“Oh yeah!” I said. “I love that song!” I felt so stupid for saying that—he probably thought I said it to copy him or sound cool or something.
“You do?” he said.
“Yeah,” I said, hesitating. “I really like Toto. I wanna get their new album.”
“Oh, I have it, it’s Toto IV,” Josh said. “I could make you a tape of it if you want.”
“Really? That’d be great! Thanks!” I still couldn’t believe I was actually talking to Josh on the phone.
“Only I might not be able to do it for a couple of days, ’cause the tape’s in Long Island. That’s where I live. In Merrick.”
“Oh. Really? You come to school every day all the way from Long Island?” I asked.
“No, actually. I stay at friends’ houses a lot. Especially Tim’s, and Rick’s in Brooklyn. My bubbe lives in Brooklyn, too.”
“Your what?” I said.
“My bubbe. My grandmother. Aren’t you Jewish?” he asked.
“Yeah, sort of. My dad is but my mom isn’t. I mean, like, we get a Christmas tree and stuff.”
“Oh. ’Cause ‘bubbe’ is what a lot of Jewish people call their grandmothers.”
“Oh. Cool. Hey, wait a second,” I said, changing the subject. “Don’t you have to live in one of the five boroughs to go to P.A.?”
Josh laughed a little. Oh man, he had such a cool, throaty, guylike laugh. “Yeah, you do. I lied so I could go. Long Island doesn’t exactly have a school like P.A.”
“Oh, right. Wow.”
“They think I live with my bubbe in Brooklyn, but I really live with my mom in Merrick.”
“Uh-huh. What about your dad?” I asked.
“He lives in New Jersey with my stepmom,” he said matter-of-factly.
“Oh. Sorry, I hope that wasn’t too nosy.”
“No, it’s okay. My parents got divorced a long time ago. When I was eight.”
Then my mother started banging on my door. “Julie!” she shouted.
“I’m so sorry, I really have to go,” I said to Josh. “We’re about to have dinner.” God, what a stupid thing to tell him. Now he’d think I was part of this dorky family that ate dinners together and stuff.
“That’s cool . . . um . . .” he said, and his voice trailed off, kind of sounding like he was gonna say something else. Then it got a little weird. I didn’t know how to get off the phone with Josh Heller! I really didn’t want to.
“Um . . . have a fun time with Tim,” I said.
“Thanks. . . .” he said, hesitating again. I waited a second or two.
Finally, I said, “Okay I’ll see you in French.”
“Okay,” he said.
Should I say “Thanks for calling”?
“Okay, bye-bye,” I said.
“Okay, see you in school. Bye,” he said. And we hung up.
Oh my God! I had to call Julie! Screw our stupid fight, I thought, and I picked my phone back up and started to dial 8-6-4—when I heard my mother shriek, “Julie Prodsky! I will not say it again!” I hung up. Shit.
“Okay, okay, I’m coming!” I shouted. I’d have to wait until after dinner. Oh man, what agony. I opened my door and floated out to the living room.
I set the table in, like, thirty seconds, but it seemed to take Dad forever to bring out the stupid Shake ’n Bake pork chops and salad. Mom told me to go get Ellie.
“Ellie! Dinner!” I screamed.
“I could have done that,” Mom said. “I said go get her!” She was nibbling on a handful of Cheez-Its. She didn’t seem as angry as I expected. Maybe her fight with my dad was over. I started to feel relaxed. It was good that I didn’t get a chance to call Julie—she could call me, after all. I didn’t really want to be the one to make the first move.
I could feel myself beaming from talking to Josh Heller.
“What’s the big smile about?” Mom said.
“Oh, nothing,” I said.
“Who were you on the phone with?” Ellie said, pulling out her chair.
“No one,” I said, unable to hide my smile. I took a swallow of milk, which I still liked to drink with dinner.
“Oh right, ‘no one,’” Ellie said, mimicking me. “Could it have maybe been . . . a boy?”
“Hmmm . . . very interrresting,” Dad said, rolling the “r” in “interesting.” He was doling out the pork chops onto plates.
