Bingo Brown's Guide to Romance by Betsy Byars Page A

Lou, it’s my turn. So while Stephen Crane had not been to war, he did know—and quite well—what it was like to be a young man facing a turning point in his life. He knew what it was like to have a mother who loved him but didn’t understand him enough to say what he really needed to hear her say.
    â€œHe knew what it was to yearn for a girl he couldn’t have. He knew what it was to worry about his abilities. That’s what Bingo, in his own inimitable fashion, was trying to tell us. Eh, Gringo?”
    Bingo was grateful to Mr. Rodrigo for turning him from the class idiot into the class intelligensio. A kind teacher could work miracles.
    â€œSi,” he said.

The Red Badge of Spaghetti
    T HE BROWN FAMILY WAS having spaghetti for supper, and supper had been served. But the only sounds in the kitchen were the slaps of Jamie’s hands against his high-chair tray.
    Jamie did not know spaghetti was to be eaten. He thought you slapped at it in a violent way and, later, when tired of the violence, swept it off the tray onto the floor.
    â€œMany writers,” Bingo said finally, “go unappreciated in their lifetimes.”
    Bingo was not displeased with this opening statement. He felt it was rare that anyone under stress, as he himself was, could break a painful silence with a remark of intelligence and depth.
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” Bingo’s father asked, looking up sharply. His long days in the house had given him a pallor that made his freckles seem darker than usual.
    â€œNothing. Nothing!” Bingo said, at once aware his remark had gone unappreciated.
    He had spoken only as a favor—to break the terrible silence that hovered over the table. He still wasn’t supposed to know that his father’s manuscript had been rejected, but his father took any literary comment as a personal insult.
    Bingo’s mother gave him a warning look.
    Bingo cleared his throat. “We’re reading The Red Badge of Courage, that’s all, and Stephen Crane died real young.”
    The conversation also died young, and once again the only sounds were Jamie slapping his spaghetti. Bingo had with great patience taught Jamie to say bye-bye, but like a parrot, Jamie said it inappropriately. Now, as he karate-chopped the spaghetti, which refused to be chopped, he cried, “Bye-bye-bye-bye.”
    â€œBut I despair of finishing the book,” Bingo continued.
    No one asked the reason for this despair.
    Bingo had begun chapter two when he got home from school and had almost immediately come across the paragraph, “For days he made ceaseless calculations, but they were all wondrously unsatisfactory. He found that he could establish nothing.”
    As soon as he had read that he realized that he, himself, had also established exactly nothing.
Problem #7, Establishing Exactly Nothing.
    Suppose you have seen a person you love and no matter how hard you try, you have found no answers and established nothing. Should you then continue to pursue this person until your questions are answered?
    Bingo’s Answer: Yes! Or until she is no longer in the area.
    â€œStephen Crane died young, but not unappreciated,” his father said.
    Bingo said, “Oh?”
    â€œAt least he got published.”
    â€œAh,” Bingo said.
    The rest of the meal was eaten in silence, except for the sounds of Jamie attacking spaghetti.
    Sometimes when Bingo watched his brother he wished he were little again and could find simple pleasure in slapping spaghetti or comfort in holding the end of a frayed blanket. Once he had even put Jamie’s pacifier in his mouth, but he had taken it out as soon as he saw his reflection in the mirror.
    In these moments, he tried to remind himself of the long and difficult road from where Jamie sat in his high chair to where he himself sat in a straight chair.
    At last Bingo’s father got up from the table. “That was good.”
    â€œYou