Intensely Alice

by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

  We stopped, looking around us, and the voice outside the door said, “What did you do? Lock yourselves in?”

  “Mr. Watts!” I gasped.

  Gwen turned on the light and opened the door.

  He was standing there in his robe, holding the pan of pineapple upside-down cake in one hand, a flashlight in the other.

  “What are you doing up here?” I said, as though it weren’t perfectly obvious.

  He looked sheepishly down at the pan. “Got a little hungry, I guess.”

  “You climbed up all those steps?” said Liz.

  “How did you get in?” asked Pamela.

  “I do own the place, you know,” Mr. Watts said, and jingled the key looped over one finger.

  “But why didn’t you just call us and ask for some more cake?” Gwen wanted to know.

  “If you wouldn’t bring me a doughnut, you wouldn’t give me more cake, so I decided to help myself.” He squinted as he stared at us. “What were you yelling about, and how come you’re all in here?”

  I took the pan out of his hands. “It’s a long story, and it’s two in the morning. Sit down at the table and we’ll cut you a piece,” I told him.

  16

  A Woman Caller

  We all slept in on Sunday. We’d each made our own car arrangements for next week, but for this weekend, we were using my dad’s car. I’d told Liz she could have it to go to Mass, or Gwen could drive it to church, but I think we were all too exhausted from our middle-of-the-night visitor for anything.

  Gwen got up around noon and made omelets for the rest of us. One at a time we roused ourselves and sauntered into the kitchen.

  “If we’re going to have a party, we’d better get with it,” Gwen said. “How about inviting Molly over too? I haven’t talked with her for a couple of weeks.”

  “Sold!” I said. “Let’s order pizza and invite anyone who’s around. I see a volleyball net there in the backyard. No one said we couldn’t have guys over if they stayed outside.”

  As it turned out, almost everyone was available except Brian. We called, but no one was home. Keeno thought he and his parents had flown to Vegas for a week.

  Molly drove over in her mom’s car, and she looked great. We all told her so.

  “I feel pretty good too,” she said. The chemo was over, and her hair was beginning to grow back in. She looked like a blue-eyed Peter Pan, and we almost hugged the breath out of her. “I’ll know for sure how I’m doing when I see the doctor in two weeks and take a blood test. I’ve been accepted at the University of Maryland, so … fingers crossed!” She held out both hands, and we all did the same.

  Keeno picked up the drinks for us—Cokes and near beer, as the guys call the nonalcoholic kind. I’d made that clear. Mr. Watts let us have all the ice in his freezer.

  Justin came with Jill, Karen came with Penny, and Gwen invited Yolanda, her friend from church, as well as Austin from the soup kitchen.

  “How did you get his number?” I asked, surprised.

  “He gave it to me,” Gwen said nonchalantly. “Can’t a girl have friends?”

  We were all glad to see him. He was a big guy—muscular big—and with his dreads and his horned-rimmed glasses, he made quite a first impression.

  “This is where you live, huh?” Austin said as he came around to the back of Mr. Watts’s large house with the wraparound porch.

  “No, it’s where my brother lives, in the upstairs apartment with two roommates,” I said. “Mr. Watts, the owner, lives downstairs. We’re apartment-sitting for the week.”

  “Cool,” said Austin, and went over to join the volleyball game.

  We’d brought down three folding chairs from Lester’s apartment, and Mr. Watts loaned us his lawn chairs. He sat on the screened porch in back, watching our game, cheering when we got a good volley going. He also agreed to let the guys use his bathroom when needed.

  When the pizza was delivered, we sat wherever we could find shade, stealing over to another group occasionally to see if they had any sausage pizza left or trading a green pepper and anchovies for a mushroom.

  I was sitting with some of the girls, and I’ll admit I got satisfaction out of Penny’s expression when Liz announced, purposely, I’m sure, that I’d been to Chicago to visit Patrick at the university. Do you ever get over the jealousy of someone who stole your boyfriend for a while? When you’re not even sure if she initiated it or he did? But I saw her eyes studying me, and I liked that I was “the girlfriend” again.

