Libby on Wednesday (18 page)

“Watch it,” Alex said, grabbing the fence to keep from falling down.

“Yeah! Watch it!” Tierney grabbed the back of G.G.’s bicycle and jerked it so hard he lost his grip and it shot backward and fell to the ground with a clatter. He whirled around, glaring, his shoulders hunched and his fists clenched. Tierney glared back, and they were moving toward each other when Libby stepped in between them.

“Look,” she yelled at G.G., knowing that what she was doing was ridiculous and dangerous, but somehow not caring. “Just stop it. This is my house, and if you don’t stop it this minute, I’ll—I’ll throw you out.”

For a minute he glared down—way down—at her, and then slowly he began to grin. Somebody—it sounded like Alex—made a smothered-laughter noise, and Tierney said, “Go for it, Mighty Mouse. Punch him out.”

G.G.’s grin widened, and suddenly Libby giggled. Then she held up her clenched fists and bounced around like a prizefighter, and then they were all laughing—even G.G. In fact G.G. laughed hardest of all, in a strange, out-of-control way that made you wonder if he was going to be able to stop. He was still making occasional snorting noises a few minutes later as they all filed through the double doors into the huge entry hall of the McCall House.

Nobody seemed to be home. Wendy wanted to tour the house again, and of course G.G. hadn’t seen it, so they went through the library and study and Great Hall once more. This time Wendy and Tierney did most of the talking, pointing out things like the chandeliers and balconies. G.G.
hardly said anything. His grin had slipped back into a sneer, and the only thing he said was something about the house looking haunted and to ask Libby if she was going to introduce them to the ghosts. Alex didn’t say much either, at least not until Gillian and Cordelia finally showed up.

Alex, as Libby had noticed before, was always in top form with adults. When Cordelia came in through the kitchen—she’d been downtown buying some cookies—and Gillian, wearing her practice leotards, came down the back stairs from her studio, where she’d been doing her ballet exercises, Alex immediately became a kind of master of ceremonies. The first thing he did was introduce G.G.

“And this is our fellow workshop member, Gary Greene,” he told Gillian and Cordelia. “Otherwise known as G.G. G.G. is a very talented writer. Besides which he is a perfect …” He stopped and scratched his head. “I’m having trouble thinking of just the right word,” he said, but his smile said that he knew exactly what he’d like to say. “A perfect …” Grinning and rolling his eyes wildly, he turned to Tierney. “A perfect …?” he said again, making it into a question.

“Got it!” Tierney said. “G.G. is a perfect—no—no—I guess not. Not when there are ladies present.”

Everyone laughed, and Cordelia said, “Gentleman. I’m sure the word is
gentleman
,” which of course sent them all into hysterics.

The cats came in then and started showing off, with Goliath weaving himself around people’s ankles and Isadora chasing Ariel up the draperies. By the time Cordelia brought out the cookies and lemonade, G.G. had started
saying that he was going to have to leave soon, so they ate and drank quickly and headed for the Treehouse.

As they left the kitchen, Libby was still feeling a vague resistance to the thought of outsiders, particularly a certain outsider, in her Treehouse, but she soon had other things to think about. And by the time the whole group had finally settled down to work in the main room of the Treehouse, it was beginning to seem almost normal to have them there.

    
We didn‘t get any actual critiquing done at all
, Libby wrote in her journal that night.
At first the Treehouse took up a lot of time. Everyone except Alex, who had trouble even getting to the first floor, had to explore the other levels. Then I stupidly mentioned that I could go back and forth to the Treehouse from my balcony, and G. G. insisted on trying to do it. The good news is—he couldn’t. I noticed right away that the trouble was his weight. He weighs a lot more than I do, and when he went up the last limb, it bent way down, so there was no way he could reach the balcony rail. I didn’t point out what the problem was, however. Just let him go on thinking that I’m a much better climber
.

Then, just as we were almost ready to start, Goliath and Ariel came in the window and interrupted things, but after that we at least got a little business taken care of
.

The first thing we did was choose a chairperson. It was Wendy’s idea. She said we’d have to have someone to call on people and decide who reads next, and do the other things Mizzo used to do. I think Wendy thought she’d be elected. But Alex nominated me, and guess what?—I won. I think Wendy was surprised. I know I was
.

Then I appointed Wendy secretary, and everyone helped dictate a get-well note for Mizzo. Then we discussed going to the hospital together to see her, and I appointed Tierney chairman in charge of finding out about visiting the hospital and sending the get-well note and maybe some flowers too. By then it was already getting late, and G.G. kept asking what time it was and saying he had to go, so all we did was make some plans about the next “Island Adventure” episode, and then they all went home
.

After she’d finished describing the meeting, Libby still felt like writing. She’d written about the people in the workshop before, in short bits and pieces, but now she suddenly decided to do one of Mizzo’s character sketches on each one of them. She got four copies of the character-sketch form out of her book bag and added them to the green notebook. After several minutes of thought she wrote
Gary Greene
at the top of the first one.

She didn’t know why she decided to do G.G. first, since he was obviously her least favorite—the only one, actually, whom she still hated. But it had something to do with the way she’d felt when he showed up on his bicycle. As if there were something strange and unexplained about him. Something that gave her the same eager, expectant curiosity that made her look into windows and over fences.

But when she started going through the character-sketch form, she found there were a great many things about him that she still didn’t know. She filled out the questions about physical characteristics, such as eye and hair color (
brown and blondish brown
) and size and body type (
large and muscular
), but she had almost no answers for the
family questions. Alex had told her that G.G.’s father had once been a professional football player and that his parents were divorced, but other than that she knew nothing at all about his home life.

