BFF* (22 page)

“I wouldn't have forgiven him that easily,” Rachel said.

“Just wait until you're in love!” Dana said.

Rachel didn't tell her that she's halfway there.

At school everybody was talking about Bruce, including my teachers. Mrs. Remo said, “What a special brother you must have, Stephanie.”

By the end of the day I was sick of hearing about Bruce and how great he is. So when Mr. Diamond called me up to his desk after class I figured it was going to be more of the same. “Stephanie … that paper was amazing!”

“It wasn't that great,” I told him, thinking he meant the story in the newspaper.

“Believe me,” he said, “it was very special.”

It wasn't until he tapped the paper he was holding that I realized he wasn't talking about the newspaper. He was talking about the paper I'd written in class last week. Across the top in
green ink he had printed,
Interesting, revealing and straight from the heart!

“I've asked Mrs. Balaban to see you this afternoon,” Mr. Diamond said.

“Who's Mrs. Balaban?”

“The school counselor. She might be able to help you sort out your problems.”

“I don't have any problems.”

“I know these things are hard to face, Stephanie …”

“What things?”

“The kinds of problems you wrote about.”

“No,” I said, “you've got it all wrong!”

“Stephanie …” Mr. Diamond said, “go and see Mrs. Balaban.”

“Sit down, Stephanie,” Mrs. Balaban said.

I sat in the chair at the side of her desk. She was wearing a white sweater with a design knitted into it. On one hand her fingernails were long and polished pink. But on the other, three of her nails were very short and not polished at all. There was a picture of a baby on her desk.

When she caught me looking at it she turned it toward me and said, “This is Hilary … she's a year old now but she was only eight months when this was taken.”

“She's cute.”

Mrs. Balaban smiled and flicked her long, dark hair out of her way. “Do you have brothers or sisters?”

“I have one brother. He's ten. You probably read about him in yesterday's paper. He won second place in the
Kids for Peace
poster contest. He's going to meet the President and be on the
Today
show.”

“Really …” Mrs. Balaban said. “And how do you feel about that?”

“Me? Well … I'm glad for Bruce but I wouldn't mind being famous myself.” I laughed. It didn't sound like my regular laugh.

Mrs. Balaban lowered her voice as if she were telling me a secret. “Everything said in this office is strictly confidential, Stephanie.”

“Good,” I said.

Then we just looked at each other for the longest time. It reminded me of the staring contests we'd had at Girl Scout camp, where whoever blinks first, loses. Mrs. Balaban blinked first. “In February I'm starting an after school group for kids whose parents have split up.”

“My parents haven't split up.”

“Oh?” Mrs. Balaban studied the hand with the long fingernails. “Well, Stephanie … we can talk about anything that's on your mind … anything that's bothering you.”

“Nothing's bothering me.”

“I see.” She sharpened two yellow pencils. Then she said, “If you ever do want to talk I'll be here. I'm on your side. I hope you'll remember that.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks for stopping by.” She reached across her desk and shook my hand. “I'm trying to meet as many new students as I can.”

“There's a new boy in my homeroom,” I said. “Max Wilson. He's very tall. Maybe you should meet him.”

“Max Wilson …” Mrs. Balaban repeated, writing it down.

On Tuesday morning Aunt Denise and I watched the
Today
show together. Bruce came on right after the eight o'clock news. Aunt Denise grabbed my arm and held on during the entire interview, which lasted five minutes. Bruce looked like he was having a good time. The other two poster winners seemed scared. I was glad when the interview was over because Aunt Denise stopped crying and finally let go of my arm.

I decided I'd send Dad the paper I wrote in Mr. Diamond's class.

Dad is always asking how I'm doing in school. This would prove that some of my work is
interesting, revealing and straight from the heart
.

Making Plans

Mom bought new earrings. They're shaped like bolts of lightning and they sparkle. “What do you think?” she asked. The earrings dangled from her ear lobes to her chin.

“They're different,” I said.

“I hope that's a compliment.”

I didn't want to hurt Mom's feelings so I didn't tell her the earrings were much too flashy. “Are you going to wear them to the office?”

