by Betsy Haynes
"I'll tell him you're busy."
"Thank goodness," she whispered to the crack in the door.
Melanie waited until all was quiet downstairs and then opened the bathroom door and tiptoed back across the hall to her room. She sat down at her desk again and stared at her homework, but she was too nervous to concentrate.
All she could think about was Scott. She had had a crush on him in fifth grade, but he hadn't been interested in her then. Or any other girls, for that matter. But finally in sixth grade, things had changed, and he'd started talking to her on the playground at Mark Twain Elementary. Next had come the rumor that he liked her, and finally they had gone to a movie together.
Being Scott's girlfriend had been so much fun, and she had continued to like him even after she and her class entered Wakeman Junior High. But then she had met cool, laid-back Shane Arrington. And eighth-grader Garrett Boldt, the photographer for the yearbook, who sometimes let her be his assistant. She had even been interested in Derek Travelstead for a while. But gradually her crush on Shane had grown until she hardly thought about any boy but him.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of the phone again. "Oh, no!" she whispered. "He's calling back!"
Melanie zoomed out of her room and into the bathroom, slamming the door and looking around in a panic.
"The shower," she mumbled. "I'm taking a shower."
Turning on the water full blast, she plastered her ear to the door again, but the shower was making so much noise behind her that she couldn't hear a thing outside the bathroom.
She held her breath and waited until steam fogged the room and her face disappeared from the mirror. Surely if it had been Scott calling again, he had hung up by now. She pushed a damp strand of hair out of her eyes and peered into the hall, feeling like a fugitive.
All was quiet, but when she crossed the hall to her room, she found a yellow square of paper stuck to her door with the message "Scott called again" written on it.
Melanie breathed a gigantic sigh of relief. She had escaped—one more time. But how much longer could she keep this up? Forever, she assured herself, if that's how long it would take.
She started to sit down at her desk again but stopped to measure the distance from the chair to the door with her eyes. She had been able to make it to the bathroom without any problems both times the phone had rung. But why take chances? she thought. She sat down cross-legged on the floor, her back against the door frame, and listened. There was no use even trying to do her homework now.
Melanie looked at her watch. 8:15. Still plenty of time for Scott to call again. How long had it been since he last called? she wondered. Ten minutes? Fifteen? She had no idea how long it had been between the first and second calls.
"Rats," she mumbled. "If only I'd looked at my watch then, I'd know when to expect him to try again."
Suddenly a sound caught her attention, and it wasn't the ringing of the phone.
"Come on, Jeffy. Quit dawdling around," her mother was saying. "It's time for your bath."
Melanie's eyes bulged in horror. Jeffy couldn't take his bath now! Where would she hide when Scott called?
But two sets of footsteps were coming up the stairs, and Melanie knew she was doomed.
"Wait till I get my toys," Jeffy shouted, and scrambled down the hall to his room.
Melanie listened to her mother hum as she began drawing Jeffy's bathwater. This could take forever, she thought. If Jeffy took his plastic dinosaurs into the tub and played sea monsters, he'd turn into a wrinkly sea creature himself before Mrs. Edwards could drag him out.
Melanie buried her head in her hands. "What am I going to do?" she wailed. "Scott's going to call, and I'm going to have to talk to him."
The minutes ticked by. 8:18. 8:27. 8:32. She could hear Jeffy splashing happily in the tub, but the phone didn't ring. Maybe Scott had given up. Maybe she could put off talking to him until at least tomorrow. At 8:33 she stood up and stretched her arms high over her head.
"RIINGG!" The sound of the phone startled her so badly that she almost tripped over her feet. She looked around her room in a panic, but there was no place she could possibly hide.
"Why, yes, Scott. She's here." Her mother's voice floated up the stairs. "Just a moment. I'll get her."
In desperation Melanie took a deep breath and made a mad dash for the bathroom. Ignoring Jeffy, who looked at her wide-eyed from his tubful of bubbles, she knelt down by the toilet and made the worst wretching sound she possibly could. Then she quickly flushed the toilet.
An instant later her mother came bursting into the room. "Melanie, are you okay?"
