Georgie's Moon

by Chris Woodworth

  John saw her first. “There’s Georgie!”

  “Oh, Georgie!” Mom said. She threw her arms around Georgie and this time Georgie hesitated only a second, then hugged her, too.

  “Lisa’s dad is taking us to school and I’ve gotta hurry.”

  “Okay, let me have this.” Mom took the bag from Georgie and walked over to the car. “Thank you for taking good care of my daughter.”

  “No problem,” Mr. Loutzenhiser said. “It was a pleasure to have her.”

  “So, I’ll see you after school, okay?” Georgie said.

  Mom smiled and nodded.

  Georgie pushed her cap back and knelt beside John. It had eaten at her that he thought she left because of him. “And you, big guy, are getting very good at being a soldier.”

  “I am?” John asked.

  “Yep, you got me good yesterday, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “But you left.”

  “Not because you hit me with a ball.” Georgie stood. “I have to get to school now, so you’ll be in charge of the house until I get back. Think you can handle that?”

  “Yeah!”

  Georgie saluted him. He saluted back with a face that was beaming.

  Stopping at Georgie’s home had made the girls tardy. Since they had already missed most of homeroom, they hung out at Lisa’s locker until it was time for first period.

  Georgie said, “Hey, Loutzenhiser, I just wanted to say thanks. I mean, I know I put you on the spot last night but I had fun. And I could have, you know, done worse picking out a new friend.”

  Lisa grinned and threw her arms around Georgie. “Oh, me, too!”

  “Yeah, well, you don’t have to get weird about it.” Georgie shrugged her off, even though she didn’t really mind.

  When homeroom ended, they walked to social studies class. Mr. Hennessy wasn’t there yet. Maybe they’d have a substitute! Subs usually gave study time instead of a lesson. Georgie brightened at the thought, so she ran a few steps ahead of Lisa and slid to her desk as if it were home base.

  She hadn’t really done it for laughs, but the quiet in the room was sobering. Was Mr. Hennessy in the back? She looked around. No teacher. Kathy Newman’s desk was empty, and Angel, who always sat behind her, was softly crying. The boy next to Angel looked pale.

  Georgie glanced at the other kids. “What’s going on?” she asked. Lisa sat at her desk. She shrugged. No one answered. Georgie could tell most of them were without a clue.

  When the bell rang, Mr. Hennessy shuffled in.

  “Hi, guys,” he said quietly. He usually bounced into a room so animated you wondered if his clock was wound too tight. Something was definitely up.

  Mr. Hennessy scooted papers back from the edge of his desk and sat on the corner.

  “Some of you’ve heard, but for those of you who don’t know…” He took a deep breath and started over. “Look, guys, there’s just no easy way to tell you.”

  Georgie felt dread pulling her deep into her seat. Maybe he’d just announce that there was a pop quiz or that they were all flunking or something.

  “Kathy Newman’s family got word last night,” he said. “Her brother, Brian, was killed in Vietnam.”

  Someone gasped. Angel began sobbing. A girl ran over and hugged her.

  Georgie didn’t know Kathy’s brother, but, God, she didn’t want to hear he’d died. Especially not in Vietnam. She looked at Kathy’s empty desk. Then she looked at Lisa. Her hands covered her face, and she was clearly crying.

  “Man, I remember Brian. He held the school record for the mile run,” the boy in front of Georgie said. “He was a cool guy.”

  “Yes, he was,” Mr. Hennessy said. “I taught him.”

  He went to the board and began writing. “Get out a sheet of paper, please, and write down Kathy’s address. You or your parents might want to send a note of condolence.”

  At that moment Georgie wanted her dad more than ever. She ripped a paper out of her three-ring binder, but instead of writing Kathy’s address she wrote, “Dear Dad,” hoping she’d feel a connection.

  “Forget today’s lesson,” Mr. Hennessy said. “I think it’s important that we talk about this.”

  Georgie wanted to shout, Talk about the Congo. Or draw some stupid map of Sweden. Talk about anything but this. She looked at her letter. Her hand hovered over the paper, as frozen as her brain. She wrote, “Dear Dad, please be alive.” Then she began drawing a picture of a crescent moon.

