Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself (17 page)

“But you’ll still be our teacher, won’t you?” Harriet asked.

“Yes, of course.”

“Where are you going on your honeymoon?”

“Harriet … we’re doing our geography now,” Miss Swetnick said.

“But that
is
geography … you’re going
someplace
, aren’t you?”

“Yes, we’re going to Cuba … now that’s the last question I’m going to answer … so please begin, Harriet.”

“Okay,” Harriet said, opening her book. “Florida is a land of great beauty …”

During recess Peter Hornstein said, “It sure is great to have your sister-in-law for a teacher.”

“She’s not your sister-in-law yet,” Harriet reminded him.

“Yeah … but she can’t keep her
almost
brother-in-law after school … how would that look?”

“Miss Swetnick is very fair,” Sally said. “She doesn’t play favorites.”

“Just because she didn’t send you to the office this morning … that doesn’t mean anything.”

“We’ll see,” Sally said.

“We sure will,” Peter told her.

That afternoon, during a spelling bee, Sally missed the word
Pacific
on the fourth round and had to take her seat. Peter had missed on the second round so he was seated too. As soon as she felt the tug on her braid Sally knew that Peter was about to dip her hair in his inkwell, but this time she didn’t have to say anything because Miss Swetnick saw the whole thing.

“Peter Hornstein! How many times have I told you to keep your hands off Sally’s hair? Three days after school and thirty
I
will nots
in your notebook.”

“But Miss Swetnick …” Peter began.

“You know better, Peter.”

“But Miss Swetnick …”

“Did you think I wouldn’t keep you after school just because we’re practically related?”

“No, Ma’am … I never thought that.”

“I’m glad … now, let’s get back to our spelling bee. Barbara, can you spell the word,
university.…
”

“U-n-i-v-e-r-s-i-t-y.” Barbara won the spelling bee. She won almost every week. She would certainly be the class representative to the school spelling bee and if she won that she’d go to the county spelling bee and if she won that she’d go to the state spelling bee and get her picture in the newspapers. Sally wished she could spell the way Barbara could. Or was it just that Miss Swetnick gave Sally harder words? No, she wouldn’t do that … after all, she was a very fair teacher.

“Who’s that fat girl with Douglas?” Barbara asked Sally. They were taking a short cut to Barbara’s house, after school, across the grounds of Miami Beach Junior-Senior High.

“Where?” Sally asked.

“Over there … see …” Barbara pointed to a palm tree.

“I don’t know,” Sally said, spotting them on the grass. “I’ve never seen her before.”

“Probably his girlfriend,” Barbara said.

“No … Douglas doesn’t have any friends.”

“Everybody has friends.”

“Not Douglas … he’s different,” Sally said. “He had two in New Jersey but he doesn’t have any here.”

“I’ll bet he does,” Barbara said, “and that he just doesn’t tell you about them.”

“Douglas doesn’t tell us about anything!”

“You see …” Barbara said.

When Douglas came home for supper, Sally was outside, waiting for him. “Who was that girl?” she asked.

“What girl?”

“Under the tree … this afternoon … I saw you …”

“Oh, that girl … that was Darlene.”

“Who’s Darlene?” Sally said.

“The girl under the tree.”

“I mean
who
is she?”

“A friend … why?” Douglas asked.

So, Barbara was right after all, Sally thought. “How do you know her?”

“From school … what is this … twenty questions?”

“I’m just curious … does she live around here?”

“No, she lives on an island in Biscayne Bay.”

“Isn’t that where the millionaires live?” Sally asked.

“Yeah …”

“Is she a millionaire?”

“You know something, Sally … you’re starting to sound just like Mom!”

“I am not … I just want to know what’s going on for a change!”

Sally sat down at the table in the dining alcove. Aunt Bette had sent her a new box of stationery.
Sayings From Sally
was printed across the top of every sheet. She wrote a short thank you note to Aunt Bette, then put the box back on her shelf and took a piece of paper from her old Bambi stationery.

