Alice on Her Way

by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

  “That was George Palamas’s fiancée. She woke up before George did, so she came out in the kitchen to have coffee and I happened to be there. Is that a crime?”

  I stared at him. “You didn’t sleep with her, then?”

  “Of course not! Are you crazy?”

  I smiled and leaned back against the seat. “Lester, you have restored my faith in the decency of man,” I told him.

  “And you have confirmed my view that all fifteen-year-old girls should be locked up in an insane asylum until the age of twenty-one,” said Lester.

  “Just tell me this,” I said. “What were you doing at my age that’s got Dad so worried that he signed me up for this class?”

  “Well, let’s see,” said Les. “Fifteen for me was the Age of Embarrassment. I had a bet with some girl in my science class—I don’t even remember what it was about—but the agreement was that if I won, she’d let me see her breasts. I won, and we sneaked off to the band room after school, but I couldn’t get her bra unfastened. I think I finally jerked on it so hard that it bent one of the hooks, and there we were when the custodian found us.”

  “What happened?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

  “He asked for our names, he was going to report us. I said I was Morton Magee and the girl was Molly Malone or something. You never saw two people clear out of a room as fast as we did.”

  “Poor Lester,” I said.

  “I vowed I would practice until I could unhook a girl’s bra in two seconds flat, but I didn’t have any bras to practice on. So… ,” Lester paused, as though unsure of whether to tell me the rest.

  “So?” I said encouragingly.

  “So… I ordered a bra from the Sears catalog, and Dad opened the package before I got home. He never quite got over it.”

  I laughed and so did Lester.

  “If you order anything by mail,” he said, “make sure it’s not a jockstrap.”

  After lunch I’d just spread out my books on the bed when Sam called on my cell phone.

  “So how are you?” I asked, bunching a pillow up under my head.

  “Missing you,” said Sam. “Want to go somewhere?”

  “I can’t,” I told him. “There was the dance Friday night, and I worked Saturday and went to church this morning. I am so behind on my homework.”

  “Any way I can help?” he asked.

  “Not really. I’ve got a lot of catch-up reading to do and a ton of algebra.”

  “Well, I miss you,” he said again.

  I laughed. “It’s only been two days.”

  “What about after school tomorrow, then?”

  “I’ve got a stage crew meeting.”

  Sam sighed. “You’re too busy.”

  Strange, I thought. That’s what I always said about Patrick. “I know,” I told him.

  “Tuesday after school? If I can get Mom’s car?”

  “Okay. Tuesday,” I said.

  A half hour later I was in the middle of an equation when Sam called again. He always calls my cell phone number so he won’t disturb Dad and Sylvia. I had thought I understood the problem I’d been working on, but when Sam interrupted, I lost my train of thought.

  “Sam… ,” I said.

  “Can’t help myself. If I can’t see you today, I can at least hear your voice.”

  “I was right in the middle of an algebra problem,” I said.

  “Well, if it’s between algebra and me, which one would you choose?” he asked.

  “You, of course,” I told him. “But I don’t get any grade for studying Sam.”

  When my phone rang a third time about an hour later and I saw Sam’s number, I didn’t answer. And finally, when the ringing stopped, I turned the phone off.

  When the crew met in the rehearsal room after school the next day, Mr. Ellis hadn’t come in yet. The guys were sitting on the tables at the back talking about a hockey game, and the girls—Molly, Faith, Charlene, Pamela, and I—sat in a circle of chairs across the room.

  We’d been talking about the Jack of Hearts dance, and suddenly Molly came right out and asked Faith what Ron did to make that bruise on her arm that kids had been talking about. That’s Molly! But I was glad she’d asked.

  Faith fumbled with the strap on her purse. I think she had a bruise on her cheek, too, but it was covered with so much makeup, it was hard to be sure.

  “He really doesn’t mean to hurt me,” Faith said in the soft breathy voice you’d know anywhere.

  “Well, you could have fooled me!” said Molly. “He doesn’t mean to hurt you, over and over again?”