  “Really?” said Jill. “How’s he doing?” And without waiting for an answer, “Where’d you stay?”

  “In his dorm. The guys have a suite. Pretty common there.”

  “Hey!” said Jill, and smiled knowingly.

  I smiled too. “It’s a fabulous university, and Patrick fits in well. Three summer courses, one after another. You know Patrick. We had a great time.”

  “I can imagine,” said Karen.

  “What have you been up to lately?” Pam asked Penny.

  “Not much of anything,” Penny said. “I had surgery for an ingrown toenail, but I expect it’ll be healed by the time school starts.”

  I noticed the bandage around one toe. Could I ever be that honest? I wondered. Could I sit there like Penny listening to a girl talk about being close to a guy I once liked and then admit that I’d just had surgery for an unglamorous ingrown toenail?

  “You won’t believe what the Colliers have done to try to break up Justin and me,” Jill told us bitterly, not waiting for us to ask about her. “The more they try, the more determined we are that they’ll never get their way. You heard about them whisking Justin off to the Bahamas over spring break—they made it sound like a spur-of-the-moment thing, celebrate his grandmother’s ninetieth birthday, no advance warning, bags all packed. Well, we fooled them! When Justin found out what they’d done, he got a ticket for me the very next day, and you should have seen their faces when I showed up in the hotel next door. His mom absolutely detests me, the old witch, and the feeling’s mutual.”

  “But you and Justin have been a couple practically forever,” said Pamela. We didn’t mention that he used to like Liz.

  “Why does she hate you so much?” I asked. Jill has never been a favorite person of mine, but I don’t hate her.

  “I think she wants him to marry some high-society girl from a prominent family. She tells Justin I’m just attracted to him for their money, and when she’s really feeling mean, she refers to me as ‘GDJ,’ he says—Gold Digger Jill. ‘Going out with GDJ again?’ she’ll ask him, so it sounds as though that’s my name, Geedee Jay.”

  “Nice of him to tell you all that,” said Gwen. “Sort of fans the flames, doesn’t it?”

  “Well, I asked him to tell me. I want to know everything the bitch says about me. She could have played the queen in Snow White.”

  “And … you’re Snow White?” I asked, against my better judgment.

  Jill ignored it. “Well, it’s not going to work, because Justin and I have a plan.”

  “What?” asked Liz.

  Jill only smiled. “You’ll know it when it happens.”

  “You’re going to elope when you’re eighteen, I’ll bet,” Pamela guessed.

  Jill continued smiling. “My lips are sealed.”

  Was it remotely possible they’d do something as stupid as a suicide pact, to keep them “together for eternity” or some other dumb thing? I wondered. Fill a car with carbon monoxide and die in each other’s arms? Jill seemed too self-absorbed for that, and Justin, I hoped, too intelligent. But you never know.

  As dusk set in, we wanted to play one more volleyball game while we could still see the ball. Molly especially wanted a turn.

  “I’m feeling great these days,” she said to Gwen and Liz and me. “I’m this close”—she held up her thumb and forefinger—“to a remission.”

  “Go, Molly!” Gwen said, and we cheered.

  It was about eight forty-five when we heard some car doors slam an
d voices coming around the side of the house. Four guys showed up, three of them with beers in their hands. It was obvious these weren’t their first beers of the evening.

  “Heeeeey!” one of them called. “Keeno, buddy!”

  One of the guys was wearing a St. John’s T-shirt, Keeno’s school.

  Keeno stared at them a moment or two. “How ya doin’, Jake,” he said, surprised. “What’s up?”

  “Saw your car out front, man! Sounds like a party! ‘That’s Keeno’s Buick,’ Bill says. ‘We gotta check this out.’” He looked around. “Nice place.”

  Keeno nodded toward me. “Friend of mine,” he said. He didn’t invite them to stay, but they were obviously people he knew from school.

  “It’s … sort of a private party,” I put in, wondering if that was rude. “For … uh … Molly.” I had to make up something.

  “Well, hey! Which one’s Molly?” said one of the four, his eyes coming to rest on Jill, who happened to be sitting on a lawn chair with Penny and Karen on the grass beside her. Justin ambled over and put one hand on Jill’s shoulder, staring unsmiling at the intruders.