She couldn’t write to
him
on name paper.

Dear Mr. Zavodsky
,

You haven’t seen me around much lately because I’ve been very busy. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on. I’m still on your case even when I don’t see you. So don’t get any wrong ideas and think you’re home free
.

The next day Sally went to Barbara’s house again. They were going to practice twirling batons. “You were right,” Sally said, “Douglas does have a friend. Her name’s Darlene.”

“You see …” Barbara said, “I told you so.”

“She lives on an island in Biscayne Bay.”

“Oh … one of those!”

“Douglas wouldn’t tell me anything else about her.”

“I’ll get Marla to find out for us,” Barbara said. They practiced twirling in Barbara’s front yard. Barbara was getting very good. She could toss her baton into the air and catch it as it came down
without missing a beat. Sally hadn’t mastered that trick yet. She always closed her eyes at the last moment, sure the baton would hit her in the head, and usually it did. But she could twirl it under her leg and switch hands.

“I want to twirl in the Orange Bowl parade next New Year’s Eve,” Barbara said.

“Oh, me too,” Sally said, and she marched across the yard with her knees high and her head back. “How do I look?”

“A lot better,” Barbara said, as Sally strutted in front of her. “I hope I get to wear the same uniform as my sister … I love her white boots and her red dress.”

“I like her hat best,” Sally said, “with all that gold braid.”

Barbara did her figure eights so fast her baton looked like it had a motor.

“We could march together in the parade,” Sally said, tentatively, not sure if Barbara considered her an equal in twirling.

“Yes … and be the first and only Central Beach kids
ever
to twirl in the parade.”

Sally felt more sure of herself then. “They’ll announce the debut of Barbara Ash and Sally Freedman and we’ll march in front of the best float like this … 
dum dum dee dah dah
 …” she sang as she strutted across the yard.

“Did you hear where Miss Swetnick’s going on her honeymoon?” Barbara asked, tossing her baton into the air.

“Yes, to Cuba.”

“Isn’t that a dumb place to go for a honeymoon?”

“I don’t know … my parents were there over Christmas vacation and they said it was great.”

“If you like cigars …”

Sally laughed. “My parents don’t like cigars … especially my mother.”

“But that’s what Cuba’s famous for.”

“That’s not the only thing,” Sally said. “They have this drink called Creme de Cacao that’s supposed to be really something … it makes you feel like you’re walking on air …”

“I never heard of it.”

“My mother told me …”

Barbara sank to her knees, whipping her baton from hand to hand. “We’ve got cocoa and cream … we could make some …”

“It’s got something else in it too,” Sally said. “Some kind of whiskey, I think.”

“We’ve got whiskey,” Barbara said. “And I’m getting thirsty …”

They went inside, to the kitchen, where Barbara gathered the ingredients. She mixed the cocoa and cream, then added a dash of whiskey.

“Are you allowed to drink that?” Sally asked, eyeing
the whiskey bottle. It was called Johnny Walker.

“I’ve never asked,” Barbara said, stirring in some sugar. “This is instant cocoa … we don’t need to heat it.” She handed Sally a cup. “Well … here’s looking at you,” she said, clinking cups with Sally.

Sally took a sip, then waited for Barbara to do the same.

“What do you think?” Barbara asked.

“Not bad,” Sally said, afraid of hurting Barbara’s feelings.

“I don’t like it,” Barbara said, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “It doesn’t make me feel like I’m walking on air …”

“Me neither,” Sally said.

“Let’s have grape juice instead.” Barbara rinsed out their cups and poured the grape juice.

“It might have tasted good without the whiskey,” Sally said.

“But then it would have been just plain cocoa.”

“I suppose you’re right.”

“I could tell you a secret about whiskey,” Barbara said.

“Tell me …”

“Only if you promise never to breathe a word …”

“I promise …”

“Swear it?”

“I swear …”

“Every Saturday night my mother gets drunk.” Barbara took a long drink of juice.

