Absolutely Normal Chaos

I wish someone would tell me exactly what a journal is. When I asked my mother, she said, “Well, it’s like a diary only different.” That helps. She was going to explain more, but Mrs. Furtz (the lady who just moved in across the street) called to say that my brother Dennis was throwing eggs at her house, and my mother went berserk so she didn’t finish telling me. How am I supposed to write a journal if I don’t even know what one is?

I wouldn’t be doing this anyway, except that Mrs. Zollar asked me to. She’s an English teacher. She asked us to keep a journal this summer and bring it in (in September) to our new English teacher.

So, new English teacher, I guess I better say who I am. My name is Mary Lou Finney. I live at 4059 Buxton Road in Easton, Ohio. I have a normally strange family. Here’s our cast of characters, so to speak:

Sam Finney (whose age I am not allowed to tell you) is the father. He is a pretty regular father. Sometimes he likes us and sometimes we drive him crazy. When we are driving him crazy, he usually goes out in the garden and pulls some weeds. When he is at work, he is a geologist and spends his days drawing maps.

Sally Finney (whose age I am also not allowed to tell you or anyone else) is the mother. She also is a pretty regular mother. Sometimes she drools all over us and sometimes she asks my father if there isn’t something he can do about us. When we are driving her crazy, she usually cries a little. When she is at work, she is an oral historian and spends her days tape-recording stories that elderly people tell her. I think that by the time she gets home to us, she is a little tired of hearing people talk.

Maggie Finney (seventeen years old) is the oldest daughter. She’s my sister. She is your basic boy-crazy, fingernail-painting, mopey ole sister with whom I have the misfortune of sharing a room. She does not like me to touch her things.

Mary Lou Finney (thirteen years old) is the next oldest. That’s me. I don’t know what I am. I am waiting to find out.

Dennis Finney (twelve years old) is the kind of brother who will climb a tree with you one minute and tell on you the next. He gets into a fair amount of trouble (such as getting caught throwing eggs at Mrs. Furtz’s house, breaking windows with apples, etc.), but he is okay other than that.

Doug Finney (better known as Dougie) (eight years old) gets lost in the middle of everyone else. He’s skinny as anything and follows everybody else around. He’s quiet and more serious than the rest of us, so nobody minds him tagging along, but he calls himself the “poor little slob.”

Tommy Finney (four years old) is the spoiled-baby type kid. We think he’s cute as anything, and so he gets away with murder. He’s the messiest eater you’ve ever seen.

This journal is not as hard as I thought. I just hope I am doing it right. It would be terrible to do it all summer and then take it in and have someone look at it and say, “Oh, but this isn’t a journal, dear.”

I tried to ask Mrs. Zollar a million questions about the journal when she gave it to us, but Alex Cheevey said, “Geez. We don’t want to know too much about it. Then we’ll have to do it right. Can’t you ever keep quiet?”

And now I will reflect on that. I used to think Alex Cheevey was cute, because his skin is always a little pink, like he’s just been running a race, and his hair is always clean and shiny, and once we had to do an oral report together and even though I did most of the work, he patted me on the back when we were done, as if he realized what a good job I did, and he is certainly the best player on the basketball team and so graceful when he runs and dribbles the ball. But now, as I reflect on it, I see he is really a jerk.

I’ve been sitting here thinking about last Friday, the last day of school, when I heard Christy and Megan talking about Christy’s party. I wasn’t invited. They are always having these parties, but they only invited me once, and that was because I took Megan some books when she was sick and spent three hours explaining the homework and even doing some of it for her, and so for about a week she was my friend.

But the party was the stupidest (I know there is no such word as stupidest) thing I have ever seen, with the girls all giggling in the middle of the room, and the boys all leaning against the walls, and then they put on the records and started dancing, just the girls with the girls, until finally a slow song came on and some of the boys danced slow with some of the girls just to hang all over their necks, but no one asked me to dance, so I had to stand by the food and pretend to be hungry as anything.

I keep forgetting to reflect on things. I will reflect on these parties. If I was a boy, I would wish they would plan something interesting, like maybe a game of basketball.

After our last exam, Christy came slinking up to Alex and said, “Welllll, Alex, see you tonight.” (I am going to try some dialogue here.)

Alex looked down at his shoes and said, “Unnnh.”

Christy wiggled her shoulders and said in this thin little voice, “Well, you are coming, aren’t you?”

Alex put the toes of his shoes together like he was pigeon-toed and said, “Unnnh.”

Christy pushed her face right up next to his and said, “It’s at eight o’clock. Don’t forget!” Then she patted her hand on his shoulder a few times and turned around and wiggled away. Lord.

I walked home from school with Beth Ann. Beth Ann Bartels is my best friend, I guess. We’re very different, but we have been friends, with no fights, since the fourth grade. I tell her just about everything, and she tells me everything, even things I do not want to know, like what she ate for breakfast and what her father wears to bed and how much her new sweater cost. Sometimes things like that are not interesting.

But, anyway, on the way home, as Beth Ann and I were passing the Tast-ee Freeze, it suddenly occurred to me that school was over and it was summer and I was going to have to start having fun the very next day and I wouldn’t see most of the people at school for three months. Beth Ann and I live on the farthest edge of the school district, at least two miles from school. Everyone else seems to live on the other side of the school. Well, it was a little sad to realize that school was over. Then I thought, boy, isn’t that just typical? You wait and wait and wait for something, and then when it happens, you feel sad.

I always stop at Beth Ann’s house before I go on home. We have this little routine. We go in and the house is quiet, not at all like my house, which is a complete zoo at any hour of the day or night. Her house is always immaculately clean, as if someone had just raced through with a duster and a vacuum cleaner or as if no one really lived there. Our house always has people’s clothes lying all over: socks on the stereo, jackets on the kitchen table, everyone’s papers and books clumped in piles on chairs and counters. So I like to stop at Beth Ann’s house before I go home.

Beth Ann’s parents both work and so does her older sister Judy, so we have the house to ourselves. We always go into the kitchen, and I sit at the table while Beth Ann takes out a bottle of Coke and a bag of potato chips. It amazes me that there is always Coke and potato chips. In our house stuff like that would disappear in about ten minutes.

On the way home from Beth Ann’s, I ran into Alex Cheevey, who doesn’t live anywhere near here. He had his hands in his pockets and he looked very pink. When he got up close to me, I said, “Alex Cheevey? What in the world are you doing over here?”

He said, “Oh. Do you live over here?”

I said yes, I did.

He said, “Oh. What a coincidence.”

I said, “Why?”

He said, “Oh. Well, I know someone over here.”

I said, “On Buxton Road?” I was a little surprised, because Buxton Road is a very short road and I know everyone on it and I had never seen Alex Cheevey here before.

He said, “Oh. No.”

I said, “On Winston?” Winston is the next street over.

He said, “Oh. Yeah.”

I said, “Who?”

I am getting tired of writing “I said” and “he said.” Sometimes you don’t have to put those words just to know who is talking, so I’m not going to.

“Oh. The Murphys.” (That’s Alex talking.)

“The Murphys?” I’d never heard of the Murphys.

Well, anyway, we talked on like that for a while and he asked me if I was going to Christy’s party. I told him that no, I was not going, and I was glad I wasn’t going.

So that was on the last day of school, and when I got ready to go to bed and thought about everyone being at that party, including Alex, I sort of wished I was there too. Not that I thought it would be any fun, but because I didn’t have anything much to do that night. I’m not used to this idea of vacation yet.

Boy, if I write this much every day of the vacation, I will need ten journals. Wouldn’t Mrs. Z. be amazed???

For your sake, though, mystery reader, I hope things get a little more interesting. God.

Well, I have to admit that we did get an interesting bit of news today! I almost missed it entirely, because of all the commotion at the dinner table. There is always commotion at the dinner table—you can hardly hear yourself eat. We had spaghetti, and Dougie doesn’t like spaghetti and was pushing it around his plate and slopping sauce all over, and so Dennis punched him and Dougie started crying and Mom told him to be quiet and eat his spaghetti because he wasn’t getting anything else. And Dougie said, “I’m just a poor little slob,” and Dennis said, “That’s right.”

In the middle of all that Dad said, “Had a letter from Radene today.” Radene is married to Dad’s brother, Uncle Carl Joe, and they live in West Virginia. “Did you see it?” Dad said. (He meant the letter.)

“No, I didn’t see it. Dougie, if you don’t stop that hollering right this minute—” (Just to give you an idea of how hard it is to follow the conversation.)

“Well, she wants to know—”

“Dennis, are you aggravating the situation? If you are—” Mom can hardly eat, she’s so busy trying to figure out who’s causing the trouble. All this time Tommy is throwing spaghetti all over the floor and it’s in his hair, but that’s just the way he eats.

“Sally, are you listening or not?” My dad is getting annoyed because he can’t stand all this commotion, and it happens every night.

“Why, of course I’m listening, Sam. Dennis, put your hands on the table where I can see them.”

“Radene wants to send Carl Ray up here.” Dad eats a meatball.

About this time Dougie is so upset that he spills his milk right onto my plate.

“Sam, can’t you do something about them?” Mom said.

My dad looked up from his meatballs and spaghetti and said, “Somehow, I don’t think that any of my study of rock formations and fossils prepared me for this.”

I don’t know how we all settled down, but we did for a time, and that’s when Mom finally realized what Dad had said about ten minutes earlier.

“Radene said what?”

“She wants to send Carl Ray up here.”

Carl Ray is one of Aunt Radene’s and Uncle Carl Joe’s seven children. He’s my cousin.

“What do you mean, she wants to send Carl Ray up here?” My mom didn’t look too happy about this.

“Just temporarily,” my dad said. “He wants to get a job. No work down there. It’ll just be for a little while, until he gets a job and gets on his feet.”

“Send him here? To this house? To live with us?” As I said, my mom didn’t seem too happy about all this.

Then she said, “Don’t you think that’s a little strange, Sam? There are lots of other places he could go, aren’t there?”

My father shrugged. Sometimes he doesn’t like to elaborate.

“And just where exactly will we put him?” My mother had stopped eating by now.

“Well, we could put the boys in together—”

“All three of them?”

“Wouldn’t hurt ’em. Then we could put Carl Ray in the little room where Tommy is now.”

“In the nursery? Sam, are you serious?”

“It’s just temporary. A month. Maybe two months. Maybe the summer—”

“The summer? Are you serious?” My father was closely examining his meatball. My mom kept going. “And when does she want Carl Ray to come up here?”

My father was chewing when he answered. “Saturday.”

Mom almost choked. “Saturday? Saturday? Sam, today is Thursday! You can’t be serious. Why didn’t she phone?”

“They don’t have a phone. You know that,” he said.

Maggie said, “How primitive!” Maggie could not exist for one single day without a phone, I can assure you.

So Carl Ray comes the day after tomorrow. That should be interesting. I have to admit I’m sort of surprised, mainly because the West Virginia Finneys hardly ever leave West Virginia. The only time I ever have heard of Uncle Carl Joe venturing this far north was when he visited my father and met Aunt Radene, a long time ago.

My parents talk about that time whenever New Year’s Eve rolls around. That’s because they had one heck of a New Year’s Eve, and Uncle Carl Joe and Aunt Radene fell in love “at first sight.” Anyway, Uncle Carl Joe whisked Aunt Radene off to West Virginia (I think they got married first), and I bet they haven’t left West Virginia since. They never visit us anyway. They have too many kids to fit in the car. We’ve been to their house, though.

I can hardly remember which cousin Carl Ray is, but Maggie told me later that he is the one with the white-blond hair and he is seventeen years old, the same age as Maggie. This should be real interesting.

Lord, what a day. This business about Carl Ray is getting out of hand. When I got up this morning, I noticed that instead of my mom’s usual individual notes for each of us, there was just one note by the telephone that said: “Magggggie or Mary Louuuuuu, call me at work when you get up. Love, your old Mommmmmmm.”

Right away, I knew that if she didn’t leave a list for each of us, it wasn’t because there was nothing for us to do. I know Mom better than that. It probably meant that there was so much to do, she couldn’t write it all down. And I was right.

She gave me a list of things a mile long, and all because of Carl Ray. Mainly we had to move everything out of Tommy’s room into Dennis and Doug’s room, and bring the spare bed down out of the attic and put it in Tommy’s room, and wash windows, and on and on.

Actually, it was all kind of fun for a while. We like to move things around. But when Dennis and I were bringing down the bed from the attic, we had a slight problem.

The springs for the bed are these old metal heavy ones, and we were having trouble getting them down the stairs of the attic, so we decided to slide them down. I was at the top and Dennis at the bottom, when all of a sudden the springs lunged forward and crashed into the door at the bottom, putting a huge crack in it, and then they fell forward on Dennis, and a piece of spring tore right into his knee and he started howling and the blood was pouring all over.

It was a mess. Maggie was yelling at Dennis to stop screaming and Dennis was screaming at me saying it was my fault and I was screaming at Dennis saying it was not and Dougie was screaming because he hates blood and Tommy was screaming because everyone else was screaming.

Then Maggie ran over to Mrs. Furtz’s, who was the only neighbor home. I’m sure she wasn’t exactly thrilled about helping us after Dennis smashed eggs on her house, but she came running over in her curlers and bathrobe and told me to wrap up Dennis’s leg while she changed her clothes, and then she would take him to the emergency room. So I put a pillowcase around his leg, trying to remember my first-aid class. I wanted to try a tourniquet, but Dennis wasn’t having any part of it. He just kept saying he was going to throw up. I hate it when people throw up.

Maggie called Mom, who said she would meet Mrs. Furtz and Dennis at the emergency room. I wanted to go too, but Maggie said that Mom said that she should go and I should stay here with Tommy. I think Maggie made that up.

Maggie and Dennis were gone forever. I thought Dennis died or something. Well, that does happen sometimes. We read a Robert Frost poem called “Out, Out—” in English class last year about a boy who got his hand cut near off from a buzz saw and he died while his hand was being sewn back on. That was this saddest poem, because at the end of it no one seemed to care about this boy dying. They just went on with their business.

I have to admit that even though I really like Dennis and would miss him a lot if he died, I kept thinking maybe I would get his new bike. But then I felt so guilty for thinking that, I dragged the mattress down out of the attic by myself and got the whole bed together with only a little help from Dougie, and then I made up the bed and took down the curtains and put them in the wash and cleaned the windows and had just about everything done when Maggie and Dennis strolled in with Mom, who had taken the rest of the day off from work.

Mom hardly even noticed all the work I had done, she was so busy drooling all over Dennis. Dennis was being pathetic. He wasn’t even near dead—just had this huge bandage on his knee. He spent the entire day lying on the couch in the living room, moaning. He got ice cream and ginger ale, and Mom kept going in and feeling his forehead (his forehead! It was his knee that got hurt!).

Mom only said two things about Carl Ray’s room. First she said, “Thank you, girls, for setting that up.”

Girls! And Maggie just smiled and said, “It was nothing.” Ha.

And the only other thing Mom said was, “I can’t imagine Carl Ray in the nursery!”

It does seem a little funny. The room has yellow walls (that’s not so bad) and frilly white curtains with yellow bunnies on them (now that’s bad), and a little border around the top of the walls that also has yellow bunnies on it.

I keep wondering what it will be like with Carl Ray here. Whenever I ask Maggie to tell me more about him, though, she acts like it’s no big deal. But I did notice that she put a bottle of her perfume in the bathroom, which is strange because usually she hides it in her drawer so I won’t touch it.

Everybody seems so excited about Carl Ray coming. Even Mom, which surprises me, because I thought she didn’t want him to come. I keep wondering how we’re all going to manage getting in and out of the bathroom. That will make eight of us who have to share it. With seven of us now, there’s already a problem. There is another one downstairs, but it only has a toilet and a sink.

Mom told me and Maggie that we have to wear our bathrobes now. I wonder if Carl Ray will wear a bathrobe.

Well. Carl Ray has arrived.

It’s almost midnight and Maggie is out with her boyfriend, Kenny, and boy, is Dad mad. She hasn’t even seen Carl Ray. That’s not why Dad is mad: He’s mad because Maggie and Kenny left at noon and they were going to the beach and they didn’t say what time they’d be back. She’s in real trouble, I think. Everyone else went to bed, but Dad is downstairs waiting.

Well, about Carl Ray. What a disappointment he is. I was expecting something quite, quite different. We waited around all morning looking out the windows. Around noon Dad came back from Alesci’s. He does the grocery shopping on Saturdays, and afterward he stops at Alesci’s, which is an Italian deli, and he buys a bunch of ham and two loaves of hotttttt, freshhhhhh bread, and as soon as he gets home and we put away the groceries, we always dive into the hot bread and ham and make these enormous sandwiches. It’s the best part of Saturdays, usually.

Just as we finished putting the groceries away and seconds before we were going to start cutting up that great bread, Dougie comes into the kitchen yelling, “Carl Ray! Carl Ray! There’s a guy at the door who says he’s Carl Ray!” What timing.