Melanie shook her head. "My stomach," she said weakly.
"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Edwards.
"But she didn't really throw up," Jeffy said from the tub.
"Hush, dear. Your sister is sick. I'll take care of you in a minute."
"I think I'd better lie down," Melanie said as earnestly as she could.
"But she didn't really throw up," Jeffy said a little louder.
Mrs. Edwards continued to ignore Jeffy and helped Melanie to her room, murmuring consoling words as she tucked her into bed. "You just rest now, dear, and I'll check on you again in a little while. And I'll tell Scott that you can't talk to him tonight."
"Scott?" asked Melanie, faking surprise.
Her mother nodded. "He's on the phone. But don't worry. I'll take care of everything."
"Don't I wish," Melanie said half aloud.
"What, dear?"
Melanie smiled weakly at her mother. "I just said thanks."
CHAPTER 11
By morning Melanie had made up her mind about two things. First, she definitely was not going to the Valentine party with Scott when it was Shane she really liked. And second, being able to tell Scott that she already had a date would be the easiest way to turn him down. Of course, that still left one small problem. Shane had to ask her to the party—and do it fast. But she had an idea about that, too.
She dressed quickly, planning to leave for school a few minutes early. There were some little shops near Wakeman that Shane rode past on his bike every morning. She would browse in the windows and watch the reflection in the glass until she caught sight of Shane approaching. Then she would very casually saunter to the corner just as he happened to pass by, and their paths would come together. Naturally, he would stop and talk to her. It was a brilliant plan, if she did say so herself.
Grandma Dee was sitting at the table working a crossword puzzle when Melanie got to the kitchen. She was wrapped in a woolly blue bathrobe, and her feet were tucked into matching fuzzy slippers. Melanie smiled in amusement at the pair of sunglasses beside her grandmother's coffee mug. Didn't she ever go anywhere without them? Melanie wondered.
"Good morning, dear," Grandma Dee said cheerfully. Then her expression changed to concern. "How are you feeling this morning? Your mother tells me that you were sick to your stomach last night."
The statement jolted Melanie for an instant. She had completely forgotten her little charade in the bathroom when Scott had called the night before.
"Oh, I'm fine," Melanie assured her. "Guess I just needed a good night's sleep." She grabbed a banana from the fruit basket on the counter and a glass from the cupboard, and headed toward the refrigerator for the milk.
"Well, at least let me fix you a good, solid breakfast," said Grandma Dee. She stood up, plopped her sunglasses on top of her head, and marched toward the stove. "You need to get your strength back after throwing up, and a banana and a glass of milk certainly won't do it. You have plenty of time to eat before you have to leave for school. How do you like your eggs?"
"Grandma Dee," Melanie pleaded. "I feel fine. Honest. Besides, I need to leave a little early today."
"Nonsense. What would you do if you got sick again in school? Or fainted? I remember once when I was in school, Dorothy Throgmorten fainted dead away in the middle of geography class, and it was all because she hadn't eaten breakfast."
>
Melanie opened her mouth to protest again, but just then her mother came into the kitchen, scurrying around as she had done every morning since she'd begun driving the teen taxi.
"Morning, everyone," called Mrs. Edwards. "How are you feeling this morning, Melanie?"
"Great!" said Melanie, putting as much enthusiasm into her response as possible. "I feel terrific."
"Well, if you ask me, she needs a good breakfast," Grandma Dee said sternly.
Mrs. Edwards took a sip of coffee and nodded. "Mmmm." Then she swallowed and added, "I agree."
"But, Mom. I'm in a hurry," Melanie protested. "And I've never felt better in my life."
Her mother sighed helplessly, looking first to Grandma Dee and then to Melanie. "Your grandmother's right, you know. Let her fix you something to eat, and you can ride to school with me in the teen taxi."
"Nothing's as important as your health," Grandma Dee said triumphantly, taking two eggs and a tub of margarine out of the refrigerator.
"Mo-om," Melanie pleaded. "Do I have to?"
Her mother nodded. "You seem well enough to go to school, but I want you to have some breakfast before you go."
