Stacey's Big Crush

by Ann M. Martin

  “Uh-oh …”

  Wes ran his fingers through his hair. “Yeah. Mr. Kingbridge stopped me today wanting to know where my W-4 form was, and my insurance form, and my progress report — forms I didn’t even know I had.”

  “Oh, no. What did you tell him?”

  “I told him I’d get them to him before he left today.” Wes exhaled and shook his head. “I shouldn’t have let him intimidate me like that. Sometimes I’m such a wimp.”

  Ohhh. I wanted to squeeze him and tell him it was all right. He looked so vulnerable.

  I hadn’t seen this side of Wes until that day. I thought he was the type who never let anything bother him. Now I was catching a glimpse of the true Wes. Strong but sensitive. Confident but sometimes unsure.

  Human.

  I fell in love with him all over again.

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “Just tell me what to do, and we’ll finish in time.”

  “Okay, have a seat.” Wes turned and pulled open the file cabinet. He flipped through his folders, taking out sheets and putting them on his desk. “Ah, here’s something you can use your math skills with. I need to have everyone’s grades averaged. Why don’t you do that while I fill out my W-4 …”

  He gave me a list of grades. (First he folded the names over so I wouldn’t know which grades were whose.) I felt excited. I was determined to figure out the averages without using a calculator.

  Not to mention the fact that I could tell which grades were mine. And guess who had the highest average in the class? Ta-da!

  There was plenty more to do after I finished the averages. Some of it was just filling out forms, but I found out a lot more about Wes that way — like his Social Security number, his birthdate (August 19), his mother’s maiden name (Stratten), his official height (five feet eleven) and weight (one hundred sixty-one pounds), and his blood type (O positive).

  As I was filling out the last form, Wes checked my averages. “I knew it,” he said with a smile. “Absolutely perfect!”

  I looked up, trying not to smile like a goon. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the clock.

  Five-eleven.

  “Oh, no!” I said.

  “What?” Wes whipped around as if I’d seen a burglar.

  “We’ve been working for over two hours! I have to go to a meeting.” I explained the Baby-sitters Club to him and frantically gathered my things together.

  “Uh … look, this was my fault,” Wes said. “Why don’t you let me drive you? We’ll drop off my forms at Mr. Kingbridge’s desk, then we can go straight to the parking lot.”

  “Okay!” The word leaped out of my mouth, halfway between a squeak and a shout.

  This was a dream come true. I was going to ride to Claudia’s house side by side with Wes Ellenburg.

  In his car.

  Alone.

  I managed not to scream and make a fool out of myself. I was cool. I was composed.

  I picked up Wes’s class record book and headed for the door.

  “Uh … you don’t need to take that home,” Wes said.

  “Huh?” I looked down and felt horrified. “Oh! Sorry, I — I thought — I was in such a hurry, I —”

  Wes picked up my books and handed them to me. “That’s okay. Let’s fly.”

  He grabbed his stack of filled-out forms, and we ran into the hallway. On the way out, Wes dropped off the forms with Mr. Kingbridge’s secretary.

  Moments later, we were running toward The Car. It was a battered silver-gray Toyota Corolla with a Stoneybrook University sticker across the rear windshield. The bumper was held on by rope. “Meet Winston,” he said as he opened the passenger door.

  “Winston?”

  He smiled shyly. “That’s my car’s name. It’s seven years old, but it drives beautifully.”

  Then he held the door open for me and waited for me to get in. What a gentleman!

  “Toyotas are my favorite cars,” I said as I sat down. (They were, too. I had just made the decision.)

  Wes gallantly shut the door behind me. “Well, you may change your mind after it starts moving.”

  He ran around to the driver’s side and slid in.

  We were sealed now. Together in our own world.

  I gave Claud’s address to Wes, and he started the car. We pulled out of the lot and drove onto the Stoneybrook streets. What a feeling! Wes and I were in the real world now — away from school.

  I was psyched. I wanted to shout. I wanted the whole town to see me. It was a good thing Wes didn’t have a convertible, or I might have floated right out the top.