Carl Ray is tall and skinny, about as skinny as a person can be and still be alive. He has the blondest hair, almost white, and it sticks out in places like at the top of his head and by his ears where it is cut kind of short. He is real pale and has a million freckles all over his face and his arms, which were the only parts of him sticking out, but I bet he has those freckles everywhere. He has tiny little eyes and a tiny nose; in fact, his whole head looks like a miniature of a real person’s head. So there is this tiny little head perched on top of this tall, thinnnnnn body, and off this body hang two longgggg, thin, freckled arms, and two longgggg, thin legs, and two long, thin hands and two longgggg, thin feet. What a guy.

Carl Ray has hardly talked at all yet, and Mom thinks it is because he is nervous. He keeps looking down at your feet and never looks into your face.

After we got him out of the living room and into the kitchen, Mom told us kids to wait and not hog the ham and bread until Carl Ray had a chance to get his. I can see it all now: Carl Ray is going to take over. He’s the only one with his own room and he’s the only one who ever got to grab six slices of ham and four slices of bread before anyone else could even touch it.

After lunch, Mom showed Carl Ray to his room and drooled all over, apologizing for the bunnies and stuff. He didn’t say one word, just looked around and put his suitcase down. Mom said he might like to rest awhile (probably because he ate such a HUGE lunch), and he nodded and closed his door. Then Mom told us all to be quiet until he got up. Brother.

So all afternoon everybody tiptoed around, but he didn’t even come out of his room until he smelled dinner cooking. Just as we put everything on the table, he appeared. He kind of sneaks up on you.

Mom told Carl Ray to sit at the end of the table, opposite Dad. That’s a “special” seat that we all take turns sitting in. I don’t know why it is special; it just is.

For being a skinny person, he sure eats a lot. He had four pieces of chicken, three helpings of mashed potatoes, about a ton of green beans, three glasses of milk, and two helpings of cake. Mom kept looking at the chicken, as if she could make more pieces appear by staring hard enough. And when Dennis went to take his second piece, she gave him a dirty look, and said, “Wait a bit; we have com-pa-ny.”

After dinner, we all sat around watching TV. Carl Ray sat in my dad’s favorite chair, the one none of us is ever allowed to sit in when Dad is in the room. During the whole night, Carl Ray never said one single word, even though sometimes Mom or Dad would say something to him. He just nods or shakes his head; sometimes he grunts a little.

When everybody started going to bed, Mom said, “Now let Carl Ray get in the bathroom first,” so we all waited around while he went into his room and shut his door. We waited and waited and waited. Finally, Dougie went over and peeked under the door and whispered that the light was out! Doesn’t Carl Ray even wash up or brush his teeth before he goes to bed?

It’s one o’clock and Maggie isn’t home. I bet Dad is still waiting in the living room. I sure wouldn’t want to be her tonight.

Carl Ray is going to drive me cra-zeeee. And so is Maggie. Lord.

First, Maggie. She got home at two A.M. I know, because she came into the room crying and throwing her shoes around and she turned the light on, and needless to say, I wasn’t sleeping through that. When I asked her what was wrong, she said, “Ohhh! Everything.”

I said, “Like what?”

“Everything. Kenny. Dad. Ohhhh. I’m so mad.”

She was mad? “Why are you mad?”

She glared at me. “Because I told Kenny we had to call and he kept saying, ‘Yeah, yeah,’ and because Dad never lets me have any fun, and because now he says I’m grounded for at least two weeks and next Saturday is only the biggest party I’ll ever be invited to, and because Dad told Kenny not to show his face around here until he could be a gentleman, and because Kenny probably will never speak to me again.”

Then she threw herself down on her bed and started pounding her pillow and sobbing. I hate it when she does that. It looks like a movie. I told her Carl Ray had arrived.

“So what?” she said.

“Don’t you want to hear about him?”

“No!” She was pounding the pillow again. This morning she stayed in bed until noon, and then she was in the bathroom for about two hours, and when she came downstairs finally, her eyes were all puffy and she wasn’t talking to anybody.

Whenever Dad came into the room, she would go storming out. Finally, Dad told her if she didn’t quit her “theatrics,” he was going to ground her for a month, for starters. That made her shape up a little. She’s still pretty mopey, and every time the phone rings she jumps for it, but at least she’s talking to people a little bit.

For instance, she’s the only one who seems to be able to talk to Carl Ray and get some words out of him. I heard her asking him some questions and he actually answered her with words. It went something like this:

“So I hear you’re going to look for a job? Is that right, Carl Ray?”

“Yup.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Where are you going to look?”

Long pause by Carl Ray. Then, “Don’t rightly know.”

“What sort of work are you interested in?”

Long pause by Carl Ray. “Don’t rightly know.”

“What are you good at?” That’s Maggie all right. She just keeps picking away and picking away like a vulture or something.

I was glad that I didn’t have to try to make conversation with him. It’s painful. Besides, I was already mad at him for spoiling my day. I was supposed to go over to Beth Ann’s at eleven and we were going to go and hang around the pool, but Mom said I had to wait until Carl Ray got up so I could make up his bed and stuff. I said, “What? Why do I have to make up his bed?”

“Because you’re responsible for the upstairs and you know you can’t leave until it’s clean.”

“But why can’t he make up his own bed, like everyone else?”

We have this hugely complicated chore system at our house. Every year we have a big meeting where we’re supposed to swap jobs. It begins all nice and civilized, but ends in a shouting match: “Dennis always gets the easy jobs!”—“I do not!”—“I’ll trade you vacuuming for dusting!”—“No way!”—“That’s not fair!” You get the picture?

We’re all supposed to make our own beds, but my main chore is to vacuum and dust the upstairs. I had to clean the bathrooms last year (eck!), but Dennis has that wonderful job now.

Back to Carl Ray. I said, again, “Why can’t Carl Ray at least make up his own bed, like everyone else?”

“Because Carl Ray is our guest, Mary Lou.”

That drove me crazy. Whenever I’m going to spend the night at someone’s house, my mom tells me that I must be very considerate and always make my bed up neatly as soon as I get up. When I reminded her of this, she said, “Well, his mother might not have told him that. If he’s still here in two weeks, he’ll make his own bed.”

“But if I don’t go now, Beth Ann might not wait—”

“Now don’t you argue with me. If you’re going to argue, then you can stay home all day.”

Boy, are people touchy lately. So I waited and waited. I even tried making noise upstairs, like turning on my radio.

Mom said, “Turn that off! You might wake Carl Ray.” (Exactly.)

I waited a little longer and decided to go ahead and do the vacuuming in the other bedrooms and the hallway, so all I would have left to do would be Carl Ray’s room.

Mom came flying up the stairs after me and flipped off the switch and said, “I told you to keep quiet up here!”

“But—”

“Mary Lou Finney!” When Mom says “Mary Lou Finney,” she means business.

I kept calling Beth Ann, about every fifteen minutes, telling her Carl Ray still was not up and I couldn’t leave until I did maid service for him. Finally, at twelve thirty, Beth Ann said, “It doesn’t sound like you’re ever going to get out of there. I’m going for a ride with my parents.”

Boy, was I mad. When ole Carl Ray finally did stroll out of his room about one o’clock, I nearly pushed him over when I passed him. Sure enough, he didn’t make his bed, so I did, and I picked up all his stupid gum wrappers that he left all over the floor and I vacuumed his stupid room. I was done by one fifteen, but then I had nowhere to go.

All Carl Ray did the whole entire day was sit in front of the television set chewing gum and watching whatever happened to come on. I don’t think he even got up to change the channel. A real live wire, this Carl Ray.

What a boring day, with everyone just wandering in and out of rooms: Maggie avoiding Dad, Dad avoiding Maggie, me avoiding Carl Ray, all of us avoiding Mom, who was doing the laundry and if you get in her way, she makes you fold clothes or iron.

I was so bored, I even went with Dennis and Doug over to the field behind Mrs. Furtz’s house.

There’s a big old tree there that sits in a little dip in the ground and its branches hang real low, so if you crawl into the dip and under the branches, it’s like a fort inside. Anyway, we went in and cleaned out some leaves and junk, and we moved the rocks that cover a hole we dug last year. It was funny to see what we put inside: a box of matches, a newspaper, a red ball, two packs of chewing gum, a treasure map we had drawn (the treasure consists of fifty cents, which we buried in another hole about a hundred yards away), and a deck of cards. Real exciting.

We hung around there awhile, climbing the tree (I have to admit that even though I am thirteen years old, I still love to climb trees), pretending we were looking out for enemies, and playing cards. We should have brought some food. We were going to chew the gum, but it was all gross from being in the ground for a whole year.

It’s funny, but thinking about the fort and the field now reminds me of something that happened there about four years ago. It’s a stupid thing, but I’ll write it down anyway. I can always rip it out later if it’s too embarrassing.

I guess I was nine years old then, and there was this boy named Johnny White who lived down the street from us. He was Dennis’s friend really, and he was a year younger than I was. Anyway, one day Dennis, Johnny, and I were over in the forest running around the trees and singing some stupid song. Then Dennis said he was going home to get us some sandwiches so we could have a picnic. Johnny and I walked all around the field with the tall grass where there were bunches of buttercups too, and I picked one and rubbed it under Johnny’s chin, which made him laugh because he had never seen anyone do that before. And all of a sudden, I don’t know what came over me, but I just reached over and kissed Johnny White on the lips! I don’t think I had ever kissed anyone but my parents on the lips before. And I was real surprised because his lips were so soft, but they didn’t taste like anything at all. So I kissed him again, mainly just to see if I could taste anything.

We didn’t even hear Dennis coming. The first I knew he was there was when he said, “Hey, what’re you doing?”

But then we all just ate our sandwiches and went back to messing around in the forest, climbing trees, and stuff, and I didn’t think any more about kissing Johnny until the next day.

What a mess. Mrs. White called my mother. My mom said Mrs. White was almost hysterical. Mrs. White said that Johnny told her all about our “necking” in the woods, and that it was all my idea, and that I was too old for her son, and her son was too innocent for some “wild girl” (that’s what she called me, Mom said), and she didn’t ever want her son at our house again, and I wasn’t ever to go near him, and if Dennis wanted to play with Johnny he would just have to go to their house, but he wasn’t ever to bring me!

Then Mom asked me to tell her what happened, and I did. She said that someday I would understand why Mrs. White got so upset and that I should wait a few years before I practiced kissing any boys again, because kissing is something you have to be careful about. I asked her why, but she just said she would have to think of a good explanation and I should ask her again in a few years. In a few years!

Well, I think that now I know what she meant, but it’s sad really, because Johnny and I didn’t mean anything by it, and I never got to play with him again. The next time I saw him was about a week later at the drugstore, but he didn’t even look at me. He doesn’t live on our street anymore and I’ll probably never see him again. I haven’t kissed (or been kissed by) a boy since, and I do wonder if all lips have no taste, like Johnny’s.

Once, when Beth Ann was telling me about Jerry Manelli kissing her at a school dance, I asked her what it tasted like.

“What it tasted like?” She looked at me like I was some kind of weirdo.

“Yes, what did it taste like?”

“The kiss?”

“Yes, of course the kiss!”

“Well, nothing.”

“You mean it tasted like nothing at all? It must have tasted like something.” She didn’t know about Johnny White and I didn’t want to tell her. For some reason, I made it sound like I knew kisses had to taste like a specific thing.

She started fidgeting around. “Well, now that you mention it…”

“So it did taste like something?”

“Well, yes, it did….”

“Like what? What did it taste like?”

She had her eyes closed as if she was trying to remember, and she was moving her lip around. “Well, I guess it tasted like…chicken.”

Now that surprised me. “Chicken? Are you sure?”

“Well, gosh, Mary Lou, I wasn’t paying that much attention. I think it was like chicken, yes.”

It’s not the sort of taste you would expect, is it?

Maggie spent the entire day gabbing away on the phone. She called Kenny, and then Kenny called her back, and she called her friend Angie and then Angie called her. Back and forth all day. She is cooking up a plan to get Dad to let her go to that party on Saturday. If anyone can do it, Maggie can. It’s disgusting. About all she has to do is roll her eyes and talk real sweet and she gets anything she wants.

Ole Carl Ray finally decided he’d get out of his bed around noon. You know, I’ve never once seen Carl Ray go into the bathroom. Now, I’m sure he must have been in there (well, really), but I know for sure he has not taken a shower yet. You can just tell when he walks by. Lord.

He appeared in the kitchen while I was making lunch and stood there watching me. Finally I said, “Are you going to want lunch?” He makes me so mad, the way he stands around waiting for people to feed him and stuff, and lying around not doing a darn thing.

He said, “Okay.”

Brother.

While we were eating lunch, I said, “Aren’t you going to go out and look for a job?”

He put his sandwich down on his plate and said, to his sandwich it seemed, “Sure.”

Well, that was a good sign. “So where are you going?”

Long pause by Carl Ray. Finally he told his sandwich, “Don’t rightly know.”

“Well,” I said to Carl Ray, “didn’t you ask Dad for some suggestions?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t rightly know.”

Tommy started banging on the table with his cup and going, “Ha! Ha!” and then he would look at us and say, “Ha! Ha!” as if he was practicing how to laugh.

In the middle of this, Carl Ray sat there, eating his sandwich in slow motion, chewing and chewing and staring down at his plate as if we weren’t even there.

I said, “You could look in the newspaper.”

“Where’s that at?” he said.

“The newspaper?”

“Yeah.”

I went and got it and showed him where the help wanted section was. “What sort of thing are you looking for?”

“Don’t rightly know.”

“It’s kind of hard to look for a job when you don’t know what you’re looking for, Carl Ray. Maybe you should go downtown and walk along the street and look for signs that say ‘Help Wanted.’” He looked up at me and nodded. “You should probably go now, or you won’t have time to see many places.” He nodded. “Do you know how to get downtown?” He didn’t.

So I showed him how to go and told him what he should probably say, and then I told him he should probably change his clothes since he was still wearing the same clothes he had arrived in, and then I told him what sort of clothes to wear, but he said he didn’t have a tie, so I asked him to show me exactly what he did have and it was pitiful: two T-shirts and two pairs of jeans and the shoes he had on.

After he left, I went up and made his stupid bed.

Then I took Tommy and Dougie to the pool, even though it was really Maggie’s day to watch Tommy. I could tell she was going to be useless all day, as long as the phone was working. But swimming wasn’t bad because Dougie and I were teaching Tommy how to swim and he’s so funny. All he really wants to do is jump off the edge and have us catch him. We finally got him to put his head under by missing him a few times.

Beth Ann met us up there. She has a new bathing suit. It’s all white and you can tell she thinks she is really something in it. I didn’t want to tell her, but you can practically see through it when it’s wet. I’ll tell her some other time.

While we were sitting on our towels during break time, I looked up and saw, of all people, Alex Cheevey on the outside, leaning against the fence. He was looking at us, so I got up and went over to him.

“You looking for somebody?” I said.

“Oh. Not really.”

“Visiting the Murphys again?”

“Huh?”

“Your friends the Murphys—on Winston Road?”

“Oh. Them. Yuh.”

“Are they here at the pool?”

Alex looked around. “Don’t think so.”

“Oh.” When I talk with Alex, I always feel like I’m missing something, like I don’t hear all the words. “How was the party?”

“Party?”

“Christy’s party. Didn’t you go?”

“Oh. Yeah. It was okay. Sort of boring.”

Alex was wearing these cute blue shorts and a T-shirt with “Ohio State University” printed on it. He asked me who I was with.

“You mean here, at the pool?”

“Yeah.”

“Dougie and Tommy, my brothers, well two of them. And Beth Ann. She’s over there, see?” Beth Ann was stretched out on her back, with one knee bent and her hand behind her head. She can really overdo it sometimes.

“Do you come here every day?” he asked.

“Well, nearly. Don’t they have a pool over where you live?” All of these towns have a community pool, and since we live in Easton, we go to the Easton pool. Alex lives in Norton.

“Oh. Yeah.”

“I think you can use a Norton pass here, if you pay twenty-five cents extra. If you wanted to come here, I mean.”

“Yeah. Well, I might someday.”

And then the whistle blew, meaning break was over, and I had to go watch Tommy or he would drown.

Carl Ray magically appeared at dinnertime again. Just as we were putting the food on the table, in he comes and sits right down in the “special” seat. I suppose he thinks that’s his seat now. As usual, he didn’t volunteer any information. In fact, he didn’t say one word until finally, after Carl Ray had had three helpings of meat loaf, three helpings of corn, and two helpings of potatoes (he would have had more, I bet, but they were all gone), Dad said, “So tell us, Carl Ray, how did the job hunting go?”

Every single one of us looked at Carl Ray, who shrugged his shoulders. We all looked back at Dad, who looked at my mom like it was her turn. She said, “Does that mean you didn’t find anything?” We all looked at Carl Ray.

He nodded. He was pretty busy stuffing food into his mouth.

Dad said, “Does that mean yes, you did not find anything?”

Carl Ray nodded again.

It was getting to be like a tennis match, with us all looking down at Carl Ray’s end of the table and then back up at Mom and Dad and then back to Carl Ray.

About this time, Maggie makes her move. “Dad, would you like me to get you another glass of water?”

