As Ever, Gordy Read online

  I wanted to tell William how much I missed having him to talk to. How lonesome I was. How blue I felt. How much I missed him and Grandma. But only chumps admitted that kind of stuff. And I was no chump. So this is what I wrote:

  I knew you'd make a new friend as soon as I left. I bet your mother likes him better than me and lets him sleep over every Saturday night. She probably even bought a television set for you and him to watch.

  When I signed off, I copied what William had written at the end of all his letters: "As ever, Gordy."

  Nothing sappy about that Besides, it was true. Gordy Smith was just as bad as ever. William could ask anybody in College Hill, including Stu. They'd tell him.

  12

  SCHOOL STAYED CLOSED FOR TWO DAYS. TO KEEP ME OUT of trouble, Barbara came up with the great idea of putting me in charge of June and the troll. That meant taking them on sled rides and building snowmen, which the troll always knocked down. He just loved wrecking stuff.

  Inside, we played Uncle Wiggly, Chutes and Ladders, Winnie the Pooh, and other dumb board games. If Brent lost, he threw tantrums. I had to figure out ways to cheat so he'd win. Of course, June caught me and complained. It wasn't fair, she said, and she upset the board, scattering the playing pieces. It took me ages to find them all.

  Believe me, I was glad the day school reopened. Anything was better than another game of Uncle Wiggly.

  I met Toad and Doug at the streetcar stop. It was the first time I'd seen them since our little picnic at Toad's house. They looked kind of nervous—as well they might, the dirty tale-telling rats.

  "Hey, Gordo, you're not sore, are you?" Doug asked, his voice going up a few notes. "I told my father not to give your phone number to Whitman. But he just went ahead and did it anyway. It wasn't my fault, honest."

  Toad edged a little closer to Doug. "I never told Mom you were at our house, Gordy. She guessed. That's how she is. I swear she can read my mind or something, I can't keep anything from her. She—"

  I don't know how long Toad would have babbled about his mother if I hadn't told him to shut up. "Just keep your lip buttoned next time, okay?" I spat into an icy puddle at Toad's feet. "I don't think much of stool pigeons."

  It was the first time I'd felt in charge since I'd come back to College Hill.

  At lunch, I saw lizard on the other side of the cafeteria. She was wearing a fuzzy pink sweater that fit even better than the blue one. As usual, Pritchett was hanging all over her.

  Toad poked my side. "You just can't keep your eyes off her, can you?"

  "Who?" I asked.

  Doug snickered. "Admit it. Smith. You're in love with Lizard Crawford. Don't forget, we were there when you kissed her."

  Toad puckered his lips and made loud smooching noises. "Oh, baby, baby," he moaned.

  I scowled at my sandwich, another of Barbara's peanut butter and jelly specials. The baloney and cheese were reserved for Stu—which seemed unfair, since I was still growing and probably needed more nourishment than he did. But that's life—U-N-F-A-I-R.

  "I bet Pritchett's taking her to the Sweetheart Dance," Doug said.

  I looked up from my sandwich. "The Sweetheart Dance? What's that?"

  Toad belched in disbelief and Doug shook his head. "Haven't you seen the posters? The whole school's plastered with them."

  "Maybe you should ask Lizard to go with you." Doug started laughing like it was a big joke or something. "Just in case Pritchett hasn't gotten around to it yet."

  Toad joined in the guffaws, but I smashed my milk carton flat and scowled at both of them. "Maybe I should," I muttered, which made my so-called buddies laugh even louder.

  "I dare you," Toad said.

  "I double dare you!" Doug added, still laughing.

  "I wouldn't be seen dead at a dance," I said, sneering at the idea of me, Gordy Smith, sashaying around the gym with a girl.

  But that afternoon in math I found myself thinking how nice it would be to dance with Lizard. I'd put my arms around her, hold her close, maybe even sing in her ear. Too bad the only songs I knew were "The Woody Woodpecker Song," "Open the Door, Richard," and "The Too-Fat Polka." It was hard to imagine getting romantic with a line like "I don't want her, you can have her, she's too fat for me."

  Well, I had a week. That was more than enough time to learn a few corny love songs.

