Crystal (4 page)

"I've got to watch it, Crystal. I care about them all. They're my friends," she said. She made it seem as if they knew she was watching and they depended on her.
She looked at the floor again instead of kissing me good night as she had done from the first day I had arrived. I hurried upstairs to sleep. I didn't know exactly why, but for the first time since I had come to live there, I felt a little trepidation. I lay there wondering why. I guess I was afraid that my new mother would always care more about her characters than she would about me.
I had found a home full of family pictures, talk about relatives, promises for upcoming holidays and trips. I had grandparents, and I would soon be in a new school. I had my own room, and I had begun a whole new life.
But what if I woke up in the morning and found that someone had turned a dial and I was back in the orphanage?

Two days before school began, I was sitting outside and reading. Thelma wanted me to watch Emergency Care with her. It was a new late-morning series about an ER at a big-city hospital. She tried to get me to watch it with her by telling me I would learn a lot of medical information.

"And you do think you want to be a doctor someday, Crystal," she emphasized. "So you'll learn a lot."

"I'll learn more from reading," I told her. I saw it made her unhappy, but I felt as if I was overdosed on soap operas and television in general. At the orphanage, if I watched two shows a week, that was a lot. I knew most of the other kids my age thought I was weird because I'd rather read a book or work on the computer than watch their favorite nighttime shows, but that's how I was.

It was also a beautiful day, and I couldn't see myself wasting it closed up in the living room with the glow of a television screen on my eyes. This was actually my favorite time of the year. Summer was fading fast, and the air had the feel of the soon-to-be crisp autumn days. It smelled fresher, looked clearer. Without the humidity and high temperatures, I felt more energetic. I was even restless sitting and reading.

"Hi," I heard someone say, and looked up to see a girl about my age with long, sunflower-yellow hair standing at our front gate. She wore a pair of baggy shorts and a T-shirt with half moons all over it. A pair of long silver earrings with tiny blue and green stones dangled from her ears. "I live over there," she said, pointing to a house across the street.

