Georgie's Moon (2 page)

It didn't matter that this town had seemed perfect when they moved here. Right now she hated it. She hated these cookie-crumb-crunchers that her mother babysat. She hated everyone she saw, stopping just short of her mother. She couldn't do that. But lately even Mom had been hard to take.

She reminded herself that it wasn't easy for Mom to be married to a soldier. Mom was so gentle. She actually loved the little snotbags, even though they belonged to someone else. Mom couldn't have more kids, but Georgie knew Mom wanted them by the sad look in her eyes whenever someone asked why she had only one. If it happened when Dad was there, he would wrap an arm around Mom and say, “It's not like we could have improved on perfection. We got it right the first time, right, darlin'?”

Georgie felt warm whenever he said that. But Mom probably would have had a dozen of her own if she could have.

Georgie stretched. She needed to get away from Mom and the kids for a little while. Then she wouldn't be so moody. No one had to tell her that on the outside everything was fine today. It was Georgie's insides that were all mixed up.

“I'm going to walk around,” she said to her mother.

“First hand me a diaper, please. The baby is soaked through.”

Georgie opened the back of the station wagon. Heat wafted from the inside of the car as she picked up a cloth diaper from the neat stack. She also got out the bucket and lid that would hold the dirty diapers.

Another reason not to have kids, she told herself. Not unless they made a diaper you could throw away instead of swirling it around in the toilet to get the crap out. Georgie couldn't even take a pee at home without removing a soaking diaper from the toilet first.

“Thanks, sugar,” her mom said. “And take John with you, okay?”

“Aw!” Georgie said, but Mom handed Georgie the strap. John could run off quicker than a jackrabbit if you didn't keep a close eye on him.

Georgie jerked the strap from her mom, slipping one end around John's wrist and the other around hers. So much for getting into a better mood.

She walked, half dragging John. The smell of barbecue smoke was heavy in the air. The entire park was full of cars pulled over to the side with blankets on the ground. Food was spread out on tailgates and small grills were set up.

She came upon what looked like a typical family. There was a mother and a teenage girl setting out a picnic dinner. There was another girl about Georgie's age, a boy a little younger messing with a toy airplane, and a dad barbecuing. Georgie felt that familiar tightening in her throat as she watched the dad. His hair was cut short like her own father's. She swallowed to lessen the feeling she always got when she missed her dad. Instead, she focused on the skinny girl with long blond hair who was crouched low and seemed to be backing away from the family a little at a time.

Georgie sat Indian-style on the grass and tried her best to concentrate on the girl and ignore John's whining. She waited until the girl slipped beneath the long branches of a willow tree. When she didn't come back out, Georgie said, “C'mon,” and pulled John over to the tree where she last saw the girl.

“Wait here,” Georgie told John.

“No!” John stuck out his bottom lip.

“Play with your truck. I'm not leaving, see?” She held up her end of the strap. When John seemed satisfied that she wouldn't be far, Georgie poked her head through the veil of branches.

“Hey!” she said. The girl jumped. It always gave Georgie a little thrill to catch people off guard.

“What are you doing here?” Georgie said. “Did you steal something?”

“Oh, no,” the girl said. “It's nothing like that.”

“Well, what is it, then?”

“I was, um, just resting.”

Georgie stared into the girl's eyes, waiting. Her face flushed and she looked away. “I was just watching my family over there,” she finally said.

Georgie usually knew when somebody was telling the truth. She decided the girl was, so she stopped staring at her face. She gave the rest of her a once-over, though, looking for a peace sign or a “flower power” button. Anything to tell her if this girl was another one of those hippie radicals against the Vietnam War. When she didn't see any, she relaxed.

“So, what's your name?”

“Lisa. Lisa Loutzenhiser.”

Georgie laughed. “What kind of name is
that?
”

Lisa winced. “I don't know. My parents aren't into genealogy.”

“Too bad. You probably get that a lot.”

“Yeah. From everyone.”

“I'm Georgia Collins, but I like to be called Georgie.”