  After school, I gave Toad and Doug the slip and went looking for Lizard. It was one of those days you sometimes get in February. The wind had tinned warm and soft, and all that was left of the snow were little gray piles, pockmarked with cinders from the trains.

  For once I was lucky. At the playground, I spotted Lizard pushing Brent in a swing while Magpie and June climbed on the jungle gym. June smiled and waved, but no one else even glanced my way. I didn't let that stop me. Grabbing a swing next to Brent, I was soon pumping higher than Lizard could push him.

  The troll didn't like that. "Higher, Lizbeth, higher!" he shouted. "Like Yuncle Poopoo!"

  Lizard did her best, jumping to push the swing, but she couldn't catch me.

  Hoping to impress her, I took a flying leap when the swing was at its highest and landed neatly on my feet, a trick Bobby Pritchett couldn't have done if he'd tried. But Lizard didn't even look.

  Brent tried to jump the way I had. But he tumbled into the mud and started howling. Naturally Lizard blamed it on me. "How am I going to explain the mud all over his jacket? Barbara will think it's my fault!"

  Giving me a nasty look. Lizard stalked over to one of the seesaws. She put Brent on one end and balanced herself on the other. Going up and down soothed the troll, and he finally stopped bawling.

  I stood there for a while, trying to come up with something to say—"Nice day, huh? Think we'll get any more snow? Read any good books lately?" Finally I gave up and sat down behind Brent on the seesaw, trapping Lizard in the air. Now she had to listen to me.

  She scowled down at me. "Gordy Smith, if you jump off and bump me, I'll kill you!"

  "That's kid stuff," I said, wishing she'd give me credit for growing up some since sixth grade.

  "Get off, Yuncle Poopoo, get off." The troll pushed at me. "Let Lizbeth seesaw me!"

  I stared over the troll's head at Lizard. My heart was pounding so fast I could hardly breathe, but I figured it was now or never. The worst she could say was no. That wouldn't kill me. Much.

  "How'dyouliketogototheSweetheartDancewithme?" I asked, speaking so fast my invitation came out in a big clump.

  "What?" Lizard stared at me as if I'd insulted her with a string of dirty words.

  "The Sweetheart Dance," I yelled. "Would you like to go with me?"

  "Go with you? Are you crazy? I wouldn't be seen dead with you!"

  "Why the hell not?" I was so mad I slipped up and cussed—which I hadn't meant to do.

  "For one thing I hate you, and for another I already have a date!"

  "With that jerk Bobby Pritchett?"

  Lizard's face got even redder. "Bobby's not a jerk!"

  "I could beat him to a pulp."

  "Fighting—is that the only thing you know how to do?"

  The scorn in Lizard's voice cut me to the heart. Without looking at her, I got off the seesaw. I hoped her end would hit the ground hard, but Brent slowed it down.

  I didn't look back until I was halfway across the playground. Lizard was standing beside the seesaw, hands on her hips, glaring at me. Brent stood beside her, sticking out his tongue.

  "I was only kidding about the dance," I yelled at her. "I wouldn't be seen dead with you either!"

  I forced myself to walk away slowly, swinging my arms and whistling "The Too-Fat Polka." Lizard Crawford had just busted my heart, but she'd never know it.

  13

  THE NEXT DAY I DREADED GOING TO SCHOOL. SUPPOSE LIZARD had spread it all over College Hill that I'd invited her to the Sweetheart Dance? Tough guy Smith asked a girl for a date and got turned down. Har de har har har.

  I tried faking the bellyache of all bellyaches, but
it didn't fool Barbara. She just patted me on the head and said, "Do you have a test today, Gordy?"

  When she threatened to give me her special treatment—castor oil in orange juice—I dragged myself out of the apartment. Anything was better than that nasty stuff.

  Toad and Doug met me at the streetcar stop. To my relief, they acted normal, so I figured they hadn't heard anything. Yet.

  At Garfield Road, Magpie and Lizard got on and took a seat near the front. They didn't look at me, but I knew they knew exactly where I was sitting.

  "Now's your chance, Gordy." Toad gave me a shove that almost made me fall off my seat. "Ask her."

  "Quick," Doug said, giving me an even harder push. "Before Pritchett gets on."

  "Lay off," I yelled, pushing Doug back.

  Suddenly all three of us landed on the floor, scattering books and papers everywhere.

