by Judy Blume
Her father looked up. “They’re what?”
“Negro. You know, colored.”
Mr. Barringer opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by a call from the kitchen. “Paul … garbage is ready!” He got up without his usual grumble and headed for the kitchen. Mr. Barringer referred to himself as the garbage man of Grove Street. He said he couldn’t understand why his wife never took it out. It wasn’t that heavy. But Mrs. Barringer maintained that putting out the garbage was a man’s job. Same as mowing the lawn.
Winnie had no trouble making out the conversation in the kitchen, even though the door was closed.
“So that’s why Iggie’s family was so secretive about who bought their house. They didn’t want any trouble around here before they moved away,” Dad said.
“Some news, isn’t it?” Mom asked, sarcastically. “Colored people on Grove Street!”
Winnie had heard enough. She ran upstairs and into her room, slamming the door behind her. She flopped down on the bed, then rolled over and stared up at the ceiling. Her parents never discussed important things with her. Anyway, there were no Negro families living in their end of town. And only a very few in the other end. So her folks had nothing to say on the subject. Besides, they liked to pretend everyone was just like they were. But Winnie read the papers and she had seen plenty on T.V. And just last spring her teacher had assigned the whole class to do a paper on “What I Can Do to Improve Racial Relationships.” That was pretty funny, she had said to Iggie’s family. What could she possibly do when she hardly knew anybody of another race?
Winnie closed her eyes and tried to think of all the Negro people she knew. There weren’t many. None in her class. There was a kid in third grade but Winnie didn’t know him. She knew Bert, the mailman. She knew Irma, who helped her mother spring clean every year. But she didn’t know any Negro kids her own age.
Winnie jumped off her bed and sat down at her desk. She took a piece of new yellow stationery from the top drawer. She and Iggie had promised each other a letter a day, but she hadn’t even mailed one yet There hadn’t been anything to say until now. Winnie took the cover off her ballpoint pen and wrote:
Dear Iggie,
How are you? I’m fine. I’m so excited about our new neighbors. You were right when you said it would be a big surprise. Was it ever!!! First thing tomorrow I’m going over to meet them. I can’t wait!!! I’m going to do everything I can for them. I’m going to make sure they’re really happy here. Remember how your father said that people had a lot of waking up to do? Well, I’m going to show them that some of us are waked up already!!!
She folded the letter in half and placed it inside her dictionary. She’d finish it tomorrow.
She was out on her bike before ten the following morning. She passed Iggie’s house. The three kids were on the front stoop. Winnie started to call to them and then remembered her mother’s brownies. She rode home and came bursting through the back door. “Mom … hey Mom!” she yelled.
“What is it Winnie? I’m upstairs.”
“I forgot the brownies Mom.”
“What brownies Winnie?”
“For the new people.” Her mother didn’t answer. “MOM,” Winnie yelled louder. “DO YOU HEAR ME?”
Mrs. Barringer came to the top of the stairs. “I hear you Winnie. Stop shouting!”
“Well … where are they?”
“I uh … I didn’t bake them Winnie. I forgot.”
“Oh Mom! You promised!”
“Well, I just didn’t have time Winifred. Now, that is that!”
Winnie hopped on her bike. She wasn’t going to let her mother spoil her fun. She would meet them anyway.… She slowed down in front of Iggie’s house and waved. They came down to the curb.
“Hi. I’m Winifred Barringer. But everyone calls me Winnie.”
The middle-sized boy tapped the ground with a long stick. “You’re a girl, right?” he asked in a gruff voice.
Winnie thought he must be crazy until she glanced down at her clothes. She supposed with the sailor hat on her head and the cut-off jeans she could be mistaken for a boy. But only from a distance! She took off the hat and her long hair spilled down over her shoulders. She grinned.
“I guess that answers your question, Herbie,” the bigger boy said.
“Well,” the little girl announced. “I’m glad you’re a girl. I told them you were, when we saw you riding your bike before, but they didn’t believe me. My name’s Tina and I’m eight.” Winnie nodded at her. There wasn’t much to say to someone only eight years old.
