Babyface

by Norma Fox Mazer

  “It’s the first time I’ve ever started school without her.”

  “You were always her shadow,” Kelly said. “Or is it the other way around?”

  Friday afternoons after school were always zooey. Kids screamed and rushed through the halls in a crazed way. Julie and Toni always had, too. But that afternoon, while everyone else lunged for lockers and doors, Toni walked slowly down the stairs, thinking about the weekend, making plans. She opened her locker, knelt, and took out a stack of books, trying to decide what to take home.

  “Hi,” someone said. It was L.R., opening a locker two down from her. “What homeroom did you get?” he asked.

  “Twenty-four. Mr. Bentson.”

  “Aha! I hear he’s a terror on attendance. Do you have trouble getting up in the morning on time?”

  Toni shook her head.

  “I do,” L.R. said. “I’m glad I got Ms. Crandall.”

  “Room twenty-seven.”

  L.R. nodded. “She is very cool.… I still haven’t returned the key to Evy-lion.”

  “Grrrrr,” Toni said softly.

  “She probably eats two or three my size for dinner every night.”

  Toni picked up her books. L.R. was cute. She’d have to remember to write Julie everything. She left school, crossed the street. She was at the corner when L.R. fell into step with her.

  “Hi again,” he said.

  “Hi.” Heat came up in her face.

  “I just gave the key back to Evy-lion. I thought she’d be grateful, but she lectured me for not returning it this morning.”

  They walked to the next corner together. Now he would leave, Toni thought, but he kept walking with her. “Are you still working at Rite Bargain Drugs?” she said. How dull. She wanted to think of something more interesting to say.

  “How do you know I worked there?” he asked.

  “I saw you this summer. I came through your line.”

  His dark glasses stared blankly at her. “You did?”

  She was a little taken aback by his surprise. It would have been nice if he remembered her. “We talked,” she said.

  “Oh … maybe I remember.”

  Maybe he remembered. How flattering. Well, he must have waited on a million people. Why should she expect him to remember her out of them all? But somehow she did.

  “What’d we talk about?” he said.

  “Not too much. I mentioned that we went to the same school.”

  “You know, I think I do remember, now that you say it.”

  Did he? Or was he just being nice?

  “I’m not working there anymore,” he said. “My father doesn’t like me to work during the school year. Anyway, it was just a summer job.”

  “Did you like the boss?” Toni asked.

  “She was all right.”

  “I think she’s excellent.” She smiled down into her books.

  “You know Violet?”

  “Oh, yes. Her name is Violet Chessmore. Right?”

  “Right.”

  “She lives on the same street I do.”

  “Oh, that’s another coincidence,” he said.

  “What’s the first one?”

  “Our lockers being so close together.”

  “And there’s a third coincidence,” Toni said, trying not to laugh. “Chessmore’s my name, too.”

  He gave her another one of those blank, dark-glasses looks.

  “Violet’s my mother,” she said lamely.

  “Violet is your mother?” He sounded almost as doubtful as Mrs. Evelyn this morning.

  “I’m Toni Chessmore. I guess I should have told you right away. Sorry. I thought you’d like the joke.”

  “I did,” he said. “You really strung me along. I’m L.R. Faberman.”

  She bit her lip so she wouldn’t say I know your name. He stuck out his hand and they shook. His hand was damp, or was it hers?

  “Now that we’re really introduced,” he said, “do you mind if I ask you something? Are you new in school?”

  “Me? I’ve lived in Ridgewood my whole life.”

  “I haven’t lived anywhere my whole life. My family used to live in Carbondale, in Pennsylvania. Then we moved to Scranton. Then my father and I moved to Binghamton. Then we came here. I’m new here. Or I was, last term.”

  I know! She bit her lip again. “Why did you think I was new?” she asked.

  “I didn’t.”

  “Oh, but you asked—”

  “I guess I was hoping, sort of. You know, like ‘the two new kids stick together’ kind of thing?” She smiled, and he said, “Want to ask me something?”

  “What?”

  “Anything. Be my guest.”

  “Oh. Okay. Why do you wear dark glasses all the time?”