  The guy laughed and glanced away, then suddenly reached out and knocked the volleyball from Mark’s hands and tossed it to one of his buddies.

  “We’ll play you!” he said over his shoulder to Mark. “Come on, Keeno. Let’s have some fun.”

  “Uh … dude, this isn’t my party,” Keeno said. “We’re sort of wrapping things up.”

  “Bill! Catch!” the second guy said, and the four boys propelled the ball rapidly back and forth among them, one of them playing single-handed, still holding his beer can.

  I resented having our party end this way. The ball flew out-of-bounds and hit Penny on the side of the head. The larger of the guys retrieved it. “Sorry, babe,” he said. “Wanna get in the game?”

  “Yeah, bring your head over here, I’ll rub it for you,” the larger guy said as Penny ran one hand over her cheek. Her drink had spilled onto her shorts.

  “You can give us head whenever you want,” said another guy, and they laughed.

  “Jake, come on,” Keeno said. “Knock it off.”

  The newcomers only laughed and hit the ball even harder.

  Austin and Mark went over to the volleyball net and started taking it down while Keeno began folding up the chairs.

  “Game’s over,” Mark said.

  “Whassa matter?” said Jake. “Hey, get a look at Mr. Party Pooper here! His pants are full of it.” Then, “Hot potato!” and he forcefully threw the ball to Bill, who immediately tossed it back. They threw faster and faster, their yells louder, more raucous.

  “Jake, it’s time for you guys to go,” Keeno pleaded. “Come on. Clear out.”

  Suddenly Mark moved in and intercepted the ball, tucking it under his arm. “I said, party’s over,” he told them.

  “Just go!” I said.

  “Aren’t you going to offer us a little refreshment first?” one of the guys asked, picking up his beer can and draining the last of it.

  The fourth boy was opening the lids of the five pizza boxes there on the folding table. He lifted out a large slice of mushroom. “Food!” he called to the others. And to me, “You got any more inside?” He moved toward the back steps.

  “Don’t go in there,” said Austin.

  “Yeah? You the caretaker?” the boy responded. I saw Austin’s jaw clench.

  “This is a private house and this is a private party. Just keep out,” Austin repeated.

  “Hey, what’s with you guys? What are you so upset about?” Jake asked, turning to me.

  “Here!” shouted the fourth guy. “There’s more in this box.” He threw a large slice of pizza to Jake. It landed on the ground.

  I heard a car door slam, then a second, and my heart pounded, my hands felt cold. I knew how quickly a crowd could grow. But moments later, two police officers came around the side of the house, and I was never so glad to see the police in my life. For a moment I was afraid they might be the same ones who had caught us in the cemetery, but they weren’t. Suddenly all the raucous laughter stopped.

  “Shit,” I heard one of the new guys mutter.

  “Got a complaint from a neighbor about noise back here,” one of the officers said, and I closed my eyes. All I could think of was what Les would say. A party, boys, booze, neighbors’ complaints, and the police showing up. All in Mr. Watts’s backyard. I opened my eyes again when the policeman asked, “Anyone want to tell me what’s going on?”

  It was Mark who volunteered.

  “Yeah, our friend Alice is giving a party, and we have four uninvited guests who won’t leave,” he said, nodding toward the four who were standing between the pizza boxes and the back steps.

  The second officer was walking around, checking us out, looking for booze. One of the guys had his hand behind his back, trying to set his beer can on the table behind him, but he missed.

  “Who brought the beer?” the officer asked.

  “The guys who crashed our party,” I told him.

  The officer turned to Jake and his buddies. “IDs, please.”

  In slow motion, disgust on their faces, the four pulled out their wallets.

  “Hey, man, we’re not hurting anybody. We go to St. John’s with Keeno over there. Just wanted to stop by, see what’s happening, that’s all,” Bill said.

  The officer didn’t answer, just checked his license. “Which one of you is driving?” he asked.

  “I am,” another guy answered.

  “Come out front? Take a Breathalyzer test?” the officer said, an order more than a question.

  The guy looked at his friends and finally agreed.