Dad says, “Sure.”

Maggie says, “Anything else I can get you while I’m up?”

Dougie says, “Well, I’d like another glass…”

But Maggie just glared at him and went in the kitchen. While she was gone, Dennis starts mimicking her, saying, in this real sweet voice, “Mary Louuuuu, is there anything I can get for youuuu?” and then, of course, he starts laughing and I start laughing and my dad tells us to be quiet and watch our manners.

After dinner, I heard Dad talking to Carl Ray about where to look for a job and what to say and how to act when he went in. Carl Ray just listened. Then Dad came into the kitchen and said to Mom, “Doesn’t that boy know how to talk?”

Mom said, “Doesn’t seem so.”

“It could drive a person crazy.”

“He’s your relative.”

Dennis and I went out to play spud with Cathy and Barry Furtz. Cathy and Barry are twins and they’re Dennis’s age. They’re pretty nice, but I don’t think Mr. Furtz likes it when we play spud in the street. I bet the Furtzes are sorry they moved here. Cathy and Barry had to go in at eight o’clock to take a bath! So Dennis and I just sat on the curb awhile, throwing stones across to the other curb. Carl Ray snuck up on us the way he does. I swear, he’s a real spook sometimes. One minute it was just me and Dennis sitting on the curb, and then all of a sudden there was Carl Ray sitting next to Dennis.

Then Mr. Furtz came out with his hose to water the lawn. Last week he offered me fifty cents to do it for him, though I sure don’t know why he doesn’t pay his own kids to do it. I don’t mind, though. Anyway, sure enough, he sees us sitting there and he strolls over and says, “Feel like earning some gold?” That’s what he calls fifty cents: gold.

I said, “Sure, Mr. Furtz.”

Mr. Furtz is an okay guy. He’s sort of funny-looking, all freckly and nearly bald, but he’s not that old, I mean he’s not an old man, maybe a little younger than my dad. Mr. Furtz bought the hardware store downtown, and when Dennis and I went in there the other day, he let us poke around behind the counter because there weren’t many customers in the store.

Carl Ray is intrigued by the strangest things. While I was watering the Furtzes’ lawn, Carl Ray snuck up on me and said, “What’d you call him?”

“Who?”

“That man.”

“Mr. Furtz?”

Carl Ray said, “Furtz? How do you spell Furtz?” So I told him. “Furtz,” he said again. “Furtz.”

Weird guy, this Carl Ray.

When we all finally went inside, Maggie was getting Dad a dish of ice cream. She’s so obvious. Then she sat on the couch and watched TV with everybody. Usually she doesn’t like to do that; she’s usually off with her friends or up washing her hair or painting her fingernails or something.

Not much happened today. About the biggest news is that I took Tommy over to Beth Ann’s, and she was strutting all over because her sister Judy is going to introduce her to her boyfriend’s brother and the four of them are going to the drive-in on Friday night. Beth Ann is thirteen (well, okay, so she’s almost fourteen) years old, not much older than me. Don’t you think that’s a little young to be going to a drive-in with a boy?

Beth Ann is going to be hard to live with after this.

And Carl Ray, by the way, still did not find a job.

It rained all day.

Beth Ann called to tell me some more about Derek (that’s Judy’s boyfriend’s brother’s name). He is five feet seven inches tall, brown hair, and “gorgeous.” Beth Ann hasn’t seen him yet. That’s just what Judy says. Beth Ann must have described every single outfit in her closet, trying to decide what she should wear on Friday night.

Carl Ray, surprise, surprise, did not find a job today.

It is going to be difficult to decide who I should kill first: Maggie, Beth Ann, Dennis, or Carl Ray. To show you what I mean, pretend this is a play.

And that’s just the way the day went.

Right now Beth Ann is probably still out on her big date. I’m going to have to hear every little detail tomorrow. Today I stopped over at her house and she modeled about fifteen outfits, still trying to decide what she was going to wear. Honestly, I don’t see what all the fuss is about. Guys never notice anyway. She finally decided on a red blouse and white slacks. I thought she looked a little fat in that outfit, but she was such a wreck that I didn’t dare say so.

Then she messed around with her hair for about three hours, trying to decide whether it looked better up or down. At about four o’clock she said she had to take a bath and start getting ready. Derek and his brother were arriving at seven! I sure hope she had enough time.

Maybe I am a little jealous, but also I am sort of happy for her, because she thinks this is such a big deal. I don’t think I would want to go out with someone I had never met before, though. I mean, what if you didn’t like the guy?

I guess you could probably tell from the play I wrote yesterday that dear ole Maggie got permission from Dad to go to the big party on Saturday with Kenny. Cinderella Maggie has to be home at midnight, though.

Today was Maggie’s day to watch Tommy, but she traded with me because she had to go out and buy a dress. Brother. She came home with this skin-eeee black dress that has almost no back.

I think Carl Ray is putting on a few pounds (no wonder). Maybe he didn’t get fed at Aunt Radene’s. The biggest news of the day came at dinner, when Dad said, for about the millionth time, “So, Carl Ray, find a job today?”

Carl Ray nodded. We almost missed it, because we are so used to him saying “Un-uh” or “Nope.”

Dad said, “Does that mean…”

Mom said, “You got a…”

And for the first time since Carl Ray arrived, he actually grinned. “Yup,” he said.

Boy, did Dad look happy. “Well, now, that’s great news!”

“Sure is, Carl Ray,” I said, and all around the table everyone was saying “Wow” and “Good” and “My, my.”

Carl Ray kept grinning. He actually had to stop shoveling food into his mouth because he was grinning so much. This is how it went after that:

Do we sound like a boring family or what?

Well, anyway, at least Carl Ray found a job and at least he knows when he starts.

I can hardly believe it, but I’ve almost filled up this whole journal and I’ve only been writing two weeks! I went out and bought another one today because I like doing this. It makes it easier to go to bed at night, for some reason.

Today was your regular Saturday: Got up late, good ole Alesci’s ham and hot bread for lunch (this time Mom didn’t make us wait for Carl Ray to hog it all first), waited around for Master Carl Ray to get up so I could make up his stupid bed (seven more days of this slavery), watched Carl Ray sit in front of the TV, went over to Beth Ann’s.

Beth Ann was acting as if she’d just been crowned the Queen of Easton or something. I’d never seen her like that. When I went over there, she was lying on her bed dressed in one of her sister Judy’s flimsy nightgowns (pink nylon! aaargh), flipping through Seventeen. She didn’t even seem happy to see me.

“Oh, hi there,” she said. She kept flipping through the magazine.

“Welllll?”

She turned a page. “Do you like this outfit?” She held it up for me to see.

“Not really.”

“Hmm.” She flipped to the next page.

“Welllll?” I was beginning to feel a little invisible.

“Hmm?” She was studying an underwear ad.

“Aren’t you going to tell me about last night?” Normally she would have been pouring out every single detail even if she and her parents had gone to the Tast-ee Freeze.

“Oh.” She put the magazine down and stretched out on the bed, fixing the nightgown as if someone was going to take her picture. Then she got this dreamy look on her face and said, “It was di-viiiiine.”

Di-viiiiine? Did she say di-viiiiine?

“Derek is truly wonderful.”

Truly? Where did she get these words like divine and truly?

“He’s truly precious.”

Truly precious. I thought I was going to gag. She sounded just like Christy and Megan at school. “Beth Ann, just tell me what you did, huh? Did you go to the drive-in?”

She nodded and got this big smile on her face.

“With Judy and what’s-his-name?”

“Gregory. Derek’s brother’s name is Gregory.”

“Okay, with Judy and Gregory?”

“Yes.”

This was driving me crazy. Beth Ann (normally) would tell you what everyone wore and what color the car was and what color the interior of the car was and if it was clean or dirty, and then she would get on to what time he picked her up and what her mother said and what her father said and on and on and on.

Then she sat up and said, “So what are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing. Want to go to the movies or something?”

She started winding a piece of her hair around her finger. “Oh, I’d love to, Mary Lou, but I can’t. Derek and I are going to some party with Judy and Gregory.”

I went home. It really bothered me all day that she didn’t tell me anything about her date and that she dropped that bit about her and Derek going out again, dropped it like some big bomb right on my head. I didn’t think best friends did that sort of thing.

Even though our house was full of people all day, I kept having this lonely feeling. It was really strange. Am I jealous?

I’ll probably never have a date. I’ll probably go on and on watching Maggie and Beth Ann be all soppy over boys and I’ll probably wake up one day and be seventy-five years old in my wheelchair, with drool running down my chin, and I will still not ever have been on a date.

It didn’t help matters that Maggie spent the entire day soaking in the tub and doing her nails and fixing her hair. I have to admit, though, that she looked terrific when she got ready to go.

When Kenny came to pick her up, he came into the house and sat down (he never sits down) and pretended to talk like an adult to my father.

He said, “Hello, Mr. Finney, sir.”

My dad just sort of smiled. “Hello, Kenny.”

“Have you had a nice day, Mr. Finney, uh, sir?”

“Yes.”

Kenny kept turning his head. I think his collar was too small. He was all dressed up in a gray suit and a white shirt and a blue tie.

“So where exactly is this party?” my dad asked.

“Oh, yes, sir, it’s at the Fergusons’. Do you know Bill Ferguson?”

“No, I don’t think I do.”

“Well, he’s a very nice guy. You’d like him, Mr. Finney. Well, I think you might.”

“And where exactly does this Bill Ferguson live?”

“Oh, he lives in this big house over in Norton. Seven-three-three Lindale Street. Here’s the phone number. I wrote it down for you.”

My dad looked at the piece of paper Kenny gave him. “Hmmm.”

So they went on like that until Maggie came downstairs and everybody fell all over her saying how terrific she looked. Carl Ray kept staring at her as if she was some sort of goddess or something. And, of course, Dad reminded her to be home by midnight and Kenny right away said, “Oh, of course, sir. Midnight it is. Very good.”

It’s now eleven o’clock. I wonder what time she’ll really be home.

Well! Would anyone in this world be surprised to learn that Maggie got home at two o’clock? And that she’s not even in trouble? Cinderella called around midnight and asked for an extension.

But I found out a lot of stuff from Maggie today! I asked her about the party and for once she decided to talk to me and she told me all about it. It was very fancy, she said, with butlers and maids. They had all kinds of little things to eat like dips and mushrooms and there was a live band that played outside on the patio and everyone danced and the neighbors didn’t even complain.

The thing that surprised me the most was when she said that Beth Ann was there! And then, after Maggie made me PROMISE not to tell, she said that Beth Ann was hanging allllllll over Derek-the-Divine, and that Derek was “sort of a jerk.” She said, “He’s just sort of gawky and his eyes sort of bug out so he always looks surprised and he didn’t say two words, just sort of followed Judy and what’s-his-name around, and Beth Ann followed him around.”

Then, out of the blue, Maggie said, “Oh, funny, I just remembered that there was some guy there who asked about you.”

“Meeee? Somebody asked about me?”

“Now what was his name? He lives next door to Bill Ferguson—the guy who had the party. That’s probably why he was there. I don’t think he had a date, and I only saw him there at the beginning.”

“You don’t remember his name?” Maggie never remembers names. It’s exasperating. “Describe him, then,” I said.

“Well. He’s pretty cute, sort of tallish and thin-nish, blondish hair, with pinkish skin…”

“Alex? Was it Alex Cheevey? He lives in Norton and he has this sort of pinkish…”

“Alex! That’s it. Yes, Alex.”

Alex Cheevey was at the party. And he asked about me. Well, sort of. And Beth Ann’s “truly divine wonderful gorgeous Derek” is sort of a jerk.

I felt a lot better today.

This is the first day of the new journal, but I’m not going to write much because I am sooooo sleepy.

I had to watch Tommy all afternoon even though it was supposed to be Maggie’s day (she traded Friday with me), but Mr. Furtz is sick. He came home early from the store and Mrs. Furtz had to take him to the doctor, so Maggie had to go over there and stay with Cathy, Barry, and David. Mrs. Furtz didn’t get home until eight, and she was all upset because the doctor said Mr. Furtz should go right into the hospital for some tests.

Maggie’s going to go over again tomorrow so Mrs. Furtz can go to the hospital. The surprising thing is that Mr. Furtz looks like one of those real healthy types—he plays lots of golf and tennis and is always running around in his gym shorts and tennis shoes. He’s got these really long skinny legs and great big feet. Mom says she bets he’s home in a couple days and these doctors are always scaring people with tests for every little thing.

I don’t much like doctors, because they never really listen to you, but I guess it must be hard to sit there and listen to people complain all day.

I still haven’t heard from Beth Ann, and I decided I wasn’t going to call her. I’ll wait till she wants to talk to me.

Oh, I guess I better tell about Carl Ray. Dad had to call him about a thousand times this morning to get him out of bed for his first day of work, but he finally did get up. Then at dinner, when Dad asked how his job was, Carl Ray said, “Enhh.”

And surprisingly, Dad didn’t say, “Does that mean…?” Instead he said, “Well, good. I’m glad to hear it.” I think he’s getting sort of fed up with Carl Ray. Mom asked Carl Ray if someone took over for Mr. Furtz at the store while he was at the doctor’s, and Carl Ray said, “Yup,” but he never said who it was.

When I was cleaning Carl Ray’s room today, I put a can of deodorant on his dresser. Har har har. Is that mean? Well, it was just supposed to be a hint.

Good night, whoever you are out there.

Mr. Furtz is still in the hospital. He had a bunch of tests, but no results yet, and he has to have some more tests tomorrow. Maggie said that Mrs. Furtz is a wreck. I’m sure Mr. Furtz will be home soon.

No word from my best friend, Beth Ann.

Do you want to know how Carl Ray’s job went today? Well, at dinner, when Mom asked him, he said, “Ehhh.”

I examined the can of deodorant today, but I couldn’t tell if it had been used. So I added a new bar of soap to his dresser top. Har har har.

Today, in the mail, we all got our summer reading lists for school. On it are about a million books for each grade and you’re supposed to read “as many as possible,” and then take notes.

Tommy and I went to the library today. He picked out a bunch of easy-reader books (he can’t read yet, but he pretends) and a book on Eskimos (Eskimos???). I checked out two on the list: the Odyssey and Poems of Robert Frost.

I skimmed through the Odyssey and think perhaps I made a mistake getting this one. The print is so small (I hate that) and there’s all these weird names in it. Maybe I’ll try reading it tomorrow.

I read a couple poems in the Robert Frost book. Some are okay, but some are very strange, like the one in the front about a pasture. Someone is going out to the pasture and tells someone else to come along too. That’s about it, really. I wrote a poem once about a lunch box and a bologna (why is that word spelled like that?) sandwich, and I think even that was better than the one about the pasture.

The worst thing happened today.

After dinner, Mom and I were in the kitchen (Maggie was still over at the Furtzes’) and the phone rang. Mom answered it and I heard her suck in her breath and then say, “Oh, no,” and “How?” and “When?” I just knew it was some kind of bad news.

When she hung up, she ran right upstairs calling, “Sam, Sam, Sam.” My dad met her at the top of the stairs, and she said, “Oh, Sam. That new neighbor—Mr. Furtz—he’s dead.”

She told my dad that she had just talked to Maggie, who had just talked to Mrs. Furtz, who was still at the hospital and practically hysterical, so Maggie didn’t find out too much except that Mr. Furtz had been resting after some tests and he was supposed to come home tomorrow. Mrs. Furtz was waiting out in the hall while a nurse was doing something in there, and all of a sudden this light started flashing over his door and all these people started running in and out and Mrs. Furtz thought it was his roommate who was in trouble because she had just seen her husband and he was fine.

Then a nurse asked Mrs. Furtz to come down the hall with her, and they took her into a room and fifteen minutes later they told her that Mr. Furtz was dead.

He had a gigantic heart attack or something.

I just can’t believe it.

My mom and dad had only met Mr. Furtz once, but they went right over to the Furtzes’ to wait for Mrs. Furtz to come home.

I keep wondering about Cathy and Barry and little David (who is Tommy’s age). What is their mother going to tell them?

I don’t feel like writing about other stuff just now, because it doesn’t seem right. It’s scary that a person can be as healthy-looking as Mr. Furtz and then, boom, all of a sudden he isn’t here anymore. I’m glad Mrs. Furtz was visiting Mr. Furtz just before it happened. Maybe she was holding his hand or something. I don’t much like it, though, that Mrs. Furtz wasn’t in the room when all the lights started flashing. That’s probably when Mr. Furtz needed his wife the most. Maybe he wanted to tell her one last thing.

And what about Mrs. Furtz standing out there in the hallway, not expecting this to happen? And what about his children and his friends and neighbors who are just going along, doing the dishes and stuff and then all of a sudden the telephone rings and you think it’s going to be some regular person calling with some regular ole chatter, and wham, it’s the most awful news.

And I also keep wondering about my mom and dad. They seem so healthy too. Please, please, please don’t let anything happen to them.

Oh Lord, I don’t like this dead Mr. Furtz business at all.

