I waited.
But we were at one of the best parts of the movie, where Elvis is crazy with jealousy because he thinks his brother stole his wife away from him. By the time he’d hidden himself behind the big rock, waiting to shoot his brother, I knew she’d forgotten all about what she’d started to say.
I didn’t remind her. If she wasn’t going to ask me, then I wasn’t going to tell her.
Wednesday, July 2, 10:30 p.m.
My Dear Friend and Confidant, Floey,
I just put the phone down. Since you’re me, I don’t have to tell you who called. Third day in a row. A whole hour this time. Anyway, you’re not going to believe this (oh, what am I saying, of course you are!), but I worked up the nerve to ask him if he and Kim had finally made it “official.” Remember what he said?
They broke up!! (Big giddy gasp!)
He asked me if it really counts as a breakup since they only kissed once. (I said I wasn’t sure.) But he says after the bus ride, when they got to the dorm, she told him she felt “uncomfortable”—and broke it off!!!
Ha! Woo-hoo!! (Shrieks of joy! Ecstatic cheers!!)
So what do you really think? Is it possible that he’s been harboring a secret desire for me all this time? Maybe he only just realized it. In the history of relationships, it can’t be so rare for best friends to become more than friends, right? Maybe Wen, unlike some people I could mention but won’t (rhymes with Shmalvin), appreciates a good thing when he sees it—even if it did take him a while.
Am I on the right track or am I way off?
Could it be that he’s ready to make his move, and that these telephone calls are his first timid steps?
You think so? Me too!
Oh my God. He’ll be home tomorrow. I’ll definitely see him either at night or at the parade on Friday at the latest. I wonder if it’s going to be any different between us?
Terrible thought: What happens if it doesn’t work out? After all, don’t I know that getting my hopes up about this is a mistake? That it will probably only lead to heartbreak? I’d hate to lose Wen as a buddy. And what about Azra? If only we hadn’t agreed to share him—it makes everything so complicated!!
Oh well, I guess these are the kinds of problems you just have to deal with when you’re dazzling, charming and hard to resist—bravo to Wen for finally noticing!
chapterseven: in which
i sneak out of the house
and finally have an
adventure of my own
or
fireworks, stars and moons
Thursday, July 3, 11:30 p.m.
Dear F,
Waited by the phone all day—almost lost patience with the boy, but finally he called! We talked for more than an hour!!
I practically have a boyfriend!!!
So, Wise Floey of Years Yet to Be, here’s a question about early-relationship etiquette: Was it a bad idea for me to tell him that I missed him? Did I seem too needy? Should I have kept my mouth shut?
Was that completely dumb or do you think it was okay?
P.S.
I still feel guilty about Azra even though it’s not my fault this is happening. After all, he is the one calling me every day, not the other way around.
Besides, HE SAID HE MISSES ME TOO!!!
How will I ever get through the long hours until tomorrow, when I’ll finally see him? (Sigh!)
P.P.S.
Gary likes my hat. He said it makes me look exotic. Unlike my family (i.e., Ma, who keeps asking why I don’t take it off inside the house), Gary has a refined sense of style.
I felt pretty confident as I got ready on Friday morning.
As the New Extraordinary Floey, I wanted to stand out at the parade, so along with my hat I wore dark sunglasses, and I tied a red silk scarf around my neck. I looked at myself in the mirror. The overall effect made a pretty strong impression.
Azra’s mother wasn’t a parade person but Azra was, so we picked her up at six-thirty in the morning. As soon as she got in the car she gave me that same puzzled look I’d seen at the poetry reading.
“What’s with the costume?” she asked.
“It’s not a costume. It’s my new look. Do you like it?”
“It is? You look like a spy or something, maybe a blues singer.”
“Or a blind gangster with a cold,” suggested Tish.
Richard snickered. Ma didn’t say anything—she just kept driving.
I ignored them all.
“There he is!” I shouted. “That’s Wen!”
