All Alone in the Universe by Lynne Rae Perkins Page B

started twirling with the new one, and when the first woman tried to pry them apart, the man gave her a little push, and off she flew. He acted as if it were an accident, but I could tell it was on purpose.
    “That wasn‧t very nice,” said my dad.
    She landed in a graceful heap and sat there looking gracefully back at her lost love and his new flame as they flounced around.
    She was so bummed. She felt so alone. Slowly, so slowly I didn‧t notice it at first, the circle of light that she was sitting in widened, and there were all those other dancers, still dancing around. (Probably they had stopped while they were in the dark.) A few of them spotted her and tried to get her to join them. She didn‧t want to, but finally she did in a halfhearted way just so they‧d stop pestering her. Bit by bit she started to be happy again.
    The two on the pedestal were having an argument now.
    “Serves them right,” I said. But the one who had been dumped didn‧t even notice. She was having too much fun.
    Sometimes you see something at just the right time. On another day I might have looked at those dancers and noticed what good shape they were in and wondered how they kept their costumes on. But this time, as I sat there, I thought I knew just how she felt, the one who had fallen from the pedestal. My dance on the pedestal was my friendship with Maureen. I still wasn‧t sure how I had lost my balance and fallen off. Or whether I was pushed. Everyone around me was trying to get me to dance again. The thing was, I hadn‧t quite given up on getting back up there. I still believed it was the only place where I could be happy.

seven
     

     
    I HAD THIS IDEA THAT IN S EPTEMBER M AUREEN AND I WOULD walk to school together the way we always had and the awfulness of the summer would just end. Two days before school started, I braced myself and called her on the phone.
    “Sure,” she said. “Where have you been? Did you go on another vacation?”
    “No,” I said. “I‧ve been around. Just hanging out I guess.” I tried to say it lightly. As if I hadn‧t been left behind and forgotten. A grain of sand at the beach. A footprint on dry cement.
    “See you Tuesday then,” I said, all carefree and cheery.
    “Great!” said Maureen.
    It sounded pretty good. It felt like old times. Maybe I really had imagined things. I could probably get used to Glenna. Maybe I could even learn to like her. Stranger things have happened. Astronauts have walked on the moon.
    Three wasn‧t such a bad number. It had to be better than one. Even the Three (three!) Dog Night song, “One is the Loneliest Number,” says that two can be bad, too, but I don‧t think it mentions anything about three. The Three Wise Men seemed to get along all right. Also the Three Little Pigs; Peter, Paul and Mary; the Three Stooges (maybe not the best example); Tom, Dick, and Harry, whoever they are. I would give it a try. How bad could it be?
    So off we went, the three of us together, heading down Prospect Hill Road, side by side by side. Maureen was in the middle. It was a tight squeeze on the narrow sidewalk. Every few yards, roots from the sycamore trees had lifted up chunks of the concrete, and only two people could pass. Glenna and I both maneuvered ourselves to try to make sure it was the other one who had to go ahead or behind for a couple of seconds, all the while chatting in an offhand way about this and that. Then, just when I thought I was doing okay, Glenna looked back over her shoulder at Maureen and said, “I wonder if we‧ll see the Event today.” Maureen laughed.
    “What event?” I asked.
    “Oh, nothing,” said Glenna. To Maureen, she said, “I saw Handsome Walker and Lips at Tastee-Freez yesterday.”
    “Were they holding hands?” asked Maureen.
    “They had their arms around each other‧s waists,” said Glenna. “The Nose was there, too, and you should have seen him giving them the hairy eyeball.”
    “The Nose?” I asked. “What are you