Melanie sighed. "I'll eat breakfast. Okay? But can't I walk to school? There's nothing wrong with me. Honest!"
Melanie crossed her fingers behind her back. She knew that her mom's teen taxi was a terrific service, picking up students who lived to close to school to get the bus and too far away to walk. But ever since the episode with Brian Olsen, who rode the teen taxi and had embarrassed her at school with a terrific crush on her, she had avoided riding along whenever possible.
Mrs. Edwards didn't answer, and Melanie knew her mother was weighing the possibilities. She decided to play it smart and keep her mouth shut for the moment. There was no use aggravating the situation.
By this time, Jeffy was coming into the kitchen in pajamas with padded feet and a picture of Michelangelo, one of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, on the front. He stopped and blinked at Melanie as Grandma Dee set a plate of scrambled eggs and a buttered English muffin in front of her.
"How come she's eating breakfast?" he asked in a sleepy voice. "She never eats eggs on a school day."
"Melanie was sick last night, sweetheart," Grandma Dee replied. "We don't want her to go to school with an empty tummy and throw up again, now do we?"
Jeffy thought that over for a moment as he climbed up into his chair. "But she didn't really throw up," he said softly.
Melanie shot him a warning look and muttered between clenched teeth. "Shut up, would you?"
"Well, you didn't," he insisted a little louder. Fortunately, neither her mother nor Grandma Dee had heard Jeffy, and Melanie gobbled up her breakfast, keeping one eye on the clock over the stove. If she hurried, she still might get to the corner ahead of Shane.
"Thanks, Grandma. That was a super breakfast," Melanie said as she rinsed her dishes and loaded them into the dishwasher. "Now, I've got to run. I really do have to get going a little early this morning."
Her mother had gone back upstairs without further insisting that Melanie ride the teen taxi, so she threw her grandmother a big smile and hurried to the hall closet, grabbing her favorite peach-and-white jacket. The colors looked terrific with her reddish-brown hair, and she wanted to look her best for Shane.
"Are you bundling up?" Grandma Dee called from the kitchen. "It's cold out there this morning."
"Sure, Grandma," Melanie called back. "I'll be warm enough. Don't worry."
The sound of slippers scuffing in the hallway made Melanie cringe. "Let me see," said Grandma Dee as she appeared beside the closet door. "What?" No hat? No gloves? No scarf? And that jacket. It doesn't look very warm to me."
"It's fine," Melanie assured her. "It's warmer than it looks."
Grandma Dee was frowning and staring into the closet. "How about this one?" she asked, holding up Melanie's down ski jacket. It was a bright yellow, and Melanie was sorry she had ever bought it. The color made her face look as pale as Mr. Dracovitch's face under his Dracula wig. She certainly didn't want to wear that jacket this morning.
"It's too fat to go into my locker," she said, knowing that it was basically the truth. With all the other things in her locker, she had to really stuff that jacket in to get the door closed.
"Well, at least wear a hat, gloves, and a scarf," Grandma Dee said resolutely. "I won't let you out of the house without them." Her eyes were twinkling, but Melanie knew that she really meant it.
"Okay," Melanie said. "I'll wear all of that stuff if it will really make you happy."
A smile lit her grandmother's face, and Melanie was glad she had given in. She knew deep down that Grandma Dee was only trying to help.
A block from her house, Melanie stopped behind a tree. She pulled off her ski hat with the pom-pom on top. It looked great on the slopes, but it was a definite no-no for her mission this morning. Off, too, came the gloves and scarf. They made her look as pudgy as a snowman. She stuffed them into her backpack, gave her hair a quick brush to fluff it up after being mashed under the hat, and took off at a run for the corner where she planned to meet Shane.
She slowed to a jog as she got close. She had to be careful now. If Shane saw her running, he might figure out that their meeting was planned. She wished she had time to look at her watch, but she didn't. Not if she was going to stay alert for Shane.
