by Judy Blume
All of our parents are invited to the play, plus anyone else who wants to come. Daddy is tacking a note about the production on the bulletin board at college. He is sure some of his students will want to see the show.
The girl who is playing the part of Wendy is Maryann Markman. I think her name is very good for an actress. It sounds better than Libby Tubman. I wonder why my mother and father didn’t think of that when they named my sister. Sheila Tubman doesn’t sound much better, but at least I don’t want to be a famous actress or ballerina. And, anyway, I could always call myself Sunny Tub or something like that.
The one thing I have noticed about Maryann Markman is that when she’s rehearsing she sings very nice and loud and is pretty good at her part. But as soon as anyone who isn’t in the play sits down to watch she sings so soft you can hardly hear her. I wonder what will happen the night of the play.
Libby is still hoping Maryann will get sick and that she will have to play the part of Wendy. Since I’m always on the stage holding up the scenery I’m learning all the parts too. That way, if Libby winds up playing Wendy, maybe I can be Captain Hook.
* * *
Finally, the night of the play came. Daddy gave Libby a rose in honor of the occasion. “Oh, Father!” Libby cried. “You are too thoughtful!”
I’m glad this play will be over tonight. I’m sick of my sister, the actress.
Me and Mouse had to dress in blue and yellow so we would blend into the rest of the scenery in case either one of us shows through.
Maryann Markman got there in plenty of time and she wasn’t sneezing or coughing or acting sick. Libby looked stupid in her Captain Hook suit. But Russ was a perfect Peter Pan. It’s too bad he can’t really fly.
Everybody did fine during the first act except Mouse coughed once, when Russ was singing. He stopped right in the middle of his song and waited for her to finish. Maryann’s voice was low but very sweet. When she ran through the archway she almost knocked me over. But I hung on and the archway stayed up.
Libby came on in the middle of the second act. She sang her song very loud and when she was done the audience clapped for her. I guess sometimes it is better to sing loud and be heard than to sing very nicely like Maryann, who nobody could hear but me and Mouse. Hearing Libby sing so loud seemed to make Maryann forget her lines, because she just stood there and didn’t say anything. Finally, I whispered her next line to help her remember. When she still didn’t say anything I said her lines for her. I don’t know if the audience noticed this or not, because Maryann did move her lips. I said her lines for her all during that act. Libby looked over at me once and made a terrible face, but Maryann needed me. What else could I do? Mouse was laughing all this time and neither one of us remembered about holding up the archway. So the next time Russ ran through it, it fell to the side.
But I don’t think we ruined the play, like Libby says, because we managed to get it up again in just a few seconds. All in all I think it was a very successful show even though Libby says she is never speaking to me again.
I am down to three swimming lessons a week. Marty says I am ready to learn to put my face in the water because there is nothing else he can teach me until I do. I told him, “I can’t put my face in the water and there’s a very good reason why I can’t, which you don’t even know about!”
“I’m listening,” Marty said. “What’s your reason?”
“Something very important that you probably never even considered.”
“Well. . . .”
“You really want to know my reason?”
“I’m waiting,” Marty said.
“Okay. I’ll tell you. The reason I cannot possibly put my face in the water of this pool is that I am scared!”
“Sheila!” Marty practically shouted. “I’m proud of you!”
“You are?”
“Yes. Do you realize this is the first time you’ve been honest with me?” Marty asked.
“It is?”
“Yes, it is. You’ve finally admitted it . . . you’re scared. That’s the first step in the right direction. From now on everything will be a snap!” Marty jumped into the pool. “Come on, Sheila. I want to show you something.”
I walked down the steps and stood next to him.
“Watch this,” Marty said, putting his face in the water. Big bubbles came to the surface. He turned his head to the side and took a breath. Then he stuck it back in and blew some more bubbles. He did that ten times. He made it look easy.
When he was done I clapped my hands. “That was very good, Marty,” I said.
“Okay, wise guy. Now let’s see you do it.”
“I can’t,” I said. “I’m too scared.”
“I’ll hold your hand.”
I looked at Marty and thought about what my mother told me. That if I can’t swim with my face in the water by the end of the summer Marty will give back all the money from my swimming lessons. I hate to think of Marty having a hard time because of me. But he never should have made such a silly deal with Mom.
“Please, Sheila,” Marty said. “Give it a try.”
“Oh, all right,” I said, grabbing Marty’s hand. I put my face down into the water. I nearly choked to death! Marty had to whack me on the back until I stopped coughing.
“What were you supposed to do, Sheila?” he asked.
“I was supposed to blow bubbles,” I answered.
“And did you?”
“No, I breathed regular.”
“And what did you find out?”
“That I can’t breathe regular in the water.”
“That’s right!” Marty said. “So let’s try it again. And this time take a breath first and then blow it out.”