"Hi," I said, and tried to remember if I'd seen her around the neighborhood.
"You just moved in with Karl and Thelma, right? I heard about it," she said before I could respond. She tossed some strands of her hair back over her shoulder as if she were tossing away a candy wrapper. "My name's Helga. I think we're going to be in the same class. You're going into tenth?"
"Yes. I'm Crystal," I said.
"Helga and Crystal. They'll think we're sisters." She giggled. She put all her weight on her right leg. From where I was sitting, it looked as if she was leaning against an imaginary wall. "What are you reading?"
"Lord of the Flies.
It's on our English reading list this year' I said.
"How do you know that?"
"I asked when I registered, and they gave me the list," I told her.
She grimaced, bounced her weight to her left leg and then back to her right, which I would discover later was something she habitually did when she was confused or annoyed.
"You're doing schoolwork already?" she whined. "Why not?" I shrugged. "I like being ahead."
"You must be a good student," she said, lingering at the gate. She sounded disappointed.
"Aren't you?" I asked.
She shrugged.
"I get C's and sometimes B's. As long as I don't get D's and F's, my parents don't bug me. Did you live with some other family last year?" she followed quickly.
"No," I said.
She stared at me as if she was building the courage to ask another question.
"I lived in an orphanage," I explained
"Oh. Did you have any brothers or sisters you had to leave behind or who got adopted into other families?"
"No," I said, "but I've seen that happen, and it's not pleasant?'
She smiled. "I hope you don't mind me being nosy. My mother says it's a family character trait. As soon as we hear or see something that's not really our business, we perk up and stick our ears out. She says our family was the inspiration for the first spies."
I laughed.
"You want to go for a walk? I'll show you the neighborhood," she said.
"Okay," I said, standing. I paused for a moment and looked back at the front door.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"I'm just wondering if I should tell my mother." "Your mother? Oh, they make you check in and out?"
"No."
"So? We're just going down the street?'
I nodded. Since I didn't expect to be away long, I decided not to interrupt her soap opera.
It wasn't until I walked up to Helga that I realized she was at least three inches taller than I was. She had patches of tiny freckles over the crests of her cheeks, and it looked as if someone had dotted them with a ballpoint peiiin light brown ink
"Those are pretty thick glasses you're wearing," she said.
"I have astigmatism."
"Bummer," she said. "You oughtta go with me to the mall one day and get nicer frames. Maybe prescription sunglasses, too. You'll look better."
"I don't wear them for looks. I wear them to help me see and read," I said.
She laughed. "Sure. Until someone like Tom MacNamara looks your way. He's so cool, but he's a senior this year and probably won't even look at us. He also happens to be captain of the football team."
"I
probably wouldn't be interested in him anyway," I said, and she stopped walking.
"Sure you wouldn't." She bounced her weight from one leg to the other. "Did you have a boyfriend at the orphanage?"
"No. I have never really had a boyfriend," I admitted.
She stared a moment and then started walking again.
"Me, neither," she confessed. "Oh, I pretended to like Jack Martin one year just so it looked like I had a boyfriend, but I never even kissed him, and when he went to kiss me, I turned my head so he kissed my cheek like an uncle or someone. You see this big house?" she said, pausing. "Clara Seymour lives here. She's a senior this year and will probably be senior prom queen. Her father's a heart doctor, a cardiosomething."
"Cardiologist," I said.
"Yes, I think that's it." She tilted her head and squinted at me. "You are smart."
"I'm thinking of becoming a doctor myself someday."
"A doctor!" she said. "It costs a lot, I heard." "I hope to win scholarships, too," I added.
"I'll be glad just to get my diploma. I haven't the slightest idea what do. I was thinking I might become an actress, but I didn't even make the junior play."
"What do you like to do?"
"Party," she said, laughing, "and watch television.
Oh!" She stopped and took my arm. "Watch out for the dog at this house," she said, nodding at a small A-frame. "Old Lady Potter lives there, and she has a mean rottweiler for protection. Last year, he bit a UPS delivery driver and there was a big commotion with the police and everything."
"I'll definitely stay out of that yard." I laughed. "Thanks for the advice."
"If you turn right at the corner and go two blocks, you reach the Quick Shop where you can get magazines, gum, and stuff. We're not far from the school, only about two miles. You going to take the bus?"
"I guess so," I said. "I don't think Karl wants to drive me every day, especially since there is a bus."
"You call him Karl?" she asked quickly.
"Right now I do," I said, looking away.
"But Thelma you call Mom?"
"She wanted it that way from the start," I said. "You know what? You're right:'
"What?"
"You
are
nosy."
She laughed. "Come on, I'll introduce you to Bernie Felder. I have a feeling you two will, get along real well. Bernie's a genius, too."
"I'm not a genius," I corrected.
"Whatever." She sped up, and we walked to another ranch-style house with a brick facade. It looked like an expensive house. The landscaping was more elaborate than most, and the house was almost twice the size of Karl and Thelma's.
"What do Bernie's parents do?" I asked.
"His father owns a big tire store that services trucks," she said. "Bernie's an only child, like you."
"What about you?"
"I have a younger brother I ignore," she said "My parents named him William, but they call him Buster."
"Buster?"
"When you see him, you'll see why. He looks like a Buster, and he's always busting things," she added. "Come on." She headed for the front door.
"Maybe we should call first," I said, but she pushed the door buzzer.
"I'd rather be unexpected," she said "It's more fun."
A maid answered the door, and Helga asked for Bernie. A few moments later, a boy about my height with straggly red hair and light green eyes appeared. He wore a T-shirt that looked two sizes too big and a pair of jeans with sneakers and no socks. His face was pale with full red lips and a cleft chin.
"Hi, Bernie," Helga said.
He grimaced. "What do you want?" he demanded. "That's not a very nice way to say hello," she remarked.
"I was in the middle of something," he said apologetically.
"You're not making bombs, are you? My mother always thinks Bernie's making bombs," she told me.
When she turned to me, Bernie finally looked my way, and his face filled with interest. "Who's this?"
"Our new neighbor, Bernie. If you hadn't jumped down my throat, I would have been able to introduce you."
"I'm sorry," he said, turning to me. "Hello." "Hello. I'm sorry we interrupted you, but . ." "It's all right." He looked embarrassed.
"Of course it's all right. What could Bernie be doing that can't be interrupted?" Helga asked.