  How was the ride? Bumpy, I think, but I couldn’t tell. The bumps might have been the beating of my heart, which felt like a jackhammer.

  Wes drove beautifully. He could do so much at once. While he talked, his legs worked the clutch and accelerator. He reminded me of a church organist making music with foot pedals. We chatted about school, he told me some jokes, then he turned on the radio.

  And when he sang along with a love ballad, I thought I’d die. He had a gorgeous voice!

  Then it happened. He touched me.

  It was only a brush on the hand, but it sent a shiver right through me, until my toes tingled. His hand casually continued on to the stick shift, and he pulled it down.

  Did he really need to shift right then? I didn’t think so. My heart raced. The Touch was intentional, it had to be.

  I turned toward him and gave him a smile. He was looking straight ahead. I wasn’t sure if he saw me. All I could think was: Is it possible? Did he feel for me the way I felt for him? Had he kept me after school so long on purpose, knowing he’d have to drive me somewhere later?

  It wasn’t a far-fetched idea.

  Finally Wes did turn toward me. He looked me in the eye and smiled. My tongue felt like a wad of cotton. “Well …” he said with a shrug.

  I practiced my reply in my head: A date? Of course!

  “… here we are,” he ended his sentence.

  Oh.

  I hadn’t noticed the car had stopped. I looked out the window and saw Claud’s house. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, barely getting the words out.

  “You’re welcome,” Wes replied. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. ’Bye.” I got out of the car and stabilized myself. As Wes drove off, I waved to him.

  As I walked up the path to the front door, I didn’t know if my heart would explode before my knees gave way.

  I don’t remember actually walking into Claudia’s room, but I do remember Kristy asking, “What happened to you?”

  “Hmmmm?” I replied.

  “Don’t scare us, Stace,” Claud said. “Are you having a blood-sugar problem, or is this something … Wes-related?”

  “He drove me here,” was all I could answer as I sank onto the bed.

  Mallory was wide-eyed. “He did?”

  “Mm-hm …”

  “And?” Mary Anne insisted.

  “And I think he likes me.”

  “Really?” Dawn said. “What did he say?”

  “It’s not what he said,” I replied. “He let his hand brush against mine. In the tenderest way.”

  “Wowww …” Jessi said.

  I leaned back against the wall. The clock clicked to five-thirty and Kristy forgot to say “Order.” She — and the other members of the BSC — were staring at me.

  I guess they had finally realized nine years wasn’t such a big difference, where true love was concerned.

  No.

  No way!

  I crossed out lovers. Who was I kidding? If Wes read that, I would be mortified. Even if he did like me.

  I wrote people. Then I added the word young before it. The last line read And bring two young people back again.

  It wasn’t quite right. The rhythm was off.

  Arrrrrrgh.

  It was nine-thirty. I had been writing the poem since right after dinner. This had to be the twentieth draft.

  It started out as a good idea. I needed some way to let out
all the feelings that had been building up. I was too embarrassed to admit them to Mom. There was only one person I wanted to tell, and that was Wes.

  But I couldn’t do that. At least not directly.

  That was when I’d thought of writing a poem. At first I wrote about him and me, but that was too obvious. Then I changed the names, but somehow it sounded silly.

  Then I remembered a phrase we read in Romeo and Juliet in English class: “star-cross’d lovers.” That gave me the idea of comparing Wes and me to two stars.

  I tried to make my poem sound like Shakespeare. I figured Wes was the kind of guy who read Shakespeare. But I couldn’t decide whether I liked the poem or not. It was hard to see it through all the cross-outs.

  Maybe there’s a good reason why math was my strong point.

  I began looking in my desk for some nice paper to copy the poem onto.

  “Stacey!” my mom called from downstairs. “Phone!”

  “Who is it?” I answered.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “Some boy.”

  I shot out of my seat and ran to the door. “A boy?” I said, keeping my voice low. “You mean, like a boy, or a male, you know, who might not be a boy?”

  My mom chuckled. “I don’t know, Stacey. It sounds like someone your age, but I can’t be sure.”

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll take it up here!”