“Oh my God, you are all so nosy!” I said, feeling the red in my cheeks.
“Aren’t we allowed to know? Or is it private?” Mom said.
“Okay, okay, it was Josh Heller!” I said, which made me smile and blush even more. I couldn’t even take a bite of food.
“Ooooh!” Ellie said, and then she sang, “Julie’s got a boyfriend!”
“I wish!” I said, kind of under my breath.
“Who’s Josh Heller?” Mom said.
“He’s just a guy in my French class; he’s hardly my boyfriend,” I said. And then Dad said, wasn’t it funny, he had a student named Josiah Heller, not the same as Josh Heller, really, but pretty close. Then he launched into this story about Josiah Heller and what an interesting background he had and blah blah blah, so I stopped listening.
I let my mind wander to gorgeous Josh Heller and what he was doing now at Tim Haas’s house. Were they having dinner, too? I wondered what Josh’s favorite foods were. . . . Then when I zoned back in, Dad was explaining the complexities of the Carter administration. It was totally boring, but Ellie and Mom seemed interested. I couldn’t really pay attention to anything ’cause all I could think about was: Josh Heller called me!
18
Can You Get into Flattery?
“Hello,” Joyce said, adjusting her clipboard on her lap, her stubby legs in navy wool pants. She had on a blue-and-white sweater that I couldn’t decide if I liked.
“Hi,” I said.
We sat in silence for a second, and I suddenly realized there was so much to talk about, I didn’t even know where to start. Mom finding out. Julie and me fighting. Josh calling me! I took a deep breath. I took another.
“What’s up?” Joyce said.
“Not much,” I said. “I mean, a lot, I guess. I don’t know.”
Joyce just waited.
“I mean, there’s this guy . . .” I continued, and could already feel myself smiling. “His name’s Josh Heller, and I have, like, the hugest crush on him in the history of the world and he called me last night for the first time!”
“Uh-huh,” Joyce said, smiling like, Go on. She scribbled something.
“But then I didn’t see him in school today, even though I spent, like, the whole day trying to bump into him, and I was thinking about him all day, hoping, praying we’d run into each other, but we never did.” I took another deep breath.
“What would you have said to him if you had run into each other?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I’d say ‘Hi.’” Then I thought for a second. “I guess it’s good I didn’t run into him! I’d probably look like such a fool!”
“Why would you look like a fool?”
“I don’t know, I’d probably start babbling like an idiot or say something stupid. Sometimes I talk too much; I can be a total idiot! Especially if I’m nervous. Which I totally am in front of a gorgeous guy.”
“What do you want him to say to you?” Joyce asked.
“I want him to ask me out,” I said without hesitating. “On a date.”
“Ah,” she said. Then she waited again. I took a deep breath again.
“Are you feeling nervous now?” she said.
“Yeah,” I said, exhaling. “All this talk about Josh Heller makes me feel kind of . . . I don’t know . . . kind of . . . I don’t know if nervous is really the right word. . . .”
“What would be the right word?”
“I don’t know!” I snapped. Sometimes Joyce really annoyed me.
“What’s the matter?” Joyce said.
“I don’t know, I don’t really care what the right wo
rd is. I feel like this is so stupid.”
“What’s so stupid?”
“This! This conversation we’re having! It’s just a stupid crush! Nothing’s ever gonna happen! I mean, it’s not like Josh Heller could possibly be my boyfriend or anything. Or even ask me out!” Why wasn’t I talking about my fight with Julie? Or stealing? Wasn’t that what I was supposed to be talking about?
“Why couldn’t Josh Heller be your boyfriend?” Joyce asked. “Is that what you want?”
Then I made this gasp-snort sound like, Duh! My mother hated when I did that. “It would be, like, a dream come true! But he probably just wants to be friends. Or he thinks I’m cute or funny or whatever, but not like a girlfriend. I’m too big a dork . . . I don’t know. . . . I’m probably not cool enough.”
“Well, what if you are?”
“Please.”
We sat in silence for a few seconds. “So, what’s bothering you?” Joyce said.