"Whatever it is, it's important to him," I remarked dryly. She smirked, but Bernie's face softened. "You just moved here?" he asked.
"If you didn't have your nose in a test tube all the time, you would have known about her," Helga said. "Her name is Crystal, and the Morrises adopted her."
"Oh?" he said, his lips forming a little circle as he gazed at me with even more interest.
"She was an orphan," Helga added. She stepped back to look at me. They both stared a moment, neither speaking.
"That's orphan, not alien;' I said, and Bernie smiled.
"She reads a lot, and she's very smart," Helga continued. "Maybe even smarter than you, Bernie. That's why I thought you two should meet."
"Really?" he said, his interest in me growing even more.
"This was her idea. I'm sorry we bothered you." I started to turn away.
"Hey. That's okay," he called. "Come on in."
"Bernie's inviting us in," Helga said, raising her eyebrows. "You going to show us your laboratory, Bernie?"
"I don't have a laboratory," he snapped at her. She laughed. He turned to me. "Helga and her friends are always making stuff up about me."
"No, we don't, Bernie," she said. "Anyway, if we do, you should be honored we talk about you."
"Some honor," Bernie said. He stepped back, and Helga gestured emphatically for me to follow her into the house. I did.
Right away, I saw that Bernie's parents had a lot of money. There were paintings all over the walls, and the rooms were very big and full of expensivelooking furnishings. In the hallway to his room was a glass case filled with figurines. The floors were all covered with carpet so soft I felt as if I were walking on marshmallows.
Bernie's room was twice, maybe three times as big as mine. He had a large desk, a computer, and all sorts of hardware. I recognized a scanner and two printers. He even had his own fax machine. One wall was covered with charts that included the anatomy of the human body, a breakdown of the planets and some galaxies, an evolution time line, and a historical summary of American presidents and vice presidents with a listing of major events during their terms.
On the right were shelves that held a
microscope, slides, scales, and even a Bunsen burner. I saw chemistry sets and shelves and shelves of reference books. What didn't he have? I wondered.
"You see?" Helga said. "He has a laboratory in his room."
"It's not a laboratory. I have a few things to develop my interests," he said defensively. "I want to get into genetic research someday."
"I don't even know what that means:' Helga said.
He frowned and shook his head. "You know what this is?" he asked me, pointing to what looked like a Tinker Toy.
"Yes," I said. "It's a model of DNA."
"Right!" he said, his face becoming more animated than it had been since we met.
"What's DNA?" Helga asked.
"It has to do with genetics," Bernie said quickly. "You want to look at this? I put this together myself," he told me, and I drew closer.
"Don't you have a CD player or something in here?" Helga asked.
"No," he said quickly.
"Well, how do you listen to music?" she demanded. "I listen on my computer when I want to listen to music:' he said, and turned his back on her.
"This is like being back in school," she complained. "Not one movie poster, not one rock star poster, just all this . . . this educational stuff."
"It's very good:' I said, nodding at his model. He beamed with pride.
"Come on, Crystal," Helga said. "I'll show you the rest of the neighborhood. Maybe Fern Peabody is home. She's going steady with Gary Lakewood, and she always has good stories to tell."
"I've got some interesting slides:' Bernie said, ignoring her. "I just got them yesterday. They're from human embryos."
"Really?" I said.
"Ugh," Helga said. "Do they smell?"
"Of course not," Bernie snapped. "You should pay more attention in science class."
"Boring," she sang. "I'm going," she threatened. Bernie held his hand on his microscope and looked at me.
"I'm staying," I said. I knew I should probably go with her to meet more of the neighborhood kids, but Bernie's projects really intrigued me.
"I knew it," Helga said. "Peas in a pod. I'll talk to you later' she threw back at me as she left Bernie's room.
He smiled. Then he brought his microscope to the desk and hurriedly set things up. "Sit right there," he said, pointing to his chair.
He slipped in the slides and began to talk about them as I gazed through the microscope. It really was like being at a class lecture, but I didn't mind. Some of it I knew, but most of it I didn't. He was so excited about having an audience, he went on and on and then brought out some other slides. I got so involved I didn't realize the time until I glanced at the clock by his bed.
"Oh, no," I said. "I'd better get home. I didn't tell my mother I was leaving. I didn't think I'd be away this long, and it's ten minutes past dinner?'
"Right," he said with disappointment. He looked at the clock. "I don't eat dinner at any set time. I eat when I'm hungry."
"What about your parents?"
"They usually go out or eat at different times," he said.
"You never eat together?"
"Sometimes," he said as he put away his slides.
"Thanks for showing me everything," I told him as I walked to the door.
"Sure," he said.
He followed me out and down the hall.
"Maybe I'll see you again," I said, turning back to him just before leaving.
"Okay," he said. "Any time you want."
"Thank you," I said, and started away.
"Oh," he began.
I paused. "Yes?"
"I forgot. What's your name again?"
"It's Crystal," I said.
"I'm Bernie," he said.
I wanted to say, "I know, I remember your name. How could I not remember your name?" But he closed the door before I could add a word.
I hurried down the sidewalk. When I reached the house, I saw that my book was missing from the arm of the chair. It put a small panic in me because I realized Thelma had come looking for me. I quickened my steps and practically ran into the house.
"There," Karl said, hearing the door close and stepping out of the living room. "She's back, and she's all right."
I looked in and saw Thelma, her eyes
bloodshot, her face pale. She was clutching her skirt and twisting the material anxiously.
"Oh, Crystal. I was sure something terrible had happened to you. When I walked out there to call you in for dinner and all I found was your book . . ."
"I'm sorry," I said both to Karl and to her. "A girl came by to introduce herself, and then we went for a walk and it took longer than I thought it would. We stopped to visit Bernie Felder and . . ."
"When I saw that book and the empty chair," Thelma continued, not listening to my explanation, "all I could think of was
Heart Shell
by Amanda Glass. That's the story about the little girl who was kidnapped and brought up by another family. There's a scene just like this. They find her children's book on the grass by her little chair. It's not until she's a young woman that she returns to her real parents."
I just stared.
"Well, she wasn't kidnapped," Karl said calmly, "so put all that horror out of your mind, Thelma."
He turned to me. "Next time, Crystal, please let us know where you are going," he chastised firmly.
"I'm sorry. I didn't think I'd be that long. I got too involved with Bernie Felder's slides. I never saw so much stuff in someone's house and . ."