Georgie sat down next to Lisa. “Looks like you could watch your family any old time, but it's cool with me if that's what you want to do.” Georgie looked over at them. “They're easy to pick out, that's for sure. Every one of you is skinny and blond. That must be your dad by the barbecue.”

“Right,” Lisa said.

“Is he a soldier?”

Lisa looked at her. “What makes you ask that?”

“The hair. It's a military buzz. Plus he carries himself so straight.”

“He's not now, but he used to be in the Army. He never changed his hair, I suppose. You're a pretty good guesser.”

“Not really. My dad's in the Air Force.”

“Oh.” Lisa looked away. “Is he stationed here?”

“No,” Georgie said. “Vietnam.”

Lisa tucked her hair behind her ears. “That must be hard.”

“Yeah, we moved here last May, then he shipped out.” Georgie looked back at Lisa's family. “And your mom is setting out food on the blanket, right? Is that girl your sister?”

“Uh-huh, Carla. She's going to college next week.”

“And the boy?”

“That's Denny,” Lisa said. Georgie liked the way Lisa's eyes came to life when she said his name.

“Denny, huh? Is he your favorite?”

“Gosh, no! Carla's my favorite! And Alan. He's my older brother. Denny's the world's biggest brat.”

Georgie laughed. “Okay, so there's Carla, Denny, and Alan. Where's Alan?”

Lisa pulled at a long strand of hair. “He's … not here.”

From the other side of the willow branches Georgie heard, “Georgie, wanna go
now!
”

Then Georgie got yanked backward.

Lisa looked at the leash pulling Georgie's arm and said, “Are you walking your dog?”

Georgie raised her eyebrows. “You think dogs can talk?” She parted the willow branches to show John to Lisa.

“John, knock it off or I'll tie you to one of the fireworks,” Georgie said. “You'll explode all over town.”

John's face scrunched up to cry. “Georgie, you can't!”

“I won't, as long as you're good,” Georgie said. She turned back to Lisa. “So, where do you go to school?”

“I live on the North Ridge side, but I'm in middle school and this year they're consolidating with—”

“Glendale! That's where we live. Are you in seventh grade?”

Lisa nodded.

“Me, too! Far out.”

John began crying in earnest now.

Georgie said, “I've got to get this crybaby back to Mom. Maybe I'll see you at school, Lisa Loutzenhiser, whose family doesn't care who they are.”

Lisa called out, “I didn't say that.”

But Georgie didn't answer. She had already backed out of the branches and was heading toward Mom with John in tow.

Later, after everyone had been fed and the parents had finally come to collect their kids, Georgie and Mom were able to relax. Georgie lay back on one elbow and gazed at the moon, thinking of her father. When Dad left for Vietnam, he had taken her outside and said in his soft Southern drawl, “You see that moon up there? When it's night in Vietnam, it's daytime here.”

“I know,” Georgie had said.

“Do you realize that means I'll see the moon before you do?” He'd taken her hands and said, “So if you start missin' me, just look up because every night I'll send my love to you on the moon.”

And every night she had looked up. A full moon was Georgie's favorite, filling her with hope and love for her dad. But tonight's was a first-quarter moon, only halfway to plumping its way back to full.

One by one, the bright explosions of fireworks took over the sky. Georgie rolled onto her stomach and stared at the stand of willow trees.

“A penny for your thoughts, sugar,” Mom said. She always said dumb stuff like that, trying to get into Georgie's mind.

“I don't have a thought in my head, Mom,” Georgie said. But that wasn't true. She was thinking that the only thing weirder about that girl Lisa hiding from her family all that time was how they just went about their business, as if they never once noticed she was gone.

3

Georgie checked the room number against her schedule. They both read “J-3.” She put her hand on her stomach, trying to quiet the heaving sensation before going inside. It was the same feeling she got on a roller coaster. Riding roller coasters and going to new schools—they never got any easier, but Georgie had learned not to let it show. She took a deep breath and sauntered into her homeroom as if she'd been going there for years. She chose a seat where she could get a good look at the door, because a good surveillance post is always an advantage.

