Georgie's Moon (8 page)

Georgie said, “Okay. You got me. I shouldn't have called you that.”

“I shouldn't have made you mad. I didn't mean to.”

Georgie waved the apology away and sat down next to Lisa and rested her back against the headboard. “I'm serious. What do you do for fun?”

Lisa sat up straight. “Well, when Kathy Newman came over, we'd paint each other's nails and talk about boys. Kathy has this major crush on Donny Osmond, but I think his teeth are huge. And we did each other's hair.”

Georgie moved to the dresser so she could look in the mirror. “That one's out. I gave up on my hair a long time ago.” She grabbed two handfuls of the bushy stuff.

“No, you've got great hair! Let me show you,” Lisa said, joining her. She sectioned off Georgie's hair and braided it while Georgie went through a box of chokers that Lisa kept on her dresser.

Georgie held up one with a cameo on a ribbon and tied it around her neck. “Whoever thought up this dumb idea?”

“I like chokers. That looks good on you.”

Georgie turned her head from left to right. “Nah. A chain might be good. Or a dog collar, maybe.” She barked like a dog. Lisa laughed and spun Georgie around. Her hair did look kind of nice, with thin braids on the sides gathered into a barrette in the back. But Georgie felt as if she were playing dress-up. It just wasn't her. She wrinkled her nose. “Now I know why I haven't done the girlfriend thing.”

“You do mine.” Lisa sat down in the chair.

Georgie pulled Lisa's hair straight up on her head. “Do you have a bone I can use, Pebbles?”

Lisa giggled. “Maybe this isn't such a good idea.”

Georgie continued walking around the room, picking up things as she went. “I can't talk boyfriends with you, either. I think Donny Osmond has big teeth
and
a girlie voice. Not to mention I hate that crappy bubble-gum music.”

“We don't have to do the same stuff.”

“Let's tell ghost stories!”

“Ghost stories? Isn't that kind of … babyish?”

“Okay, let me think. I know, let's tell secrets!”

“I don't think so,” Lisa said.

“Come on! I told you one of my deep, dark secrets. I've never done girlfriend things before. What's yours?”

“Um…” Lisa began shaking her head. “I don't, you know.”

“
I don't, you know
what?” Georgie said.

“I mean, if something is a deep, dark secret, then you don't tell it, right?”

“Okay, I'll settle for a shallow, light secret. Got any of those?”

Lisa chewed her bottom lip. “Do you promise not to laugh or make fun?”

“Sure.”

“I mean, really promise?”

Georgie gave Lisa a push, nearly knocking her off the bed. “What's with you?”

Lisa didn't answer, so Georgie held up her right hand. “All right. I promise not to laugh or make fun. Girl Scout's honor.”

“Are you a Girl Scout?”

“No.”

Both girls laughed.

Lisa reached under her bed and brought out a locked box. “I write a lot. I write poems, or just write in my journal, whatever I feel like.”

“That's it? That's your big secret?”

“You promised not to make fun.”

“I'm just asking. Okay. I'll start over.
Why
is that a secret?”

“I … dunno. I mean, I have to write stuff down or I would explode with all my thoughts. I know that. What I don't know is why I can write things but I can't say them. And after I write them, I don't want anyone else to read them.”

“I'd rather have my fingernails pulled off than write about my feelings, but if you like doing it, that's cool. So, are you going to let me read one of your poems?”

Lisa sat back, looking stunned. “No! I mean, I told you I do it. That's the secret.”

“You don't trust me.”

“Georgie, don't. I don't even let Carla read them.”

It really wasn't that big a deal. But Lisa seemed so defensive about it. Georgie felt herself wanting to persist until she won.

“I'm not Carla. If you trust me, you'll let me read one.”

Lisa looked at the box. Georgie could see a vein throbbing in her neck. She stared until she felt Lisa giving in.

Lisa lifted the lamp on her nightstand, pulled a key from under it, and unlocked the box.

“Whoa!” Georgie said. “We're talking high security here!”

Lisa seemed to ignore her. She searched through the box, letting her long hair form a curtain between her face and Georgie's. She brought out one sheet and, with a shaky hand, gave it to Georgie. Georgie read:

GYM CLASS

I wish I could put wings on my sneakers

to soar through the air

and make the volleyball

become a blur.