“She does?” Sally asked.

“Yes … she drinks until she passes out. She listens to records … the ones she and my father used to play … and she gets out the old scrapbooks … and she cries and she drinks … she thinks me and Marla don’t know because she gives us money for the movies … to get us out of the house … but we know … and on Sundays she says she thinks she’s catching cold and she stays in bed all day … she doesn’t touch a drop the rest of the week though …”

“That’s sad …” Sally didn’t know what else to say.

“Yes … it would be better if she’d come out and tell us how she’s feeling …”

“Grownups always keep things to themselves, don’t they?” Sally said.

“They seem to.”

“But it’s better to share your problems with a friend, don’t you think?”

“Well … I feel better since I told you about my mother,” Barbara said quietly.

Sally looked away for a moment, then said, “I’ve got a secret too …”

“About your mother?”

“No … my father.”

“He drinks?”

“No …”

“Well, what is it?”

“Cross your heart and hope to die you’ll never tell?”

“Cross my heart …”

“I’ve never told anyone about this …” Sally said, reconsidering.

“You’ll feel better when you do,” Barbara told her.

“Okay … I’m scared my father’s going to die this year.”

“Why, is he sick?”

“No … but both his brothers died when they were forty-two and that’s how old my father is.”

“Were they sick first?” Barbara asked, pouring more juice.

“One was and the other wasn’t … he just dropped dead.”

“That’s pretty scary,” Barbara said.

“I know … I pray for him every night.”

“I prayed for my father during the war …”

“But you were just a little kid then.”

“So? I prayed with my mother and Marla every single night … but it didn’t do any good.”

Sally caught Virus X. It was going around. Her head hurt and she felt weak and dizzy when she tried to stand. Ma Fanny sat beside her and showed her a story in
The Forward
. “You see …” she said, tapping her paper, “all the famous people in Hollywood have Virus X too. You’re right in style.”

“I don’t feel in style.”

“Three days and you’ll be better. It says so right here.” She began to read. “Virus X strikes movie stars, Esther Williams and Margaret O’Brien …”

“Where … where does it say that?” Sally asked, sitting up. “Show me those names.”

Ma Fanny laughed. “Okay … so maybe not both of your favorites at once but a lot of famous people just the same.”

“Famous schmamous,” Sally said, imitating Ma Fanny. She rolled over in her bed and moaned, “I’m not
longed
for this world …”

Dr. Spear came to the house to examine Sally. “You’ll be just fine,” he said, handing her a lollipop from his black bag.

“What about medicine?” Mom asked.

“None needed … three days and she’ll be as good as new.”

“I told you,” Ma Fanny said. “I read it in my paper.”

Mom ignored Ma Fanny’s remark and asked the doctor, “What about Douglas … it could be dangerous for him to come in contact with Sally’s germs … should I send him to stay with friends until she’s well?”

“I wouldn’t bother,” Dr. Spear said. “Virus X is a relatively mild bug … and even if Douglas comes down with it there’s not much we can do … let’s just wait … no need to worry in advance.”

“Easier said than done,” Mom told him.

“Look, Mrs. Freedman … all of Douglas’s blood tests have been normal. You really have two fine, healthy children …” He looked over at Sally and winked. “So why do you worry so?”

“It’s my nature,” Mom said.

“Try to relax … I can prescribe something to help if you like …”

“No, no … I don’t need anything. I just want my children to stay healthy … that’s all I ask.”

“Take each day as it comes,” Dr. Spear advised.

“I’ll try,” Mom said. “And thanks for coming … I know how busy you are.”

Later, when Ma Fanny went to the kitchen to
make a fresh orangeade for Sally, she said, “Maybe the doctor’s right, Louise. You should try to relax more.”

“I play mah-jongg twice a week,” Mom said.

“But the rest of the time you sit home and read … you’ll ruin your eyes.”

“My eyes are fine.”

“Maybe you should get out more with people … not just me and the women in this house … they could drive anybody crazy … one, two, three …”