Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself (6 page)

“We ordered one,” Mom said, “but it takes a long
time … there’s one in the lobby for emergencies though.”

Douglas nodded.

“At home we have two,” Sally said, suddenly angry. Why were they pretending? Why didn’t one of them just admit the truth. This place was a dump. Then she added, “And we have rose-beige carpeting too!”

“Why don’t you just shut up?” Douglas said.

“Who’s going to make me?”

“Enough!” Mom said. “It’s been a long trip. Let’s get ready for bed. We’ll all feel better in the morning.”

It was hard to fall asleep even though Sally felt tired. She tried a story inside her head but that didn’t work either. She wasn’t used to the smells here, to the strange night noises, to the day bed or having Douglas in the same room, breathing heavily. She missed her father. She wished he was there to tuck her in, although she wasn’t under any covers. It was too warm. Just a sheet was more than enough. She wished Daddy was there to give her a treatment.

Two days later Sally got ready for school. She wore her red loafers, her Gibson Girl skirt and blouse and the pin Christine had given to her. Mom braided her hair, then pinned it on top of her
head in a coronet because it was too warm to let it hang loose. Ma Fanny kissed her cheek and said, “Such a shana maidelah.” Sally understood Ma Fanny’s Yiddish expressions well enough. Shana maidelah meant pretty girl.

Outside, Sally stopped for a look at the goldfish pool, then she and her mother walked up the street, past yellow and blue and other pink stucco apartment houses.

“One of the reasons we wanted this apartment so badly is that it’s very close to school,” Mom said. “Just one block up and two blocks over …” At the corner they crossed the street. “That’s where Douglas will go,” Mom said, pointing to Miami Beach Junior-Senior High.

“When will he start?” Sally asked.

“Tomorrow, I think. First I want Dr. Spear to give him a good going-over.”

“Who’s Dr. Spear?”

“He’s going to be our doctor here … he was highly recommended … he’s the best …”

“Do I really need this jacket?” Sally asked. “It’s so warm out.”

“I guess not. Give it to me and I’ll take it home.”

Sally wriggled out of it.

“You’re not nervous are you?” Mom asked.

“No … why should I be nervous?”

“I don’t know … you didn’t eat any breakfast and you’ve been picking at your cuticles.”

“I’m not used to eating here yet and my cuticles itch … that’s why I pick at them.”

“I know you’ll do just fine,” Mom said, “so don’t be scared.”

“Who’s scared?” Sally snapped a big red flower off a bush next to the sidewalk.

“That’s a hibiscus,” Mom said.

“It’s pretty.” She tucked it behind one ear and twirled around. “How do I look?”

“Just like Esther Williams,” Mom said.

Sally smiled. Esther Williams was her favorite movie actress. Some day she was going to swim just like her, with her hair in a coronet and a flower behind her ear. Swimming along underwater, always smiling, with beautiful straight white teeth and shiny red lipstick. Esther Williams never got water up her nose or had to spit while she swam, like Sally, who didn’t like to get her face wet in the first place. And Esther Williams never splashed either. Not even when she dove off the high board. You’d never know you had to kick to stay afloat from watching Esther Williams. And when she swam in the movies there was always beautiful music in the background and handsome men standing around, waiting. It would be great fun to be Esther Williams!

“This is it,” Mom said. “Central Beach Elementary School …”

“It doesn’t look like a school,” Sally said and her stomach growled. “Oh, be quiet,” she told herself.

“It doesn’t look like your school at home,” Mom said.

“That’s what I meant.”

“It’s Spanish style … see the red tile roof … and all the archways … it’s very pretty …”

“But it’s so big,” Sally said. At home there was just one class for each grade. She knew all the teachers and they knew her. She’d had the same kids in her class since kindergarten. This school was one floor, but it extended for a full block. It was U-shaped too, and made of white stucco. “And look at all those trailers,” Sally said. “What do you suppose they’re for?”

