“Don’t be afraid,” he repeated. “My hand’s behind my back.”
“Your hand’s behind your back,” Veronica repeated, feeling something beginning to tingle inside her, “behind your back.”
Peter opened his eyes.
“Why if I wanted to ...” Veronica began, but then she was laughing so hard she couldn’t talk. Behind his back! Little Peter Wedemeyer was going to let her hit him! Little Peter Wedemeyer had put his hand behind his back so she shouldn’t be afraid of him. It was too much. Veronica sank to the ground, laughing and laughing and laughing.
“What’s so funny?” shouted Peter.
“Oh ... behind your back ...” gasped Veronica.
“Look — are you going to hit me?” demanded Peter.
“Oh ... oh ... oh ...” laughed Veronica, doubled up.
“Drop dead!” Peter yelled, and began walking away.
Veronica continued laughing until her breath was gone. Then she slowly rose to her feet, looked back down the street, and saw Peter standing there, watching her. She began to laugh again, and had to lean against a lamppost to keep herself from falling.
Suddenly it started again. She stopped laughing and listened. Was he crazy? She clenched her fists and turned sharply. Peter was jumping up and down, shouting,
“You’re in a trance,
Veronica Ganz.”
Veronica started toward him, and watched as he scrambled for the corner. No! No! That’s not what she wanted to do — not any more. So she stopped, and watched him scurry across the street. He turned on the other side, and shouted again,
“You’re in a trance,
Veronica Ganz.”
And then Veronica knew that everything was going to be all right. That it wasn’t going to be all over. That Peter would go on teasing her for a long time to come. And that it was good. Because he wouldn’t tease her if he didn’t want to — not any more. Just listen to him yodeling across the street there. Maybe she was a girl, and maybe he was a boy. So what! Now she could admit to herself that of all the kids she’d ever met, Peter was the one she liked and admired the most, Peter, screeching over there at her from across the street — the little nut — screeching at HER. What a wonderful feeling it was to like somebody and know that he liked you too, that maybe he had liked you all along, even though you were a girl, even though you were such a big girl. And how could you show a person how you felt? How? Veronica thought hard for a moment, shook her head, thought again, and then leaned
off the curb, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted,
“What a crier
Is Peter Wedemeyer!”
And as the small figure across the street clutched his head in mock despair and staggered backward, Veronica, excited and happy at what was just beginning, giggled like a girl.
To Anne Jackson, whose generous and wise teaching turned so many of us into children’s librarians, and whose friendship remains a wonder and a joy.
Copyright © 1968 by Marilyn Sachs
Originally published by Doubleday
Electronically published in 2011 by Belgrave House
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
No portion of this book may be reprinted in whole or in part, by printing, faxing, E-mail, copying electronically or by any other means without permission of the publisher. For more information, contact Belgrave House, 190 Belgrave Avenue, San Francisco, CA 94117-4228
http://www.BelgraveHouse.com
Electronic sales: [email protected]
This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.
Veronica Ganz Page 10