  I ran into my mom’s room. Could HE be calling? Oh, my heart. I took hold of myself. I sat by the phone. I forced myself to stop shaking.

  Then I picked up the receiver and clamped my hand over it. “I have it!” I shouted. “You can hang up now!”

  I quickly put the receiver to my ear and waited for the click. Then I swallowed and said, “Hello?”

  “Hi, Stacey,” said a male voice. “It’s Sam.”

  “Sam?” I squeaked.

  “Yeah, Sam.” He laughed. “You know, as in Thomas.”

  “Oh.” I felt like a flat tire. “Hi, Sam.”

  “Um, I was calling because, well, Kristy was telling me about the Spring Dance at your school.”

  “The Spring Dance?” I hadn’t even thought of it. I’d forgotten it existed. Between Elvira and Wes, there had been so much going on.

  “Yeah. I was wondering if you needed a date for it. If you do I could take you.”

  My mood picked right up. What a sweetheart. Things had really cooled off between us, and I thought he’d forgotten about me. And I still did like him. I was about to say “Sure!” In fact, my mouth was forming the “sh” sound when I stopped.

  I couldn’t say yes. What if I did, and then Wes asked me? True, we weren’t going out. But I was sure he had feelings for me, and after he read this poem …

  “Oh, Sam,” I said gently. “You’re sweet to ask. But I’m already going with somebody.”

  I hated, hated to lie. And I felt so guilty. But what else could I do?

  Sam’s voice grew very soft. “Okay. Just thought I’d try. See you later.”

  “Okay. ’Bye.”

  “ ’Bye.”

  I hung up and sank back on the bed.

  If this didn’t work, I was going to feel like such a jerk.

  But it was going to work. I was determined to show Wes the poem. Once he read it, he’d know exactly how I felt. If he really was holding his feelings for me inside, he’d be able to tell me.

  I marched back into my room. I rooted around in my desk and pulled out some special stationery that I’ve hardly ever used. It’s white parchment paper edged with lace. Then I found my pen that writes in gold ink. At the top of the page I wrote For Wes.

  In my best handwriting, I made a clean copy of the poem.

  There. The poem was finished. And I had to admit, it was pretty good. I couldn’t believe I had written it.

  Sigh. Isn’t it amazing what love brings out?

  I placed the poem carefully in a manila envelope, closed it, and sealed it (with a kiss).

  Then I started my homework. It was almost bedtime, but I had to do at least my math. In the week since Wes came, I hadn’t gotten even one problem wrong on any assignment. I wanted to maintain my record.

  * * *

  I carried the poem with me all day Thursday. In fact, I had put the manila envelope inside a bigger manila envelope. That way, when it came time to give the poem to Wes, I could hand him a clean envelope without any smudges or wrinkles.

  I wanted to run into him during the day. Then I could give him the poem, forget about it for awhile, and hope that he’d read it before math class.

  But good old Fortune was not kind to me that day. I didn’t see Wes at all until class.

  When I walked in, we said hi as always. As always, he handed back an assignment and we discussed it. As always, the class was fun and interesting.

  Only Wes and I knew about what had happened the previous evening. He managed to keep cool about it, and so did I.

  The class flew by. By the time the final bell rang, I was beginning to have second thoughts. What if Wes didn’t like the poem? What if he didn’t get it? Did it need another verse? Were there too many words in the last line?

  I knew that if I hesitated I’d never give it to him. So I reached into my shoulder bag and pulled the envelope out of the envelope. As the other students were leaving the room, I walked straight to Wes’s desk.

  Wes smiled at me. “Stacey, thank you so much for helping me yesterday. You kept me out of trouble with Mr. Kingbridge. I hope you weren’t late for your meeting.”

  “Nope,” I said. “And you’re welcome. Um, by the way, I wondered if you would, uh, look at this.”

  Wes gave me a curious frown and took the envelope. Then, as I stood there petrified out of my mind, he opened it and began to read the poem.

  I watched him carefully. I was not breathing. My heart had decided to check out for a few moments. Wes’s frown deepened, then disappeared.