“They’re portable classrooms,” Mom told her. “The schools down here are crowded.”

“A person could get lost in a school like this.”

“You’ll find your way around in no time.”

“And it looks about five hundred years old, too.”

“I doubt that it’s
that
old,” Mom said, looking around. “Now, first of all we’ve got to find the office.” She stopped a freckle-faced boy. “Can you tell us where the office is?”

“Yes, Ma’am …” he said, “right around the corridor and second door to your left.”

“Thank you.”

“He called you
Ma’am
,” Sally said.

“Yes, he was very polite.”

“That sounds so funny.”

“I think it sounds nice.”

They found the office and Mom presented Sally’s transfer card and school records. The clerk said, “Well, Sally … you’ll be in 5B, Miss Swetnick’s class … and she’s one of our nicest fifth grade teachers. I know you’ll like her.”

“Thank you,” Sally said, wondering if she should add
Ma’am
but deciding against it.

“Now then …” the clerk went on, “the nurse’s office is around the corridor to your right, past the portables and the library, until you come to the art room, then turn left and continue down that corridor until you come to the fourth room on your right … it says
Nurse
on the door … got that?”

“I think so,” Mom said.

“Why do I have to go to the nurse?” Sally asked.

“It’s just a formality,” the clerk told her.

The nurse was fat, with bleached blonde hair in an upsweep. Sally knew it was bleached because the black roots were showing along the part, like when Mom needed a touch-up. She had two chins and a huge bosom, the kind that went straight across her chest with no space in-between. “Good morning …” she sang, taking the folder from Mom. “And who do we have here?” She looked inside the folder. “Sally Freedman?” she asked, as if she were guessing.

“Yes,” Sally said.

“Just get in from New York?”

“New Jersey …” How did she know?

“Okay, Sally … your mother can wait right here while you come with me …” They went into another room. It smelled like alcohol. There were small cots lined up against the wall, with white curtains between them. In the corner was a doctor’s scale and next to it, a glass cabinet filled with bandages, bottles and instruments. Sally hoped she wasn’t going to get a shot.

“Shoes off, Sally … and step on the scale,” the nurse said. As she weighed her she added, “Don’t eat much, do you?”

“Enough,” Sally answered.

“Not very tall either.” The nurse adjusted the marker so that it just touched the top of Sally’s head.

“I’m still growing,” Sally said.

“Let’s hope so.”

After that the nurse handed Sally a piece of cardboard. “Cover your left eye, look at the chart on the wall and tell me which way the E is pointing … up, down, left or right …”

“Don’t you have the alphabet here? At home we have charts with all the letters …”

“Up, down, left or right … if you don’t know your left from your right just point …”

“I know my left from my right,” Sally said and
she began to read the chart. “Up … left … right … up … down …”

When both her eyes had been tested and the nurse was satisfied that Sally could see, she said, “Now have a seat and unbraid your hair.”

“But my mother just fixed it for me …”

“And it looks very pretty … but I have to check your head before you can be admitted to class, so the sooner you take down those braids the sooner you can get going …”

Sally reached up and unpinned her coronet. Then she took the rubber bands off the ends of her braids and unwound them.

The nurse started picking through Sally’s hair, messing it up. Sally hoped Mom had a hairbrush in her purse. “Oh oh …” the nurse said, clicking her tongue against the roof of her mouth. “You’ve got them.”

“Got what?”

“Nits.”

“In my hair?”

“Where else?”

“What are they?”

“Lice eggs . . I can’t admit you to school with them … you’ll spread them everywhere …”

“But how could I have them? My hair’s very clean … my mother washed it last night and gave me a vinegar rinse besides …”

“No matter … shampooing can’t get them out … you need something much stronger … they’re nasty little critters. Put your shoes back on while I tell your mother what to do.” She walked out of the room.

Sally jumped into her loafers and listened at the doorway.