“I don’t know,” I said, rubbing my palms on my thighs. “I just can’t stop thinking about Josh Heller ever since he called; I mean, haven’t you ever liked anybody? Don’t you know what it’s like?”
“Yes,” she said, in her calm voice, and she smiled. She recrossed her legs. “Of course I know what it’s like.”
“Well, okay then.”
“But what I want to know is,” Joyce said, “what’s it like for you?”
“Like this!” I said, and my leg started bouncing away like it might break off and fly around the room. “I don’t know, I guess I’m scared. Josh is so unbelievably cute and cool and—”
“What does it mean to be cool?” Joyce interrupted. “Who do you know who is cool?”
“Well, Julie, obviously.”
“The other Julie,” Joyce clarified.
“Duh, I mean, yeah,” I said, thinking “duh” was probably obnoxious of me to say.
“How is she cool?”
“Well, ’cause she’s beautiful and popular.”
“So being cool is about looks?”
“No,” I snapped. God, I sort of felt like I was talking to my mother. My mother never seemed to understand anything about teenagers. Like, she was always saying idiotic stuff like, “Why do you have to have one boyfriend? Why can’t you have one for Friday night and one for Saturday night? And then have different ones the next weekend?” “Because, Mom, it’s not nineteen fifty-six!” I always wanted to scream at her. “This isn’t Happy Days!” I mean, how stupid can you get?
“Julie’s also cool because she knows how to flirt and dress and say the right thing and stuff. . . .” I said.
“Uh-huh.”
“And she’s never insecure around guys,” I said.
“Mm-hmm.”
“So she’s cool.”
“Okay.” Joyce paused. “And aren’t you her best friend?”
“Yeah,” I said, kind of hesitating. I thought I was.
“So wouldn’t that make you cool, too—that a cool girl likes you enough to be her best friend?”
“Well, yeah.” I thought for a second. “I guess. Except that it feels like a lie.”
“What does?” Joyce asked.
“That I’m cool. I mean, maybe people think I am, but it’s not true.”
“How so?” she said.
“I don’t know. Like, I know what I really am, deep down inside, but that’s not what people see. Whatever they see isn’t really me.”
“Ah,” Joyce said. “So who are you really?” she asked softly, leaning forward a little and looking me right in the eyes.
“Not good enough,” was all I could think to say.
Friday in French, Josh Heller passed me a note that said, What are you doing tonight? Right away I felt a fluttering in my chest and I started smiling the biggest smile. My cheeks felt like they were up in my eyes, and I could not make the smile go down no matter how I tried. I turned to look at Josh, smiling like an idiot, and he smiled back at me. Then we both started laughing. We tried to laugh silently so Madame Craig wouldn’t notice us. She was writing on the board, so I mouthed to Josh, “Nothing,” and shrugged. Julie was trying to ignore me, but I saw her glance at us every now and then. Josh surreptitiously ripped out another little piece of paper from the back of his spiral notebook and wrote on it, Want to see a movie? After school? Of course I wanted to scream “Yes!” immediately, but then I remembered my Friday job: putting away the groceries. I’d have to call my mom and beg her to let me out of it. Luckily the bell rang, so we didn’t have to keep passing notes. Everyone’s desks and chairs started moving as people packed up their bags and shut their books, and I was glad Josh and I could talk in the privacy of a noisy classroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Julie look over at us, then she left for homeroom.
“Yeah . . . sure,” I said to Josh. I slowly got my books together, wanting to make every second last.
“Great!” he said. “There’s just one thing. I have to go back to Long Island after school. I promised my mom I’d pick the car up at the mechanic’s. We can take the train there and see a movie, then I can drive you home.”
“You have a car?” I said, trying not to sound too stupid.
“Well, it’s my mom’s car. It’s a brown Chevy. Don’t be too impressed,” he said, swinging his bag over his shoulder. I was just impressed that he knew how to drive. I didn’t know any New York City kids who had their licenses.
“Okay,” I said, laughing. Total nervous laughter—I wondered if he could tell.
