BFF* by Judy Blume

went into the kitchen and I introduced them to Mr. Kravitz.
    â€œAre you really Jeremy’s father?” Rachel asked in her most mature voice.
    Mr. Kravitz was spreading a white powder inside our cabinets. “Has Jeremy been giving youtrouble?” he asked, looking up at us. “Has Jeremy been rude to you?”
    I love how parents always assume the worst about their kids. “No,” I said. “We’re just curious because he rides our bus.”
    â€œAnd we’re interested in that jacket he wears,” Rachel said. “It’s a very unusual jacket.”
    I tried to catch her attention but I couldn’t.
    â€œActually it could be a valuable antique,” Rachel continued. “I know because my aunt, who lives in New Hampshire, is in the antique business.”
    â€œThe jacket was his,” I said to Rachel, nodding in Mr. Kravitz’ direction.
    â€œOh,” Rachel said. “I didn’t mean to insult you, Mr. Kravitz. I only meant that some day that jacket could be considered an antique. I didn’t mean it was that old right now.”
    â€œI’m not insulted,” Mr. Kravitz said.
    Henry continued to sniff around our kitchen.
    â€œDoes your dog talk?” I asked Mr. Kravitz.
    â€œHenry communicates,” Mr. Kravitz said, as if my question was perfectly normal, “but he doesn’t speak.”
    â€œOnly one in seventeen million dogs can talk in words,” I told him.
    â€œIs that right?” Mr. Kravitz asked.
    I didn’t tell him about Maizie. It wasn’t my business. If Alison wanted him to know she could tell him.
    â€œNow, girls …” Mr. Kravitz finally said, “I’d really like to spend more time chatting with you but I’ve got work to do here.”
    â€œWell … it’s been very nice meeting you, Mr. Kravitz,” Rachel said.
    â€œSame here,” Alison said.
    â€œLikewise,” Mr. Kravitz said, from inside another cabinet.
    The three of us went outside and ran down to the pond. “Can you believe Jeremy Dragon sleeps in my old room?”
    â€œToo bad you didn’t sell your house with the furniture,” Rachel said. “Then he’d be sleeping in your bed!”
    The idea of Jeremy Dragon sleeping in my bed made me feel funny all over.
    â€œYou’re blushing, Steph!” Alison said.
    â€œYour face is purple!” Rachel sang.
    â€œExcuse me,” I said, walking between them. “I think I need to cool off.” I went down to the edge of the pond and waded into the water, scaring the ducks, who paddled out of my way.
    Rachel yelled, “Steph … what are you doing?”
    And Alison called, “Steph … come out!”
    â€œIt feels great!” I sang, splashing around. “Come on in …”
    â€œStephanie!” Rachel shouted, “it’s not a swimming pond!”
    â€œSo … who’s swimming?”
    They couldn’t believe I’d gone into the pond with all my clothes on. Neither could my mother, who happened to be in the kitchen when I came home. “Stephanie … what on earth?”
    â€œI didn’t mean to get wet,” I told her. “It just happened.”

Dad’s Laugh
    Dad called from Hawaii. “Are the waves huge?” I asked.
    â€œI haven’t had a chance to get to the beach.”
    â€œDad … how can you be in Hawaii and not get to the beach?”
    â€œI’m here to work, Steph.”
    â€œI know … but still …”
    â€œI’ll try to get to the beach tomorrow … okay?”
    â€œOkay. And send us some of that peanut brittle … the kind with macadamia nuts.”
    â€œI don’t think peanut brittle is good for your braces.”
    â€œWell, then … send shells from the beach … or sand.”
    â€œI’ll try,” Dad said. “So what’s new at