Maggie and I went over to the Furtzes’ today to see if we could take Cathy, Barry, and David out somewhere, just to get them out of the house. About a hundred (well, maybe twenty) relatives were swarming all over. They said Mrs. Furtz had to go pick out a coffin. Can you imagine that? With your husband dead and all, they make you go pick out a coffin. How do you do that? Is there a room with a bunch of coffins and you just choose one? Do you choose one because it is pretty or because it is sturdy and won’t, sort of, leak? What if you don’t have enough money for a good, leakproof coffin?

Cathy and Barry were up in their rooms playing Monopoly with their cousins. At first I thought it was strange that they were sitting there buying hotels and trading property when their father was dead and their mother was out shopping around for a coffin, but then I couldn’t imagine what they should be doing. Maybe crying and looking at some pictures of him or something. Cathy and Barry didn’t want to go anywhere because they wanted to finish Monopoly.

Little David Furtz was sitting at the kitchen table playing with some Play-Doh. When I asked him what he was making, he said, “Sort of a squirrel.”

I peered at it and it even looked like a squirrel, so I said, “That’s a great squirrel.”

And do you know what he said? He said, “It’s for Daddy.”

His uncle, who was sitting at the table watching David, whispered, “He doesn’t understand.”

Then David shouted, “I do too!” and he punched the little squirrel flat and ran out of the room.

Tonight, Mom said that there would be a “viewing” (of the body!) tomorrow night at DiMaggio’s Funeral Home, which is about two blocks from our house.

“Can we go?” I asked. I’ve never seen a body before. Except on TV.

Mom looked at Dad. He said, “Hmm.”

“Maybe they should, Sam,” my mom said.

“Hmm.”

“Oh, pleeeease,” said Dennis.

“Well, I’m not going!” said Maggie.

“I wanna go!” said Tommy. He didn’t even know where we were going.

Carl Ray, of course, didn’t say anything. He must have been wondering if he was still going to have a job now, with Mr. Furtz dead and all.

“Well, fine then. You can come, but behave yourselves.”

So we’re all going tomorrow. Except for Maggie and Carl Ray, I guess.

Beth Ann finally called. Surprise, surprise. She said she was sorry she hadn’t called sooner, but she’s been so busy. I didn’t ask her what she was busy doing.

She asked me what I was doing tomorrow night. Well, I’ve fallen for that one before, so I was happy that I had something to say. “Going to the funeral home,” I said. I knew she’d be surprised. She wanted to know who was there, and I told her it was Mr. Furtz, our new neighbor. She asked if he was dead. Of course he was dead, I told her.

I feel terrible about Mr. Furtz. I keep expecting to see him outside, puttering around his yard. I told my parents they ought to take some vitamins.

Here’s some Odyssey notes to take my mind off Mr. Furtz. I’ll write them in red ink.

It just kills me the way these gods decide everything. Here’s this big hero Odysseus and everything he does is because the gods decide he should do it.

I keep wondering if there are still all these gods like Zeus and Athene and Poseidon sitting around up there on Mount Olympus deciding if I should go to Mr. Furtz’s funeral or, even worse, deciding when it was time for Mr. Furtz to die. Are they saying, “Should Mary Lou Finney die today?”

“Well, yes, I think she should, because many people has she slighted of late.”

“Well, I don’t agree,” says another one. “She’s a good kid. Let us halt awhile.” Etc.

Also, I have trouble keeping track of all the names. In the first three pages, just to give you an idea of why I have trouble, here are the names mentioned: Hyperion, Zeus, Odysseus, Calypso, Poseidon, Ethiopians, Aegisthus, Agamemnon, Orestes, Hermes, Athene, Cronus, Atlas, Polyphemus, Cyclopes, Thoosa, Phorcys, Telemachus, Penelope, Mentes, Taphians.

I was reading this in the living room after dinner while Carl Ray was watching TV, and I got so frustrated, I just threw the book down and said, “Telemachus! Who the heck is Telemachus?”

And do you know what Carl Ray did? He said, without even looking away from the TV, “The son of Odysseus.”

You could have knocked me over with a feather. “And how do you know that?” I asked.

“Simple,” he said, and he kept right on watching The Dating Game.

I didn’t even think Carl Ray knew how to read.

I will never forget tonight as long as I live (and hey, Zeus, I would like that to be quite a bit longer, please).

We viewed Mr. Furtz tonight.

I don’t know where to start. I never expected anything like this. First of all, DiMaggio’s Funeral Home is really like a home inside. I guess I thought it would be like a hospital with green walls and tile floors and people in white coats. But it was like a house, with a living room where people were standing around talking. There were lamps and tables and couches and all that. When I saw the living room, I thought for a minute that they were going to have Mr. Furtz propped up in a chair with a newspaper in his lap. Dentist-office music was playing in the background.

Oh, I forgot to mention that, surprise, surprise, guess who came along with us. Carl Ray! None of us could I believe it when we were walking down the street (like I said, the funeral home is only two blocks away) and all of a sudden Dougie said, “Hey, there’s Carl Ray!” We all turned around, and sure enough, Carl Ray was following right behind us.

“Now that’s one strange boy,” my father whispered to my mother.

Anyway, Dennis started pulling on my arm at the funeral home, and Carl Ray said, “Come on.” I don’t know why I was so surprised to see Carl Ray lead the way, but we followed him. We went through some curtains and there it was.

The coffin. It was sitting up on a table and it was open! Dennis said, “Whooaa.” Carl Ray stepped right up and pulled Dennis beside him. Dennis dragged me.

I couldn’t breathe. There was Mr. Furtz, lying on this white silky pillow with his hands folded over his chest. He was wearing a brown suit and a white dress shirt and tie. And he had this fancy quilt over him, covering his legs. It seemed strange to see a man in a suit lying in this box that was trying to look like a bed.

He really did look like he was sleeping, and he looked pretty much like Mr. Furtz except he wasn’t smiling as he usually did, and his face looked like it had powder on it. I kept thinking he was going to open his eyes and be real mad that we were all staring at him.

I never saw so many flowers all in one room before. There were flowers in the coffin (“To Charles Randolph Furtz, With love from your children”), baskets of gladiolas all along a shelf behind the coffin, and then about a hundred other baskets of flowers around the room.

I started looking at these baskets, because each one had a card on it telling who it was from. The cards said things like “In loving memory” and “Rest in peace” and “To our Beloved.” They were all pretty depressing. It was as if people were cramming in all these last-minute messages in case Mr. Furtz could still hear. The funny thing was he looked as if he could hear. I kept looking at the cards, wishing at least one of them would say the truth: “Oh how awful!” or “I wish you weren’t dead” or “This is the absolute worst thing in the world.” But none of them did.

When I turned around to show Dennis, Carl Ray was staring down into the coffin and rubbing his finger over this brass marker on the side of the coffin. The marker had Mr. Furtz’s initials on it: CRF. But then I saw Carl Ray reach out with one hand and touch Mr. Furtz on the arm! “Carl Ray!” I said.

He jumped back. And then you know what? Carl Ray was crying! I have to admit that I felt like crying as soon as I saw Mr. Furtz, but Carl Ray hardly knows him. For a minute there, I actually liked Carl Ray because he could cry over Mr. Furtz like that.

I saw my mom standing by Dad, and they were both crying. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my dad cry, and that made me so sad.

They told us kids to go on home, because they were going to stay awhile, so we started back up the street. I was surprised to see that Carl Ray was holding Tommy’s hand.

“Did you see the body?” Dougie asked Tommy.

Tommy nodded. His eyes were wide open—you could tell he didn’t like what he saw. Then Tommy turned to Carl Ray and said, “So where’s he going now?”

“They’ll bury him,” Carl Ray said.

“Where?”

“In the cemetery, in the ground.”

“Does he stay in the box?”

“Yup.”

“What about heaven?”

Carl Ray looked up at the sky and back at Tommy. “What about it?”

“When does he go there?”

“Well,” Carl Ray said, “soon, I guess.”

Tommy was staring at Carl Ray’s face real hard. “So how is he gonna get out of the ground?”

Carl Ray didn’t even bat an eye. “God will come and get his soul.”

Tommy nodded.

All of a sudden, I saw this image of Zeus swooping down with this shovel and digging down into the earth and pulling open the coffin and taking Mr. Furtz by the hand and flying off with him up into the clouds, sort of like Superman. Imagine.

But now that I am home and it’s dark outside and time to go to bed, I just don’t like the idea of Mr. Furtz being in that box when they close the lid, and of him being down there in the ground while Mrs. Furtz and Cathy and Barry and David go on living in that house.

And I keep wondering what Mr. Furtz feels like. I know, I know, he can’t feel anything if he’s dead, but he must know it’s dark or that he can’t breathe or that everyone is crying and feeling so miserable that he’s gone. Can he dream? Is he just waiting for someone to come and take his soul?

Mr. Furtz was buried today. Only Mom and Dad went. They decided that none of us kids could go because we all had nightmares last night (all except Carl Ray, who if he did have one didn’t admit it, and Maggie, who didn’t go to the funeral home).

In my dream (or nightmare) I was walking through these woods. It was snowing and very cold and I was lost. I kept looking for my parents, calling, “Mom! Dad!” There were no tracks anywhere and it was pretty dark. I thought I saw Carl Ray behind a tree, and I called his name and ran up to the tree, but when I got there he was gone. I was screaming, “Carl Ray! Save me! Save me!” And then I sat up straight in bed and there was Maggie staring at me, saying, “Hey! Wake up!”

Dennis said he dreamed that someone locked him in the garage and people kept staring in the window but he couldn’t hear what they were saying and they wouldn’t let him out.

Dougie said he was picking flowers in this huge field of flowers when all of a sudden a big black bird came down out of the sky and started pecking at his head.

And Tommy said the “boogerman” was after him, so he climbed in bed with Mom and Dad, and then he wet the bed, which really made Dad mad.

Nobody felt like doing anything today while Mom and Dad were gone. When Tommy said he was hungry for lunch, I realized that Dad wouldn’t be going to Alesci’s today, so I started rummaging through the cupboards for something to fix. And then, what do you know? In walks Carl Ray (up before noon on Saturday for the first time since he arrived) with a big Alesci’s bag. He had walked all the way there (about a mile) and back. He had just what we needed: hot bread and ham. It made me feel a little bad about the deodorant and the soap I left on his dresser.

Oh, I forgot to mention yesterday that Beth Ann didn’t come over. She had to go get her hair cut (all day?). But she did come over this afternoon for about an hour. She seemed real curious about Carl Ray. She kept asking what he was like and where he worked and what I thought of him and which room was his and didn’t we mind him staying there and how long was he staying and on and on. She sure can talk.

It was funny, but even though Carl Ray has not been the most thrilling guest and he has sure driven me crazy, I didn’t tell Beth Ann any of that. In fact I made him sound almost exotic. Carl Ray! And when she asked if we minded him staying there, I said, “Beth Ann! What a thing to say. Of course we don’t mind—where else would he stay?” even though we all mind a whole lot, especially me.

Finally, I had to ask Beth Ann about Derek. “So how’s Derek?” I asked.

She looked down at her fingernails before answering. “Ohhh, he’s just fiiiiine.”

“So what does he look like?”

“Oh, he’s just gorgeous!”

“I know, but what does he look like?”

“Well, he has these cute blue eyes and these longgggg eyelashes and this adorrrrr-able smile.”

“Ah. I can just picture him.” Actually, I couldn’t at all. Her description wasn’t exactly precise. “Is he gawky?”

“Gawky? Gawky! No!”

“Does he talk?”

“Of course he does, Mary Lou. You make it sound like you think he’s some sort of jerk or something.” She has a way of pulling down her mouth on the sides like a little kid who’s letting you know you’ve hurt her feelings.

I really wanted to know what they did at these movies. I mean, did they just sit there or did they talk or hold hands or what? But I figured that was the kind of thing she would tell me without my having to ask. She didn’t, though. She seems like she’s bragging more when she doesn’t tell me what happened than if she did tell me all the details.

I’m still plodding along in the Odyssey. I’ll switch pens.

How can it be July already???

Tell me, O Muse, of something to write. Inspire me.

I’m waiting, O Muse.

I think my Muse is attending some other people at the moment.

So. Today is Sunday and everyone is still moping around about Mr. Furtz. There’s a big wreath hanging on the Furtzes’ door, sort of like a Christmas wreath only not so cheery. It sure looks strange to see it hanging there in the middle of summer. The Furtzes’ curtains were drawn closed the whole day and cars kept going in and out of the driveway.

All day it rained. Dougie said it was God crying about Mr. Furtz, but I told him that if that was true and if God cried every time someone died, it would rain every single day. But it’s a nice thought, about God crying, I mean. I keep thinking about Mr. Furtz lying there in that box and that lid closing on him.

I don’t think my parents are taking their vitamins. It scares me half to death

I rummaged around in the attic today. Found my father’s ice skates, which must be about three thousand years old, and his high-school yearbook (what a scream) and lots of old pictures. There was one of Dad, Uncle Carl Joe, and Aunt Radene. They all looked so young and happy. In this picture, Aunt Radene is standing to one side of Dad and Uncle Carl Joe, leaning against a tree, and it looks as if she is dreaming about something wonderful, because she has this little smile on her face and she isn’t looking right at the camera. She is wearing a halter top and very short shorts and high heels. Her hair is long and curly. Carl Ray sure did not get his looks from his mother.

When I made up Carl Ray’s stupid bed and cleaned his stupid room today, I left a note that said, “Maid service ends TODAY at 11.00 A.M.” The two weeks are up! Carl Ray has to make his own stupid bed from now on.

Called Beth Ann but she was out with Derek-the-Di-viiiiine.

What a day, eh?

My Muse has utterly abandoned me.

Well, Maggie suckered me into watching Tommy today even though I thought it was her turn. But in a way it was a good thing, because I took Tommy to the pool and guess who showed up—Alex Cheevey!

He actually swam around and stuff. Even though I had to stay with Tommy in the shallow end, Alex came and played with Tommy awhile. Alex was in a pretty good mood. He sat with us during break time and let Tommy jump on his stomach. He also talked a little, although it was tough going at times. For instance, it went something like this:

And that’s all we talked about because he had to leave, but he said he was coming back again on Thursday probably. I might go swimming on Thursday.

Carl Ray still has a job, even though Mr. Furtz is dead. Mr. Furtz’s brother (whose name is also Furtz, of course) is going to take over the store at least for a while. I found that out when I went to the hardware store today. I didn’t really need to buy something, but I was downtown with Tommy after swimming and I just wanted to see if it was possible that Carl Ray could really do anything useful.

When we went in, there was Carl Ray dusting off some turpentine cans. He looked real embarrassed to see us at first, but Tommy took hold of Carl Ray’s hand and was so excited to see him that Carl Ray eventually smiled a little and started acting like he owned the store, showing us all around. I’ve been to that store a million times, so I’d seen it all before, but I pretended like I hadn’t. Then the new Mr. Furtz came up and introduced himself (“Gene Furtz here”) and said he was taking over the store at least temporarily, until “things settle down.”

Then he said, “Don’t you worry, we’ll keep young Carl Ray on here.” (I wasn’t worried.) Carl Ray smiled and looked down at his shoes. What a presence.

Stopped at Beth Ann’s on the way home, but she was gone.

It all reminded me of my mother and how she’s always going on about ole Carl Ray being a guest in our house. Well, I sure feel like his maidservant, but I’ll tell you one thing: I wouldn’t wash and anoint him for all the money in the world.

I wish I had some of that wine for Mrs. Furtz.

But Odysseus isn’t dead. He’s being held captive by a nymph named Calypso who apparently adores Odysseus and doesn’t want him to go back to Penelope. Meanwhile, all Penelope’s suitors decide to ambush Telemachus when he returns.

I practically forgot this was the Fourth of July! Dad was at the kitchen table in his grungy clothes, and I asked him what he was doing there, and he said, “I live here.” Har har. Then he said, “I’ll give you a hint: firecrackers.” Har har. I got it.

We all went on a picnic today to Windy Rock, a park about ten miles from Easton. In this park is the actual Windy Rock—a huge boulder up on top of a cliff. Supposedly you can walk up there anytime and the air will be still and silent until you reach the rock, and then, whoooosh, the wind blows as fierce as can be just around the rock. Sure enough, every time we’ve been there, it has happened. Next to the rock is a plaque that explains the legend behind it.

According to this legend, there once was an Indian maiden who fell to her death on this very cliff. Her lover came to the rock, wailing and moaning, and then he stood on the rock, ready to jump over too, because his life was nothing without his maiden. But then the winds started to blow round and round the rock so that he was unable to jump. The legend says the winds blew for two weeks (he must have been starving by then), until he fell into a deep slumber. Then the winds “abated” and his friends lifted him off the rock and took him home. And now every time anyone approaches the rock, the winds begin again. I guess the winds think he’s coming back.

I like legends like that.

So we had a picnic there. Maggie didn’t come because she went to a party with Kenny (she’s ungrounded now), but Carl Ray came along. He’s like a shadow. Everywhere we go, he goes.