  “The thing that gets me,” Craig said, “is that a groovy guy like Brian gets sent halfway around the world just to die protecting Vietnamese who are too lazy to fight for themselves.”

  “Lazy isn’t the best word.” Mr. Hennessy rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Untrained, maybe. Poorly equipped. Frightened.”

  Georgie began another drawing, of a full moon. She hunched her shoulders over her paper and pulled her cap low. She wanted the bell to ring so she could get out of there.

  Craig said, “The Tet Offensive showed us it’s a war we can’t win.”

  “The Tet Offensive!” Mr. Hennessy came to life. He jumped off his desk and wrote on the chalkboard, Tet Nguyen Dan.

  “Who can tell me what this is?”

  “It’s some kind of Vietnamese holiday, right?” Angel said, then sniffed.

  “Not just a holiday. It’s Vietnam’s most important holiday! A day they would let their guard down, right? Only in 1968, the Vietcong launched a series of major battles on Tet that no one was prepared for. And here we Americans were, in front of our televisions watching this horrible fight.”

  Mr. Hennessy began pacing in front of the chalkboard. “The reality is that it wasn’t really a military victory for the Communists. But—” He stopped and looked at the class. “But it appeared that way on television. It made the war seem impossible to win.”

  “Who cares if we can win it or not? We’re losing guys like Brian every day in Vietnam.” Craig leaned forward. “I’ll tell you who I think the real heroes are. Those kids who died at Kent State for protesting the war.”

  Georgie pushed her cap back. She heard a pounding sound in her ears.

  “I think our guys in Vietnam should just lay down their arms and walk out,” Craig said.

  “You make me sick, Craig.” Georgie threw down her pencil. “You think it’s that simple? We’re already in this war. It’s not something we can just undo. It’s like saying, ‘Whoops, Mom! Life’s not a party, so I’ve decided I don’t want to be born.’”

  “It’s not the same thing!” he shouted.

  “Yeah, it is!” she yelled. “You think we can just walk out? What about the South Vietnamese people? Could you leave and let the Vietcong kill them? And what about when the Communists make their way here?”

  “Don’t tell me you buy what the establishment says about having to stop them there before they come here.”

  “Yeah, bozo, I buy it.” Georgie stood up. She towered over Craig. “My dad volunteered to fight there. He did it so Communists won’t ever be on American soil. He did it to save your sorry ass.”

  Craig stood up, too. The stupid peace sign he always wore around his neck swung as he looked Georgie straight in the eye and said, “I’ll send him a thank-you note before we get word that he’s been killed, too.”

  Georgie grabbed the peace sign and yanked. The leather string held for a second and then snapped. Craig lost his balance when it broke. She tossed the necklace and wrapped her hands around his throat. Georgie heard people yelling. Some tried to pull her off. Craig’s eyes bulged and he clawed at her hands. She hung on until Mr. Hennessy finally pulled her away.

  “That’s enough,” he said. “This has gone too far.”

  He shoved Georgie into the nearest desk and pushed through Craig’s friends. “Someone get a wet paper towel!” he called out. “Are you okay, son?”

  “Yeah.” Craig rubbed his neck. A girl ran in with dripping paper towels, but Craig pushed them away. He looked embarrassed by the attention.


  Mr. Hennessy turned to Georgie. “What about you? Are you all right?”

  Georgie rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder. No pain.

  “Sure,” she said. She thought of her survival strategy. Second standing order completed.

  She reached for her cap on the floor and dusted it off.

  “Everyone sit down,” Mr. Hennessy said. “Show’s over.”

  The sounds of feet scuffing and desks opening brought a sense of normalcy to the room. Mr. Hennessy walked up to Georgie and caught her by the shoulders. “You could have really hurt Craig,” he said.

  Georgie shrugged.

  “You realize you can be expelled for starting a fight.” Mr. Hennessy stared at Georgie.

  She looked away, knowing he was right.

  “And you, Craig, as wrong as Georgie was, you provoked that attack. I want you to apologize.”

  Craig’s face was white. He kept his eyes on his desk. “I shouldn’t have said that about your dad but I disagree with you both.” He looked at Georgie. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s not a simple thing to undo. But you won’t see me there if I’m drafted. I’d defect to Canada before I’d fight.”

