didn’t know.
Still, I kept quiet, waited. After school, it was as if nothing had happened. While we waited for our rides, we drew sketches of rotten eyeballs in Amandine’s Ugliest Things notebook. Disgusting drawings were getting easier for me.
I didn’t brave the subject until she called me on the phone that night. And even then I was careful, waiting for the right moment.
“What do you think about that girl, Mary?” I asked.
“She’s all right,” Amandine answered. “She’s kind of a grub, but did you know she’s in a fight with Jolynn? They don’t speak to each other anymore.”
I hadn’t known, but I was used to Amandine noticing everything. “What’s the fight about?”
“Jolynn’s just a boy-crazy slut and Mary’s had enough. I’m gonna ask her to sit with us at lunch tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I’ve been thinking, Delia. We really need a third friend. I mean, what happens if I’m absent one day? Who are you going to hang around with?”
I thought about that. I saw myself wandering the halls alone. Sitting by myself in assembly. Pretty awful. But Amandine and Mary were in the same homeroom. What if they got to be better friends and started to share secrets and leave me out of stuff?
“Mary’s dad’s a minister,” I recalled. “And she’s sort of a priss, too, isn’t she?”
“Don’t be horrible. Just because she goes to church doesn’t mean she’s a priss. In fact, she was my computer lab partner last year, when we both were at James DeWolf Middle. She’s so not prissy.”
“Delia, you’ve been on that phone for over an hour,” Dad said, startling me as he came out to the kitchen from the study. He was carrying his and Mom’s empty tea tray, and I realized I’d forgotten to give them their nightly kiss. “Time’s running … out.” He said the last word like an umpire as he set down the tray and reached for the phone.
“Is that your dad?” Amandine squealed. “Tell him hi! Tell him I say, what’s going on, old man!”
“It’s Amandine,” I said. “She says hi.”
Dad misunderstood. He took the phone from my hand. “Hello, ballerina! When are you coming to fix our floors?”
There was a pause. Then Dad laughed.
“Oh, really?” he asked. And then, “What sort of tools and equipment might you need?”
A longer pause. Dad laughed again. “Of course, you’d be paid a working wage!”
Then Amandine said something else, and Dad’s face lost its grin. “All right, miss. I’m saying good night from all the Blaines,” he said. “Good night! Good night!”
He hung up the phone, his expression carrying faint amazement. “Miss Amandine,” he said. “She’s a real piece of work.”
“Why, what’d she say?” I asked. “What’d that mean, about fixing our floors?”
“It was a joke she made up on the way to the hardware store, about turning the house into a dance studio, that morning I drove her home …” Dad looked troubled for a moment, as if he might tell me something more. But then he just said, “Okay, Honeydew, I’m turning in and so are you.” His voice was loud, the way it had been on the phone. “Good night! Good night!”
The next day, Amandine asked Mary Whitecomb to sit with us at lunch. She brought extra food, I noticed—a half dozen of Jin’s nutmeg cookies and a vending machine bag of Gummy Worms. She made a show of splitting everything into three equal parts. She was wearing a collared shirt, and her hair was rolled elaborately into two sausage curls pinned on either side of her face.
“It’s my Joan Crawford from Mildred Pierce look,” she told us. “A classic.”
“It’s nice,” said Mary doubtfully.
“It’s to make you think she’s trustworthy,” I said with a small laugh. Amandine didn’t like that one. She glared, then sucked in her cheeks and looked past me, heavy-lidded.
“Oh, would you just get a load of Jolynn, sitting with all those guys. What a slut,” she said with a sniff. I
Still, I kept quiet, waited. After school, it was as if nothing had happened. While we waited for our rides, we drew sketches of rotten eyeballs in Amandine’s Ugliest Things notebook. Disgusting drawings were getting easier for me.
I didn’t brave the subject until she called me on the phone that night. And even then I was careful, waiting for the right moment.
“What do you think about that girl, Mary?” I asked.
“She’s all right,” Amandine answered. “She’s kind of a grub, but did you know she’s in a fight with Jolynn? They don’t speak to each other anymore.”
I hadn’t known, but I was used to Amandine noticing everything. “What’s the fight about?”
“Jolynn’s just a boy-crazy slut and Mary’s had enough. I’m gonna ask her to sit with us at lunch tomorrow.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I’ve been thinking, Delia. We really need a third friend. I mean, what happens if I’m absent one day? Who are you going to hang around with?”
I thought about that. I saw myself wandering the halls alone. Sitting by myself in assembly. Pretty awful. But Amandine and Mary were in the same homeroom. What if they got to be better friends and started to share secrets and leave me out of stuff?
“Mary’s dad’s a minister,” I recalled. “And she’s sort of a priss, too, isn’t she?”
“Don’t be horrible. Just because she goes to church doesn’t mean she’s a priss. In fact, she was my computer lab partner last year, when we both were at James DeWolf Middle. She’s so not prissy.”
“Delia, you’ve been on that phone for over an hour,” Dad said, startling me as he came out to the kitchen from the study. He was carrying his and Mom’s empty tea tray, and I realized I’d forgotten to give them their nightly kiss. “Time’s running … out.” He said the last word like an umpire as he set down the tray and reached for the phone.
“Is that your dad?” Amandine squealed. “Tell him hi! Tell him I say, what’s going on, old man!”
“It’s Amandine,” I said. “She says hi.”
Dad misunderstood. He took the phone from my hand. “Hello, ballerina! When are you coming to fix our floors?”
There was a pause. Then Dad laughed.
“Oh, really?” he asked. And then, “What sort of tools and equipment might you need?”
A longer pause. Dad laughed again. “Of course, you’d be paid a working wage!”
Then Amandine said something else, and Dad’s face lost its grin. “All right, miss. I’m saying good night from all the Blaines,” he said. “Good night! Good night!”
He hung up the phone, his expression carrying faint amazement. “Miss Amandine,” he said. “She’s a real piece of work.”
“Why, what’d she say?” I asked. “What’d that mean, about fixing our floors?”
“It was a joke she made up on the way to the hardware store, about turning the house into a dance studio, that morning I drove her home …” Dad looked troubled for a moment, as if he might tell me something more. But then he just said, “Okay, Honeydew, I’m turning in and so are you.” His voice was loud, the way it had been on the phone. “Good night! Good night!”
The next day, Amandine asked Mary Whitecomb to sit with us at lunch. She brought extra food, I noticed—a half dozen of Jin’s nutmeg cookies and a vending machine bag of Gummy Worms. She made a show of splitting everything into three equal parts. She was wearing a collared shirt, and her hair was rolled elaborately into two sausage curls pinned on either side of her face.
“It’s my Joan Crawford from Mildred Pierce look,” she told us. “A classic.”
“It’s nice,” said Mary doubtfully.
“It’s to make you think she’s trustworthy,” I said with a small laugh. Amandine didn’t like that one. She glared, then sucked in her cheeks and looked past me, heavy-lidded.
“Oh, would you just get a load of Jolynn, sitting with all those guys. What a slut,” she said with a sniff. I
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