  “It’s just—,” Faith began, and stopped. Then she tried again. “You may not believe this, but it’s because he cares about me so much!” Pamela rolled her eyes. “He gets so jealous, he can hardly stand it.”

  “Yeah?” said Molly. “So what happened this time that set him off?” She was relentless.

  “I danced with someone else. The thing was, I didn’t know it, but Ron set me up to test me. He told a guy to ask me to dance and said he’d give him five dollars if he could get me out there in the spotlight. So there I was, Ron had disappeared, and this guy came up and said Ron would be back in a little while and had asked him to look out for me, and did I want to dance? So I did. And Ron was watching all the time. I should have known better. He is so insecure.”

  “He’s insecure?” I spluttered.

  Faith sighed. “Oh, I know what you think of him,” she said. “But… I mean… after he loses his temper, he’s so sweet to me. Really! When he saw what he did to my dress and my arm, he had tears in his eyes.” Faith turned to Molly. “He’s so sorry! He’s apologized a million times. He just hasn’t learned to trust me yet, and he can’t control his temper.”

  Molly shook her head. “If a guy ever hurt me once—just once, Faith—it’d be the last time I went out with him.”

  “I know,” Faith said. “But what can I do? I love him!”

  Underneath all that black and white and red makeup, Faith is really pretty—a sort of high-cheekboned, skinny girl. She’s got the most beautiful teeth I ever saw—perfectly even and white as the moon. And you wonder why she would settle for someone like Ron, like he’s the most necessary person in her life, as essential as air.

  Mr. Ellis came in then and passed out lists, detailing what each committee needed to do for the spring production. Harry and Chris and I went over the design for the set and talked about what kind of wallpaper we should use and where exactly the windows should go. Faith went over the list of props with Pamela.

  Before the meeting was over, the door opened, and Ron came in. He sat down in a chair along one side of the room. He was holding a single rose. Long-stemmed roses must be “in” this season, I thought. When Faith turned and saw the rose, she got up and went over to him, and they kissed. See? she seemed to be saying to us. See how much he loves me?

  I looked at Molly as we picked up our jackets. “What do you think?” I said.

  “I think we’ve heard that song before,” she answered.

  I didn’t have any courses with Sam this semester, and we had different lunch periods, too. The only thing we did together in school besides walk together in the halls—and Sam went out of his way to meet me between classes—was the weekly staff meeting for The Edge. This was probably why he called me so much. It always seemed to take Sam three or four calls each evening to tell me whatever he wanted to say.

  On Tuesday after school I told Pam and Elizabeth that I was riding home with Sam, and I met him in the school parking lot.

  We kissed. I guessed we were going to be one of those couples I’d always looked at so enviously when I was in seventh grade—older couples who walked down the hall with their arms around each other, hands in each other’s hip pockets. Couples who stood by the drinking fountain and hugged.

  It had all happened so fast with Sam, partly, I guess, because I’d known him before, so he was already a friend. And partly because he made me feel as though I was the only one who ma
ttered in the whole world. I had the feeling he would do anything I ever asked.

  The front seat of Sam’s mom’s car was a bench-type seat, not bucket seats, which meant I could snuggle up next to him, and I guess I was surprised at how easily I took his kisses. Maybe after all those months without a boyfriend, all those weeks at camp last summer watching Liz and Ross together, I was just plain hungry for making out, like you get a craving for mocha chocolate chip ice cream or something. Or maybe I was beginning to feel that I had something special here in Sam.

  This time his hand caressed the back of my neck as he tipped my face up toward him. When the kiss was over, his hand slid down inside my unzipped jacket, inside the top of my shirt, pushing it aside and baring my shoulder. Then he kissed my shoulder. I shivered, not because I was cold.

  “You want to go to Starbucks?” he said.

  No, I was thinking. I want to sit right here in the school parking lot till you kiss my other shoulder too.

  “Um… I don’t know,” I said.

  “Silver Diner?” he asked. He must have been hungry.

  “Okay.”