  The streetcar slowed for Cherry Road, and the driver glanced over his shoulder. "Okay, you three, off. If I've told you once, I've told you a dozen times. No horseplay on my car."

  "But we already paid," I said.

  "And we'll be late for school," Toad wailed.

  "Tough," said the driver. "Remember that the next time you feel like cutting up."

  There was a crowd of kids waiting to get on, so Toad and Doug and I had to push our way through them. I managed to bump Pritchett so he stumbled getting on and almost knocked a girl down. I was hoping he'd get kicked off, too, but the driver just said, "Quit fooling around and sit down."

  As the streetcar pulled away, I saw Lizard make a face at me. I gave her the finger, but I don't think she noticed.

  It was a half hour's walk to school. Even if we ran, we wouldn't get there before the bell, so we slouched along, taking our time. As Grandma used to say, "Better to be hanged as a sheep than a goat," or something like that. I never was too sure what it meant. But I knew one thing for sure. Grandma would have been furious if she'd seen me get kicked off that streetcar.

  "You can always ask Lizard at lunch," Toad said. "Or on the way home."

  I kicked a stone hard and watched it sail through the air. "For your information, stupid, I asked her yesterday, and she said no."

  Toad shrugged. "It figures."

  "Good thing I didn't bet on her saying yes," Doug said.

  By the time we got to school it was ten past nine, and we had to see Mueller. "Twenty minutes of detention," he said, handing us each a scribbled note for our homeroom teachers. "Next time it will be an hour."

  After we got out of detention. Toad, Doug, and I fooled around at the Trolley Stoppe Shoppe, playing pinball and listening to the jukebox. We sang "Open the Door, Richard" so loud we got kicked out for being rowdy.

  Toad and Doug went home, but I didn't feel like going back to the apartment. What was the point? The troll would be running around screeching, June would be listening to Sky King, Stu would be trying to study, and Barbara would either be typing or whipping up some great concoction for dinner. We hadn't had Spam all week, so more than likely that's what I'd smell when I walked in the door.

  I walked up to Route 1, thinking I might stop at the Little Tavern for one of their lousy hamburgers—deathballs, we called them. Eating one of those might make the Spam go down easier.

  Before I got to the little Tavern, though, I saw Lizard and Magpie go into the record store across the highway. If I'd had any sense, I would have bought my hamburger and gone home. I'd avoided Lizard all day at school. Why was I running across Route 1, dodging cars and trucks, to follow her now? It didn't make any sense, but I just couldn't stay away from that little snot.

  I found the two of them in the back of the store, flipping through albums. Neither one saw me. They were too busy looking at the records.

  "Here it is, Margaret!" lizard pulled an album out of the bin and waved it in Magpie's face.

  I sidled doser to see the cover—Carousel, one of those sappy Broadway musicals. A three-record set. Lizard had expensive taste.

  Hugging the album. Lizard dosed her eyes and spun around humming "If I Loved You" while Magpie giggled. By sheer luck. Lizard whirled right into me. If I'd known how, I'd have waltzed her around the record shop, up one aisle and down the other, but instead I just held her, enjoying being dose enough to smell her hair.

  My bliss didn't last long. Pulling away from me, lizard turned scarlet. "Get your hands off me, Gordy Smith! Can't I go anywhere without seeing your ugly face?"

  I let my eyes stray to the album, mainly because it was covering Lizard's chest. "So is that your favorite record or something?"

  "None of your beeswax!" She turned away, clutching the album tighter.

  It was Lizard's big mouth that got the clerk's attention, not mine. In a flash he was beside us, a tall, skinny. college guy with a huge Adam's apple and a bad case of acne—not what I'd call the intimidating type.

  "Are you planning to buy something today?" he asked, looking straight at me—big bad Gordy Smith.

  I snatched Carousel out of Lizard's hand. I had one dollar in my pocket—my streetcar, lunch, and milk money for the week. But I'd have gladly given it to Lizard. Waving the album at the clerk, I asked, "How much is this?"

  He snatched it out of my hand. "More than you can afford, twerp!"

  I watched him put Carousel back in the rack with the other albums. "You ought to give up chocolate," I said. "You might get rid of those zits."