“Actually,” Winnie told all three of them, “I’m mostly a girl, but I can do some things like a boy. And sometimes I think like a boy too! Iggie told me that.”
“What’s an Iggie?” Herbie asked.
“Iggie’s not a what … she’s a who! And she happens to be my very best friend in the whole world. And this is her house,” Winnie said, pointing. “I mean it used to be her house.”
“This is the Garber house now,” the biggest boy said dramatically. Then he laughed. “I’m Glenn Garber and this is my brother Herbie.”
Winnie smiled at Herbie but he didn’t say anything. He just kept tapping with his stick. The boys looked a lot alike except Glenn was taller, skinnier and had dimples. Winnie couldn’t tell if Herbie had any because he didn’t smile. And now he was chewing away on his left finger nails.
“Any boys around here in fifth grade?” Herbie mumbled, not taking his fingers out of his mouth. His voice sounded like a frog’s.
“There’s two on the block, but they’re away for the summer,” Winnie told him. “What grade are you in?” she asked Glenn.
“Sixth.”
“No kidding! Me too. Maybe you’ll be in my class.”
Herbie took his fingers out of his mouth and did a little dance around Glenn. When he finished he said, “Man! How lucky can you get?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Winnie asked, annoyed. He was probably a girl hater. She knew the type all right! Always sarcastic to anybody who wasn’t a boy. She gritted her teeth and reminded herself to be nice. It was important to make a good first impression. That’s what her mother always said. She’d show the girl hater! She’d be polite and make conversation anyway. “Say Herbie! I see you’ve got braces on your teeth. My brother Matthew got his off right before he left for camp. I’ve got big front teeth. See.…” And she opened her mouth wide for their inspection. “My mom thought I needed braces but the dentist says there’s nothing you can do about big teeth. When my face grows they’ll look better. That’s what the dentist says.” Winnie stuffed two pieces of gum into her mouth. “Anyway, I like to chew and you can’t do that with braces!”
“You talk a lot,” Tina said.
Winnie shrugged and chewed fast. “Say! Do you guys play ball?”
“Sure,” Glenn answered.
“Listen,” Winnie announced, “we play in the park. It’s only three blocks from here. There’re plenty of kids … even fifth graders.” She glanced sideways at Herbie. He half smiled and showed his braces.
“What about me?” Tina asked. “I don’t play so good.”
Winnie laughed. “Oh, they don’t let girls play! You can sit and watch. Say! Are you from Africa?”
Herbie turned away from Winnie, dropping his stick. He pounded his fist into his left hand and mumbled, “Man! Oh man!”
“What made you think we were from Africa?” Glenn asked.
“Man! I’ll tell you what gave her that idea,” Herbie said, facing Winnie. “It’s because we’re black! That’s why. She probably thinks everybody with black skin comes from Africa. Man! I just knew this would happen.”
“That is not why I asked,” Winnie insisted. But she wondered why on earth she had asked in the first place. “I just figured that maybe Iggie’s folks sold their house to people from another country. That’s all.”
“And you just happened to think of Africa!” Herbie said, accusingly.
“Look,” Winnie explained. “Iggie’s father travels all over the world and he has friends in lots of different countries … and that’s all I meant.” She hesitated before asking, “Where are you from anyway?”
“Detroit,” Glenn said. “Did you ever hear of Detroit?”
“So now you think I’m a dope!” Winnie shouted. “Of course I know about Detroit. And I know about the riots too.” There! That ought to show them she knew plenty! “Say, were you guys in any of the riots?”
“Are you kidding?” Glenn laughed. “Our mother wouldn’t even let us out of the house. Anyway, we were pretty small then.”
“How come you moved from Detroit to here?” Winnie asked.
“Our father got promoted and the company transferred him here. The company even found us this house. None of us saw it until we moved in,” Glenn said.
“You’re lucky. It’s a nice house,” Winnie told them. “Say! When you had those riots did your father … uh … did he take shoes?”
“What are you talking about now?” Glenn asked.
“Well, I saw it on T.V. and I remember that everyone was taking shoes out of store windows. You know, just smash the window and grab the shoes.”
