to my record player. Then I took one hand off one ear and turned on my Mice Men record as loud as it would go. There-that was much better.

A few minutes later my bedroom door opened. My father walked straight to my record player and snapped it off. My mother held the letter in her hand. Her eyes were red. I didn't say anything.

My father paced up and down. "Margaret," he finally said. "This concerns you. I think before we do or say anything else you ought to read the letter from your grandparents. Barbara… " He held out his hand.

My mother handed the letter to my father and he handed it to me. The handwriting was slanty and perfect, the way it is in third grade when you're learning script. I sat down on my bed.

Dear Barbara,

Your father and I have been thinking about you a lot. We are growing old. I guess you find that hard to believe, but we are. Suddenly, more than anything else we want to see our only daughter. We wonder if it is possible that we made a mistake fourteen years ago. We have discussed this situation with our minister and dear friend, Reverend Baylor. You remember him dear, don't you. My goodness, he christened you when you were a tiny baby. He says it's never too late to try again. So your father and I are flying East for a week and hope that you will let us visit you and get to know our granddaughter, Margaret Ann. Flight details are enclosed.

Your mother, Mary Hutchins

What a sickening letter! No wonder my father was mad. It didn't even mention him.

I handed the letter back to my father, but I didn't say anything because I didn't know what I was supposed to say.

"They're coming on April fifth," my father said.

"Oh, then I won't see them after all," I said, brightening. "I leave for Florida on the fourth."

My mother looked at my father.

"Well," I said. "Isn't that right? I leave for Florida on the fourth!"

They still didn't say anything and after a minute I knew-I
knew
I wasn't going to Florida! And then I had plenty to say. Plenty!

"I don't want to see them," I shouted. "It isn't fair! I want to go to Florida and stay with Grandma. Daddy-
please
!"

"Don't look at me," my father said quietly. "It's not my fault. I didn't send them a Christmas card."

"Mom!" I cried. "You can't do this to me. You can't! It's not fair-it's not!" I hated my mother. I really did. She was so stupid. What did she have to go and send them a dumb old card for!

"Come on, Margaret. It's not the end of the world," my mother said, putting her arm around me. "You'll go to Florida another time."

I wriggled away from her as my father said, "Somebody better call Sylvia and tell her the change in plans."

"I'll put the call through and Margaret can tell her now," my mother said.

"Oh no!" I shouted.
"You
tell her. It's not my idea!"

"All right," my mother said quietly. "All right, I will."

I followed my parents into their bedroom. My mother picked up the phone and placed a person-to-person call to Grandma at her hotel. After a few minutes she said, "Hello, Sylvia… It's Barbara… Nothing's wrong… Everything's fine… Yes, really… Of course I'm sure… It's just that Margaret won't be able to visit you after all… Of course she's here… she's standing right next to me… Yes, you can talk to her-"

My mother held the phone out toward me. But I shook my head and refused to take it. So she covered the mouthpiece and whispered, "Grandma thinks you're sick. You've got to tell her you're all right."

I took the phone. "Grandma," I said, "it's Margaret."

I heard Grandma catch her breath.

"Nothing's wrong, Grandma… No, I'm not sick… Nobody's sick… Of course I'm sure… But I do want to come, Grandma. I just can't." I felt the tears in my eyes. My throat hurt when I swallowed. My mother motioned for me to tell Grandma the rest of the story. "I can't come to Florida because we're having company that week." Now my voice sounded very high and squeaky.

Grandma asked me, what company?

"My other grandparents," I said. "You know, Mom's mother and father… Nobody invited them exactly… but Mom sent them a Christmas card with our new address and now we got a letter saying they're coming and they want to see me… Well, I know you want to see me too. And I want to see you but Mom won't let me… '"

Then I started to cry for real and my mother took the phone.

"We're all sorry, Sylvia. It's just one of those things. Margaret understands. I hope you do too. Thank you, Sylvia. I knew you would… Yes, Herb's fine. I'll put him on. Just a minute." I ran upstairs while my father said, "Hello, mother."

Are you there God? It's me, Margaret. I'm so miserable! Everything is wrong. Absolutely everything! I guess this is my punishment for being a horrible person. I guess you think it's only fair for me to suffer after what I did to Laura. Isn't that right God? But I've always tried to do what you wanted. Really, I have. Please don't let them come God. Make something happen so I can go to Florida anyway. Please…