  The guy glared at me. "That's enough. Get out of here and don't come back till you learn some manners."

  "That'll be never!" Lizard glared at me like she wanted to cut my heart out and eat it for dinner.

  Giving the clerk one of my best smirks, I took Lizard' and Magpie by the arm like a guy in a movie—Humphrey Bogart maybe. Or James Cagney. "Let's blow this joint, ladies."

  The two of them stared at me like I was something out of their worst nightmare. Yanking their arms free, they flounced out of the store ahead of me. I guessed they didn't watch the same movies I did.

  On the sidewalk. Lizard faced me. "Do you have to ruin everything, Gordy Smith? That guy used to let us sit in a booth and listen to records all day. Now, thanks to you, he'll never let us through the front door again!"

  I pulled my wrinkled dollar bill out of my pocket. "I was going to loan you this," I said. "You could've bought the dumb album and told that SOB to kiss your royal behind."

  "A dollar—if you think you can buy that album for a dollar you're even dumber than I thought!" Lizard yelled. "You and your money and your dirty mouth can just get lost!"

  Magpie didn't say a word. From the expression on her face, I guessed she was shocked speechless. Without looking bade, the two of them ran across Route 1 and headed toward Calvert Road. I watched them till they were out of sight.

  Talk about bad manners—Lizard hadn't even thanked me for offering to help her buy that crummy album. I bet Bobby Jerk-Face Pritchett wouldn't have given her his last dollar.

  No longer in the mood for a deathball, I walked home, feeling even crummier than usual. Every time I tried to please Lizard, something went wrong and she ended up hating me more than before. If she'd just give me a chance, she'd see I was a lot nicer than I used to be. Not perfect, of course. But who is?

  14

  I'D BEEN RIGHT ABOUT DINNER. BARBARA HAD TRIED TO dress up the main dish with canned pineapple slices, but nothing could disguise the nasty taste or slimy feel of Spam.

  After we ate, I sat at the table trying to do my math problems. At my feet, the troll was playing with his toy cars and trucks, crashing them into one another and making siren sounds. June was listening to Henry Aldrich on the radio and laughing along with the audience. In the kitchen, Barbara was telling Stu about the new houses going up on Rhode Island Avenue.

  "They'll be selling for less than ten thousand," she said. "When you get the money from your grandmother's estate, we could use it as a down payment."

  There was a little silence. Then Stu said, "Don't get your hopes up. Barb."

 
; "Between your salary, my typing, and what we get for June and Gordy, I'm positive we can manage, Stu." She hesitated a moment. "I could write to Mother and Daddy. When they come up for their next visit, maybe they—"

  "I've told you how I feel about that," Stu said. "I want us to make it on our own. When I graduate and get a job teaching—"

  "We can't go on living in this apartment, Stu." Barbara turned on the water and began washing the dinner dishes. "There's no room for anything!" She punctuated every word with a splash or a dink. It sounded like she might break all the glasses just to make her point.

  When Stu didn't answer, she asked if he'd at least look at the houses. "I've already picked my favorite model," she said, "a nice little brick bungalow with dormers. It would be just right for us. Three bedrooms upstairs and a basement rec room where Gordy could sleep."

  I held my breath and crossed my fingers and hoped with all my heart. My own bedroom down in the basement, far from the troll, a place where I could have some privacy, a place to think my thoughts and read and write letters to William. "Say yes, Stu, say yes," I whispered. "Yes, yes, yes."

  "I guess we could take a look next week after I get off work." Stu put his arms around Barbara and gave her a hug, but he sounded as worried as ever.

  I tried one more math problem. Brent crashed a truck into my foot. June shrieked, "Henry, Henry Aldrich" along with the radio. Barbara dropped a pot or something. Slamming my book shut, I grabbed my jacket and went out.

  Before I got to the bottom of the steps, Stu came after me. "Hold it, Gordy!" he shouted.

  On the second floor, a door flew open and Mrs. Reilly stuck her head out. "Will you be quiet?" she hollered at Stu. "I just got my baby to sleep!" Behind her a kid started wailing.

  "Sorry," Stu said, slinking past like a dog with its tail between its legs.

  Mrs. Reilly slammed her door, but we could still hear the baby crying. She'd probably waked it herself yelling at us.