Most of the day Dennis, Doug, and I climbed trees and just messed around. We put Tommy up in this one tree with us, and he was having a great time pretending the limb was a horse. Mom and Dad stayed on the blanket, just lying there and talking. Carl Ray walked around a lot, but then he started chasing us through the trees and he was realllll scary.

I was surprised he had the energy to run, but he started tearing around pretending he was some kind of monster and making these horrible noises, and at first we all thought it was funny to see him like that, but then he kept it up, and I have to admit even I was scared, because he would run at us making these horrible faces and these horrible noises and he would grab one of us and drag us off until the others would come and pull the captive one free.

After a while Tommy and Dougie started crying and we all ran back to where Mom and Dad were. Then Carl Ray came walking up looking like his usual pale, pitiful self, and Mom and Dad didn’t believe us that he had been scaring the living day-lights out of everyone.

He’s a strange one sometimes, that Carl Ray.

When it got dark, we watched the fireworks. I used to think fireworks were so terrific, but this year they seemed a little disappointing. You wait and wait all day, and then there’s about ten minutes of booms and splashes of light and that’s it.

Dad made a speech (which he makes every year) about Independence and Freedom and all. We’re all so used to his speech that we don’t really listen, but Carl Ray was hanging on every word, and when Dad was done Carl Ray said, “Thank you.”

Dad said, “For what?”

Carl Ray said, “What you said was real nice.”

Carl Ray is just full of surprises.

Today was interesting (for a change). Real interesting.

Ready, O Muse?

Little did I know when rosy-fingered Dawn (child of morning) crept over the horizon today that it would be such a good day. Where shall I begin, Muse?

The pool. I went by myself because Maggie took Tommy, Dennis, and Dougie to the movies. I was going to go with them, but it was one of those days with clear blue sky and a little breeze and one of those sparkling suns (my Muse isn’t exactly warmed up yet). Too nice to be all stuffed into a movie theater.

Sure enough, Alex Cheevey was at the pool again, just as he said. He was all by himself (I guess those Murphys don’t swim at all), so we had a great time.

First we practiced diving. We were giving each other numbers (you know, like 10, 9, 8, etc.) for the quality of our dives. Then we started goofing around and doing clown dives and acting stupid.

At the first break we talked about the Odyssey because Alex happened to mention that he was reading it too. That surprised me, because even if he was reading it, I didn’t think he’d be the type to admit it. He’s farther along than I am and he actually likes it. He says it gets a lot more interesting as you go. But he’s really into this bit about Telemachus finding his father. And do you know what he told me? He said he’s always suspected he’s adopted. He said he doesn’t look or act like either one of his parents.

But, but, but. When the next break was called, he said, “Hey, let’s leave.” Did you catch that? He said “Let’s,” as in “Let us”! He wanted me to leave with him.

Then he walked me home. He didn’t hang around because he had to go to work. He works part-time for a landscaping company, mowing lawns and pulling weeds and trimming bushes. Anyway, he said he had to work all day on Friday and Saturday, but, but, but, Alex Cheevey actually asked me if I wanted to go swimming again on Sunday! I mean he didn’t just say, “Are you going to be at the pool on Sunday?” He actually said, “Want to go swimming on Sunday?”

See the difference? I do. Sigh.

The other interesting thing that happened concerns Carl Ray. At dinner, in the midst of all the usual pass-the-potatoes chatter, Maggie says, “Oh, by the way, Carl Ray, you had a phone call today.”

Everyone stopped chewing because no one could imagine who would call Carl Ray. He’s received a whole lot of letters from Aunt Radene, but not one single phone call.

Maggie said, “I wrote down the message,” and from the kitchen she retrieved a piece of paper that she didn’t give to Carl Ray. You could tell she wanted everyone to hear this. “It was a lady…”

Everyone about choked.

“…who is the secretary of a Mr. Biggers.” She stopped to take a bite of her beans. She chewed awhile. Carl Ray had stopped eating.

“And this lady, this secretary of Mr. Biggers’s, wanted to know if you could come in and see Mr. Biggers…” and she took another bite of beans and chewed awhile. Meanwhile, we’re all waiting.

“…at four o’clock tomorrow afternoon. Apparently…” and she reached over for the jug of milk and poured herself a glass, “…this Mr. Biggers is a lawyer.”

Carl Ray’s mouth dropped open, revealing some unchewed potatoes.

“So you have this appointment at four tomorrow afternoon, and if you can’t make it, you’re supposed to call back. The number’s right here at the bottom,” and she handed the paper to Dennis, who handed it to Dougie, who handed it to Carl Ray, who just stared at it.

Dad said, “Carl Ray, do you have any idea what this is about?”

Carl Ray said, “Nope.”

Dad looked at Mom, so she said, “Have you ever met this Mr. Biggers?”

Carl Ray said, “Nope.”

Mom looked at Dad, so he said, “Hmmm. Are you sure you have no idea what this is about?”

Carl Ray said, “Nope.”

Dad said, “Does that mean…” but then he stopped.

So everyone went on eating, except for Carl Ray, who sat there staring at this piece of paper. He didn’t finish his dinner, which is a real sign that something must be wrong, because we all know what a gigantic appetite Carl Ray has.

After dinner, I heard Dad asking Carl Ray a bunch more questions. He asked him if this had anything to do with a girl (“Nope”) or if Carl Ray was in any kind of trouble (“Nope”) or if he owed anyone any money (“Nope”) or if he’d been in any fights (“Nope”) or stolen anything (“Nope”). Finally, Dad said he would leave work early tomorrow and take Carl Ray over to Mr. Biggers’s office if Carl Ray wanted him to. Carl Ray said, “Okay.”

I wonder what Carl Ray did that he’s not telling anyone.

I asked my mom tonight if I was adopted and she about died laughing. “Whatever made you ask that?” she said (when she finally stopped laughing about ten hours later). “No, you are not adopted.”

I was a little disappointed when she said that, and then I got to thinking that maybe she wouldn’t want to tell me the truth, so maybe I am adopted, but I’ll never really know unless she plans to tell me the truth when I’m sixteen. Actually, I’ve often suspected that I am adopted. Maybe Alex and I have the same parents! Oh, well, maybe that wouldn’t be so good after all.

Boy, the gods are sure intervening in Carl Ray’s life! I swear, Athene must have come down and taken pity on the poor creature. But before I tell about Carl Ray, I’ll tell about Beth Ann as ole black-fingered night (grandfather of day) (har har har) (thanks, O Muse) creeps over the sky.

I took Tommy and Dougie for a walk today and we stopped at Beth Ann’s. Even though she didn’t seem real thrilled to see two little kids with me, she gave them some Coke and potato chips and we all went out into her backyard. While Tommy and Dougie climbed the apple tree, she and I actually talked for a change. I mean, it’s been a while.

When I asked her about Derek, she acted as if they had been married for about a hundred years. She was so matter-of-fact about it all.

“Oh yes,” she said, “we’re still going out. He’s over here all the time. My parents are VERY fond of him. Have you ever smelled Canoe? That’s the kind of aftershave he wears. It’s DI-VIIIIINE.” (There she goes again.) “Judy says that’s what all the college guys wear. I’m going to buy him some more for his birthday—that’s next week. We’re going out to dinner first—on his birthday, that is—and then back to his house for a little get-together” (get-together??) “with his parents and grandparents. They’re such a nice family. I think I’ve met just about everyone in his family: his parents—they asked me to call them Betty and Bill—his brother, Gregory, of course—that’s Judy’s boyfriend—his grandparents—they asked me to call them Nonna and Poppa—his aunt Jean and uncle Roy; his aunt Catherine and uncle Bob. I think that’s about it. Oh, and his best friend, whose name is Jerry—and Jerry’s girlfriend, Molly. We’ve doubled with them a few times. Not too many times though, because Derek doesn’t really like Molly. She talks so much.”

Molly talks so much??? Have you ever heard anyone go on like Beth Ann does? How does she think of all those things to say? I am interested in what Beth Ann does, but really, should I be expected to care what Derek’s grandparents want her to call them? Or what Derek’s best friend’s girlfriend’s name is???

But I did pretend to be interested. You have to suffer through a few dozen of those things with Beth Ann in the hopes that she’ll finally get to something meaty. I had to prompt her a little.

“So,” I tried, “what do you and Derek do when you go out?”

“Oh, lots of things. We go to the movies and sometimes for a hamburger and—”

“You already told me all that. I meant what do you do, like, afterward?”

She gave me one of her funny smiles that meant “Oh, I get it,” and then she looked around to see if Dougie and Tommy were near enough to hear. They weren’t. She said, “Well—it is sort of personal….”

“Beth Ann Bartels,” I said, “I am your best friend, or at least I thought I was, and if you can’t tell me…” I put on this real hurt look.

“Well—it’s just that Derek wouldn’t like it if I talked about Us like that,” and she glanced at me, but I was still doing my hurt look, so she said, “but I know I can trust you.”

“Well, I hope so!”

“Okay, then, but promise…”

“I promise! Geez, what do I have to do, swear on a Bible?”

“Okay, okay, don’t get upset. Let’s see. We talk a lot.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well, we do. He’s a very interesting person, you know. He tells me all kinds of things, like about…”

“Beth Ann!”

“Right. You don’t want to know about our conversations—you just want to know all the sordid details.”

If anyone else had said this, I probably would have been mad, but she was being so ridiculous and of course I wanted to know all the “sordid” details, so I just fell over laughing and then she fell over laughing and we were finally getting back to being good friends. Or so I thought.

Then I told her how much it had been bothering me that she hardly ever talked to me anymore and then when she did, all she could do was moon over Derek and talk like Megan and Christy: “di-viiiiine” and “truly wonderful” and all that. It felt good to tell her, and fortunately she didn’t even seem to mind. She just laughed about it and said she was sorry and that she hadn’t meant to sound so drippy and all.

But then I really blew it. I don’t know what came over my brain, but I guess I thought I could go on being one hundred percent honest, and I said, “Well, maybe I was a little jealous. Maybe I was. When Maggie told me that she saw you and Derek at the party and that you were hanging all over him and that he was sort of a j—” All of a sudden I could tell by the look on her face that I had gone too far.

Boy, did she get mad! She straightened out her little mouth so fast into this flat little line and scrunched up her eyes and jumped up and said, “God, Mary Lou! Who do you think you are, anyway?!”

I started to apologize, but she wouldn’t let me talk at all.

“I was NOT hanging all over Derek—believe me, I don’t have to do that. And Derek is NOT a jerk—don’t shake your head, I know that’s what you were going to say. You make me sick, and we’re NOT best friends, and you can take your little brat brothers and get out of my yard!” And she ran into the house and slammed the screen door and then slammed the other door and I heard the locks click.

Beth Ann is so darn touchy. Who does she think she is, anyway? It makes me mad just thinking about it now. I hate when someone yells at you and doesn’t even give you a chance to talk. I really hate that.

Grrrr.

So. Now about Carl Ray.

I just don’t believe this and apparently Dad doesn’t either, because when he got back from taking Carl Ray to see Mr. Biggers, he was shaking his head back and forth, and Carl Ray was looking sort of stunned. Everybody started jumping all over saying, “What happened? What did Mr. Biggers want? What did he say?” and Dennis said, “Is Carl Ray going to jail?” and Tommy started crying because I think he actually likes Carl Ray and he started screaming, “No jail! No jail!” and finally Dad got everybody quiet and made us sit down to dinner before he would tell us anything.

Here’s what happened: Mr. Biggers told Carl Ray that someone wanted to give Carl Ray some money!!! Mr. Biggers “was not at liberty to divulge” the name of this person who is throwing his money away.

This sounds just like Great Expectations, if you ask me. Great Expectations is a terrific book. It’s about a poor little boy who inherits some money and he thinks it’s from this weird rich lady who sits around in this cobwebby room all day, but it turns out that the money is from some spooky convict who the boy gave some bread to when the boy was little.

But back to Carl Ray. We all just about keeled over when we heard about Mr. Biggers telling Carl Ray someone wanted to give him some money. It was chaos in our house because everybody started asking Carl Ray a million questions.

And on and on. Ole Carl Ray hardly had a chance to get a word in, and finally Dad yelled, “QUIET! WILL YOU ALL JUST BE QUIET?”

And when we finally all shut up, Dad said, “Carl Ray does not know who the person is. We’ve been through this already. He asked Mr. Biggers to tell him the name, but Mr. Biggers can’t do that. Apparently whoever is giving Carl Ray this money wants to remain anonymous.”

Mom said, “That’s very curious, isn’t it, Sam?”

Dad just nodded.

“Boy,” Dennis said, “how lucky can a guy get? I wish this person would give me some money.”

And Dougie said, “How much, Carl Ray?”

And Dad said, “Carl Ray, you don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to. It’s none of their business.”

Boy, here we are providing a hotel for the ole prince and Dad doesn’t think it’s any of our business?

But Carl Ray just shrugged and said, “I don’t care if they know.”

And Dennis said, “How much?”

And Carl Ray said to Dad, “You tell ’em. I forget.” He forgets? Lord.

Well, everyone was so excited. All of us kids spent the whole rest of the evening deciding what we would do if we got five thousand dollars and also we kept trying to guess who gave Carl Ray the money. We decided it was either some weird old lady who got Carl Ray mixed up with someone else, or maybe it was some long-lost uncle who had so much money he didn’t know what to do with it. Or maybe it was some strange old convict who Carl Ray met just once and maybe Carl Ray gave him some bread or something. You just never know about these things.

Carl Ray doesn’t seem too excited, but he does seem worried. I can’t imagine why, unless he thinks maybe it’s a mistake and tomorrow Mr. Biggers will call and say the person changed his mind or got the wrong Carl Ray or something.

Everyone’s still asking Carl Ray a million questions about the money and wondering who gave it to him, and he’s still walking around looking shocked, although I did see him looking through the Sears catalogue. Maybe he’s trying to decide what to buy first.

Mom got real mad at all of us today. She sent Dennis and Dougie to their room (she hardly ever does that) because they kept badgering Carl Ray, telling him they sure did wish they could have a new bicycle (that was Dougie) and a little television (Dennis) and all kinds of other stuff: toys, baseball bats, ice skates, roller skates, stilts, water skis (we don’t even have a boat) and on and on.

Mom got mad at Maggie because she just happened to mention to Carl Ray that there was a beee-yooo-teee-ful coat at the May Company that she was absolutely in love with. She got mad at Tommy because he badgered her all day about Carl Ray going to jail. She got mad at me because I wrote “Mary Lou’s favorite wish” on a picture of a desk and taped it on the wall outside Carl Ray’s bedroom. Mom said, “You can be very insensitive, Mary Lou.”

Me? Insensitive?

I just don’t even know where to start. Maybe at the pool. I went to the pool today (after Carl Ray the Prince finally got out of bed so I could clean up that room—I still have to vacuum in there, which does not seem fair since Carl Ray’s only chore so far is to make up his stupid bed). Alex asked me if I wanted to go swimming today, remember? Sure enough, Alex was there.

It was all cloudy and cool though, so after about an hour we decided (it was Alex’s idea) to go somewhere else. It sure seemed like something was bothering him, and I thought, Well, maybe he was sorry he asked me to meet him there, and maybe he was trying to think of a way to get rid of me. We went to this little park near the pool and sat on a picnic table. For a while we just read all the names carved into the table, and I was about to say that I had to go home (just in case he did want to get rid of me, I thought I’d better make it sound like I was ready to go anyway), when he said, “I got the strangest phone message the other day.”

“What message?”

“Some girl called and said to my mother, ‘Tell Alex I love him.’” Then he looked at me as if he was waiting for me to confess.

Boy was I mad. I was mad because, first of all, it wasn’t ME who called, but Alex thought it was, and second of all, I was wondering who in the heck DID call. Grrrr. But before I could say anything, Alex looks up because this girl is walking toward us. She’s smiling and waving her arm like crazy, and when she gets pretty close, she says, “Hiiiiiii! Hiiiiiii there!”

It was Christy, from school. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

She started drooling all over Alex. “Hiiiii, Alex. Oh hi, Mary Lou. Whatever are you doing over here, Alex? I’m here with my cousin. Did you ever meet my cousin Carol? She’s up there,” and she pointed toward the pool and batted her eyelashes at Alex and wiggled her shoulders and SAT DOWN next to Alex on the picnic table.

“Hi,” said Alex.

I didn’t say one word.

“So, what are you doing over here, Alex? Huh? Huh?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? So why are you over here doing nothing? You live way over in Norton!!” She turned to me and said, “Have you ever seen Alex’s house? I have. I just love your mom, Alex. She’s so sweet. I can’t believe you’re way over here in Easton. Don’t you go swimming in Norton, huh Alex, huh?”

On and on and on she went, babbling away like that, asking about a million questions and never giving Alex a chance to answer anything. I didn’t think she was ever going to leave. I started counting the leaves on this tree next to the table, just to keep from punching her one. I got up to 367 before she finally said, “So hey, Alex, why don’t you come up and go swimming with me and my cousin? Oh, you too, Mary Lou. Come on, Alex, won’t you?” Wiggle wiggle. Smile smile.

And then Alex said, “Can’t. Have to go home.”

