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

hardly ate anything, Sam.”
    â€œI’m just not that hungry.”
    â€œYou have to eat.”
    â€œI’ll put my plate in the fridge and heat it up later.”
    When his father was gone, Bingo’s mother hissed, “Why did you do that?” It was a hard sentence to hiss because it didn’t have any s’s in it, but she managed.
    â€œDo what? What did I do?”
    â€œBring up writing.”
    â€œI was lucky to think of it. Maybe you two can sit in silence for the rest of your lives, but I need sounds.”
    â€œYour father was just beginning to come out of his depression. Now I have to start cheering him up all over again. Clean the kitchen.”
    â€œMom, I have got to read my book.”
    â€œDo that after you clean the kitchen.”
    â€œBye-bye,” Jamie said.
    â€œI wish,” Bingo answered.
    He got up slowly. He glanced down at his shirt, at the red spaghetti sauce over his heart, and he began to clear the table.
    When he finished the kitchen he took Jamie, wiped his hands, and went back to his book. He did something he rarely did—turned to the end.
    There he read a wonderful sentence. “Listen to this,” he told his brother. “ ‘He felt a quiet manhood, not assertive but of sturdy and strong blood.’ ”
    He looked at the back of his brother’s neck, a sight that always made him feel protective of his brother. “That’s what I want to feel.”
    Jamie yawned. Bingo felt a flow of affection as pure and uncomplicated as affection is supposed to be.
    â€œAnd here’s something else. ‘Scars faded as flowers.’ Ah. ‘Scars faded as flowers.’ Just between you and me, I have some scars that I wouldn’t mind seeing fade as flowers.”
    Jamie lay back against him. He put one hand on his head and began to rub his hair.
    â€œOh, and listen to this. ‘He turned with a lover’s thirst to images of tranquil skies, fresh meadows, cool brooks—an existence of soft and eternal peace.’ ”
    Bingo was prepared to take that sentence phrase by phrase, starting with a lover’s thirst, about which he was something of an expert, but Jamie had already gone to sleep.
    Quietly, Bingo took him to his room and laid him on his stomach in his crib.
    â€œIf I come to any other good parts that I think you’ll enjoy, I’ll read them to you tomorrow,” he said.

The Unfortunate Facts
    B INGO WAS USED TO facing unfortunate facts about himself. Only last week, before Melissa came, he had willingly, even good-naturedly, accepted that:
1. He was penniless.
    2. He had only half a sentence on his essay for civics. “The study of civics is important because …”
    3. He continued to gag every time he had to change a diaper.
    4. Dark hair was growing on his toes. (And while he had used his dad’s razor without permission a time or two, he was aware his dad would not want him to use it on his toes. He would not want to use his own razor, if he had one, on his toes.)
    Now he was forced to add two new, even more unfortunate facts to the list, and he was not accepting them good-naturedly or willingly.
5. He was womanless.
    6. He had a depressed father.
    Bingo was aware he couldn’t do much about number five. He felt Melissa was lost to him forever.
    Yet he still longed for her and thought of her. She was the only perfect girl he had ever known.
Problem #8. Following a Perfect Love.
    SUPPOSE THAT YOU HAVE FALLEN IN LOVE WITH A GIRL WHO IS PERFECT, AND BECAUSE OF THIS, THE LOVE YOU SHARED WAS PERFECT. THAT LOVE IS NOW ENDED. WOULD IT BE CRUEL TO ALLOW ANOTHER GIRL TO FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU, WHEN YOU KNOW IT CAN BE ONLY AN IMPERFECT LOVE?
    Bingo’s Answer: I AM NOT QUALIFIED AT PRESENT TO ANSWER THIS, HAVING NOT EXPERIENCED IMPERFECT LOVE PERSONALLY, BUT I WILL GET BACK TO THIS, FOR, LIKE EVERYTHING ELSE, IT WILL PROBABLY BEFALL ME.
    Bingo couldn’t do much to hurry the