Azra and I screamed and called out, and my mother and Tish did too. I don’t remember Richard joining in. He was probably off sulking somewhere. The band played some Dixieland song, not a regular marching tune. When Wen was about half a block away, he saw us and waved. Just then, the parade paused, so Azra and I ran over to him.
“Hey, soldier,” Azra called out. “Love the hat!” Everyone in the band wore blue and white uniforms with shiny black shoes and tall blue helmets that made them look like toy soldiers. I could’ve just rolled the boy up in pita bread and eaten him.
“I’m so glad to see you,” I said, realizing with disappointment that I’d left my hat and scarf by our blanket. I’d taken them off because of the heat. I tried to see if there was anything different about the way he looked at me, but it was hard to tell with all the confusion around us.
“How you doing, Floey?” he asked. “Finally cheered back up yet?”
I shrugged. “Not sure.” I tried to send him a secret smile so he’d know I was thinking about him and me. “Maybe.”
“Hi, I’m Floey’s cousin Tish!” She was right on my heels. Sometimes having Tish around was kind of like having a dog.
“Hi, Tish,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
“So,” I asked him, “are we still on for this afternoon?”
“I think so. My dad made some plans, though. I might be late.”
I was disappointed, but only a little. As it turned out, Azra had said she wasn’t coming to our block party after all because her mother decided at the last minute to throw a barbecue with their own neighbors. Azra had invited my mother, my cousins and me to her house after the parade but fortunately Ma said no. This meant, I’d realized with secret excitement, that if Wen came I was going to have him all to myself.
“Well,” I said. “Guess I’ll see you later, then.”
And that was all the time we had, because the band started playing again and Wen had to step back in line. He and the rest of the band did a hilarious dance where they marched in place and then side to side and then turned around and did it again. The crowd went wild. So did we.
After they marched away, Tish asked, “That’s the boy from the picture, isn’t he? Are you sure he’s not your boyfriend?”
“Who, Wen? No.” I glanced at Azra, but I don’t think she was listening. “We’re just friends, that’s all. I already told you I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Oh,” Tish said. “He’s soooo cute! He’s adorable!”
We walked back to our blanket.
I couldn’t even look at Azra.
Friday, July 4, 11:00 p.m.
Dear Florence,
Wen didn’t show up.
I spent the whole barbecue waiting on our top steps so I could listen for the phone. I left a couple of messages on his machine but he never even called back. While I waited, every front yard on my street was full of people. Everyone had fun except me.
Wen better have a good excuse. I hope for his sake that he was kidnapped by aliens.
Richard’s little friends made the day even worse. First, they kept peering over at me from Billy’s yard. It’s really starting to bug me. In a world where hardly anybody notices me, why do these little boys find me so fascinating? Then later, Richard and Billy nearly blew me up with a firecracker. They threw it up on the step, but I heard the hissing and brushed it over the side just in time. I went ballistic. But when I demanded that Ma and Mrs. Fishman make them stay inside for the rest
of the day, they refused. Typical! There is no justice!
After that, Tish sat with me for a while and I had to listen to her go on about how she’s going to be a writer someday. Apparently, she writes adventure stories about people with magical powers, like wizards and witches. She also kept saying how cute Wen is and how it’s obvious that I think so too. (Where’s the nearest bridge? I want to jump off!)
When everyone went to the beach to watch the fireworks, I stayed home like an idiot to wait for Wen’s call. I told Ma I wasn’t feeling well. It wasn’t exactly a lie.
So now I’m here in bed, wide awake in the dark, writing to you using my penlight. How did I let myself get so carried away again? Am I destined to grow old alone, invisible and forgotten, forever searching for something that doesn’t exist? Will I die on some cold floor, my decomposing body lying for days unnoticed and unloved, waiting by a phone that will never ring?
Why is everything going wrong? Even this diary seems to be plotting against me. Here I am in the middle of a crisis and it runs out of pages. How can I express myself with only one line left?
Stupid diary. Stupid day. Stupid me.