So she made this little pouty mouth and said, “Well, Carol’s waiting for me. I’ll let you off this time, Alex….” Wiggle wiggle. Smile smile. And, at last, she got up and wiggled away.

We sat there for a few minutes. Then I said, “Do you really have to go home now?”

And he said, “Nope.”

Then I said, “I think I just figured out who left you that phone message.”

He looked a little disappointed. “Huh?”

“Well, it wasn’t me!” And I gave a meaningful look in Christy’s direction. She was still wiggling off in the distance.

“Ahhh,” he said.

And then you would not believe what he did next.

He put his hand on top of mine. At first I didn’t know if it was an accident or on purpose and I was wondering if I should move my hand. But he pressed his down a little bit, so I figured it was on purpose. Then I started wondering if I should turn my hand over—then he could hold it—but what if he didn’t want to hold it? How am I supposed to know what he’s thinking? I decided to leave my hand the way it was. If he wanted to turn it over, he could do that himself.

When I think about it right now, I could just swoon away.

And then do you know what he said? He said, “I like you, Mary Lou Finney.”

And I just sat there like some idiot. I just sat there staring at him. He looked so different all of a sudden. He looked like Odysseus probably did when he cleaned himself up and anointed himself after being in the ocean for three weeks. All the girls standing around Odysseus about fell over from his beauty. They thought he was some kind of a god. And that’s what Alex looked like to me. His skin was so pink and healthy-looking and his hair was all clean and shiny and he smelled just like soap.

Well, that sounds ridiculous, I know. Almost as bad as Beth Ann mooning over Derek-the-Di-viiiiine.

Anyway, then Alex got up and he said, “I’ll walk you home,” and he TOOK MY HAND (which turned over automatically, I think) and we walked home, and I still couldn’t talk at all, and just before we got to the corner of my street I pretended I had to scratch my ankle so I could let go of his hand because even though I really liked holding his hand, I would have died if anyone in my family saw that. And at the corner of my street, he said, “Well, I guess I’ll go on home,” and I said, “’Bye,” and he said, “’Bye,” and then he started walking away and all of a sudden I said, “Oh, wait!” and he turned around and smiled and walked back, and he said, “I’ll call you.”

And I truly thought I was sitting on Mount Olympus.

And I know this is boring you to death, whoever you are, and I know I will never ever be able to turn this in to any English teacher after saying all this mush.

But…

I can hardly stand it….

I don’t even want to write about Carl Ray and stuff.

Mary Lou Cheevey. Mrs. Alex Cheevey. Mary Lou and Alex. Mary Lou Finney and Alex Cheevey.

I can hardly breathe.

I didn’t even go out of the house today in case Alex called—which he didn’t and I think I will probably die if he doesn’t.

Oh, God! What am I saying? I hate it when girls moon over boys. I refuse to moon over Alex Cheevey.

But Lord! All day long I kept coming up to my room and lying on my bed so I could remember exactly what happened yesterday and exactly what it felt like holding his hand, and really, if someone else said this to me I would throw up.

I can’t write any more. I just want to think about it. I’ll write about Carl Ray and stuff tomorrow.

I still can’t write. I am hopeless. Alex called today and he came over. I am on Mount Olympus. I’ll write about everything tomorrow. I promise.

Alex had to work all day and couldn’t come over, but he did call and I still am worthless and so I’ll write tomorrow but I am soooooo happeeeeee I can hardly stand it. I just want to think about it.

Well, I still am worthless, but I feel terrible for not keeping track of everything and I will catch up right now.

I think all of a sudden I realize why Beth Ann wouldn’t tell me about Derek and why she’s soooo strange these days. Because I’m acting just as weird as she is, I swear. I’m turning into a real lunatic. All over a boy. I cannot believe it. I am going to try not to act like this. But I see why Beth Ann didn’t want to talk about Derek. You want to keep it floating around in your mind and keep it secret, because there is no way you can explain it to anyone without sounding like a complete idiot.

But I am really going to try. I am going to be reasonable about this. And so first I will talk about everything else. (But God! I LOVE ALEX CHEEVEY!!!!!!)

It’s funny, but when you don’t write things down every day, you forget when things happened.

First, Carl Ray. He bought a car! I didn’t even know he knew how to drive. He doesn’t have it yet (the car)—it’s supposed to be ready tomorrow. He won’t even tell us what kind it is or anything. Maybe he wants it to be a big surprise. Or maybe he forgot what kind of car he bought.

Just about everybody is still hinting like mad for Carl Ray to buy them things, only they don’t hint when Mom is around because she gets so mad. I even heard Dad hinting. He was saying how the lawn mower is a piece of junk and he wishes he had a new one and he even looked through the Sears catalogue (coincidentally when Carl Ray was sitting there watching TV) and kept saying things like, “Oh, here’s a nice one. Too much money, though. Oh well.”

Mom keeps asking Carl Ray if he has written to his parents yet, to tell them about the money, and Carl Ray keeps saying, “Nope.” That does seem a little strange—that he hasn’t told his own parents—don’t you think? Tonight, Mom said, “Carl Ray, if you don’t write them pretty soon, I will,” and Carl Ray looked so mournful and sad that she turned to my dad, and he said, “Don’t look at me.”

One other thing about Carl Ray, while I am on the subject. He’s been watering the Furtzes’ lawn without anybody asking him to or without getting any “gold” for it. What do you think of that?

Now I will talk about the truly wonderful and di-viiiiine Alex Cheevey.

He came over TO MY HOUSE on Tuesday. I was upstairs when I heard Dennis shouting, “MARY LOUUU, MARY LOUUU, THERE’S A BOY AT THE DOOR. MARY LOUUU, MARY LOUUU, THERE’S A BOY HERE FOR YOUUU.” Honestly. It was embarrassing. He made it sound like it was the strangest thing in the world for a boy to be here for me.

And when I came downstairs, there was Dougie standing with his nose pressed against the screen staring at Alex and there was Tommy right next to him, without any pants on at all.

Alex waited on the porch while I begged and pleaded with Maggie to watch Tommy and the others while Alex and I went out for a few hours. She asked me about a thousand questions (“Well, who IS this boy?”—“Oh, is this the Alex I met?”—“Don’t you want me to say hello?”—“Where are you going?”—and on and on in this singsong voice) but finally she agreed, if I would give her this red scarf I have. I gave it to her.

When I escaped from the madhouse, Alex and I walked to the end of our street and then I decided to show him the big tree over in the field, the one where Dennis, Dougie, and I used to go all the time, the one that looks like a fort underneath. So we walked over there and went in under the branches and sat down and talked.

I can’t even remember half of what we talked about. Part of the problem is I’m not sure I was always paying attention, because when I am with Alex my brain is like mush and mostly I am just looking at him and feeling as if my muscles are melting and my blood is filled with millions of little bubbles all fizzing around.

So we held hands right there under the tree. It was very romantic. And in the middle of that, do you know what he told me?

He said that he made up the Murphys—they don’t exist! All those times he was over on our street and up at the pool, it was just because of ME!!!!! He was coming over to see me, but he didn’t have the nerve to say so because he thought I would tell him to jump in the lake or something.

Can you imagine that?

Well, I love Alex Cheevey. I really do.

Good night.

Egad, Friday the thirteenth. Well, it wasn’t unlucky for me, at least. In fact, it was a pretty lucky day for everybody I know except Beth Ann. But I’ll explain that in a minute.

Carl Ray came home in his car today. I have to admit, it’s a pretty cute thing. A little black Ford with red (red!!! Carl Ray???) seats. He’s so proud of it, he almost died from grinning so much. He made us all come outside and look at it and sit in it, and after dinner he actually took me, Dennis, and Dougie for a ride in it to the Tast-ee Freeze (and he even bought us ice cream), and then when we got home, he spent about two hours polishing it, even though it was as clean as can be. Boy, is he happy.

Except for the ice cream, he still hasn’t bought anyone anything, but the Sears catalogue is about to fall apart from so many people looking through it.

Now, Alex. He didn’t have to be at work until four o’clock today, so we went to the pool early and then, on the way home, just as we were turning the corner of my street, who should we bump into but Beth Ann. Boy, was she surprised to see Alex Cheevey, the Truly Wonderful and Divine, holding my hand!

She stood there with her mouth gaping open. You could see all her fillings. Boy, did she look terrible. Her eyes were all puffy and red and she looked like a complete wreck. She said, “I need to talk to you, Mary Lou,” and she kept looking at me and then Alex and then me and then Alex, as if her head was on a bouncy spring and she couldn’t control it. You know those dogs people put on the back ledges of their cars? Like that.

Alex said he had to go, so off he went. (Sigh.)

I was pretty surprised that Beth Ann wanted to talk to me. I seemed to recall that the last time I saw her, she told me that I made her sick and we weren’t best friends anymore. But she seems to have forgotten that.

Well! To make a very, very, very, very long story short, she and Derek broke up. Apparently, Derek has been messing around with someone else, and the way Beth Ann found out about it was that she went to the store with her sister Judy, and when they came out to the parking lot they saw Derek-the-Di-viiiiine walking with some girl and he had his arm around her!

And do you know what Beth Ann did? She went right up to ole Derek and this girl and asked him what he was doing and he looked at her like she was a stranger. He called her today and said that maybe they should both see other people for a while.

God.

It’s funny, but if this had happened a week ago, I probably would have been happy in a very mean way. But now I feel sorry for Beth Ann, even if she has been acting like a real snot. I mean she was really upset, sobbing and all. I was afraid she was going to go completely hysterical.

The only thing was she didn’t even ask me about Alex, and I have to admit that even though I wasn’t ready to tell her any details or anything, I did sort of want to brag about him a little. But I could tell she didn’t exactly want to hear how happy I was and how wonderful Alex was when she was suffering this enormous tragedy.

I read Books Seven and Eight of the Odyssey but I can’t remember any of it. I haven’t been able to concentrate too well lately. I keep thinking about Alex right in the middle of reading.

Well, this evening was almost a complete disaster.

Alex came over at six thirty. We were going to walk to the movies. But first he had to come in and my parents had to do their how-very-nice-to-meet-you routine and check him out and all. They made such a fuss that it was embarrassing. You could tell that they thought he was an okay kind of guy, and I have to admit that if I was a parent, I would think so too. He just looks so clean and all. He didn’t talk much, just “hello” and “yes” and stuff, but I think they liked that about him.

Anyway, there they were going on and on about how nice it was to meet Alex and where were we going and when would we be back, and in the middle of all this, there sits Carl Ray watching TV, and Maggie walks through in her curlers and bathrobe, and Dennis and Dougie are gaping over the stairway, and Tommy is putting his finger in his nose. Honestly. What is Alex going to think?

I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

But just as soon as we walked out the front door and I was about to breathe an enormous sigh of relief, who comes following us out but Carl Ray, the Shadow. He says, “Want a ride?”

Alex was surprised because he’s not as used to Carl Ray sneaking up on people as I am, and I was surprised because I couldn’t believe Carl Ray was actually offering to do us a favor. But I figured he just wanted to show off his car and it would be nice to have a ride. So we said sure.

It was kind of strange, Alex and I riding in the backseat and Carl Ray driving us like our chauffeur. Alex was sitting way over near his door, and I was way over near mine. Carl Ray kept looking at us in his rearview mirror.

So we get to the movie theater and I’m wondering why Carl Ray is pulling around the back instead of dropping us in front, but I didn’t say anything. And I did think it was kind of funny when he pulled into a parking space. And I started to get a little uneasy when we got out and he got out too.

Sure enough, ole Carl Ray drops the big bomb: “I think I’ll come too.”

Alex gave me this horrified look and I gave Alex a horrified look. I said to Carl Ray, “You’ll come too?”

And he said, “Yup. Might as well. Long as I’m here.”

I wonder if my parents paid Carl Ray to do this.

He stood with us in line and bought his ticket, and stood in line with us while we bought popcorn, and the whole time I was sweating like crazy trying to think how in the world we could get rid of him and I couldn’t even say anything to Alex because Carl Ray was right there, the Shadow, the whole time.

I thought I was going to die.

He followed us to our seats and sat right next to me! I was in between Carl Ray and Alex. I gave Alex one of those I-don’t-believe-this-is-happening looks and then I gave him a how-in-the-world-are-we-going-to-ditch-him? look and he gave me one of those oh-well-what-can-we-do? looks and then the movie started.

I won’t go into all the details, like how Carl Ray watched every move Alex made and every time Alex moved his arm, Carl Ray turned and looked at his arm like it was a snake or something. I won’t go into that.

I will just say that I was a complete wreck and I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

But Alex and I must have both been thinking the same thing, because when it was finally over and we got outside and started walking to the car, Alex said, “Hey, Mary Lou, why don’t we walk home?”

I said, maybe a little too quickly, “Oh, great idea! It’s sooooo nice out.”

Alex said to Carl Ray, “Thanks a lot for the ride! You don’t mind if we walk home, do you?”

For the eternity of about five seconds, I thought Carl Ray was going to find some way to get us in his car, but all he did was give us this little sad look and say, “Naw. Go ahead.”

I almost felt sorry for him, but then I figured we were entitled to a little privacy, weren’t we? Do you think Carl Ray is lonely?

Alex and I had the greatest time walking home. We were both in such a good mood. The closer we got to my house, the slower we walked. Then I started getting a little nervous, thinking he might try and kiss me or something. I don’t know the first thing about it. I need some practice. But he didn’t do anything like that.

I wish this summer could go on and on and on, and I wish I could always be this happy. It seems that whenever you are sad or just normal, you’re always wishing you were happy, but when you’re happy, you start worrying about when all this happiness is going to end. At least that’s the way I am. Already, I’m worrying that I’m too happy, and I’m either going to have to pay for this or it’s all going to end real soon.

It reminds me of the wheel of fortune that Mrs. Zollar talked about. She said that Shakespeare and all his buddies believed in the wheel of fortune, that your luck kind of went round and round, and when you (or your luck) were at the top, everything would go right. But that it was inevitable that the wheel had to keep spinning, and sooner or later, you’d be at the bottom of the wheel, when everything would go badly. The only thing that kept people from jumping off cliffs when they were at the bottom of the wheel was knowing that sooner or later they would be at the top again.

I feel as if the gods are going to spin my wheel any minute. Oh, pleeease, let me stay where I am for a while!

I also wish everyone’s wheel was at the top at the same time. Beth Ann, for instance, is at the bottom of her wheel and she’s driving me crazy. She must have called me ten times today to tell me about Derek. First she said that he was a complete creep and she never wanted to see him again and she cried. Then she called back and said that she loved him sooooo much and maybe she should call him and tell him how much she missed him, and she cried. Then she called back and said she figured out why he was doing this: to make her jealous because he liked her so much, and she cried. Get the picture?

And, of course, she never once gave me a chance to say one word about Alex.

Alex, by the way, called at lunchtime (I don’t know how he was able to get through, what with Beth Ann calling all the time) to say he couldn’t come over today because he had to go to his grandmother’s house with his parents. It was his grandmother’s birthday and a whole bunch of relatives would be there.

Since I didn’t have too much to do today and since it was raining like crazy, I stayed home and read some more of the Odyssey. I think I’m getting to the good parts.

Another rainy, cloudy day.

Alex called, but he couldn’t come over because he’s got the flu. I bet he caught it at his grandmother’s birthday party. He said the party was a real bore except for the part when she opened the present from Alex’s grandfather (her husband). It was a black negligee!! Imagine.

Not a real exciting day here. Mom left us all a note today saying we had to wash all the windows in the whole entire house. We called her at work to tell her it was raining, but she said we had to do the insides anyway. The worst thing is, you can’t really SEE how much work we did, because the windows are still all dirty on the outside. I hope it’s still raining tomorrow. I don’t think I could take another day of smelling that vinegar and toiling my arm off.

I miss Alex Cheevey. Sigh.

Beth Ann is still calling a million times a day. She has written and torn up about fifty letters to Derek. Her latest plan is to make Derek jealous, but she doesn’t exactly know how she’s going to do it.

She also told me something that really surprised me. Christy (from school) called her. They’re not even friends or anything. Anyway, Christy was yakking away about a bunch of nonsense and she told Beth Ann some “secret” news that Beth Ann wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. Beth Ann told me though. This secret news is that Christy, Megan, and a bunch of other goony girls like them have formed a club called GGP and they can’t tell ANYONE what GGP stands for. And Christy told Beth Ann that Beth Ann was “under consideration” for membership in this stupid club.

That really made me mad.

First of all, why Beth Ann? Why not me? Not that I would join their stupid GGP anyway. They know Beth Ann and I are best friends. What are they trying to do, anyway? Beth Ann thinks they will probably call me too, but I can’t believe it. I told Beth Ann that I didn’t want to join their stupid GGP, and I asked Beth Ann if she was going to join if they asked her to, and she said she didn’t know. As if maybe she might. I said, “Without me?” And she said, “Oh, I don’t know!”