Slowly the room began filling with kids, dazed from fighting new lockers and searching for classrooms. Georgie knew that's how she usually looked, but this time
everyone
was a new student. It was almost fun to sit back and watch the kids coming in, with their eyes darting around and arms close to their bodies, as if they were afraid they had B.O.

One of the last to walk in was the girl from the park yesterday. What was her name? Lisa. Lisa something-weird.

Lisa walked to a desk and swung her long blond hair behind her without taking her hands off her books. Girls like that always fascinated Georgie. The kind who could grab a rubberband off a rolled newspaper and use it to whip her hair into a perfect ponytail without ever looking in a mirror. Georgie had to keep her own wayward, wiry strands under a bandana or hat of some sort.

A boy walked by and said, “Hi, Loutzenhiser.”

Loutzenhiser! That was it. Georgie repeated it to herself so she would remember.

Lisa pulled her hair behind her ears and softly said, “Hi, Craig.”

Yuck. Why didn't she just announce her crush on him over the PA system? The way her head ducked and her face turned pink said it anyway.

Georgie looked the boy over. Craig had hair that curled up at his collar and bangs in his eyes, just like that singer everybody thought was so cute, Bobby Sherman. Craig was too well kept, too … soft … to be Georgie's type. But then, Georgie wasn't sure she had a type. One thing she knew for sure, though, was that if she ever liked a boy, she wasn't going to like one who was prettier than she was. Plus he wore a leather string around his neck with a peace sign hanging from it. Definitely not her type.

The bell rang and everyone scrambled to a seat.

“Hello, class. I'm Miss Horton and I'll be your homeroom teacher. I've taught math at Glendale Middle School for twenty-three years.”

The teacher hesitated and craned her long neck around the room. She smiled as if she were waiting for applause.

“Of course, this year is a little different, isn't it? This is our first year with North Ridge. I'm sure you all know that merging the two schools wasn't a popular idea among many of the citizens of Glendale—particularly citizens who live on the North Ridge side of town.”

“Try riding a bus all that way and see how you feel!” someone yelled from the back of the classroom.

The entire class began talking at once. Georgie was already sick of people complaining about the two towns merging and she had lived here only a few months.

Miss Horton clapped her hands until the room was quiet again. “We realize it will be a little difficult at first. The staff here at Glendale Middle School understands that you used to be rival schools and now you're one and the same. At least we have this lovely new building! And Principal Gordon has come up with a fun idea for us to get to know one another.”

When was a principal's idea ever fun? Georgie opened her notebook with a big flip and began drawing a picture of a giraffe's body with Miss Horton's head. The guy beside Georgie saw it and smiled at her. He motioned to the kids behind him to look at it.

“This homeroom has an equal number of students from Glendale and North Ridge and—” Miss Horton stopped when she heard the kids snickering at Georgie's drawing. “Excuse me, when a teacher is talking we listen.”

Georgie kept her head down. With a touch a magician would admire, she slid the page to a clean sheet and scribbled.

“Young lady, did you hear me?” Miss Horton asked. “What's your name?”

Georgie looked up and said, “Yes, I heard you. My name is Georgia Collins.”

“Then repeat what I said, Georgia Collins.”

“You said”—Georgie sat tall and raised her voice high, like Miss Horton's—“when a teacher is talking we listen.”

Miss Horton's eyes bulged out of her bony face. Georgie loved it when teachers went berserk, and Miss Horton looked about to blow. Still, it
was
her first day. No sense in making unnecessary enemies.

“But we
are
allowed to take notes, right?” Georgie gave Mrs. Horton a huge smile that was as fake as pink fur. “I wanted to make sure I got down all the details of this fun way of getting to know one another.”

Georgie held up her notebook to show the words
Fun
and
Getting acquainted.

“Oh!” Miss Horton chirped. “Well, yes, that's fine.” Her hand stroked her throat and she wore a confused look, as if she knew she'd been tricked but wasn't sure how.