by Betsy Haynes
Liza looked embarrassed. "They won't let me do anything on school nights. They treat me as if I'm two years old. They said I can sub, though, so let me know if you ever have to be absent."
"Okay," said Christie. "It's a really neat setup. Each cubicle has a telephone with one of those things on it that lets you rest the receiver on your shoulder while you're looking things up, and the booths are soundproofed enough that you don't bother the person next to you. It's really fun."
"Fun for you," said Katie. "I wouldn't want to answer questions about other kids' homework over the phone. I have enough trouble doing my own."
"Me too," said Beth. "I'd rather shave my head than deal with more homework."
"Your hair is so short, it wouldn't make much difference," teased Melanie.
Beth ran her Fingers through her spiky hair. "My hair's not that short," she retorted, then grinned.
After Liza left, Katie looked at Christie. "So four girls and two boys were asked to be on the hot-line team, eh? That shows that girls are smarter than boys."
"And it means that more boys than girls will need help," chirped Melanie. "Think of all the cute boys who might call."
"Mel, you're hopeless," said Jana. "You'd find an opportunity to meet boys if you were on a desert island all by yourself."
"Well, I think it's fabulous that the teachers picked one of The Fabulous Five," said Beth. "It just shows that they recognize Christie's extraordinary intelligence." She raised one eyebrow and stroked her chin as if she were having profound thoughts.
Christie laughed at Beth's antics. "I don't know about that," she said, punching at the ice in her soda glass with her straw. "It does seem like a good way to help kids who are having trouble in school, and it won't take that much time."
"Well, I think they definitely picked the real brains of the seventh grade, all right," said Jana. "I know every one of the six Mr. Snider asked except Kevin Walker-Noles."
"How did he get a name like Walker-Noles?" asked Beth, making a face.
"That's easy," volunteered Katie. "His mother's maiden name was Walker, and his father's name is Noles. Lots of couples do that."
Beth frowned. "I know that, but I didn't know their kids hyphenated their names, too."
"Sometimes they do," said Christie. "But not very often."
Beth seemed to be thinking about it.
"What's wrong with that, Barry?" asked Katie. "Why shouldn't the child be named after both sides of the family? I might do that when I get married."
"I'll tell you what's wrong with that," Melanie interjected. "Suppose you married Tony Calcaterra, and your name became Shannon-Calcaterra."
"So?" responded Katie, turning pink at the mention of Tony's name.
"Well, what if you had a daughter and you named her Shannon-Calcaterra, too? If she married Jana and Randy Kirwan's son, who would be a Morgan-Kirwan, then her name would be Shannon-Calcaterra-Morgan-Kirwan. Eeek! That would be terrible."
"And the next generaton could be Shannon-Calcaterra-Morgan-Kirwan-Barry-Masterson-Edwards-Arrington. Whew . . ." Beth gasped for breath. "I can't say it all."
"Don't be ridiculous," said Katie, her face turning redder. "'That would never happen."
"I don't know, Katie," Christie teased. "Remember when we were tracing our ancestors, and Mrs. Clark said that if you went back to the year 1625, you would find you had sixteen thousand parents and grandparents? What you want to do could turn into something very serious. What if people couldn't communicate with each other because they couldn't finish saying hello?"
Katie looked so totally frustrated with her friends that they couldn't hold back their laughter any longer.
"Oh, Katie, we're just kidding," said Jana, squeezing her friend's shoulder. "Changing the subject, what's Shane up to?" Shane Arrington had just come into Bumpers, and he was grinning from ear to ear. He looked around the room and headed directly for The Fabulous Five's booth.
"Guess what?" he said. Before they could reply, he continued, "My mom and dad let me put an ad in the newspaper for a girlfriend for Igor." Igor was Shane's pet iguana and according to Shane he had been pining away for weeks for an iguana girlfriend. Shane had gone to veterinarians, pet shops, and the zoo to find him a mate, but the only female iguanas he found were in a pet shop and in the zoo. When Shane put Igor in the pen at the pet shop, the boy iguanas climbed all over Igor and beat him up. And at the zoo, the females were stuck-up and spoiled from so much soft living that Igor wouldn't have anything to do with them, or so Shane had claimed.
"You what?" the girls said in unison.
"Get real, Shane Arrington," said Christie. "You didn't do that . . . did you?"
"I sure did. Here it is. I cut it out."
The girls huddled over the scrap of paper he tossed on the table. It read:
Single, male iguana desires to meet female of same species. Purpose: to develop a meaningful relationship and raise a family. Call Shane at 555-7051.
"I can't believe it," Melanie shrieked. "You are too much, Shane!"
The Fabulous Five were still howling with laughter as Shane left to show the ad to Randy Kirwan and Tony Calcaterra. They were sitting in one of the old-fashioned bumper cars that gave Bumpers its name.