Mrs. Furtz came over after dinner tonight to ask my dad if he would kill a spider in her kitchen. I thought my dad would laugh at her, but he said, “Why, of course,” and off he went and she waited here and when Dad came back, she started crying and saying how she was so pathetic and helpless and didn’t think she could go on. Mom and Dad talked with her for about three hours in the kitchen, and they sent Maggie over to put her kids to bed. It was pretty sad. She looks horrible. You’d think the gods might have taken into account how much Mr. Furtz was needed at home.

Mom keeps asking Carl Ray when he is going to let his parents know about the money and the college education. Carl Ray has been saying, “Pretty soon,” but tonight he said he thought he would surprise them. He wants to take a week off work and drive home to show them his new car. He hasn’t asked his boss (the old Mr. Furtz’s brother) yet, though.

I’ve decided not to read the Odyssey at night anymore. I had such awful dreams last night. Someone was chasing me with this enormous pointed stick, trying to poke my eye out, and I was almost trampled to death by a herd of goats. So I read some Robert Frost poems tonight. I won’t write in red ink because I don’t understand poetry very well.

Robert Frost doesn’t seem to have a very big vocabulary. I bet he didn’t do very well in English. But once you get used to his poems, they’re okay. I’ve always liked that one about stopping by the woods on a snowy night. We’ve had to read it (and memorize it) just about every year in English. I swear, it’s every English teacher’s favorite poem.

Last year in English class we had a big fight over it, because Mrs. Zollar was talking about the symbolism in it and asking people what they thought the road and the woods symbolized. People were saying some pretty strange things. I could see how the woods could be death, but why would he think they were so beautiful? Then someone said, Well maybe the woods symbolized “fun”—like he wants to go have fun, but he can’t because he has so many more miles to go. Well, that was stretching it, I thought, but it was possible. Then people got carried away and started saying maybe the woods represented ice cream or surfing and someone even said they symbolized sex and it was all getting out of control and finally Bonnie Argentini said that the whole thing was ridiculous and maybe Robert Frost just meant for the woods to be woods and it made her sick how everyone was always trying to say what the author meant when no one could possibly know. Then Billy Kroger told her to shut up, that she was too dense to see the “hidden meaning,” and it all went to pot after that, with people shouting and stuff, and you could tell Mrs. Zollar was sorry she ever brought it up.

Mr. Furtz is in the woods, but I have miles to go before I sleep.

Oh groannn. Can’t write. Have the flu.

Still feel lousy but at least have stopped throwing up. Talked to Alex. He’s all better.

I’ve recovered. Now Dennis and Dougie are sick.

I finally saw Alex again today, but I couldn’t go anywhere with him because I had to help Maggie take care of Dennis and Dougie, who are throwing up all over the place. It’s disgusting.

But Alex and I did get to be alone for about ten whole minutes. Sighhhhh. Here’s what happened. We were sitting on the front porch, and he said, “I like it when you wear that pink shirt.” (I was wearing a pink T-shirt.) I never thought boys noticed what girls wore. I thought I could wear a trash bag and no boy would ever know the difference. And then Alex reached over and touched the sleeve of my shirt, as if he was checking out its pinkness or something. Well, when he touched that sleeve, I thought, Oh boy, this is it, he’s going to kiss me now. I could just feel it coming. I was dissolving into a blithering idiot.

But then Tommy started banging on the door behind us, and Alex moved his hand (alas, alas!), and Maggie said I had to go in, and I looked at Alex and he looked at me, and I said, “I like it when you wear that blue shirt” (he was wearing his blue T-shirt), and he smiled.

Ohhhhh. Is this disgusting or what? What’s the matter with me? Do you think he was going to kiss me? I wish there was a manual for this sort of thing, something that would tell you about holding hands and kissing. When should this happen? How many days should you hold hands before you kiss? Sometimes I just can’t wait for that kiss, but sometimes I think, Ugh! Please don’t! I wish I’d make up my mind. I wonder if Alex thinks the same things. Do boys actually think about this mushy stuff? Or do they just automatically know what to do?

We’re going to the movies again tomorrow. Only this time we will INSIST on walking and NOT TELL Carl Ray where we are going!

Beth Ann has finally decided to take some action in her battle against Derek (who is now referred to as “that jerk”). She has read to me three drafts of the letter she is sending tomorrow. It’s all about how she loved him and trusted him and how he betrayed her and he could at least have the common decency to give her an explanation. She asked me if I thought she should send it and I said that I thought she should just forget him and NOT send it, but she decided to send it anyway. So much for my good advice.

The other thing she is thinking of doing is REVOLTING and shows you just how much this whole thing with Derek has affected her brain. She wanted to know, get this, if I thought CARL RAY liked her and if he maybe would ask her out if I suggested it!!!!!! I thought she was kidding, but she sure wasn’t. I said, “What for???” He’s four years older than Beth Ann, though I guess he doesn’t act it.

And she said, “Well, he’s kind of cute.”

And I said, “Carl Ray?” I really could not believe it. Carl Ray, cute? The same Carl Ray who sneaks around here and never makes up his stupid bed? That Carl Ray???

I told her I didn’t want any part of it, but she said that she only wanted to make Derek jealous, and if Carl Ray would ask her out, she would get him to take her to all the places she and Derek used to go so that maybe she would run into him and his new girlfriend, and that maybe if Derek saw her with someone else he would realize how much he missed her, and on and on.

Now, that’s a desperate mind at work, if you ask me.

I didn’t agree to anything yet. I said I had to think about it.

Honestly.

I have about a million things to say, but my brain is too mushy from being with Alex, so they will all have to wait for tomorrow. I do love Alex Cheevey!!!!

Saw Alex again, so cannot think.

A lot is happening, though, so I promise to catch up tomorrow.

There are wicked thunderstorms outside right now. The wind is bashing the trees around and the trash cans are rolling down the driveway.

Mrs. Zollar said that Shakespeare and his buddies thought that if there was a storm, it was because the universe was out of whack somewhere. And the Greeks believed storms were caused by gods who were mad at someone. Actually, I think it’s just a storm.

Didn’t see Alex today (he had to go to his grandmother’s again), so I can at least think tonight. I’ll wait and tell about Alex at the end so I don’t start getting all mushy before I remember everything else.

The most disgusting news is that Beth Ann went out with Carl Ray.

She called me on Friday morning to say that she had finally mailed a letter to “the jerk” (alias Derek-the-Divine). Beth Ann wrote this very gushy letter (she read a copy of it to me—she kept a copy!) to Derek all about how much she loved him and how maybe they should both see other people, because that way they would be able to know for sure if their hearts were telling the truth (how can hearts tell the truth?).

Then she asked me if I had hinted to Carl Ray about taking her out and I said no, I hadn’t, so she made me go with her to the hardware store to see him. It went something like this:

Well, she did it. She got him to ask her to the movies. Unbelievable. And her parents are letting her go. When I told my mother, she said, “Beth Ann? With Carl Ray? But he’s seventeen years old! Whatever can her parents be thinking?”

Exactly.

But then Beth Ann wanted me and Alex to go with them! I really thought that was stretching friendship a bit far. I refused. So they went to the movie that we wanted to see (and which, by the way, Beth Ann has seen three times already), and we walked down to the Big Boy and had a hamburger and then we went to the park (by the pool) and sat on the picnic tables.

We held hands for twenty minutes (I had my watch on). I’ve been practicing kissing on one of Maggie’s posters—there’s one of a guy who has approximately life-size lips—just in case Alex decides to kiss me. Sometimes I think he’s going to, but he gets all nervous and never does. I’m a little glad. I hope, when the time comes, I have a chance to brush my teeth first. I also hope that it doesn’t taste like chicken.

On Saturday, Beth Ann called me to tell me how wonnnnderful Carl Ray is (Carl Ray? Wonnnnderful?) and that they were going out again that night. Unbelievable. She loves his car (maybe she’s just after his money) and she thinks he’s shy (well, that’s true) and cute (pretty far-fetched, if you ask me) and such a gentleman (I think she’s making this up) and sooooo interesting (absolutely a bald-faced lie).

She also said that she didn’t think “the jerk” (Derek) got her letter yet (well, of course not, she just mailed it the day before), and, no, they hadn’t run into “the jerk” at the movies (probably because she had made him take her to it three times already), but sooner or later she and Carl Ray (she’s talking like she owns him now or something) were bound to run into the ole jerk.

Beth Ann also said that Christy had called her that morning (Saturday) and told her that the GGP (the secret club) was having a pajama party that night and only a few non-GGP girls were invited, and that these non-GGP girls were “under consideration for membership.” They invited Beth Ann to the party, but she told Christy she couldn’t go because she had a date with an older man (oh, brother). Beth Ann decided this was good strategy anyway, and it would make them even more anxious for her to join.

Then Beth Ann said that Christy asked her a million questions about me and Alex, but Beth Ann said she really didn’t know too much about Alex because I don’t tell her very much. As if she ever gives me a chance to get a word in.

Then Beth Ann said that Christy was probably going to call me at any minute so I’d better get off the phone.

Christy didn’t call.

The other news is that Carl Ray is going home next Friday. When I mentioned that to Beth Ann today, she about blew a gasket. You’d think they were married or something. She said, “Oh, how can he leave me now?” and “Why does he have to go on the weekend?” and all that kind of malarkey.

Carl Ray happened to sneak by me in the living room while I was reading, and he asked me what part I was on. When I mentioned about Circe and the pigs, he said, “Oh yeah. Book Ten.” This surprised the heck out of me. And when I said that I thought it was a little far-fetched about the men turning into pigs, he said, “Well, it’s a metaphor.” (Can you imagine Carl Ray even knowing what a metaphor is?) And I said, “How so?” and he said, “Women turn men into pigs all the time.”

Then he went into the kitchen to make himself about four sandwiches.

And I sat there thinking about that. I hate to admit it, but it’s really very interesting and I wondered why I didn’t think of that. Maybe this whole trip that Odysseus is on is a big metaphor, you know, like the poem about the woods on the snowy evening. That road is supposed to be the road of life.

I asked Alex about it that night when we went to the movies (Beth Ann and Carl Ray went to play miniature golf), and even he seemed to have known all along about all the metaphors. He said, “Sure, his whole trip is a metaphor. It’s like life, you know. All the time you’re trying to find home (you are?) and all the time you have these adventures.”

I never even knew that Alex paid attention in English. I’m supposed to be the one good in English. I felt pretty stupid. But I like the Odyssey better now.

I will tell only briefly about Saturday night because the thunder is scaring me to death.

We went to the movies and saw this really sappy romance, but I have to admit that I enjoy the kissing scenes a lot more now than I used to. I’ve been studying them. I think I might write my own manual. Usually the guy starts the kiss, but not always. If he starts it, the girl often acts shy at first, but then she gets into it, and throws her arms around his neck. When the girl starts it, the guy usually looks pleased, and then he throws his arms around her.

One odd thing I’ve noticed is that the kisses rarely occur when everything is all quiet and romantic. They happen at times you wouldn’t ordinarily expect them, like after a fight—just when the woman has been telling the man that she hates him—or right in the middle of the street with people walking past and cars honking their horns. In the movie we saw tonight, a couple kissed right smack in the middle of the supermarket, after the woman picked up a frozen chicken! I’ve never noticed that in real life. Maybe it happens, though. Maybe I haven’t been paying enough attention.

After the movie, Alex and I went to the park and he started telling me about why he likes basketball so much, but that he’s always worried he won’t make the team. Now, that surprised me about Alex. I thought he was Mr. Basketball Confidence. And right in the middle of talking about basketball, he reached over and put his arm around me. It’s the truth! Now, how in the world do boys’ brains work? How do they connect basketball and putting their arm around a girl? I would have liked a little warning. And what exactly is the girl supposed to do when the boy puts his arm around her? Just sit there? Move closer? Untangle her own arm and put it around him (squash!)?

I just sat there, pretending not to notice. Alex kept talking about basketball. I was pretty sure the kiss was going to come next, but it didn’t. Who cares??!! It’s getting so that if Alex just breathes on me, I feel like I have on my magic sandals and am flying off to Mount Olympus. I think maybe Alex wasn’t quite sure about this new move either, because after five minutes he moved that arm and then he scratched his head and then he leaned down and retied his shoe and then he stood up and stretched. I hope he didn’t think that I minded about his arm. Was I supposed to say something? Like “It is nice of you to place your arm on my shoulder. You may keep it there if you like.” Oh sighhhh. I’ll change the subject.

Apparently Beth Ann and Carl Ray (I’m going to start calling him Lance Romance, as he is finally using the shower and splashing on tons of aftershave) had a “truly di-viiiiine and wonderful” time at miniature golf (how you could have a truly divine and wonderful time trying to push little balls through a clown’s mouth is beyond me).

And Derek-the-jerk wasn’t at the miniature golf range. Surprise, surprise.

Oh, brother. I don’t believe it. That stupid Carl Ray.

At dinner tonight, Dad asked Carl Ray when he was going home and Carl Ray said he was leaving on Friday, and so Mom asked him when he would be back and he said the next Friday and then Dad asked him if he minded driving alone.

And Carl Ray said, “Don’t rightly know.”

And Dad said, “Mighty long drive.”

And Mom said, “Isn’t there anyone who could ride along with you?”

And then it went like this:

Dad looked at Maggie.

Everyone, by this time, is looking at me. I am in a complete panic.

And that was the absolute end of that. I couldn’t believe it.

The only thing that makes me not pack my bag and run away from home is that Alex called tonight, and when I told him about having to go with Carl Ray, he said that that was amazing, because his parents had been bugging him to go with them to see his cousins in Michigan next Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, and that he’d been trying to find a way to convince them to let him stay home, but if I was going to be gone, he’d just go on with them.

That made me feel a lot better, but still—eight hours in a car with Carl Ray????

I do like to visit Aunt Radene, because they live on this great little farm with a cemetery in the front (they tell a lot of ghost stories) and a big hill in the back (with cows on it) and an enormous barn (with a loft full of hay) and the niftiest swimming hole in the world.

The bad part about visiting Aunt Radene is that not only is there no phone, but there also is no electricity and there is NO PLUMBING. That means outhouses and wells and stuff. Really.

But I don’t know how I can be away from Alex for a whole week.

Beth Ann called to say that she had talked to Christy, who said that the GGP is still considering her for membership, but that she would have to come to the next pajama party, which is next Saturday. And Beth Ann said that since Carl Ray and I would both be gone (she sounded real jealous when she heard I was going, but I told her that he was just my stupid cousin and I didn’t even want to go and it wasn’t going to be any fun and I would remind him of her every five minutes), she might as well go to the GGP pajama party. Just for the heck of it, she said.

I’m glad I’ll be gone.

My mother has forbidden me to use the following three words: “God,” “stupid,” and “stuff.” She said I needed to expand my vocabulary. It’s not easy eliminating those words all of a sudden. When she said that, I said, “Well, God!”

“Mary Lou!”

And then I said I had to go do the stupid dishes and she said, “Mary Lou!” and about two seconds later I said I was going to have trouble not saying God and stuff, and she said, “Mary Lou!” So I asked her what in the heck I was supposed to do with these big holes in my vocabulary all of a sudden, and she said, “Use the thesaurus.”

Right. So I spent about an hour combing the thesaurus, and here’s what I came up with:

God: deity, Lord, Jehovah, Providence, Heaven, the Divinity, the Supreme Being, the Almighty, the Omnipotent, the Infinite Being, Alpha and Omega, the Absolute, King of Kings, etc. (There’s lots more.)

(I’m having trouble picturing me saying, “Oh, deity!” or “Oh, Omnipotent!” or “Oh, Alpha and Omega!” but I’ll give it a try.)

Stupid: foolheaded, asinine, buffoonish, apish, fatuous, witless, moronic, imbecile, batty, besotted, myopic, poppycockish, cockamamie, lumpish, oafish, boobish, beefbrained, chowderheaded, beetleheaded, cabbageheaded, etc.

(There are lots of words for stupid. I can’t believe my mother wants me to use some of these, but I’ll try. I practiced already: That witless ole Carl Ray! That beefbrained Christy! That cabbageheaded Beth Ann! Pretty good, eh?)

Stuff: material, constituents, sum and substance, nub, pith, quintessence, elixir, irreducible content.

(Well, sure. I can hear myself now. We all messed around and quintessence. He had all this elixir in his pocket. We went to the park and irreducible content. It doesn’t make a bit of sense, if you ask me.)

Not much elixir happened today. Alex had to work all day, so I stayed home, watched Tommy, read some more Odyssey, and quintessence.

Mrs. Furtz came over again, all crying and nub, about some cabbageheaded letter she got. I don’t know what she was going on about. I do feel sorry for her and all, I really do, but Omnipotent! She realllllly gets to sobbing and pulling at her hair.

Alex and I are going out tomorrow night and Thursday night before our Separation. Oh, sob.

The only good thing about Carl Ray going out with Beth Ann is that after dinner he splashes on about a gallon of besotted aftershave and runs (well, drives) over to Beth Ann’s (she lives a whole block away), and he doesn’t get back until about ten or eleven o’clock. Dad is happy because he finally gets his TV-watching chair back, and everybody else is happy because they can watch their own programs again.