  “Where’d you get the beer?” the first officer questioned.

  “From home,” said Jake.

  “All four of you, around in front,” the officer said. And then, to the rest of us, “Sorry for the interruption. Enjoy your party,” and he escorted the intruders back around the side of the house.

  We stared at each other in amazement.

  I was hyperventilating. “Omigod, if Les finds out …” I sat down on the steps. “If they’d gone inside and trashed the place … or hurt Mr. Watts … Who do you suppose called the police?”

  The screen door opened behind me, and Mr. Watts looked us over.

  “I’m so sorry,” I told him.

  “Those were guys I know at school,” said Keeno, “but I sure didn’t invite them.”

  “They just started taking over,” said Liz.

  “That’s when I called the police,” said Mr. Watts.

  We all stared at him.

  “The police said that a neighbor—,” I began.

  “I’m a neighbor! I’m your neighbor, aren’t I?” the old man said. “I didn’t give the police my name—just said some ruffians had invaded a party next door and someone was about to get hurt. I gave them the address and hung up.”

  “Mr. Watts, you’re a wonder!” said Gwen.

  “And I need some doughnuts to calm me down!” he said.

  Keeno volunteered to go get some, and I didn’t stop him.

  “It’s on us, Mr. Watts,” Keeno said. “What kind do you want?”

  “Bring back a dozen,” Mr. Watts told him. “You know the kind with raspberry centers? Get two of those. The glazed chocolate? Make it three. Couple cream-filled, a jelly center …”

  Justin, who had trailed behind the officers, came back to report that the guy who’d been driving had evidently passed the Breathalyzer test, because the police let him drive his car and the others had got in with him.

  “You don’t think they’ll be back again, do you? Vandalize the house?” Liz asked.

  Keeno shook his head. “No, they’re jerks, but they’re not that bad.”

  We stayed in the yard until the mosquitoes became impossible, going over what had happened that evening, thinking of all the what-ifs, marveling at Mr. Watts and his call to 911.

  I had my eye on him and the doughnuts, ho
wever. He had a chocolate-coated doughnut in one hand and a raspberry-filled in the other, but he deserved them.

  Molly left before the others, giving us each an exuberant hug. The guys set up the volleyball net again for future games, took the chairs inside, and we cleaned up all the trash. Soon the yard showed no trace of a party.

  Gwen walked with Austin out to his car, and Liz lingered awhile with Keeno. I went inside with Mr. Watts, saw that he took his medicine, and helped him find his pajamas.

  “You all set?” I asked before I turned out the light.

  He just lay there grinning. “More excitement these last two nights than I’ve had in ten years,” he said. “What’s on for tomorrow?”

  “Don’t count on anything,” I told him. “We’re going to have a quiet week.”

  I think my heart rate was almost back to normal as I went up the side steps to the apartment. Liz, Gwen, and Pamela were inside now, feet on the coffee table, checking out late-night movies on TV. The apartment phone rang, and Pamela answered.

  “Hello?” she said. There was a pause in which she turned to me and rolled her eyes, pointing to the phone. “No, I’m not Lester’s sister. I’m Pamela … I’m just staying here for a while.” Her voice suddenly became irritable. “Who is this?” she demanded. Then she slowly put the phone down. “She hung up,” she told us.

  “I’ll bet it’s the same woman who met Les in the bar,” I said. “Did she sound young? Could you tell?”

  “I think so,” said Pamela. “First she asks for Lester. Then she wants to know if I’m his sister. When I said my name was Pamela, she just said, ‘What the hell … ?’ and hung up.”

  “Seems like Les has a lot of explaining to do,” said Liz.

  “As for you, girl,” said Gwen with a smile, “I saw you and Keeno getting pretty chummy. Sitting there in his lap. Feeding each other pizza.”

  “Omigod, don’t tell me they’re at the feeding stage now,” said Pamela, rolling her eyes.

  “We were eating two different kinds of pizza, that’s all,” Liz said. “We just traded bites.”

  “Next thing you know, he’ll be rubbing her back,” said Gwen.

  “Carrying her lip gloss for her in his pocket,” said Pamela.