“Is that how your father gets shoes for you?” Herbie snapped his stick in two.
Winnie looked down and felt her face redden. She’d said the wrong thing again.
Herbie pretended to be talking to the sky. “I just knew she’d act like that. I could tell the minute I saw her.”
This is awful, Winnie thought. Herbie didn’t like her. He really didn’t. She decided to try a new approach. “You want to go to the park?” she asked.
“I do,” Tina hollered, already running to the house. “I’ll go ask Mom.”
Herbie mumbled something to Winnie.
“What’d you say?” Winnie asked.
“I said we’re getting a dog tonight,” Herbie told her without expression. “A big, fluffy dog. That’s the kind Mom wants.”
At least he was speaking to her again. She’d be more careful this time. “We don’t have a dog,” she said. “I’d love to have one, but Matthew—he’s my brother—has allergies. Dogs make him sneeze. But I get along with them just fine.” Winnie smiled, sure that this time she hadn’t said anything to offend Herbie.
Tina came flying back down the driveway. “We can go to the park after lunch,” she said breathlessly.
“Great!” Winnie yelled, jumping on her bike. “I’ll call for you after lunch and we’ll ride over … okay?”
The Garbers looked at each other. “We don’t have bikes,” Glenn said. “We’ve always lived in the city where you rent them in the park. So we’ll just walk.”
Oh no, Winnie thought. Here we go again!
chapter three
After lunch Winnie made three trips to Iggie’s house. One riding her bike. One riding Matthew’s bike. And one pulling the red wagon she used to play with when when she was a little kid. She left the equipment in the driveway and sat at the curb. Now they’d have to see what a good neighbor she was.
“What’s all that stuff for?” Glenn asked when the three of them finally came out of the house.
“Why walk, when you can ride?” Winnie answered with a smile, standing up. “You can ride a bike?”
“Yeah. We can ride,” Herbie said.
“Well, this is my brother’s bike,” Winnie said, hanging onto the big, blue one. “It’s for Glenn to ride.”
Glenn tried it out, making a few wobbly turns. Winnie breathed a sigh of relief.
“Now, for you two,” Winnie began, turning to Herbie and Tina. “I figure Tina should ride in the wagon ’cause she’s so little and Herbie …”
Herbie interrupted her. “Oh, that’s just great. Everybody rides and Herbie pulls. Some fun!”
“You didn’t let me finish, Herbie,” Winnie hollered. “We’ll take turns pulling the wagon. If you want, I’ll start pulling and you can ride first.” He sure is touchy, Winnie thought.
“No, no! I wouldn’t want to spoil your plans. I’ll pull first.” Tina arranged herself in the wagon and Herbie pulled it.
“Follow me,” Winnie called, jumping on her bike.
The daily softball game was already in progress when they got to the park. A group of girls sat in the shade of a clump of trees, to the side of the ball field. One of them looked over at Winnie and the Garbers and nudged the others. They all stared. Winnie waved at them and the girls waved back.
“Aren’t there any black kids around here?” Tina asked.
“Oh sure there are!” Winnie lied. “Just not today.” She didn’t know how she was going to get out of that one because when school started they’d find out the truth. But school was still two weeks away.
“Go on over there Tina,” Glenn said. “Take your wagon and sit down by those girls.”
“I don’t want to.” Tina shook her head and stamped her feet. “I want to stay here with you.”
“I said go on Tina. Don’t be a big baby.” Glenn gave her a gentle shove.
“No!” Tina sniffled.
“Oh, for crying out loud!” Herbie said. “Come on … I’ll take you over there.”
Tina sat down in the wagon and Herbie pulled her toward the girls.
“Hey, Big Red!” Winnie called out.
“Hey, Winnie!” a tall and well built redheaded boy yelled back.
“Come here. I want you to meet somebody,” Winnie shouted. While he was trotting from the ball field to where Winnie and Glenn stood, Winnie whispered, “I’m going to play a joke on Big Red. So just don’t say anything, okay?”
Before Glenn could answer, Big Red was standing next to him.
Winnie said, “This is my new neighbor, Glenn Garber.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Big Red said, staring at Glenn.