  We kissed again, and this time, when we slowly pulled apart, Sam let his hand slide from my collarbone to my breast—just for a moment—and then he pulled away. My whole body went goose bumps.

  “Seat belt,” he said into my hair.

  The second nice thing about a bench seat is that there are three seat belts in front, one for a middle passenger, which meant I could sit right next to him. But Sam had proved he was a careful driver, and we didn’t try anything dumb when the car was moving.

  “Don’t ever get bucket seats,” I said, and he smiled.

  At the diner we got the last booth in the row, away from a noisy table near the door. I ordered hot chocolate, and Sam ordered Sprite and a hamburger. I told him I’d pay the bill since Sam had to buy gas whenever he used the car.

  “Question,” said Sam as I stirred my cocoa, then blew on it, watching the creamy marshmallow topping slide back and forth. “If you were in love with a guy—”

  “An anonymous guy?” I asked, teasing.

  He chuckled and ate the pickle off his bun. “Well, yeah. Let’s make him anonymous. How much would you do for him?”

  I raised one eyebrow. “How much would I do for him? Is this a how-far-would-I-go question?”

  “I wasn’t thinking of sex,” said Sam. “Well, that’s a lie, but actually, I had something else in mind. I really meant, well, would you move to another town for him, for example?”

  “You mean, if we were going to be married and he got a job in another city? Sure. It would have to be a mutual decision, though.”

  “Okay. Would you marry him if he… lost a leg or an arm?”

  “Well… certainly! I wouldn’t leave somebody I loved because of that.”

  “Would you change your hairstyle? Your weight?”

  “I don’t know. Depends on how controlling I thought he was being.”

  “Your religion?”

  “My God, it depends! How much would you change for a girl you loved?”

  “All of it,” said Sam.

  It was strange in a way, nice in a way, but a little bit scary at the same time to be talking like this with a guy. Like we had a future together, I mean. I’d never told anyone but my dad that I loved him. Well, maybe Lester, too, in a weak moment. I don’t think I’d ever said “I love you” to Patrick. I’d never said it to Sam. Yet here we were, talking as if…

  “It’s just that I’m pretty serious about love,” said Sam.

  “Well, so am I,” I told him. And thought, I guess.

  12

  Wheels

  On Saturday at the Melody Inn, I answered the phone around eleven, and a girl’s voice said, “Alice?”

  It was so familiar! Not Gwen or Liz or Pamela… “Rosalind?” I said, my old friend from grade school.

  “Yep,” she said. “How you doing?”

  She had surprised me back in October by walking in the Melody Inn to buy some music for her brother, and we’d promised we’d get together sometime and have lunch. Bill used to play in a little band with Lester when we lived in Takoma Park. They called it the Naked Nomads, and sometimes Rosalind would come along when they practiced so she and I could do stuff together.

  “I’m great!” I said. “How about you?”

  “Even greater,” said Rosalind. “Guess what? I’ve got my license. Tell me what time you go to lunch, and I’ll pick you up.”

  I squealed. “Really? My lunch break is twelve thirty.”

  “How long you got?”

  Dad was unpacking some boxes with David across the room. “It’s Rosalind,” I called over to him. “How long can I take for lunch?”

  “A half hour if you’re leaving at five, an hour if you stay till six and help me file the new sheet music,” he said.

  “Deal!” I told him. And to Rosalind I said, “I have to be back by one thirty.”

  “See you!” she said.

  It was funny about Rosalind. She had been every parent’s nightmare because each time she came over, we’d get into trouble. Something always went wrong when Rosalind was there. She had an imagination big enough for both of us. Lester said that the one good thing about moving from Takoma Park to Silver Spring was that we were getting away from Rosalind. Now he was living back in Takoma Park and Rosalind had found me in Silver Spring!

  I watched her pull up at twelve thirty sharp, right by the fire hydrant in front of the store. It was an old car—older than Sam’s, even—sort of a nondescript gray-green. I could see Rosalind smiling at me before I went outside. Everyone in her family has a round face, with mouths that turn down at the corners even when they’re laughing. But this time that mouth didn’t seem to turn down at all, her smile was so wide.