Half a block from the corner, she slowed again, this time to a walk. Her face was hot from running, even though it was a cold morning, and she was panting, sending little clouds of steam into the air. But if her plan worked, it would definitely be worth it. There wasn't much traffic, and the light facing her was red, which meant Shane would have a green right now.
Maybe I'd better speed up, she thought, but just then a bicycle soared through the intersection. It was going so fast that it was almost a blur, but Melanie was still able to make out the rider. It was Shane.
She stopped in her tracks. "Oh, no!" she moaned out loud. "I missed him! I can't believe I missed him!" Putting her hands on her hips, she stamped a foot. "And it's all Grandma Dee's fault!"
CHAPTER 12
Melanie stuffed her hands into her pockets and trudged angrily toward school. The cold wind was biting her nose, but inside she had reached the boiling point. Grandma Dee was spoiling everything. She was interfering, plain and simple.
"She may be cool and with it around the other kids," Melanie muttered under her breath, "but she's old-fashioned and overprotective when it comes to me. So what if I didn't eat breakfast or bundle up, as she put it? And so what if I faint in class—which, of course, I won't do. It's not her problem!"
She was so engrossed in her thoughts that she almost didn't notice the boy near the curb. He was bending over, inspecting the back tire of his bicycle.
Melanie did a double take. "Shane!"
Shane looked up and gave her a lopsided grin. Then he straightened up and turned to face her. "It's flat," he said, and shrugged. "I must have ridden over a nail or a piece of glass."
Melanie didn't say anything for a moment. She was doing a frantic mental check of her appearance. Nose—red. Hair—windblown and messy. It wasn't going the way she had planned, but she would have to make the best of it. At least Shane was here—and they were alone.
"So, what are you going to do?" she asked.
Shane shrugged and glanced toward the traffic that was whizzing by. "Walk it the rest of the way to school, I guess," he said. "There's nothing much I can do until this afternoon after school."
Shane began pushing the wobbly bike down the street, being careful to stay near the curb, and Melanie fell into step beside him.
"Isn't it awfully cold to be riding a bike in February?" she asked. She had wanted to add, "so near to Valentine Day," but she had decided in the nick of time that it would be too obvious.
"It's not much worse than walking," he said, "only it's faster."
"But isn't the wind colder, too?"
Shane r
aised an eyebrow and gave her a sideways look. "Not if you bundle up."
It was all that Melanie could do to keep from bursting out laughing. That was her grandmother's phrase—bundle up. And here was Shane, wearing a knit cap pulled over his ears, heavy ski mittens, and his coat collar turned up around his neck.
"Hey, you're the one who ought to be cold," Shane went on. "You aren't even wearing gloves."
"Gosh, I guess I forgot to put them on," she sputtered. In a flash, she whipped her hat and gloves out of her backpack and put them on. In another instant, she wrapped the scarf around her throat. So what if she looked like a snowman? Shane was giving her an approving nod.
"That's more like it," he said. "After all, you wouldn't want to get sick and miss the Valentine party at Bumpers, would you?"
Melanie's eyes got big, and she almost tripped over her own feet. What was happening? Was he actually asking her to the party? Or was he just making conversation? This was the moment she had been praying for. She couldn't blow it. She had to keep him talking about the party.
"So you heard about it, too?" she asked, trying to sound casual. "My friends said that Mr. Matson told everyone after the game Friday night. He even said we kids could decorate Bumpers in a Valentine theme. Isn't that great?"
"Yeah,'" said Shane. "As long as it isn't too lovey-dovey-looking and stupid, if you know what I mean."
Melanie nodded, but the lump in her throat was too big to speak around. She wanted to look at him, but she was afraid to, so she stared straight ahead.
Neither of them said anything for almost half a block. Then Shane made a soft sound as if he were clearing his throat. "Did you really mean what you said about you and Scott just being good friends?"
Melanie's heart nearly jumped out of her chest. "Yes," she whispered. "That's all we are now, just good friends."
The pounding in her ears was so loud that she wasn't sure she would be able to hear Shane if he spoke again.
He didn't say anything for a long, agonizing moment. Finally he nudged her softly with an elbow and grinned. "Would you like to go to the Valentine party with me?"