“Okay.” I took a breath, but I started to laugh. Sometimes I do that when I’m really scared. And nothing stops me from laughing. Nothing! I laugh until my side feels as if it is going to split open. Usually I wind up with bad hiccups.
“Sheila . . . Sheila . . .” Marty said. “What am I going to do with you? You’re impossible!”
“I told you I was, didn’t I?” I giggled.
“I should have believed you,” Marty said. “Calm down now. Let’s get to work.”
“I’m calm, I’m calm,” I told him. I took a big breath and put my face into the water. I think Marty was yelling something at me but I don’t know what. When I felt ready to explode I lifted my face and said, “Well, how was that?”
“You forgot to let it out, Sheila.”
“Let what out?”
“The air . . . you took a big breath but then you didn’t let it out.”
“Oh.” I knew something was wrong. I took a bigger breath, put my face in the water, and blew out. I made bubbles. Just like Marty!
I lifted my head and smiled.
“That’s it!” Marty shouted. “You did it . . . you really did it!”
“I did, didn’t I?” I could hardly believe it myself. “I really did do it!”
“Yes, and now I want you to try it ten times in a row.”
“Oh, Marty . . . do I have to? Isn’t just once enough?”
Marty shook his head.
I took a breath and did what he told me to. I blew very nice bubbles. Then I turned my head to the side, took another breath, and put my face back into the water. I did this four times before I forgot to blow the air out. That time I think I breathed in while my face was under the water. I wound up with a mouthful. When I stopped coughing I gasped, “No more. Please . . . no more. Don’t make me do it again.” I climbed out of the pool and ran for a towel. The chlorine really stings my eyes.
Marty followed me. “Okay, Sheila. That’s it for today. But I want you to practice swimming with your face in the water. I’m going to give you the Beginner’s Swimming Test before the end of the summer. I
think you’ll be able to pass it.”
“Me? Me pass a swimming test?” I asked.
“Yes . . . you!”
I always knew Marty was sick!
I’m going to have a slumber party. I’ve never had one. How could I when I have shared a room with Libby all my life? I just can’t wait until Saturday night. Mouse, Sondra, and Jane are coming, and Mom says we can all sleep in my room if my friends bring sleeping bags with them. I even have new pajamas to wear. They are red-and-white striped. Mouse has the same ones. She promised to wear them so we can be twins like Sondra and Jane. My slumber party is going to be the best slumber party that ever was!
Since I have been planning everything so carefully I got really sore at Libby this morning when she told Mom, “I’m going to invite Maryann Markman to sleep over Saturday night.”
“Oh no!” I said. “You know I’m having a slumber party.”
“So?” Libby asked. “Who wants to get in your way?”
“That’s not fair!” I said to Mom. “Can’t I do something just once without her butting in?”
“There’s plenty of room, Sheila,” Mom said. “If Libby wants Maryann to spend the night, there’s no reason why she can’t. It has nothing to do with you.”
“They’ll try to boss us around,” I cried. “Just like always.”
“Ha!” Libby said.
“Nobody’s going to spoil your party,” Mom told me. “I promise.”
“I don’t see why she can’t spend the night at Maryann’s house instead,” I said.
“Because Maryann’s parents are going out and her mother doesn’t want us to stay alone,” Libby said. “Otherwise I would . . . in a second!”
I just know they will ruin everything!
* * *
On Saturday Maryann ate supper with us so she was already there when my friends rang the bell. But she and my sister were locked up in Libby’s room listening to music and I hoped that’s where they would stay for the rest of the night.
After Mouse, Sondra, and Jane said hello to Daddy and Mom I took them up to my room and we spread out their sleeping bags. Sondra’s and Jane’s are the same. There is a picture of Snoopy on the front, zippers down the sides, and red flannel linings. Mouse brought a regular sleeping bag. The kind you use when you go camping. She said the last time she slept outside she woke up with a frog inside her bag. But since she likes frogs she didn’t mind. I would much rather sleep in a sleeping bag indoors than out.
We arranged the sleeping bags on the floor next to my bed, with Mouse between Sondra and Jane. Then we showed each other our pajamas and discussed the kind of toothpaste we use. Sondra and Jane didn’t bring matching pajamas, so me and Mouse turned out to be twins by ourselves.
Next, we got undressed and ready for bed, even though we didn’t plan to go to sleep for hours and hours and maybe not even all night. Sondra changed her clothes in my closet. I think she is getting fatter. But I wouldn’t say that to her face. She is very sensitive and would start to cry. She should go on a diet. I can’t understand how such a fat person can swim. Why doesn’t she sink to the bottom of the pool? Someday I will ask Marty about that.
Sondra and Jane threw their clothes in a pile on the floor but Mouse folded everything and packed it away in her overnight case. Then she took out a small notebook and said, “Let’s make a Slam Book.”
