BFF* (20 page)

“The one in Missouri,” I added, as I opened my lunch bag and spread out a tunafish sandwich with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise, a bag of Fritos, two doughnuts and an apple.

“He's in my Spanish class,” Alison continued, “and he couldn't answer one question. He's a complete airhead.”

“I'll bet he's at least 5′8″,” Rachel said, staring.

“Did you hear what Alison said?” I asked. “She
said
he's a complete airhead.”

“You can't judge a person's intelligence by how he behaves in one class on his first day at a new school,” Rachel said.

“Especially if he's a
comely
new person,” Alison said.

“Oh, right,” I added, “especially if he's
really
comely.” Alison and I laughed and laughed.

Rachel pushed up her sleeves. “Sometimes the two of
you
act like complete airheads!”

El Chunko

Aunt Denise gave Mom an exercise tape for Christmas. When Mom got home from work on Monday night, she put on shorts and a T-shirt, shoved the tape into the VCR and jumped around doing something called Jazzercise.

I made myself a snack of rye bread slathered with cream cheese, then curled up in my favorite chair in the den and watched as Mom huffed and puffed her way through the tape. Mom is shaped like a pear, small on top and wider on the bottom. She says there's nothing you can do about the way you're built. It's all in the genes.

I draped my legs over the arm of the chair and devoured the rye bread as Mom lay on her
mat doing some kind of fancy sit-ups to an old Michael Jackson song. Mom copied everything the Jazzercise leader did. When the leader asked,
Are you smiling?
Mom smiled. When she asked,
Are you still breathing?
Mom shouted, “Yes!”

“You know what Eric Macaulay called me today?” I asked Mom.

“What?” she said, without missing a beat.

“He called me El Chunko … so then I called him an asshole.”

I expected Mom to give me a lecture about using unacceptable language at school. But instead she said, “You have gained weight, Steph. Why don't you join me … Jazzercise is fun!” She was on her hands and knees raising one leg to the side, then the other. Each time she did, she groaned.

“It doesn't look like fun,” I said.

“It's not as bad as it looks.” She was panting so hard she could barely talk.

When that number was over the Jazzercise leader applauded and said,
Give your glutes a hand!

Mom sat up and applauded, too.

“Where are your glutes?” I asked.

“Back here,” Mom said, grabbing the lower part of her backside.

“Oh,” I said.

The next day Mom brought home a digital scale. When she stepped on it her weight flashed across the screen in red numbers. “You're next, Steph.”

“No thanks.”

“Come on …”

“I
said
no thanks!”

“Look,” Mom said, “I know you don't want to talk about this but I'm concerned about your health. I need to know exactly how much weight you've gained since the school year began.”

“A few pounds,” I said. Actually, I had no idea how much weight I'd gained. The school nurse weighs us the first week of school but other than that I haven't been near a scale.

“Stephanie,” Mom said, sounding very serious, “get on the scale.”

“Not with my clothes on.”

“Okay … then get undressed.”

“Not in front of you.”

“I'm your mother.”

“I know! That's the point.”

“Then get undressed in the bathroom … but hurry up.”

I could tell Mom was losing patience with me. So I went to the bathroom, took off all my clothes, wrapped myself in a towel, then ran back to Mom's room and stepped on the scale.

“Stephanie!” Mom said, as the numbers flashed.

“This scale is at least ten pounds overweight,” I told her.

“No, it's not. It's exactly right. I'm calling Dr. Klaff in the morning. We've got to do something about this.”

“Don't call Dr. Klaff!” I said. I could just see the Klaff family at the dinner table talking about me.
Stephanie Hirsch has gained quite a bit of weight
, Dr. Klaff would say.

And Kara would say,
I'm not surprised. I'm at her lunch table and she's been pigging out since Thanksgiving
.

Then Peter would say,
I used to like her, but that was before she turned into El Chunko. Now I'm not so sure. I don't even know if I'm going to dance with her at the Ground Hog Day dance
.

Then Kara would say,
But Peter … if you don't, who will?

“I want Dr. Klaff to recommend a sensible diet,” Mom was saying, “not one of those fad diets that ruins your health.”

“Who said anything about a diet?” I asked.