  Giggling, I slid in beside her.

  “Rosalind!” I cried, and leaned over to hug her.

  “Can you believe I’ve got my own set of wheels?” she said, checking the rearview mirror and slowly pulling out into traffic.

  “You mean it’s yours?”

  “Yeah. Bill got another car and sold me this one for two hundred dollars. About all you can say for it is that it runs. But, hey, it’s mine!”

  “So where are we going?” I asked.

  “I brought lunch,” she said, motioning to a sack from McDonald’s in the backseat. “Why don’t we drive back to the old neighborhood and you can see your house.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” I asked.

  “They painted it pink,” said Rosalind.

  “Pink?”

  “Like cotton candy,” said Rosalind, and off we went.

  It really feels awesome to be riding in a car with someone you used to walk to the playground with. I mean, back then I wasn’t allowed to go farther than a furniture store in one direction and the school in the other. And suddenly here we were in a car with a tank full of gas, and we could have headed for Miami if we’d wanted. Well, not really, but it felt like we’d sprouted wings. No bus schedules, no stops, just go! Freedom!

  I marveled at how Rosalind had slimmed down some, how shiny her hair was. Yet every time I glanced her way, I was glad for each little mannerism that reminded me of the Rosalind I used to know. I was looking for every familiar detail I could get, yet I loved being in a car with her. Roots and wings. I wanted them both.

  The day was mild for February—high fifties, maybe—and we even rolled down our windows a little. The sun was warm on our legs.

  “So tell me everything!” I said. “Everything that’s been going on.”

  “Wait till I get off Georgia Avenue and out of traffic,” Rosalind said. I waited while she changed lanes, carefully checking her side mirror, her rearview mirror. I noticed how she came to a gentle stop at lights, not racing up and slamming on the brakes. When it’s your car, you treat it like a baby, I guess. I wished this was me—my own key, my own car….

  Silver Spring soon became Takoma Park, and Rosalind pulled into a l
ittle play area and parked near the jungle gym. We took our chicken sandwiches and shakes over to the swings and sat there in the sun, eating lunch. I slipped a couple of dollars in her pocket for mine.

  “You still volunteering at the zoo?” I asked. I remembered her telling me that last fall.

  “Yeah. And I’m working at a vet’s,” she said. “I do a little of everything. The office is closed today, though, because he’s out of town.”

  “You’re good at that, I’ll bet,” I said. “You always loved animals.”

  “Nothing’s changed there. I may even go to veterinary college if I can get in,” said Rosalind. “What’s new with you?”

  I pointed to my mouth. “Braces,” I said. “Dad married my English teacher, you know, and Lester’s living in an apartment with two other guys.”

  “Where?”

  “Here in Takoma Park, actually. You want to see where?”

  “Sure.”

  We finished eating, threw our trash in the garbage can, and got back in the car. Rosalind drove me by our old house next door to the Sheaverses. It was pink.

  Remember the time we made that snow cave and it fell in on you?” said Rosalind.

  “You kicked it in!” I said, poking her arm. “Do you remember the night we helped Les get ready for the prom? And the block party, with the Naked Nomads?” We laughed.

  “I used to drive your brother nuts,” said Rosalind.

  “And you probably still would,” I told her.

  I directed her to Maple Avenue, then on to the big yellow house on a side street. “Here we are.” I pointed to the steps leading up to a side entrance. “They live on the second floor.”

  Rosalind pulled up in front of the house and stopped. Her eyes took on that mischievous look I knew so well. “I’ll bet Lester thinks he’s finally rid of me,” she said. “Let’s go in.”

  “We can’t!” I said. “We can’t just come over here without calling first.”

  “Wanna bet?” said Rosalind, and got out of the car.

  I started laughing. There was nothing to do but follow along and try to control the damage. When Rosalind gets an idea, she’s unstoppable.

  “Lester’s not even here,” I said, relieved, as she started up the walk. “His car’s gone. He’s working.”