Amber Brown Goes Fourth by Paula Danziger Page A

It’s filled with pictures of my father alone, of him with me, with pictures of the three of us—Mom, Dad, and me. There are even some pictures of just the two of them, before they decided to separate.
    Since my mother doesn’t like to have pictures of my father around the house, I made up the Dad Book.
    If I ever get to visit my dad in France, I’ve decided to make up a “Mom Book” to take with me. Something tells me that he doesn’t have pictures of her around his apartment.He does have pictures of me though. He told me that when he came over to England to see me when I got chicken pox and couldn’t go to him.
    Sometimes I talk to the book as if my dad is really here.
    Today is one of those days.
    “I’m a little nervous about school starting. It’s going to be the first time that you’re not here for the first day of school. And Justin’s not here either.”
    I look at the picture of my dad, which wastaken when we went to Great Adventure. He’s grinning . . . . . and he’s got a piece of cotton candy stuck on his nose.

    He can’t say anything.
    I continue, “Actually, I’m more than just a little nervous . . . I’m scared. Fourth grade . . . . that’s supposed to be pretty hard . . . . and Mr. Cohen’s not going to be my teacher this year. . . . What if my brain is so filled with everything from nursery school, kindergarten, first, second, and third grade that I don’t have room in it to put any new facts? What if I get a desk that wobbles? Or a desk that some dumb kid sat in last year and there’s still some dumb kidness on the desk that’s going to rub off on me?” I can almost hear my father laugh as I say that.
    It even makes me smile . . . . . a little . . . and then I continue, “What if nobody wants to be my best friend? Daddy, I’m really out of practice for making best friends. I haven’t had to do it since preschool—and I didn’teven have to think about it then.”
    Then I give the picture a kiss.
    I can almost taste the cotton candy on his nose. “And Daddy, this is the big news: Mommy is going out with this guy named Max. She started going out with him while I was in England. And I think she really likes him. And she says that he really likes her.”
    I look at the picture of my father.
    He’s still smiling.
    I’m not. “When I got back, Mommy wanted me to meet Max, but I didn’t want to.”
    I think about how I don’t want her to have a boyfriend, not unless it’s my dad. When she told me all about him, I got really upset and I really cried, not make-believe-to-try-to-get-my-own-way tears, but real tears. So then she said that I don’t have to meet him for a while, not unless it gets VERY serious.
    I start talking to the picture of my dadagain. “This could get VERY serious, Dad. If you are thinking about coming back to us, you better do it soon. I’m getting worried.
    “Max doesn’t even live here. He lives in a whole different town. What if Mommy and Max decide to get married? Then you and Mommy won’t be able to be married. What if they decide to move to his town . . . . . . . and what if I have to go to a different school?”
    My father says nothing.
    Maybe I should call him and talk to the real person, not just his picture.
    But then I don’t think I could say all of this to him really . . . . . or to my mother . . . . or to anyone.
    “How does this look?” My mother walks into my room.
    I close my Dad Book, turn it upside down, and look at her.
    She’s wearing a black skirt, a raspberry-colored blouse, and jewelry.

    Actually, she looks really pretty, but I’m not sure I want to tell her that.
    I sniff the air. “You’ve got a lot of perfume on.”
    Then I scrunch my nose up.
    Actually, she smells good, but I don’t want to tell her that either.
    She adds a black belt to the outfit and looks in my full-length mirror.
    Then she looks at me. “What time is What’s His Face picking you up?” I