  “You’d lose your citizenship,” the boy next to Georgie said. “You couldn’t come back and live here later. That’s heavy, man. You’d better be sure you know what you’re giving up.”

  “I’ve already thought about it. I don’t want to live in a country that’s involved in a war as wrong as this one. I’ll burn my draft card just like Alan Loutzenhiser and escape to Canada.”

  Alan Loutzenhiser?

  Georgie turned her puzzled eyes to Lisa’s pale face. Lisa grabbed her books and ran from the room as the bell rang.

  Georgie felt herself filling up with that bad feeling again as she thought of all the time she’d spent with Lisa. She’s lied and said Alan was in Chicago. Georgie thought she would burst with anger and betrayal.

  She threw open the door to the girls’ restroom, where she had seen Lisa go. Lisa was standing inside, but after one look at Georgie she went straight into a stall. Georgie’s chest heaved. She needed to calm down because right now she was mad enough to tear the stall door off its hinges.

  Georgie splashed cold water on her face and wiped it on her sleeve. She tried to make her voice sound normal. “So your brother defected.”

  Lisa slowly came out of the stall. “Yeah, I guess that’s what they call it.” She raised her eyes to look at Georgie. She seemed scared.

  Good, thought Georgie. She should be scared.

  The blood pounded in Georgie’s ears. “And you didn’t see any reason to tell me that, huh?”

  “Well, sure. I mean, I thought about it. I guess I was afraid you would hate me. I really like us being friends and I didn’t want anything to ruin that.”

  “Really? Friends?” Georgie leaned back against a sink and crossed her arms. “They sure do have a funny definition of friendship in this school. I never thought friends told each other lies! You said he was in Chicago!”

  “Well, gee, Georgie.”

  “‘Well, gee, Georgie,’” Georgie said mockingly.

  “Look at how you’re acting now that you know,” Lisa said. “This is what I was afraid would happen.” She walked to another sink, away from Georgie, to wash her hands.

  Georgie looked Lisa up and down, from her tie-dyed blue-and-yellow shirt to her blue miniskirt. Her boots hugged her calves and came up to her knees—the same kind of boots that everyone was wearing. Her clothes, so painstakingly put together and so … boring. Now everything, everything about Lisa made her sick.

  “Tsk, tsk. Perfect little Lisa, with her color-coordinated world, telling lies.”

  “Georgie, please stop.”

  “‘Georgie, please stop.’”

  “That’s enough!” Lisa said.

  “What are you going to do about it? Tell your Communist-loving brother? Oh, wait! How could I forget? He can’t help you because he ran away to another country!”

  “Georgie, please, I never meant for this to happen. I shouldn’t have lied and I should have told you about Alan. But I’ve never intentionally hurt you. At least I never tried to get you into trouble like you did to me.”

  “When did I get you into trouble?”

  “You know, with Mr. Gordon.”

  “You call that trouble? Geez, you are such a baby, Lisa. That was nothing. If you want to see trouble, you’d better watch your back.”

  Lisa quickly turned away. She fumbled with the paper towel she had used to dry her hands, covered her right hand with it, and reached for the door handle. That was the last straw for Georgie. Lisa was such a loser she couldn’t even make a grand exit. Georgie reached past her, grabbed the handle with her bare hand, and blasted out of the restroom.

  With the strong disinfectants the janitors used, Lisa was stupid to worry about germs. At least Georgie thought they used strong ones. What else could be causing her eyes to well with tears?

  14

  That night Georgie sat on the porch as the moonlight poured over her like a soft blanket. It was the first time she’d let her guard down today. She’d been so mad at Lisa that she’d felt like a small tornado ripping through the school. With that attitude, no one had talked to her and that’s exactly how she wanted it. The one time she saw Lisa, she thought Lisa would keel over from fright. It almost made Georgie laugh to think about it.

  “Sugar?” Mom said through the door. “Lisa’s on the phone.”

  “Tell her I don’t want to talk to her.”

  “Georgie!” Mom said. “What happened?”

  “Nothing happened. She’s just not who I thought she was,” Georgie said. “She’s not my friend.”