I stared up at the darkness, silently considering my own stupidity.
Pathetic! Weak! Dumb, dumb, dumb! What happened to independent? What happened to self-sufficient? What’s wrong with me?
That’s when I heard, or at least I thought I heard, a tapping sound from my window. Ploink. A moment later, it happened again. Ploink. Ploink. It was the sound of something small hitting the screen.
Then somebody outside whispered, “Floey!”
I sat up and lifted the shade. There were two flashlights in the darkness just under my window. It was Wen and Azra.
“What are you doing?” I called, ecstatic to see them but trying to be as quiet as I could.
“Getting you out of bed!” whispered Azra, nearly blinding me with her flashlight.
“Are you crazy?”
“Sorry I couldn’t come earlier. George and I had to take care of two needy parents.” George was Wen’s little brother. Wen set his backpack on the ground. “But it’s not that late. Want to go to the secret beach?”
The secret beach was a little sandy clearing that Azra, Wen and I had found behind a patch of reeds along Otis Cove. As far as we knew, nobody else knew about it. It was our special place where we liked to go together.
I turned around to see if the lights and voices had woken Tish, but she looked comatose. Actually, without even looking I should have known she was asleep because it sounded like there was a wild growling beast in the room.
“Sure, if you insist,” I said, trying to sound casual so they wouldn’t know how happy I was. “Just give me a second to change.”
I glanced again at Tish but she definitely looked dead to the world.
Sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night was the sort of thing Lillian used to do, not at all an Old Floey thing. Thrilled, I threw on some clothes, including my hat and scarf, as quietly as I could. I carefully lifted the screen, hooked one leg over the window and pushed myself through. Then I hopped down to my friends.
My escape successful, I was ready for whatever adventure the night might bring. And oddly enough, that night something really really weird, something strange and adventurous, actually did happen.
“My God, Floey,” Wen said. “What are you wearing?”
“Let me introduce myself,” I said. “You’re looking at the New Improved Floey Packer.”
Otis Cove was just off the main road that led into the center of Opequonsett, not too far from Wen’s house. There was a secluded area of sand in the middle of a thick patch of reeds by the water that probably belonged to an old vacation cottage. There wasn’t much light from the sky that night, so I was glad I’d thought to bring my little penlight. We’d been here many times but never at night.
After we sat down in the sand, Wen opened his backpack and took out a medium-sized box. “For you and me,” he said, opening it up. It was a cake, the kind you buy in the junk-food section of a grocery store.
I stared at it. “Why?”
Squinting into the beam from my penlight, he held his hand up to block his eyes. “For surviving our first breakups.”
Oh, he was so sweet!
“I didn’t know you get a cake for that.”
“Apparently,” he said, slicing a piece for each of us, “you do.”
“So this is Dump Cake?”
He laughed.
Azra didn’t. She knew I had told Wen that I’d been dumped by some mysterious guy. When she’d asked me why, I’d told her the truth: that when he asked me why I sounded depressed I had a moment of insanity. She’d just said I was weird. She wouldn’t give me away, though.
Wen nodded sympathetically. “I know you’ve been through a hard time.”
Azra rolled her eyes.
“It’s nothing,” I said carefully. “It’s not a big deal.”
“So who was he? How come I didn’t know anything about him?”
I couldn’t tell the truth, that it was him, so I had to make something up. “I was embarrassed,” I began. “He was … just a pen pal. We wrote each other letters, but the truth is I hardly ever saw him.” I felt guilty for lying again, but secretly I also felt proud of myself. It was a pretty good story.
“Oh really?” Azra said, giving me a you’re-crazy look. “Tell us more.”
What was she doing? “Well … I met him at summer camp when I was little. We sent each other notes for years. It’s just stupid. That’s why I never said anything.”
But Azra didn’t leave it at that. She was having fun with me. “What was his name?”
I flashed her a warning with my eyes. I felt bad enough already, and she was making it worse. “Robert,” I said. It’s the name of the guy who wrote Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. “But I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. Can we change the subject?”