“No,” Mom said, “I'm going to wear them to Carla's party on Saturday night.”

“I didn't know Carla's having a party.”

“Yes,” Mom said, “and I told her I'd come in for the weekend to give her a hand.”

“Who's coming to this party?” I asked.

“Carla's friends.”

“Women
and
men?”

“Yes,” Mom said, “of course.”

“Married
and
divorced?”

“I really don't know. I imagine there will be some of each.”

“And you're going to wear
those
earrings?”

“Yes,” Mom said, “but I'm also going to wear a dress and shoes and …”

“This is it, isn't it?” I asked.

“This is what?”

“You're going to New York to have your fling.”

Mom threw back her head and laughed. The earrings danced around her face.

“It's not funny!” I said. I hate it when I'm being serious and Mom thinks it's a big joke.

But Mom couldn't stop laughing. Finally, she managed to say, “Sorry … it just struck me as funny that you should be worried about me having a fling.” She gulped, holding back another laugh.

“I'm not worried!” I told her. “I never worry! I just don't like the idea of you with some guy. I'll probably hate him as much as I hate Iris.”

“I didn't know you hate Iris,” Mom said, quietly.

“Well, now you know. It may be fun for you and Dad to have your flings but it's not fun for Bruce and me.”

“I'm sorry, Steph … I keep forgetting this is hard on you.”

“People who are separated are supposed to be miserable,” I told her.

“On some days I am,” Mom said, “but I try to keep busy and not give in to it.”

I thought about how I do the same thing.

“Look …” Mom said, “I need to get out and be with people. That's all there is to it.” She took off her new earrings and dropped them into her jewelry box. “So would you rather spend the weekend at Aunt Denise's or with a friend?”

“With a friend,” I said.

As I was getting ready for bed I decided I'd ask Alison if I could spend the weekend at her house.

“It's all set,” Mom said, when she came to my room to say goodnight. “Nell Robinson would love to have you for the weekend.”

“But Mom … I was going to ask Alison.”

Mom shook her head. “I assumed when you said you wanted to stay with a friend you meant Rachel.”

“You should have asked me first,” I told her.

“I can see that now,” Mom said, rescuing Wile E. Coyote from the floor. She set him on my chair. “You don't mind going to Rachel's, do you?”

“It's not that I mind …”

“Good …” Mom said, before I'd finished. “Because it would be awkward to try to explain to Nell now. Besides, I'll feel more comfortable knowing you're at the Robinsons'.”

“I keep telling you that Gena Farrell is just a regular person,” I said. “You don't have to be afraid of her.”

“I'm not the least bit afraid of her,” Mom said. “It's just that I've known Nell longer.”

I happen to know that Mom thinks of Gena Farrell as a famous TV star, not as Alison's mother. One time, when Gena came by our house to pick up Alison, Mom talked too fast and offered Gena a cup of tea at least ten times, until finally Gena said, “Thanks … I'd love a cup.” Alison says that just because Gena is famous and beautiful people don't treat her the same as they would somebody else. And that makes
her
feel uncomfortable.

Bruce understands. He told me he's sick of being famous. The other night he said, “It was fun for a few days but I never want to see another reporter. I hate their dumb questions. And I'm never entering another contest. From now on I just want to be a regular kid and play with David after school.”

“But if you had it to do over again, would you still enter this contest?” I asked.

“Maybe,” Bruce said. “Because it wasn't that bad meeting the President and having cocoa at the White House.”

At the bus stop the next morning Rachel said, “I hear you're coming for the weekend.”

“Yes,” I told her. “Mom is going to New York to help her friend give a party.”

“So what do you want to do?” Rachel asked.

“I don't know … whatever you want to do.”

“I was planning on rehearsing a new piece with Stacey Green but I can cancel,” Rachel said.

“You don't have to cancel,” I told her. “I can do something else while you're rehearsing.”

“Really … you wouldn't mind?” Rachel asked.

“No … when are you going to rehearse?”

“Friday night.”

“We can go to the movies,” Alison said to me. “And you can sleep over at my house.”

“No,” Rachel said. “My mother's looking forward to having Steph stay at our house.”