“How do you expect to lose weight without a diet and exercise?”

“I don't know.”

That night after dinner Mom cleaned out the pantry. She got rid of every cookie, pretzel and potato chip. Then she attacked the freezer, pulling out the frozen cakes and doughnuts. “From
now on,” she said, “it's carrot and celery sticks for snacks.”

I watched as Mom packed all the goodies into a shopping bag. “What are you going to do with them?”

“I'm taking them to Aunt Denise's house. Howard and his friends can have it all.”

“Don't you care about his weight and health?”

“Howard is as thin as a flagpole,” Mom said.

“I'm going to starve,” I said. “I won't have enough energy left to exercise.”

“You'll have more energy than you do now,” Mom told me. “Wait and see.”

That night I stood naked in front of the full length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. It was steamy from my bath, but I could see enough. My breasts were growing or else they were just fat. It was hard to tell. Maybe if I lost weight, I'd lose them, too. My glutes were pretty disgusting. When I jumped up and down they shook. The hair down there, my pubic hair, was growing thicker. It was much darker than the hair on my head. My legs weren't bad but my feet were funny-looking. My second toes were longer than my big toes.

“Stephanie!” Bruce called, banging on the bathroom door. “I've got to go.”

I put on my robe and opened the door. “It's all yours.”

“I can't breathe in here,” he said, fanning the air. “Why do you have to steam it up every night?”

“Steam is good for you,” I told him. “It opens your pores.”

“Where are your pores?”

“You'll find out when you're my age.”

Flings

The phone rang just as we were finishing dinner the next night. It was Dad.

“How's school?” he asked me.

“Fine.”

“How are Rachel and Alison?”

“Fine.”

“How's the weather?”

“Cold with a chance of snow.”

“What's new?”

“Nothing.”

After that there was a minute of silence. Probably Dad was trying to think of some other question for me. When he couldn't he said, “Well … why don't you put Bruce on?”

I was at my desk later, doing math homework
and humming along with the Top Forty songs on my radio, when Mom came to my room. She stood behind me with her hands resting lightly on my shoulders. “Did something happen between you and Dad over the holidays?” When I didn't answer Mom continued, “I couldn't help noticing how distant you were to him on the phone.”

“It has to do with Iris,” I said. This was the first time I'd said Iris's name at home.

“Is she the woman Dad's seeing?”

“Yes. I wasn't sure if you knew.”

“I don't know the details,” Mom said, “but I know he's met someone.”

“Doesn't it bother you?” I asked.

“I guess I don't like the idea of being replaced so easily.”

I turned around and faced Mom. “You're not being replaced! Iris is just a fling.”

Mom laughed.

“It's not funny!”

“I know … and you're probably right … it's just a fling.”

I was glad Mom agreed with me. I felt a lot better until she said, “I imagine I'll have my own fling one of these days.”

“You!” I said. “When?”

“I don't know.”

“Will it be before or after my birthday?”

Mom laughed again.

“I'm serious,” I told her. “I want to know.”

“Forget it, Steph.”

“No, I'm not going to forget it. Is having a fling part of a trial separation? Is it something everyone does?”

“I was just kidding,” Mom said.

But I knew she wasn't.

Thoughts

Jeremy Dragon is available again! But the three of us can't be happy about it because Dana is so miserable. She came to the bus stop the following Monday morning with red and swollen eyes. “It's all over,” she said, holding up her naked wrist.

“What happened?” Rachel asked.

“We went to a party and he made out with Marcella, that eighth-grade slut.” Tears spilled down her cheeks.

Alison put her arm around Dana's waist. “I'm really sorry.”

I gave Dana a tissue to blow her nose.

“I trusted him,” Dana said. “I trusted him with my innermost feelings and he betrayed me.”

I felt a lump in my throat. If this was love you could have it!

“I don't know how I'm going to face him on the bus this morning,” Dana said. “Do you think I could sit with the three of you … because my closest friends don't ride this bus and …”

“We'd be honored,” Rachel said.

“And we'll never speak to Jeremy again!” I promised.

When the bus stopped we got on and found seats together. At the next stop, when Jeremy got on and greeted us in his usual way, “Hey, Macbeth!” we turned away from him.