  “Georgia, I am not going to be rude to her and neither are you. If you’ve got a bone to pick with Lisa, come do it yourself.”

  Georgie stretched out in a relaxed position and tried to ignore her mother, but she knew Mom would outwait her. Mom could be a big old bully. Georgie finally got up and stomped inside. She grabbed the receiver and slammed it down on the cradle.

  “Georgia Francine!”

  “That’s my name, don’t—” Georgie was about to say, “Don’t wear it out.” But she knew she was treading on thin ice with Mom, so she finished with, “Don’t tell me if she calls again. I really won’t talk to her.”

  * * *

  The next morning, Georgie found a letter that had been shoved into the vent on her locker. She pulled it out and saw “To Georgie” in Lisa’s swirly handwriting. She’d drawn a little heart over the i. The heart was such a cutesy Lisa thing, it almost made Georgie gag. She didn’t want to read an apology or an explanation. Georgie ripped the letter into minuscule pieces without opening it. She waited until Lisa was away from her locker and shoved all the pieces into the vent. Lisa would have a nice surprise when she opened it later.

  At lunch, Georgie slid her food tray next to Angel. “Mind if I sit here?”

  “Yes, I do mind,” Angel said. “I will not eat with Lisa Loutzenhiser.”

  “Cool!” Georgie said. “Neither will I.”

  Angel reared back and looked at Georgie. “I thought you two were best friends.”

  “I’m new here. I didn’t know about her brother.”

  Angel sniffed and picked up her sandwich. Georgie didn’t really like Angel. She acted so stuck-up, as if her sweaty gym socks smelled like rose petals. Still, she was Kathy’s best friend. Georgie felt herself thinking about Kathy a lot lately. She told herself it was because they both hated Lisa, not because they’d both had someone in the war.

  Georgie asked, “So how is Kathy doing?”

  “As well as can be expected.” Angel let out a huge sigh and put her sandwich down as if she couldn’t eat another bite, when she’d been wolfing it seconds before.

  Geez. Georgie wondered if befriending Kathy was worth the effort. “Well, when is she coming back to school?”

  “She’ll probably be here tomorrow. She needs the support of her
friends right now. Besides, it will take one or two weeks for Brian’s body to be flown home for the funeral.” Angel wiped at her eyes, but Georgie didn’t see any tears.

  “I’m glad to hear she’s coming back,” Georgie said. “Well, gotta go!” She hopped up, anxious to get away from Angel.

  * * *

  Kathy returned on Thursday. Angel and a herd of girls surrounded her everywhere she went. President Nixon didn’t have that much security. Georgie finally wrote her a note.

  Hi, Kathy,

  I’m really sorry about your brother. I didn’t know that Lisa’s brother was a spineless draft dodger until the other day. She’s not my friend anymore. Maybe we could talk sometime? My dad is in Vietnam.

  Georgie

  She passed the note to Kathy in social studies while Mr. Hennessy had his back turned. Kathy read it and gave Georgie a slight smile.

  * * *

  Saturday morning came, and Georgie made it to the Sunset Home an hour before the usual time. She was sitting across from Sophia in the recreation room, studying the white backgammon pieces, when she heard Lisa’s voice in the hall.

  “Hi, Emmaline.”

  “Hi, buttercup.”

  “Do you know where Sophia is?”

  “Last I saw of her, she was headed for the rec room.”

  “Thanks,” Lisa said.

  Georgie moved her pieces, capturing Sophia’s black one.

  Camille said in her drawl, “Mmm, mmm, it does look like you’ve met your match, Sophia.”

  “Yes, it does.” Sophia chuckled.

  Camille looked up. “Well, looky here. Lisa came, after all.”

  Georgie stared at the pieces.

  Lisa said, “Of course I came. I always come.”

  “Georgie didn’t think you’d make it today,” said Camille.

  Georgie sat up straight and looked at Lisa. She wanted to get Lisa’s reaction to her shirt. It was her dad’s green military shirt with the name “COLLINS” sewn onto it.

  Lisa glanced at it and looked away.

  Sophia turned from Lisa to Georgie and seemed to sense the tension. Well, how could she not? It was as thick as fog.

  “Lisa, come sit beside me,” Sophia said.