“Sure,” Wen said. “I completely understand.” He handed me a slice of cake on a paper plate.
“Thank you,” I said, relieved. I studied his eyes for signs of secret passion. Unfortunately, it was too dark to be sure.
The Dump Cake was good. It was dry with hard frosting that tasted kind of plastic, but that didn’t matter. It was absolutely delicious.
“It’s great to be here,” Wen said, kicking back in the sand. “Just us. The Three Blind Mice.” I wondered if he was trying not to act suspicious in front of Azra. He seemed to be working hard on keeping our little secret, so I decided to follow his lead. We would have to find time to discuss our secrets another day.
A warm breeze blew my hair into my face. Azra told us about being a day-camp junior counselor and Wen talked about his retreat. We grilled him about Kim. He said he’d been sad at first, but now he was practically over it. Then I told them about how hard it had been at home with my monster cousins. Azra and I even told Wen about Aunt Sarah and the birthday picture. It felt good to talk with them about it. Wen laughed about the picture, and so did I, a little, so I guess Azra felt okay to laugh too. When I saw it from someone else’s point of view, it really was kind of funny.
I sliced myself another piece of Dump Cake. We sat quietly for a while and watched as somebody on the other side of the Narragansett Bay lit the last fireworks of the day. Bright colors burst across the sky. Reds, blues, greens, one after another. It was fantastic, like our own private show. It occurred to me that this could have been incredibly romantic, if only Azra hadn’t been there. But then I felt bad for thinking that way. Azra and Wen and I were best friends.
“I have a question for both of you,” Azra said, startling me out of my thoughts. “Leslie Dern’s sister told her that Dean Eagler’s parents are going away with his little brother later this month, and Dean’s having a big party. Leslie and the JCs want to crash it. You guys want to come?”
Leslie again. Grrr.
“Another party?” Wen asked as sparkling pink fire shot up from the horizon
and fell back down without bursting. “How does he get away with it?”
“I don’t know. Oblivious parents. But it’ll be great.”
“A high school party?” he said. “Maybe I’ll come. I don’t know.”
So then Azra waited for my answer.
“I don’t think so. Why should we go to a party full of girls slobbering over Dean Eagler?” I looked directly at her. “Doesn’t that just seem a little pitiful?”
“For your information,” she said slowly, the flashlight making long dark shadows on her face, “I do not slobber over Dean Eagler. You must be thinking of somebody else.”
As a matter of fact, Azra had often told me how beautiful she thought he was. I even remembered her considering out loud what she might give if only she could be locked in a closet with him for fifteen minutes.
But I didn’t say so. There wasn’t any point.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean anything by that. It’s just that I don’t want to be so predictable and ordinary.” And then, thinking of her at the party standing in the middle of a pack of giggling girls swooning over Dean, I said, “Neither should you.”
She tilted her head. “What makes you so superior all of a sudden?”
Fortunately, Wen spoke up before it got even worse.
“I’ll go, but only if Floey goes too. It’ll show that she’s really over being dumped.”
It took me a moment to realize the significance of this, but when I did it pulled me back into the present. Aha! Here was absolute proof that Wen was interested in me! Clever boy!
I tried to think of something equally clever, some response that would seem just as innocent but would actually be full of secret meaning. But I didn’t get a chance. Because somebody laughed.
Somebody who wasn’t Wen or Azra or me.
That’s when the really really weird thing started to happen.
Wen sat up. “What was that?”
Now, we had been to our secret beach many times before, but never so late. Still, even during the day we’d never seen anyone else using it. Who would come here at such a strange time? It was midnight! In a moment of pure terror, I imagined some horrible lunatic with a chainsaw. The person laughed again, and then there was another voice, whispering, getting closer. We sat as still as we could. The voices were coming from the reeds to our left. It occurred to me that they might be the people who really owned the cottage. Whoever they were, they were making their way through the reeds toward us.
I Am the Wallpaper Page 7