I wish I had an invisible helmet

and metal wristbands

so tears wouldn't sting my eyes

when I hit the ball.

I wish I wore a bodysuit

that hid my lack of …

everything

that every other girl has too much of.

I wish everyone else could be blindfolded

so that, just once, I could shower

and not feel like the freak

that I am.

Lisa was poised on the bed, waiting for Georgie's reaction. Actually, Georgie was surprised. The poem was real. It was what Georgie felt but would never in a zillion years admit.

“This is outta sight!” she said.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It's cool. I could never write something like that.”

Lisa's face glowed. “Which part did you like?”

Suddenly, Georgie didn't want to compliment Lisa's writing even if it
was
good. Georgie couldn't stand someone who acted like a panting dog, needing attention. So she stood up and said, “You got a clock in here?”

“It's 8:55,” Lisa said.

“My mom said she'd be back at nine. I've gotta split.”

“Oh.” Lisa held her hand out for the poem.

Georgie stood, crunched the paper into a ball, and threw it at Lisa, hitting her in the chest. “Bull's-eye!”

Lisa's head was lowered and her hair had fallen around it, so Georgie couldn't see her face. But she could see Lisa gently pressing the paper flat with the palm of her hand. Something about the tender way she rubbed the paper made Georgie feel rotten. She knew that poem was important to Lisa. Why did she have to be so mean sometimes?

“Hey, Lisa. Do you think I could have a copy of that poem?”

Lisa didn't look up. “Why? You obviously didn't think much of it.”

“Because I tossed it at you? That's just a habit I have. Haven't you noticed the papers in my locker? They're a mess!” She sat down beside Lisa. “It really is good and all. I could copy it at home and bring it back to you.”

Lisa peered at Georgie through her hair. She looked so hurt. Normally it would make Georgie mad, but Lisa had been nice to her tonight. She shouldn't have treated something that was special to Lisa so carelessly.

“How about it?” Then she made herself say, “Please?”

Lisa looked at the paper, then back at Georgie. “Well … okay.”

“Thanks!” Georgie folded it neatly and put it into the back pocket of her jeans. She'd keep the poem for a few days, tell Lisa she'd copied it, and give it back. She stood, thinking how much easier this would have been if she hadn't been a jerk to begin with.

Lisa followed her down the stairs, but Georgie stopped short in the living room. Lisa's mom was folding clothes on the couch. Georgie hadn't planned on being polite to a grownup.

“Hello! You must be Georgie. Lisa said you would be by tonight.” Her mom jumped up. The folded clothes spilled from her lap as she stood, but she didn't seem to notice.

“Hello, Mrs. Loutzenhiser. Thanks for having me over,” Georgie said in her nicest voice.

“Leaving so soon? I meant to bring you girls a snack.” She fluttered her hands. “I'll get one right away.”

“Thanks, but my mom will be here any minute.”

“Oh! Then I'll hurry. She can join us.” She rushed out of the room as if she had to put out a fire.

“Is she always like that?” Georgie asked Lisa.

“She wasn't,” Lisa said. “But lately she's been pretty jumpy.”

“Why?”

“She and Dad … they fight a lot these days.” Lisa tucked her hair behind her ears. “Ever since Alan … left home. And Carla went to college.”

Before Georgie could ask any more questions, Denny swooped into the room and grabbed a small bra from the clothes basket.

“Give me that, you little worm!” Lisa chased him. As he ran, he put the bra on top of his head and fastened the hook under his chin.

Lisa lunged. Denny sidestepped her and yanked the bra off, stretching it out like a slingshot. “Anybody got any marbles? Nah, they'd be too big. Anybody got any BBs?”

Georgie said, “I thought you said he was shy when you had friends over.”

“Well, he
used
to be.”

Denny jumped onto the coffee table, holding the bra just out of Lisa's reach as she leaped for it. “Hey, Lisa,” he said. “I heard Ma call this a training bra. So what are you trainin' 'em to do, anyway?”

“Knock it off!”
Lisa shouted.

