BFF* (21 page)

I was very glad to see Mrs. Remo back at her desk in homeroom. Mrs. Zeller had never forgiven me for saying the A-word in class, and I'd felt uncomfortable around her all week long. After Mrs. Remo took attendance she stood and said, “I want to thank all of you for your kind thoughts and generous contribution to the Cancer Society in memory of my father. He was a fine man and I'm going to miss him very much.” She choked up. “But he had a long, productive life and that's what counts.”

I felt another lump in my throat. This one was even bigger than the one at the bus stop. This
one made me think about my father. Sometimes I feel guilty because I don't miss him that much, especially since the holidays. I think if he would just stay in L.A. everything would be okay. Maybe it would be different if Mom cried all the time or seemed depressed, but she doesn't. I think it would be a lot harder for us if Dad lived nearby and we had to go visit him and Iris.

Still, as Mrs. Remo told us about her father, I imagined all the terrible things that could happen to Dad. I imagined him crashing into a van on the Freeway, drowning in the ocean, having a heart attack at work. I couldn't stand the idea of anything happening to him, especially if he didn't know I still love him.

As soon as I got to math class I opened my notebook and started a letter.

Alison tugged at my arm. “Steph … he just called you to the board.”

I looked up and Mr. Burns was staring at me. “I won't even ask where your mind is this morning, Stephanie. It's clear that it's somewhere else. But if you wouldn't mind taking your turn at the board …”

I walked up to the blackboard and stood between Peter Klaff and Emily Giordano. Somehow I was able to solve the problem quickly and get it right. I would have to finish my letter to Dad during English.

But once a week, when we come into Mr. Diamond's class, we have a special writing assignment. And today was the day. Mr. Diamond had printed the topic on the board:
I
Used To Be … But I'm Not Anymore
. Mr. Diamond never grades these papers. He just writes comments. Also, spelling and grammar don't count. What counts is our ideas and how we present them. The following week he'll choose two or three papers to read out loud but he never tells us who wrote them. Sometimes you can figure it out, though.
He always picks the best papers to read, papers that make you think.

I sat for a long time before I started to write. I looked up at the ceiling for inspiration, then out the window, but all I saw were the tops of bare trees. I nibbled on my pencil.
I
Used To Be … But I'm Not Anymore
. I looked around the classroom. Almost everyone else was hard at work.

I thought about the letter I'd started to Dad during math class. I thought about how my life has changed. And then an idea came to me and I began to write. I wrote and wrote, filling up one sheet of paper after another. When the bell rang I looked up at the clock and couldn't believe the time had gone so quickly. I clipped my five pages together and wrote across the bottom:
Please do not read this aloud in class
.

At lunchtime Rachel begged me to introduce her to Max. “Please, Steph … I have to meet him!”

“Okay … okay …” I said. The two of us got on line right behind him. “Hey, Max!” I said, tapping him on the back. “How're you doing?”

He looked at me.

“Stephanie,” I said. “From your homeroom …”

“Oh, yeah …” he said. “You're El Chunko, right?”

I gritted my teeth. “You can call me either Stephanie or Steph, but that's it!”

“Sure,” Max said. “It's nothing to me … you know? I'll call you whatever you want.”

Rachel gave me a little kick, reminding me to introduce her to him.

“Oh, Max,” I said, “I'd like you to meet my friend, Rachel Robinson. She's in 7-202 … that's the homeroom right next to ours.”

“You're in seventh grade?” Max asked Rachel.

“Yes,” Rachel said.

“You're tall for seventh grade,” Max said.

“So are you,” Rachel told him.

Max laughed. He sounded like a horse.

“So …” Rachel said, “everything's up to date in Kansas City … right?”

“Huh?” Max said.

“Never mind,” Rachel said. “It's just a song.”

“You know a song about Kansas City?” Max asked.

“Yes … it's from a musical called
Oklahoma!”

“Whoa …” Max said, “this is going too fast for me.”