  “My eyes are light-sensitive. Something I was born with.” He pulled off the glasses and squinted at her. His eyes were a pale grayish-brown. “See, this really hurts me, and it’s not even that sunny today.” His face looked different without glasses, sweeter somehow.

  “You wear them all the time?” she said.

  “Except when I’m sleeping.” He leaped for the branch of a tree and chinned himself half a dozen times, then dropped to the sidewalk. “I do a hundred pull-ups at home every day,” he said.

  She forgot to bite down on her lip. “And the pegboard in the gym at lunch.”

  “How do you know that? And don’t tell me your father is the coach.”

  She looked up at the street signs, as if she’d never noticed them before. “This is where I turn,” she said hastily. And she turned, and forgot to say good-bye.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY

  Toni was sitting on the back steps with Paws in her lap, brushing his coat, when the phone rang in the kitchen. She jumped up, dumping the cat. “Sorry,” she apologized. With an offended look he began licking his shoulder.

  The screen door slammed behind Toni. Eagerly she picked up the phone. Might be her mother, her sister, or even Mrs. Abish.

  Yesterday after school Toni had gone over to visit. “Grraand to see you again.” Mrs. Abish had fed Toni pound cake and milk laced with honey. Listening as Mrs. Abish talked, Toni wondered about Mr. Abish. Where was he? Oh, yes … dead. In the ground. She wondered if Mr. and Mrs. Abish had been happy, if they had ever quarreled. Quarreled … fought … yelled … slugged …

  “Hello,” Toni said now.

  “Can I speak to Toni?”

  “Speaking. Hello, L.R.,” she said, not quite calmly.

  “How’d you know it was me?”

  “I recognized your voice.”

  “Oh. How’d you do that?”

  “Don’t know. Just did.” She was smiling, her cheeks hot.

  “You have an ear for voices.”

  “Wouldn’t you recognize my voice?”

  “I will, after this,” he said.

  Then they both fell silent.

  “Umm, I—” she said finally.

  “Well, there—” he said at the same moment.

  “You go first,” she said.

  “No, you.”

  “No. You.” She was firm, then surprised when he did.

  “I was just going to say there aren’t many Chessmores in the phone book. I only had to call one other number before this.”

  “Not many Fabermans, either,” she said without thinking.

  “How do you know that?” he asked.

  And what was she supposed to say now? Julie and I looked up all the Fabermans in the phone book? They had done it months ago. “Oh, uh, I guessed,” she said lamely. “I mean, isn’t it an unusual name?”

  “Sort of,” he said. There was another silence, again broken by L.R. “Do you bowl, Toni?”

  “I have, a few times.”

  “Did you like it?”

  “I got a pretty low score. I’m not that great an athlete.” That sounded sort of negative. “I’m a good singer, though.” That sounded ridiculous! He hadn’t asked about her singing voice.

  “Are you in
chorale?”

  “No. But I might join this year.” Really? That was a surprise to her, if not to L.R.

  “What do you sing?”

  “Soprano.” She wiped her forehead. Why was she sweating? It wasn’t that hot today.

  “Do you think you’d like to bowl again sometime?”

  “I might.”

  “Are you enthusiastic about that idea? Or negative? Or neutral?”

  “What is this, a questionnaire?”

  “The next question is … if you are enthusiastic, or even neutral, do you want to go bowling sometime? With me? Like tomorrow afternoon?”

  “Oh!” She ran her hand over her forehead again.

  “Does that mean yes?”

  “It means … ahh … I’m thinking about it.”

  “Think fast! I like answers to my questions. No, I’m just teasing. Take your time.”

  “Well, um, I might like to.” Would it be disloyal to Julie for her to go bowling with L.R.?

  “That sounds like a yes. How about around two o’clock?”

  “Two o’clock?” she repeated.

  “Is something happening at two o’clock? You sound doubtful.”

  “I do? No, I was just—”

  “Thinking about it,” he finished for her.

  “Right,” she said weakly.

  “We could go to the bowling alley in the mall. Do you know that place? Entertainment Plaza. Have you been there? They have pinball machines and pool tables. Do you play pool?”

  “Yes. No. No,” she said.