“If I were you, I think I'd be training 'em to
grow,
” he said.

Georgie laughed. Lisa's mom came in with a tray of food and drinks. Denny hopped off the table and threw the bra at Lisa. He grabbed a soda from the tray and ran out of the room.

“Ma, you have got to make him stop! He's a mental case!”

“He's ten, Lisa,” her mother said.

“He's funny,” Georgie said. Lisa shot her a look. “In a mental kind of way,” she added.

Georgie looked out the window. “Mom's here. Thanks for having me over!” she yelled as she ran to the car before Mrs. Loutzenhiser could stop her.

Georgie reached the car and turned to wave at Lisa, who was standing on the porch. The moon was full tonight, throwing its glow on Lisa's upturned face as she waved goodbye. Georgie's thoughts flew to her dad. It made her feel worse about Lisa's poem. Maybe she really would copy it. And make sure Lisa saw the copy. That ought to make her happy—and wipe away the guilt Georgie felt.

10

Georgie stomped down the hall beside Mrs. Donovan on Tuesday afternoon. Didn't this woman have enough to do?

“May I ask you a question?” Georgie said.

“Certainly.”

“Are you crazy?”

Mrs. Donovan laughed. “Well, I suppose that depends on whom you ask. But if you're asking if
I
think I'm crazy, then, no. Do you think I am?”

“Yes,” Georgie said. “Definitely.”

Mrs. Donovan held her door open. Georgie hesitated. She thought about simply walking away, but then she saw Mr. Gordon watching her from his office.

“Georgie!” he said. “I hear things went smoothly at the Sunset Home.”

“Uh-huh,” Georgie said. “They did.”

He looked at her over the top of his glasses. “Glad to hear it. Keep up the good work.”

“Sure thing.” She turned into Mrs. Donovan's office. Getting called to the principal's office over that stunt wasn't so terrible, but she didn't want to get into real trouble with him.

Georgie grabbed the back of a chair and faced Mrs. Donovan. “Listen, Mrs. D., I don't want to come here. I won't talk to you anymore.”

“Great minds think alike,” Mrs. Donovan said. “I don't think it's beneficial for us to talk, either.”

Georgie threw out her arms. “Then why am I here?”

“Oh, several reasons,” Mrs. Donovan said. “I promised your mother I would have these meetings with you.”

“She stopped asking if I've seen you. We could just skip it.”

“We could. But I promised, and I always keep promises. Besides, she asks
me
if we've talked.”

“You two seem to be real friendly,” Georgie said. “How about you just talk to each other and leave me out of it?”

“Let me guess,” Mrs. Donovan said. “You were going for funny again.”

Georgie glared at her.

“Another reason I brought you here is that I need help. Having students do good deeds for Glendale was a wonderful idea, but keeping track of everyone's projects is quite a job, and I'm afraid it's fallen on me.”

She moved to a table in the corner, where papers were stacked, and sat down. “I was about to pull my hair out when I remembered that you wanted to escape home ec.” She winked at Georgie, but friendly was the last thing Georgie wanted to be.

“Anyway, I thought we'd help each other. I'll pull you out of home ec one day a week if you'll work for me. How does that sound?”

“What's the catch?” Georgie asked.

“You're very smart, aren't you, Georgie? Well, there
is
a catch. I know how much you hate talking about your dad so I bought this for you.” She picked up a thin, red book.

Georgie reached over and took it from her. The pages were blank.

“I want you to write one feeling about your dad's being gone, and then we can get busy on these forms.”

“Hey, no problem,” Georgie said.

She sat at Mrs. Donovan's desk. No way was she going to write down her feelings. They were hers and she wasn't sharing them with anyone.

She decided to draw a picture of Mrs. Donovan instead. Georgie angrily grabbed a pencil, but soon lost herself in the rhythm of strokes. She sat back to look at her work. It was a good likeness of Mrs. Donovan, with her glasses and curly hair. Her eyes were open but unseeing. Georgie had drawn a noose around Mrs. Donovan's neck, her head at an angle. Georgie was past the point of caring if she got into real trouble. She was ready to get Mrs. Donovan off her back for good. If this picture didn't scare her away, nothing would.