We reached the food counter and Max took fish cakes, mashed potatoes and peas. Nothing makes the cafeteria smell as bad as fish cakes.
Max put mustard on his. “Aren't you getting anything?” he asked us.

“We bring our lunch,” I told him. “But we buy our milk.”

Max followed us to our table. “Mind if I join you?”

“Uh … all the seats at this table are taken,” Rachel said. “Why don't you sit with Eric and Peter?”

“They're not as pretty as you,” Max said to Rachel.

Rachel turned purple and took a deep breath.

Max leaned over and spoke softly. “Some day I'd like to hear that song about Kansas City.”

As soon as he was gone Rachel said, “I've got to get something new to wear to the Ground Hog Day dance.”

“He seems to like you fine just the way you are,” I told her.

“He did seem to like me, didn't he?”

“Yes.”

“You think he really does or was it just an act?”

“I don't think it was an act.”

“Suppose he really
does
like me?”

“So … you want him to, don't you?”

“I think I do but …” Rachel watched me as I unpacked my lunch. “A hardboiled egg and carrot sticks?” she asked.

“Mom and I are watching our weight.”

“Is it because the boys are calling you El Chunko?”

“It has nothing to do with them!”

The Celebrity

Bruce won second place in the
Kids for Peace
poster contest. The reporters who came to our house to interview him had questions for me, too. “Tell us, Stephanie … how does it feel to have a brother who's so involved in the peace movement?”

“I'm very proud of my little brother,” I told them. I kept stressing
little
and
younger
when I talked about Bruce. And I didn't say one word about his nightmares.

“Your brother seems to have a very supportive family. Would you say that's true?”

“Oh, yes … definitely.”

“Have your parents encouraged him in his quest for peace?”

“Let's put it this way,” I told them. “They haven't discouraged him.”

“Then they're not activists themselves?”

“Pardon?” That's the word Rachel uses when she's talking to grown-ups and she doesn't get what they mean.

Mom had been standing across the living room with Bruce, who was being interviewed by another reporter. Now she walked over to me and put her arm around my shoulder.

“Mrs. Hirsch …” the reporter said, “I was just asking Stephanie if you or Mr. Hirsch are activists in the peace movement?”

“Well, no …” Mom said, “not exactly … although we certainly believe in it. My business takes up most of my time.”

“And your husband?”

“He's in California … also on business.”

“So what you're saying is that your ten-year-old son did this on his own?”

“Yes, that's right.”

War Is Stupid! Says Ten-Year-Old Poster Winner
, the headline read in the Sunday paper. Under that was a picture of Bruce and a story about him.

Bruce called Dad to tell him the good news. And Dad called Bruce two more times over the
weekend. The first time I answered the phone. He said, “Isn't it great about your brother!”

And I said, “Yes.”

“I'll bet the phone hasn't stopped ringing.”

“Mom's thinking of taking it off the hook.”

“Wish I were there to celebrate with you.”

I didn't respond.

“Well, let me talk to Bruce.”

After he called
again
I asked Bruce, “What'd he want this time?”

Bruce said, “You know … more about being proud of me. And he wanted to remind me to wear a tie and jacket to the White House.”

On Monday, at the bus stop, Dana said, “I saw Bruce's picture in the paper yesterday. He's so famous!”

“Yeah … he is,” I said.

“Did he leave for Washington yet?” Rachel asked.

“He's leaving at nine,” I told her. Mom is going with him. Bruce and the other poster winners are meeting the President this afternoon. Then they're flying to New York and staying overnight at a hotel because tomorrow morning they're going to be on the
Today
show. I'm going to spend the night at Aunt Denise's.

“Have you heard about me and Jeremy?” Dana asked.

“No … what?” I asked.

She shook her wrist. She was wearing Jeremy's I.D. bracelet again.

“What happened?” Rachel asked.

“He realized he'd made a terrible mistake and he begged me to forgive him.”

“That's so romantic,” Alison said.