“What’s that?” Jane said.
I was glad she asked because I didn’t know either. I figured I would tell Mouse that the reason I didn’t know about Slam Books is that I haven’t made one in years because where I live that is just for babies.
Mouse told us, “Slam Books are great fun. You’ll see.” She was busy writing something down in her notebook. We sat in a circle around her and waited.
In a minute she held up a piece of paper and said, “This is a sample list. All of us fill it in about each other. It’s the only way to find out what your friends really think of you!”
I looked at the sample list. It said: Name, Hair, Face, Body, Brain, Best thing, Worst thing, and In general.
“You see,” Mouse explained, “we’d never be brave enough to just sit around and tell each other the truth about ourselves. That would be too embarrassing. But since everybody wants to know what other people really think of them, this is an easy way to find out. You can start with me if you want. I’ll go stand in the hall and you fill in the list. Later, when we’ve all had our chance, we get to read about ourselves in private.” Mouse walked to my bedroom door. “Remember,” she told us, “you’ve got to be honest or it won’t do any of us any good.” She opened the door and stepped out into the hall.
“Well,” I said, “who wants to go first?”
“You start, Sheila,” Jane said. “It’s your party.”
“Okay, give me the book.”
Before I had a chance to begin, my bedroom door opened and Mouse poked her head in. “I forgot to tell you . . . when you’re done filling it in, you fold the page over so nobody can see what you wrote.”
“Okay . . . okay . . .” I said.
“I just thought you should know,” Mouse told me, closing the door again.
I filled in the list one-two-three. I wrote:
* * *
Name
Mouse Ellis
Hair
needs washing
Face
only a mother could love it
Body
too many scabs
Brain
pretty good
Best thing
can do everything!
Worst thing
knows it!!!!!
In general
my best friend and lots of fun
I folded my part of the page over so the others couldn’t see it and passed it to Sondra. When she was done she passed it to Jane, and then we called Mouse back into the room and Sondra went out.
While Sondra was in the hall Mom came upstairs to tell us she and Daddy were going to town to pick up some pizza for our snack. “We’ll be back in less than an hour,” Mom said. “Libby and Maryann are home in case you need anything.”
“Okay . . . we’ll be fine,” I said, anxious to get back to the Slam Book.
When we were done writing about Sondra it was my turn to leave the room. I knew I didn’t have to worry about what my friends think of me, because I am careful to keep my bad points to myself. Sometimes I think I am really two people. I am the only one who knows sheila tubman. Everyone else knows only SHEILA THE GREAT.
Jane was the last one to stand out in the hall, and when we were through writing about her she came back into my room. Then Mouse tore out a page for each of us to read privately. She said we should sit by ourselves and face the wall in case we didn’t want anyone to see our expression.
We all laughed at that but did it anyway. I sat on my bed with my back to the others. I unfolded my paper so I could see all three opinions of me at once.
Who did they think they were? Why did I ever bother to invite them to my house? They didn’t deserve it! I read about myself six times, but I didn’t turn away from the wall.
After a while I noticed that the room was very quiet. I wondered what the others were thinking. That’s when Sondra started to cry. I knew it was her even though I was facing the wall. First she cried low, but when I turned around to look at her she took her hands away from her mouth and started bawling so loud you could probably hear it a mile away.
“I hate you!” she yelled. “Every single one of y
ou. You all think I’m a big, fat slob! Even my own sister thinks I’m a fat slob!”
“Well, you are!” Jane said. “And you should do something about it. Anyway, somebody said some pretty bad things about me too. Like I can’t keep secrets and my brain is turned off most of the time!”
“So?” Mouse said. “I don’t think it was fair of you to make fun of my scabs!”
“I didn’t make fun of your scabs!” Jane hollered.
“Somebody did!”
“Well, it wasn’t me!” Jane yelled.
I didn’t say anything because I was the one who wrote that about Mouse’s scabs. But I never thought it would bother her so much.
“And another thing,” Mouse said, “I don’t think any of you have the right to tell me that my hair needs washing!”
“What’s so bad about that?” Sondra asked. “How do you think I feel that two of you wrote I’m a crybaby!”
“You are a crybaby!” Mouse told her. “And I don’t see what business is it of yours that my belly button sticks out.”
“I didn’t write that!” Sondra said. “I wrote about your ears.”
“Well, that’s just as dumb!”
“I’m the one who wrote about your belly button,” Jane said. “And it does stick out! So there!”
“Just shut up, Jane!” Mouse hollered.
Jane was standing near my dresser and when Mouse said that Jane picked up one of Bobby Egran’s model airplanes and threw it across the room at her. “Who’s going to make me?” she asked.
“You cut that out!” I told her. “They’re not mine.”
“So?” Jane said, throwing a plane at me.