I have a confession to make. I snooped around in Carl Ray’s room today. I don’t know what got into me, but I was vacuuming upstairs and I was looking at all these new bottles of aftershave (he has two bottles of Canoe; he must have heard how much Beth Ann loves it) on his dresser, and his top drawer was open a bit and I sort of peered in and then I guess I was wondering if he had all his money in there and I wanted to see if he had any left, so I opened the drawer.

He sure had a lot of sum and substance in there. Alpha and Omega! About twenty packs of gum, a bunch of pennies and nickels, three can openers, two pocketknives, some horse chestnuts (???), three pairs of ratty old socks, pens, pencils, packs of matches, glue, a can of tuna fish (unopened), and a can of sardines (also unopened), a DIARY (!!!!), and something wrapped up in tissue paper.

I stared at the diary and the thing wrapped up in tissue paper for a few minutes. I didn’t want anyone to catch me, but I sure wanted to open that diary and that little package. But I was starting to feel guilty. I decided to open only one thing. I figured that it would be worse to open the diary, so I opened up the tissue paper.

How peculiar.

Inside was a gold ring with a large black stone. There was also a card that said: “Carl Ray, I want you to have this. I’ll explain later. C.F.” I figured it must be from his father (Carl Joe Finney), but I never knew that Uncle Carl Joe could afford anything as fancy as that ring. If he could, why wouldn’t he put a bathroom in his house?

I was going to look inside the ring to see if it had an inscription, but Dennis came upstairs then and he caught me sticking it back and asked what I was snooping at and I told him I was just cleaning, for Deity’s sake.

Imagine. Would you want someone to tell you what was going to happen to you and how you were going to die? What if you were told you were going to die at sea? Wouldn’t you stay about as far away from the sea as possible? But the way this prophet tells Odysseus, it’s as if there isn’t a darn thing he can do about it. It’s all planned out. Would you want to know what was on your path of life and all? I wouldn’t. No way. But I wouldn’t mind visiting dead people. I’d check on how Mr. Furtz was doing.

I’ve just been with Alexxxxxx. Sigh. But I’ll wait and tell about him at the end.

First, Beth Ann. She called today and jabbered on for hours about that wonnnnderful Carl Ray. That cabbageheaded ole Carl Ray sent her a dozen red roses!!! I asked her if she was absolutely sure they were from him, and she seemed a little offended. She said that there was a card with the flowers and it said, “To Cleo from Tony.”

“Huh?” I said. “Cleo? Tony?”

She giggled. “Our nicknames. I’m Cleopatra, he’s Antony.”

Oh, Alpha and Omega! It took me about ten minutes to quit gagging. I could not imagine Carl Ray standing in some florist shop writing out this card that says, “To Cleo from Tony.” I mean, what would the storekeeper think? King of Kings! Supreme Being! What happens to people?

But then I started wondering why Alex and I hadn’t given each other nicknames, and then I started wondering if maybe he didn’t like me as much as Carl Ray likes Beth Ann, and then I started wondering why Alex hadn’t sent me roses.

Anyway. Beth Ann still has not heard from “the jerk.” If you ask me, she’s too busy drooling over Carl Ray to care very much anymore. She sure forgot Derek-the-Divine quickly.

Oh, and Beth Ann, my devoted best friend, has definitely decided to go to the GGP pajama party on Saturday night when I am off in West Virginia suffering through a week of Carl Ray. Some friend.

So now Alex. Ah, Alex. Tonight I met him halfway between his house and my house, and then we walked back to his house. The Big Moment: I was going to meet his parents. All the way there, he told me about them. He said his dad would be very quiet and serious and that his mother would be a little weird. When I asked him what he meant by weird, he said she changes moods quickly and dresses strangely sometimes and never sits still, but that she was real nice anyway.

Mrs. Cheevey was standing in the driveway aiming a bow and arrow at the garage when we walked up. She was wearing a black cocktail dress, pearls, and a pair of tennis shoes. On her head was a baseball cap. She shot a bow and arrow at the garage door. It landed right between two of the windows. “Bull’s-eye!” she shouted.

Then she heard us coming and turned around. “Oh hi, hi, hi,” she said, walking up to us. She was real pretty, with curly blond hair and a sweet round face.

She put her hand out to me. “Mary Lou, Mary Lou, Mary Lou!” she said. “That’s right, isn’t it?” She was smiling all over the place. She held out the bow and arrow. “Just practicing,” she said. “Want to try?”

I said, “Maybe later,” but I smiled a lot too.

“Well, come in, come in, come in,” she said. So we followed her inside. Alex lives in this enormous house on Lindale Street. The living room is about as big as our whole downstairs, and it looks, at first, as if it should be a picture in a magazine. But then, if you look more closely, you notice some strange things. Each set of windows has a different color of curtains, for example: red, gold, purple, black, peach, blue. On one side of the room, the furniture is all antique-looking: a huge ornate couch in green velvety material, a gigantic wooden cupboard, four of those dainty little chairs that you would expect little princesses to be sitting on, and lots of those little round tables with curved legs. Then on the other side of the room, everything is modern: a long white couch, two leather-and-metal chairs that each look like an enormous S, and a long black coffee table with metal legs and a wavy top that looks like a great big noodle.

Then the walls. On the antique side is this orange-and-green-patterned wallpaper, and on the modern side the walls are shiny yellow. One side of the room (guess which side!) has six huge portraits of very stern-looking grandmothers and grandfathers (I guess).

The other side had all kinds of interesting things on it: one of those paintings that looks like someone just stood back and flicked paint off a spoon; a stuffed pig’s head; a white plaster sculpture of an arm and hand coming right straight out of a piece of tin; a pair of red cloth lips, about two feet in diameter, with a stick of gum emerging from the center; and a long shelf (maybe six feet long) with hundreds and hundreds of little pebbles on it.

Mrs. Cheevey said, “Sit down, sit down, sit down,” and she motioned us to the antique side of the room. We sat down. “Oh,” she said, “I just love it, love it, love it, when Alex brings someone home!” Then she started calling for her husband, “Oh, Ralph, Ralph, Ralph.”

Pretty soon Ralph came in. Wow! He is about seven feet tall, about as tall and skinny as anyone I have ever met. First I saw his feet coming down the stairs, and they were e-nor-mous. He wore gigantic leather sandals. Then I saw his legs coming down the stairs. He wore blue jeans, and his legs just kept coming and coming. I didn’t think there was a body attached. Then I saw hands and arms hanging down; these long, swinging things in a red plaid shirt. Pretty soon a long neck and then, surprisingly, a rather small head. I was glad that it was a small head, because I was beginning to think a giant was coming down the steps. His face is pale and freckled and he has brown hair.

He stepped into the room. “Oh, Ralph, Ralph, Ralph,” Mrs. Cheevey said, “this is Mary Lou!!” He nodded, but before he moved any farther, he motioned to the other side of the room with his hand. Alex and Mrs. Cheevey automatically got up, so I did too, and then we all went and sat on the other side of the room.

But as soon as we sat down, Mrs. Cheevey jumped back up and left the room. Mr. Cheevey said, “Son,” (I liked that, the way he said “son,” so formal and all), “do you and Mary Lou have plans for this evening?”

Alex said, “Yuh.”

Then Mrs. Cheevey came rushing back in the room with a plate of oysters! Ugh. I’d never eaten oysters, and I didn’t really feel like starting today, but it didn’t look like I had any choice. She balanced the plate of oysters on two of the waves of the noodlelike table and went rushing out again. Then she came back in with some purple napkins (cloth) and handed us each one and sat down. Then she got back up and passed the plate of oysters around.

We had each swallowed one oyster when Mrs. Cheevey jumped up again and said, “Oh! Ralph, Ralph, Ralph! The time. It’s so late, late, late.” She was already up and halfway out of the room.

Alex said, “Well, I’m glad you got to meet—”

Mr. Cheevey stood up. “Mary Lou Finney,” he said, and put out his hand, and I quickly wiped off the oyster juice on my purple napkin and put my hand out and he gently crushed all my fingers in his enormous hand.

Already Mrs. Cheevey was back, carrying a green parka, which she put over her shoulders. She was still wearing the black cocktail dress, pearls, baseball hat, and tennis shoes. Mr. Cheevey was still wearing his jeans and plaid shirt and sandals. They left. Dressed like that, they left.

Alex said, “They’re really nice, honest, once you get to know them.”

“Wow,” I said.

Alex and I were alone in his house. I started examining all the things on the walls—the pig’s head and the shelf with all the pebbles on it and the big pair of red lips with the gum sticking out the center. Can you imagine practicing kissing on those huge lips?!! I think Alex was more nervous than I was, because he was shuffling all around. We did try sitting on the long, white couch, but we felt pretty silly sitting there on that huge couch in the middle of that enormous room, so finally Alex suggested we go to the Tast-ee Freeze. It was a relief, to tell you the truth. And then, just to show you that it must be true about the quiet, romantic places not being all that they are cracked up to be, wouldn’t you know it, when we got out on the street and were passing Artie’s Automotive, that’s when he put his arm on my shoulder again!

Here is something for my manual: When the guy puts his arm around the girl while walking along, the girl might find it more comfortable to also put her arm around him at this time. She can put it sort of across his back. It is a little difficult to walk this way, and you won’t want to walk very far like this, but it’s a neat thing to do. The girl will find it difficult to think of things to say during this time, but the boy will carry on about something or other (basketball, for example), and the girl can get by with saying, “Mmm” or “Ah” or “Oh?” This way she can concentrate primarily on not tripping.

When other people do these things, it looks so easy. Don’t let that fool you.

Enough!

I leave for West Virginia with Carl Ray the day after tomorrow. Groannnn.

Ohhhhh, I have to leave tomorrow to go with beefbrained ole besotted Carl Ray.

And Beth Ann has been calling here all day, going on and on about how she can’t bear to be apart from him and how I should remind him every day about, her and on and on and on.

And Alex and I spent about four hours together at the park. We played tennis. It sure is a lot more fun playing tennis with Alex than with Beth Ann.

Alex pays attention and says things like “Great shot!” (about my shot, not his; Beth Ann would say it about her own) and “Whoa!” (if I zing one past him, which I can occasionally do), and he generally gives the impression that he is having a terrific time. We laugh if one of us “whiffs” the ball (that’s what Alex calls it when you swing and miss), whereas with Beth Ann you have to pretend not to notice when she misses—and if you miss, she puts on this phony frown as if she feels so enormously sorry for you.

We were too sweaty to hold hands or anything afterward, but on the way home he said he would think about me a lot while he was gone and I said (yes, I actually got some mushy words out) that I would think about him a lot while I was gone. Oh sighhhh.

Is there such a thing as being too happy? It makes me feel a little guilty, especially when there are people like Mrs. Furtz who are feeling so awful. Speaking of Mrs. Furtz, the strangest thing happened tonight. Right after dinner, before Alex arrived, Mrs. Furtz came over. Mom and Dad were sitting at the kitchen table, I was washing the dishes, and Carl Ray was rummaging around in the refrigerator.

Mrs. Furtz looks terrible lately. I bet she hasn’t combed her hair in a week, and she was wearing this old sweatshirt and a pair of baggy pants and crummy old shoes. You could tell she’d been crying. She sat down at the table with my parents and started sniffling.

Carl Ray stood there staring at Mrs. Furtz with this really sorrowful look on his face and then all of a sudden he left the room, and about two minutes later, he came downstairs with a tissue-wrapped package in his hand. He went right up to Mrs. Furtz and handed it to her. She looked at him strangely, and Carl Ray said, “For you,” and then he went outside and got in his car and drove away!

Mom and Dad looked so surprised and Mrs. Furtz kept staring at the tissue and I was wondering what in the world had happened to Carl Ray’s mind. Finally, Mrs. Furtz opened it. Sure enough, it was the ring from Carl Ray’s drawer. I leaned over and said, “Where’s the card?” and they all looked at me. Carl Ray had taken the card out. “Oh,” I said, “I just thought there’d be a card.”

Then Mrs. Furtz started sobbing and Mom started patting her on the back and Dad went to get a box of Kleenex, and that’s when Alex came to the door.

Now what would make Carl Ray do something like that? Why would he give Mrs. Furtz his father’s ring? He’s just full of surprises.

When I got home tonight, Dad was talking to Carl Ray and asking him if maybe he didn’t want to reconsider and take the ring back, that it was a very nice gesture and that Mrs. Furtz was so overwhelmed she couldn’t speak, but Carl Ray might regret his impulse, and if so, everybody would understand and Dad was sure that Mrs. Furtz would give the ring back.

When Dad was done with his little speech, Carl Ray just said, “Nope,” and went to bed.

Oh, Alpha and Omega!

Oh, Deity! I’m here at Aunt Radene’s in West Virginia and there is no light in the bedroom and I’m trying to write by the moonlight. I feel like Abraham Lincoln. I can’t see hardly anything. I’ll have to write tomorrow in the daytime. Oh, I miss home and Alex!!!

Oh, King of Kings, what a day yesterday was and what a day today is turning out to be.

Right now, I’m sitting on Aunt Radene’s and Uncle Carl Joe’s front porch on this great red wooden swing that’s screwed into the ceiling of the porch. Down in front of me is a hill and on it is the graveyard. Spooooky.

I’ll start with yesterday.

Carl Ray and I left home about noon. I was in charge of the map and he was in charge of the driving. Boy, Carl Ray drives like a maniac!! I was fearing for my life the whole time. He speeds along at about ninety miles an hour and swerves around cars to pass them and never uses his turn signals and he hates to stop. I had to beg him, after about four hours, to please stop so I could go to the bathroom.

We didn’t talk hardly at all, thank goodness. I brought along the Odyssey and pretended to be engrossed in that. Every now and then he would ask me what part I was on, and when I told him he would say, “Oh, yeah, I liked that part,” or “Oh, that’s a good part.” He really knows that book. I think he must have memorized it or something.

Anyway, we only got lost once, and we finally arrived at Aunt Radene’s at nine o’clock. Aunt Radene and all of Carl Ray’s brothers and sisters (Arvie Joe, John Roy, Lee Bob, Sue Ann, Sally Lynn, and Brenda Mae—everybody has two names, like me) were waiting on the porch and started jumping up and down and waving and acting like lunatics. The only one who wasn’t there was Uncle Carl Joe. At first I thought it was kind of nice, such a great reception and all, but then when we got out of the car, everyone jumped all over Carl Ray and started hugging him and messing his hair, and I realized they weren’t at all excited to see me.

After about an hour of that, Aunt Radene finally noticed me standing there looking like an idiot, and she came over and hugged me and then everyone else did too, so it was about another half hour of people messing up my hair. They’re sure a happy bunch.

Then we had to go in and eat dinner. Aunt Radene said, “Gosh, we’re starving to death. We usually eat up at five, but we were waitin’ on you all. Gosh, I’m as happy as a pumpkin in a patch to see you.” That’s just the way she talks, honest, I’m not making it up.

Uncle Carl Joe was already sitting at the kitchen table. He glanced up when Carl Ray came in, and everybody went all quiet and stared at the two of them. Then Carl Ray said, “Hey,” and Uncle Carl Joe nodded, very soberly, and everybody started crowding around the table. It was pretty easy to tell that Carl Ray and his father were not on the best of terms.

About three tons of food was spread on the table: fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, bread, green beans, squash, biscuits, tomatoes, corn, and peaches. Then for dessert: pecan pie and apple pie and molasses pie. For a family that seems poor as anything (like I said, no electricity and no plumbing and the house looks as if it hasn’t been painted in about two hundred years), they sure have a lot of food on the table. I don’t know how in the world Carl Ray was so skinny when he first came to our house.

Carl Ray had about ten helpings of food, which was a little embarrassing because he made it look like we never feed him.

Everyone kept asking Carl Ray what it was like in “The City” and I kept trying to say it isn’t a city that we live in. Easton is just a little suburb; it’s about ten miles from a big city. But they kept on and on about The City, asking him how many murders he’d seen and how many times he’d been held up by robbers and all that kind of sum and substance. Honestly.

They also kept asking Carl Ray about his car, and I thought he’d tell them about the money and the college education, but you could tell he was saving it for another time, because he looked real embarrassed whenever they mentioned it. They kept saying things like “You sure must make a lot of money in The City,” and “Wow, Carl Ray, you’re gonna be a millionaire,” and on and on. It was as if he didn’t want to tell them about the money.

Uncle Carl Joe didn’t say a word.

Then, about ten thirty, when we had finished eating, everybody got up and Aunt Radene said, “Best turn in; we can chaw on and on tomorrow.” And in about ten minutes everybody was in bed, except for Sue Ann and Sally Lynn, who were doing the dishes. I did ask if I could help, but they said no, so I just went to bed. I was really tired and also feeling really homesick for everybody.

I wonder if Carl Ray felt this way when he came to stay with us. How did he stand it? Everybody’s so nice to him here, and he’s lapping it up like a little dog. And they’re all looking at me as if I’m the strange one, and I can hardly get a word in, not that I would know what to say if I did get the chance. So I don’t say too much—just like Carl Ray at our house. It makes you think, doesn’t it?