“I’m not kidding! And he’s from Africa too!” Winnie said. Glenn poked her in the back.
“Well, now,” Big Red said, shaking hands with Glenn. “I sure do know a lot about Africa. I did a whole project on Africa last year. Took me a long time but I sure did learn a lot. Winnie was in my class. She heard me give my report. Got a good mark on it too. Right, Winnie?”
“Right, Big Red,” Winnie said. Glenn made a face but didn’t say anything.
“You speak English?” Big Red asked Glenn.
Herbie joined them as Glenn nodded to Big Red’s question.
“She didn’t cry,” Herbie reported to Winnie and Glenn. “You’d think by now she’d stop acting like such a baby!”
“This is Herbie Garber,” Winnie said to Big Red. “Glenn’s brother.”
“Sure would like you two guys to play on my team this afternoon. Would be a real pleasure.… Let’s go Winnie,” Big Red called out as he ran back to his position on the field.
“I thought you said girls don’t play, they just watch,” Herbie said.
“I’m an exception,” Winnie bragged. “I told you, I’m not really a girl. I told you I can do some things just like a boy!”
Winnie spoke softly to Glenn as they walked toward the field. Herbie ran ahead of them. “Big Red never lets new kids play. No matter what! That’s just the way it is. He’s really tough on new kids. And Herbie is … well … you know … well, I just didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. So it’s just a little joke on Big Red ’cause he thinks he knows so much!”
“You’re a nut Winnie. A regular nut!” Glenn said.
Winnie figured that was a compliment.
One hot and sweaty hour later the game was over. Actually the game was never really over. It continued from day to day. Sometimes they didn’t even keep score. Winnie was disappointed in Glenn and Herbie, but she tried not to show it. She thought they would be great athletes. But Glenn didn’t play any better than she did. And she was a girl! Herbie ran fast but he dropped two fly balls in left field.
The rain that had cooled things off yesterday had given way to a bright sun beating down on their bare heads. Winnie put a rubber
band around her hair to hold it on top of her head. It stood up like a big, floppy brush. She always wore the rubber band around her ankle, just in case she needed it. Her mother told her that was a very dangerous thing to do. It could stop all the blood from circulating and then she’d be dead! But Winnie didn’t believe it.
They collected Tina and the wagon. As they were leaving the park grounds Glenn paused and called to Big Red. “Bye. Thanks for the game. Oh, by the way … we’re really from Detroit. That’s Michigan, not Africa!” Glenn and Winnie laughed as Big Red’s mouth fell open. They didn’t hang around long enough to give him a chance to reply. Winnie figured he’d be hopping mad for a few days, but he’d get over it.
On the way home they rode down Sherbrooke Road, where three new houses were going up. There was plenty of noise and lots of action, so they stopped to watch. Winnie spotted one workman up on the roof eating something. Maybe his lunch. He waved down at them and Winnie giggled. He looked like a monkey at the zoo, doing funny tricks. They stood there enjoying the show until one of the men told them to be on their way. He didn’t want to be responsible for any accidents.
In fifteen minutes they were back on Grove Street. Little beads of perspiration stood out on all their faces, except Tina’s. She was cool and content riding in the wagon.
Winnie was exhausted. That Herbie Garber was pretty smart to volunteer to pull the wagon on the way to the park. Why hadn’t she thought of that!
Three houses before Iggie’s Tina called out, “Stop!”
“What’s the matter, Tina?” Winnie asked.
“Up there … on the porch,” Tina pointed.
Winnie looked up and groaned. Clarice Landon was perched like a kitten in the corner of her front porch, playing with paper dolls. Usually she sat in a rocking chair, like a little old lady.
“Who’s that?” Tina asked. “She’s pretty.”
Winnie whispered. “That’s Clarice Landon and she’s awful. So’s her mother. I can’t stand them.”
Winnie was used to the way Clarice looked all right. Only she didn’t call it pretty. Immaculate! Mrs. Barringer said. Naturally Clarice was always a big hit with mothers and teachers, in her starched dresses and ribboned hair. Yick!