“I’ve never heard anything so outrageous!” Mom said. “I’ve always kept my children immaculate. Anyone with eyes can see that. Why, just last night I shampooed her hair …”

“Look, Mrs. Freedman … don’t take this personally … you’ve been traveling … you’re in another part of the country … she could have picked them up anywhere … it’s very common … that’s why we check the new children so carefully … she’s not alone …”

Mom shook her head. “You don’t understand.”

“Take her home and use the treatment,” the nurse said, “and in a few days I’ll be happy to check her again.”

When Sally heard the word
treatment
her throat tightened and tears came to her eyes.

“I hate it here!” Sally and Mom were walking home from school. “I hate the nurse and the school and Miami Beach!” She bit her lip to keep from crying.

Mom said, “Listen, honey … that nurse is crazy … she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. You don’t have nits. And we’ll never tell anyone about it, okay?”

“Then I don’t need her treatment after all?” Sally asked, brightening.

“Oh, I suppose it can’t hurt to go along with her … otherwise she might not let you into school … but between you and me, there’s nothing wrong … absolutely nothing …”

When they got home Sally went into the bathroom and carefully examined her hair in the mirror. She didn’t see anything unusual. She came out and found her mother, Douglas and Ma Fanny talking quietly in the kitchen. They stopped when they saw her.

“Well …” Mom said, “I think I’ll go down to the drugstore … I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

As soon as she’d left Douglas said, “I hear you’ve got the cooties.”

“I do not have cooties. Mom said there’s nothing wrong … that nurse is crazy … besides, she didn’t say
cooties
, she said
nits
.”

“What do you think cooties are?”

“Cooties are make-believe … there’s really no such thing.”

Douglas started laughing. “Baloney … they’re lice … little bugs that fly around in your hair
…” He rubbed his thumb and second finger together.

“You’re lying,” Sally said.

“Cootie … cootie … cootie …”

“Ma Fanny,” Sally cried, “did you hear what he said?”

“Dougie … be a good boy,” Ma Fanny said. “Don’t tease Sally.”

“Oh, it was just a joke,” Douglas said. “Can’t she even take a joke?”

“Some joke!” Sally ran across the room and shook her hair at Douglas. “Have a cootie …” she said. “Have two or three or four …”

Douglas ran to the bathroom and locked himself in.

Ma Fanny called, “Cooties … schmooties … stop it right now …”

Dear Doey-bird
,

I miss you very much. Miami Beach is not as great as the ads say. I have a lot to tell you. The nurse wouldn’t let me into school because she says I have nits. Do you know what they are? Douglas says they’re cooties but I don’t believe him. I have this special ointment on my hair now. It’s blue and pretty disgusting. I hope it doesn’t make my hair fall out. I’m trying to think of this as an adventure, like you said, but so far, it doesn’t seem like one because
everything is going wrong. Don’t feel too bad that I hate it here and want to come home. After all, it’s not your fault
.

Your loving daughter
,

Sally F
.

Two days later Sally went back to school. This time the nurse didn’t find anything wrong with her hair and she was admitted to Miss Swetnick’s fifth grade class.

The desks were lined up in rows and attached to the floor. Each one had an ink well in the corner. At home they’d had light-colored wooden desks that moved around and chairs that came in different sizes. And sometimes they’d push their desks together to make tables or else sit two-by-two. Sally knew now that she’d been right about Central Beach Elementary School in the first place. It
was
about five hundred years old.

But Miss Swetnick wasn’t. She was young and pretty with red framed eyeglasses shaped like hearts. She had long black hair tied back with a ribbon and a lot of the girls in the class wore theirs the same way. A few had long braids like Margaret O’Brien, the movie star, but nobody else had a coronet. Another thing Sally noticed right off was their
shoes. They all wore sandals—white or gold—and no socks. Sally looked down at her red loafers and thick white socks, which were so popular in New Jersey, and felt foolish.

“Could I please be excused?” Sally asked Miss Swetnick.