When she came to the checklist about mental and emotional characteristics, she put checks after
Intelligent
and
Talented
and double checks after
Aggressive, Cruel
, and
Violent
. In the blank space labeled “Other,” she quickly wrote
frightened
—followed by several question marks.

   17

Tierney did a lot of complaining about how much work it had been to make the arrangements for the hospital visit. Listening to all her fussing and fuming, a person who didn’t know her very well might have thought she really hated having to do it. In fact it took Libby herself, who had learned a lot about Tierney Laurent, a little while to catch on. To realize that she was really enjoying it—checking with the other members of the group, doing all the planning and phoning, and making important decisions. Particularly making the decisions. She was really into that part of it. But all week long she went on telling everyone how the whole thing had stressed her out.

“Like picking out this stupid get-well card,” she told Libby. “I had to go to three or four different places because most of the cards were so dorky, I mean, like, completely brain dead or else total barf. And then in Langley’s Stationery it took me so long to decide, this prissy little dude of a clerk started harshing on me, like he thought I was trying to steal one of his dorky cards. But then I found this one.
What do you think? The picture is sort of Mizzo, don’t you think?”

The picture was okay, a glamorous-looking woman sitting up in bed, but inside it only said, “Hope you’ll soon be feeling as great as you look,” so Libby sat down cross-legged on the lawn—they were hanging out in their favorite lunch-hour spot in the north patio at the time—and wrote a limerick. It went:

When they read it, Wendy said it was really rad, and Tierney said she thought that Libby had a great future as a verse writer for Hallmark. But then she said, “No, it’s great. A real killer. I don’t know how you do that, just off the top that way. Now if we can get Miss Student Government here to copy it into the card with her natural-born class-secretary handwriting, we’ll be all set to fly.”

So Wendy copied the limerick into the card and while she was doing it, Tierney went on about how buying the card was only the beginning of her troubles. There had been ordering the flowers and collecting the money to buy them and then arranging the trip to the hospital. Especially arranging the trip to the hospital.

Mizzo, it seemed, belonged to a health plan whose hospital was in the city, so she’d been transferred there from the one she’d been taken to in Morrison. And getting
the whole FFW to San Francisco was going to be a real bummer.

“My mom offered to drive us in,” Tierney said, “if everyone can go on Saturday. The only trouble is our car only holds five people, and with her driving that adds up to six.”

Wendy giggled. “Couldn’t we tie G.G. on the roof?” she said.

“Yeah,” Tierney said. “As in hog-tie. Great idea.”

“Or in the trunk?” Libby said. “I think the trunk would be a perfect place for him.”

But the way it turned out, finding a spot for G.G. wasn’t necessary. G.G. couldn’t, or perhaps didn’t want to, go. So they were down to four people—five counting Mrs. Laurent—and then Alex had to back out too. His parents were going to Carmel that weekend, and Alex had to go with them. So, on Saturday morning only the three female members of the FFW met at the Laurents’ house to make the trip to San Francisco.

Except for a couple of casts and a bandage on her head, Mizzo seemed just the same as always, cheerful and enthusiastic. She seemed to be a favorite of the nurses, and several of them came in to be introduced. She told all of them that her visitors—Libby, Wendy, and Tierney—were all incredibly talented writers and that the nurses should write down their names and remember them because they’d probably all be published and famous before very long.

They talked for almost an hour, and Mizzo wanted to know how they all were and what they were working on and how the “Island Adventure” was going. And when Tierney and Wendy told her about meeting in Libby’s Treehouse,
she got really excited and said she hoped they could meet there at least once more after she was back in the group.

When Libby asked her how her own novel was going, she said it hadn’t been going anywhere until a couple of days ago when her father brought her the manuscript and a new lap-sized computer. She had already started putting the novel on disk, she said, and even though she could only use one hand, she was making rapid progress. And she entirely agreed with Alex that word processors were the only way to go.

Just before they left, she asked about G.G., so they told her about how he had said he was going to quit when Mr. Shoemaker threw them out of the reading lab and then showed up unexpectedly at the McCall House.

She nodded slowly then, with a worried look on her face, and said, “Don’t let him quit, girls. He needs the workshop. I think G.G. really needs—all of us.”

None of them, not even Tierney, said anything nonconstructive about G.G. to Mizzo, but later when they were on their way back down to the parking lot to meet Mrs. Laurent, Tierney snorted and said, “He needs us? That’s a laugh. I don’t know what G.G. needs us for, unless he’s lost his punching bag, or something. And all I can say is that, for a really sharp person, Mizzo can certainly go dim on you at times.”

That night in her Wednesday journal Libby wrote:
An outrageous day. I mean, really rad
. That was what Wendy had said about the trip, that it was “like, outrageous, a really rad day.”
We went to the hospital and then we had lunch at Fisherman’s Wharf and went through the Exploratorium before we started home. Wendy really seemed to
have a great time. And Tierney did too, I think. Tierney was different anyway. She actually talked to her mother a little. And something else about Tierney, her hair isn’t pink any-more. Actually it’s more like purple now, but she says the purple is just an in-between stage so everyone won’t go into culture shock when she goes back to plain old brown
.

Wendy seemed different too. Well, maybe not. Maybe it was more I see different things about her now. Tierney said she did too. That was after we got back to Morrison and Mrs. Laurent dropped Wendy off at her house. After Wendy got out of the car, I made some comment about Wendy, and Tierney said that she used to think that Wendy Davis was just a bubble-headed phony and that all that nicey-nice stuff was just an act. Then what Tierney actually said was, word-for-word—“I was sure she was just faking it, because most ‘in-groupers’ don’t go around smiling at nerds and dweeps, and really mean it—you know, nerds like me and dweeps like you
.”