  “Yes. No. No,” he repeated. “You do know it, you haven’t been there, you don’t play pool. I’ll teach you sometime. Do you want me to teach you? Do you learn fast?”

  “Yes. Yes,” she said, enjoying herself, but still sweating.

  “I bet you do,” he said. “How do you usually get to the mall from your house, Toni?”

  “I walk or ride my bike. Sometimes my mother drives me.”

  “So which one? Your mother, feet, or wheels? If it’s feet, I could come to your house. Or I could meet you there.”

  Come to her house? Meet her there? He was way ahead of her. She hadn’t even made her decision whether to go with him or not. But she was saved. “Toni,” he said, “my father’s calling me. Gotta hang up.”

  “Okay,” she said. Relief. She could think it over, work it out in her mind.

  But then he went on. “Two tomorrow afternoon at the mall, okay?”

  “O … kay,” she said, dragged into it, as she told herself immediately after hanging up. Immediately wondering what she had done. Wondering if Julie would be mad. Mad as a wet hen. Silly phrase. It went through her head several times as she ran up the stairs to check if she had anything good to wear for bowling. She shoved aside skirts, pants, blouses in her closet. Too small, too short, too juvenile! She and her mother had missed out on shopping, as usual, for new school clothes.

  Toni ran downstairs again. She wouldn’t go. She couldn’t! Not because of clothes, not that superficial reason. She couldn’t go bowling with L.R. because it would be too much like a date. Which would be wrong. It would create problems, upset Julie.

  She got his number from information. Paws scraped himself along her leg. “Shh,” she said. She dialed, but after two rings she hung up. How should she say this? She didn’t want to hurt L.R.’s feelings. She should write it down. No, practice out loud.

  She picked up Paws and looked into his blue Siamese eyes. “L.R., I’m sorry, but I can’t go bowling with you. Are you wondering why? Well, L.R.…”

  Paws wriggled in her arms.

  “Please be patient, L.R. Let me explain this to you.” She kissed his cool nose. “Well, L.R., you might remember that I mentioned my friend, Julie Jensen, to you when I saw you in the drugstore. And, well, you’re Julie’s! Well, not hers, exactly. She doesn’t own you, but she loves you. Whereas I’m just—”

  Paws’ ears flattened against his head. He was getting ready to leap.

  Toni held him firmly. “Patience, L.R., patience! I’m sure you want to know I’m just what? Just interested? Just curious? Just want to mess around with a boy a little?”

  Paws squirmed out of her arms, landing on the floor with a thump.

  “L.R.,” Toni said reproachfully, “my intentions are pure. You don’t have to run away from me!”

  From beneath the table Paws eyed her, switching his tail. She knelt and took his face between her hands. “Now listen here, I’ll go bowling with you. But what I’m going to do is tell you all about Julie. She’s beautiful, you know. I’ll show you her picture. You’ll probably fall in love with her.”

  Paws suddenly grabbed Toni’s fingers between his teeth, his way of letting her know that she was pushing him too far. Toni relaxed her hand until he unclenched his jaws. “Thank you, L.R. Just remember, this is not a date. Just a friendship thing.”

  Saturday night, Mrs. Frankowitz called to ask if Toni would take care of Arnold for a few hours the next morning. “Yes, sure,” Toni said. They chatted for a few minutes, and Toni hung up reluctantly. The house seemed big and still at night. She stayed up late, reading, not eager to turn out the light. Then in the morning she overslept. When she saw the time, she raced through her shower and ate her breakfast standing in front of her closet, deciding what to wear.

  “Something that’s okay for baby-sitting and bowling,” she said, out loud. Since she had no one to talk to, she talked to herself. She put her cereal bowl down on the bureau. “Shorts, my red shirt, a belt. Okay. That sounds good.”

  Twenty minutes later she knocked on the Frankowitz door. Mrs. Frankowitz answered with Arnold in her arms. “Arnold, here’s Toni!” she cried, and bent her cheek toward Toni for a kiss. “How’s your father, Toni?”

  “Uh … good,” Toni said awkwardly. She didn’t want to talk about her father. “Arnold!” She put out her arms to the little boy, but he pulled away with a frown.

