BFF* by Judy Blume Page B

she still had the giggles.
    Mrs. Remo continued with her announcement. “The first $150 will be used to donate food baskets to the needy. Anything over that will go to the seventh grade activity fund. Last year’sseventh grade class earned enough to hold a winter dance.”
    A winter dance, I thought. Now that sounds interesting.
    â€œSo …” Mrs. Remo went on, “we need to appoint a bake sale chairperson … someone to keep track of who’s baking what.”
    â€œMrs. Remo …” Eric called, waving his arm.
    â€œYes, Eric?”
    â€œI nominate Peter Klaff as chairperson. He’s very organized. When I run for President he’s going to be my campaign manager.”
    Was Eric planning to run for President of Fox Junior High, I wondered, or President of the United States?
    â€œPeter …” Mrs. Remo said, “would you like to be chairperson of the bake sale?”
    Everyone looked at Peter Klaff. He’s shorter than me and much thinner. He has pale blond hair and eyebrows and lashes to match. Also, his ears stick out. I think it must run in the family because his mother and sister have the same kind of ears. You could see the red creeping up Peter’s neck to his face. And you could see him gulping hard, as if he couldn’t get enough air to breathe. He’s so shy! But he managed to answer Mrs. Remo’s question. He said, “Yes.”
    â€œFine,” Mrs. Remo said, “then it’s all settled.”
    As Alison and I walked through the hall onour way to first period class she began to sing a song she’d made up about a boy with remarkable eyes. “Well?” she said, when she’d finished.
    I pretended to stick my finger down my throat.
    â€œThat bad?”
    â€œNo …” I said. “Worse!”
    She bumped hips with me and we both laughed. But the next time she sang her song I found myself humming along.

Debate
    Rachel says she has more important things on her mind than baking. She’s trying out for the school debating team. Only two seventh graders will make it. She has to prepare a five-minute speech and present it at assembly on the afternoon of the bake sale.
    â€œWhat’s the subject of your speech?” I asked.
    â€œShould wearing a seat belt be law or should it be up to the individual to decide?”
    â€œThat’s easy,” I said. “It should be law.”
    â€œI have to be able to argue both sides of the issue,” Rachel explained, “even if I disagree with it.”
    â€œThat’s stupid.”
    â€œNo … that’s what debating is all about.”

    A few days later I went to Rachel’s house after school. I couldn’t stay long because I had an appointment at the orthodontist at four-thirty. Alison couldn’t come over at all because she’s got a rash on her foot and Leon took her to see Dr. Klaff.
    Rachel was a wreck over her speech. “Look at my notes,” she said, holding up a stack of 3×5 cards. “I’ve been working every night till ten.”
    â€œDon’t worry so much,” I told her. “After all, it’s just five minutes.”
    â€œDo you have any idea how long five minutes really is?”
    â€œFive minutes is five minutes,” I said.
    â€œI mean,” she said, “do you know how it feels?”
    â€œHow it feels?” I asked.
    â€œYes,” she said. “Look, I’ll show you. Stand right there … right where you are …”
    I was standing in the middle of her bedroom.
    â€œDon’t move,” Rachel said.
    â€œOkay.”
    â€œNow … tell me when you think five minutes is up. And don’t look at your watch,” she said. “Ready, set, go …”
    I stood very still. I didn’t move, except to scratch my leg. Burt and Harry were asleep on Rachel’s bed. Rachel sat at her desk, shufflingher note cards. I wondered