“So . . . should we just meet outside after school?” he said. He was so cute! I almost couldn’t stand it.
“Yeah,” I said. “All right.”
“Okay then. You’re sure you don’t mind going to Long Island with me?”
“No, that’s fine!” I said, though I really had no idea what I was saying and how I was going to get my mother to agree to this. But Josh Heller could have invited me to Africa, and I would have found a way to go.
“Cool,” Josh said. “See you later!” And he headed down the hall.
As soon as I got to homeroom, I told Mr. Werner that I had to go to the bathroom. I raced down to the basement to call my mom from the pay phone. Thank God I caught her. She only worked a half-day on Fridays and had just gotten home.
“Mom!” I said, realizing I sounded breathless.
“Hi-ya!” she said, sounding in a pretty good mood. I imagined her in the kitchen glancing at the clock over the toaster oven ’cause she said, “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I said, trying to catch my breath. “Everything’s fine. I’m still at school. Mom, I have the hugest favor to ask you....”
“Okay,” she said. “What is it?”
“Um. I got asked out on a date tonight!”
“Honey, that’s terrific!”
“Yeah, I know, but um, it starts right after school, so I can’t come home first and put away the groceries, is that okay? Please please? I’ll do something extra if you want; I don’t know what, but I’m sure we can think—”
“Of course, pussy cat, don’t worry about it. It’s your first date!” Something about her saying that annoyed me, but she was being so cool, I couldn’t complain.
“Thank you, Mom! Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome. So, who is he?” she asked.
“It’s Josh Heller,” I said, lowering my voice and looking out the glass door of the phone booth to make sure I didn’t see anyone I knew. “He’s in the drama department.”
“You never told me about him,” she said.
“Yes I did, Mom, I’m pretty sure I did,” I argued. How annoying.
“Well, where are you going?” she asked.
“We’re going to the movies, but I’m not sure which theater yet.” It wasn’t a complete lie. “But he said he’d bring me home. I swear I’ll be home by eleven thirty, okay?”
“Will you have dinner?”
“Yes, we’ll probably have dinner, too.”
“Okay . . . I’d feel more comfortable
if I knew where you were going.”
“Well, we’re gonna decide later, Mom. You just have to trust me. Josh is this totally smart guy and he’s really responsible.”
“All right,” she said, still sounding unsure. “But you’ll call if you’re gonna be late or for any reason, right?”
“Right, Mom. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine!”
“Do you have mad money?” she wanted to know.
“What?”
“Do you have mad money?”
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what that is!”
“It’s your own money to get home with in a cab or whatever, in case he makes you mad,” she said.
“What? Why would he make me mad?” I said. Why was my mother so weird?
“You never know. . . .” My mother’s voice trailed off.
“I have a little money. Mom, I gotta go. It’s the middle of homeroom. I just wanted to call.”
“I’m glad you did, sweetie pie. Have fun!”
So we were sitting next to each other in the Freeport, Long Island, Cinema, our shoulders touching, and all I could think about was how clean Josh Heller smelled. It was killing me, he had such good hygiene. He smelled like some kind of really nice soap. What kind of soap was it? I was racking my brain to remember. Zest? Dial? It was so strong, I couldn’t not smell it; it was a good thing I liked it. We were seeing the movie Diner and I kept wondering, who was even in it? I thought maybe Mickey Rourke was, and some other cute guys, but I couldn’t really be sure ’cause all I thought about the whole time was Josh Heller sitting next to me smelling so good. And our hands were so close to each other on the armrest between us, I was going crazy wondering if he was going to hold my hand or if something physical would happen.
During the movie at one point, he leaned toward me and whispered, “Look at that lady two rows in front of us. Doesn’t her hair look trapezoidal?” That totally cracked me up. And trying to laugh quietly is practically impossible in a dark move theater, so Josh started cracking up, too.
“What, are you a geometry whiz or something?” I whispered. “Is ‘trapezoidal’ even a word?”
“Actually, I happen to be pretty good at geometry,” he said. “I got a ninety-eight on the regents.”
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