  “Noooo,” he said.

  “What’s the matter, old man?” Arnold’s father appeared, a scarf wound around his throat, although it was a warm day. “Hello, Toni,” he said. He held his head stiffly. “I strained my neck in the car.” He pointed to the scarf. “Got a brace on under this.… Maybe Arnold doesn’t want to go out,” he said to his wife.

  “Oh, yes, he does,” Mrs. Frankowitz said.

  “How do you know?” Mr. Frankowitz turned his head stiffly to look at his son.

  “Oh, I know my boy,” Mrs. Frankowitz said, smiling.

  Toni watched the two of them. They seemed happy and to like each other. But was it true? It could be a pretense, a lie they made for the world—and Arnold.

  “Arnold really missed you these past couple weeks, Toni,” Mrs. Frankowitz said. “Didn’t you, Arnold?”

  “Nooooo.”

  “You want to go to the park with Toni this morning?”

  “Nooooo.”

  “Sure you do, I know you do.”

  “Noooo. I don’t vant to.”

  His father looked worried, but Mrs. Frankowitz put Arnold down and said, “Well, you’re going, and you’re going to have a wonderful time.” Then, to Toni, “I think he’s a little piqued that you went away. But he’ll be all right.”

  She was right. Even though Arnold kept looking back at his house, once they went around the corner he became cheerful. “I vant to go to the park, Toni.”

  “Oh, you do?” she said. “That’s a surprise.”

  “Yes, I vant to go there.”

  “I thought you didn’t,” she said.

  “I do!”

  “You want to go with me?”

  “Yes, I vant to go with you.”

  “I don’t know if I should take you,” she teased. “You weren’t nice to me. You didn’t give me a kiss.”

  “I vill kiss you,” he declared, and turned up his face.

  She bent down and took his sweet, wet kiss. “Thank you,” she said. She gave him a kiss. “Now we’ll go to the park.”

  “Yes, ve vill
,” he said.

  L.R. was waiting outside the bowling alley for Toni, leaning back with one foot flat against the building. The moment she saw him, Toni thought, Why does he want to go bowling with me? Why do I want to go with him? What am I doing?

  To gain time she knelt and retied her laces.

  “Hi, Toni.” L.R. had seen her. “Good timing, I jud god here.”

  “What’s the matter?” she said. First Mr. Frankowitz, now L.R.

  He blew his nose. “I god a code. Don’t ged too close.”

  “Is it a hard code to crack?” Bad, baaad joke, but he laughed. Nice, nice boy.

  “I ged these things aboud three times a year, Toni. They come on jud like that.” L.R. snapped his fingers. “I woke up thid morning thid way. My father wanted me to stay home, but I said no way, I didn’t want to stay home, not today.”

  In the bowling alley they rented shoes. “You want to keep score?” L.R. asked.

  “I don’t know if I remember how.”

  “Here, I’ll show you.” Leaning on the desk, looking at the score sheet, their arms touched and they both seemed to forget about Toni catching L.R.’s cold.

  That wasn’t the only thing Toni forgot (she realized later). She’d promised herself to bring up Julie’s name, not the way she had last summer at the drugstore, blurting it out without any subtlety. No, this time her intention had been to drop Julie’s name casually into their conversation, easily and naturally, here and there, like raisins in a muffin. Not only didn’t she do it, but all afternoon with L.R. she never gave Julie a single thought.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-ONE

  “Sweetie!” Violet put down her big green suitcase inside the door and came toward Toni with her arms out.

  “Oh, Mommy,” Toni said, hugging and hugging her mother, burying her face inside her mother’s neck. She smelled of powder, licorice, cigarettes. Toni began patting her mother’s pockets, looking for the licorice.

  Then her father was there, walking slowly through the front door with a black flight bag in his hand. “Babyface.” His arms were out. “There’s my girl,” he said with his sweet smile.

  “Hello, Daddy.” She slipped quickly out of his embrace, tense with her father for the first time in her life. She picked up the suitcase, slung the flight bag over her shoulder. “I’m the porter,” she said in a playful voice that was too loud. She started up the stairs, wondering if they were watching her, if they were aware that something had changed. That she had changed.