  For the life of me, I couldn’t read the expression on his face. He was staring at the poem, just staring.

  Then, quickly, he put it back in the envelope. “Thanks, Stacey,” he said with a strange kind of half smile. “It’s … uh, beautiful. Um, jeez, I’m going to be late for a staff meeting. Sorry to run. See you tomorrow.”

  With that he rushed out the door.

  And he took my poor frozen heart with him.

  Well, in writing that, Mary Anne was very kind to Elvira. You want to know the truth? That cute little goat had turned into a pain in the neck.

  She was still sweet-natured and frisky and goofy. But she had this incredible appetite for garbage.

  The incident at the Goldmans’ was only the first. Part of the problem was the size of her pen. Dawn and Mary Anne didn’t have the heart to keep her cooped up in there all the time. They preferred to leave her in the yard on the tether. Unfortunately, it was hard to keep the garbage cans out of her reach.

  Practical Mr. Spier tried to solve the problem by buying a new set of cans with clasp handles. That didn’t work. Elvira figured out how to open them.

  Needless to say, Elvira had some pretty interesting dinners on the sly. Some of them were so interesting that she decided she needed to see them again after she ate them. (That’s all I’ll say without getting too gross. You can figure out what I mean.)

  One other problem. With so many little tidbits of food lying around, the barn became a favorite hangout for other forms of wildlife. Field mice, raccoons, squirrels, bats, yellow jackets — Elvira had many callers that week.

  She found the Braddocks’ garbage during one sitting job, but she didn’t do too much damage. Fortunately the parents were just as good-natured about it as the Goldmans had been.

  Let’s face it, it was impossible not to like Elvira. She didn’t make trouble on purpose. She wasn’t bad-tempered. She was just … being a goat!

  Anyway, on Tuesday (yes, almost a week after I gave Wes the poem, and no, he hadn’t said a word about it) Mary Anne called Mrs. Barrett and asked permission to bring Elvira on her sitting job. Mr
s. Barrett agreed — but she forgot to tell her kids about the arrangement.

  So when Mary Anne showed up, they went absolutely wild. Well, two of the three did.

  “Aaaaaah!” Buddy screamed when he saw Mary Anne through the screen door. “Look who Mary Anne brought!”

  He barged outside, bleating at the top of his lungs.

  “Who?” Suzi said, wandering to the door. Then, another happy “Aaaaaaah!” and she came running out, bleating even louder.

  Next came Mrs. Barrett and Marnie. Now, Marnie is only two, and she wasn’t around the day her siblings met Elvira. Plus, she wasn’t expecting this weird-looking animal to show up at her house.

  Elvira was a bit too much for her. Marnie took one frightened look out the door and started crying.

  Oh, great, Mary Anne thought. She figured she’d have to take Elvira home, which would mean Mrs. Barrett would have to wait for her. She would be mad about that, and Buddy and Suzi would be mad that Elvira had to leave. And if there’s one thing Mary Anne likes to avoid, it’s conflict.

  Fortunately, before Mary Anne could burst into tears, Marnie calmed down. Mrs. Barrett led her slowly out the door by the hand, saying, “That’s a goat, Marnie, can you say goat?”

  “Doat,” Marnie said.

  “Beeeeaahhh!” Elvira replied.

  Marnie froze. Then she looked up at her mother. “Beeeeahhh!” she repeated.

  It was a great imitation! Buddy and Suzi exploded into giggles. Marnie looked quite pleased with herself. She let go of her mom’s hand and walked right up to Elvira, saying “Beeeeahhh!” again.

  This time Elvira scampered away. Then she looked back at Marnie as if to say “Follow me!”

  Marnie understood. She started chasing Elvira, laughing hysterically and calling “Doat!” Mary Anne knew then that everything was going to be all right.

  It was, too, for about the first hour after Mrs. Barrett left. Then Buddy came up with a brilliant idea. “Hey, Mary Anne,” he said. “Did you ever teach Elvira to pull a wagon?”

  “No,” Mary Anne replied.

  “Well, let’s try. We have a wagon!”