As her friends went back to talking about names, Christie looked at Jon Smith out of the corner of her eye. Ever since she had gotten to Bumpers, she had been aware that Jon was watching her. For a while he had been standing near their booth when Liza was talking to them. Christie had the distinct feeling that Jon was listening to their conversation.
Then she had seen him talking to Bill Soliday and Brad Cochran. Even then his eyes kept flitting to the booth where they were sitting.
Christie bit her lower lip and hoped silently that he wasn't thinking of asking her out again. They had dated briefly before they had decided that they just wanted to be good friends instead of boyfriend and girlfriend. Or she had decided, Christie mentally corrected herself. Jon had been reluctant to break off their romance, but he finally went along with it. Lately, he had been saying things that made her think he wanted to date again. She sighed. She didn't want to date him again. He would have to understand that.
"I'd better get going," Christie said suddenly. "I have to be home early today."
"See you tomorrow," Melanie and Jana sang out as she stood and gathered her books. She was glad no one asked why she had to be home early because she didn't want to lie. The truth was, she wanted to get out of there before Jon decided to join their table.
Christie made her way through the crowd and out the front door without looking in Jon's direction, but she was only halfway down the block when she heard him call her name.
"Hey, Christie. Wait up. I'll walk home with you."
CHAPTER 4
As Jon caught up with her, Christie forced herself to give him a big smile. Maybe she had been wrong to be so nervous. After all, they were friends. Good friends. Still, inside she felt on her guard. I'll just be cheerful, she decided. And I'll keep the conversation on nonromantic subjects.
"Did you hear that Shane put an ad in the newspaper for a girlfriend for Igor?" she asked.
Jon laughed. "You're kidding?"
She told him what the ad said.
"That's a riot." Ion said. "What do iguanas do on a date?"
Christie giggled. "What do you bet that Shane dresses Igor up in a suit and tie and gives him flowers to give to her?"
"Yeah," Jon agreed. "I can just picture that, too."
When they reached Christie's house, she started to go in, but Jon didn't turn to leave. He seemed to want to say something more. She looked at him questioningly.
"Uh, I . . . I was wondering if you'd like to go with me to the movies Friday?" he asked, shifting from one foot to the other. His face turned pink and he blurted out, "I'd kind of like it to be a real date."
"I've already made plans to go with The Fabulous Five," Christie said quickly. That wasn't exactly true, but she didn't want to go out on a real da
te with him.
"Okay." His lips were smiling, but his eyes weren't. "Just thought I'd ask. I'll see you tomorrow."
Upstairs in her room a few minutes later, Christie felt a knot in her stomach. She thought back to when she had first met Jon. His mother, Marge Whitworth, was a big-shot television news anchor, and his father, Chip Smith, was the sports director for the same station. Christie had met them, and they were nice but hyper. They were always on the go and kind of overwhelming. They didn't sit still, even around their own house, and were always taking phone calls and working on scripts. Papers were usually spread out all over the place.
Jon had had an inferiority complex as big as all of Wacko Junior High when Christie met him, because he had been so sure he couldn't live up to his parents. She had felt so sorry for him and wanted to help him.
Gradually, she convinced Jon to quit worrying about trying to be like his parents and to start doing his own thing. It turned out he was good at making movies with his camcorder, and he started talking about becoming a film director someday.
Christie had been glad for him, but she also noticed something strange happening. When Jon stopped needing her, her feelings toward him seemed to change. It was as if his problem had drawn her to him. Now that he was more his own person, she wanted to go on to other things that she wanted to do. Things that didn't always include Jon.
After dinner, as Christie thumbed through the newspaper, she spotted the picture of the City Hall fountain full of soap bubbles in the paper. She had to admit it looked as funny as Dekeisha had said it was. There was a crowd of people standing around the fountain in the picture, and she looked closely to see if there might be a boy she recognized.
"No! Don't do that!" she told herself out loud. "That's exactly what that guy wants you to do." She silently vowed to forget about the caller. If the nut called the homework hot-line center again, it probably wouldn't be on a night when she was there anyway. Let someone else handle it.
"Jon did what?" asked Jana.
"He asked me if I would come to the movies with him tonight on a real date," answered Christie as she and the other members of The Fabulous Five stood on line outside the theater on Friday evening.
"I thought the two of you had it all worked out that you were just going to be friends," said Katie. "What happened?"
"I thought we did, too. We were studying and playing tennis together, and everything was perfect. Then he started acting embarrassed and looking at me funny. I don't know what made him change his mind."
"You don't know?" asked Melanie. "You look pretty cute in a tennis outfit, Christie."
"Speaking of Jon, there he is," said Jana. "He's acting as if he's looking for someone."
"Oh, no! It's probably me," said Christie, stepping behind her. "I'd really rather not talk to him right now."
"If he spots us, you're dead," Beth warned.
Christie shoved her money into Beth's hand. "Here! Buy me a ticket. I'll meet you guys inside." She slipped away and headed for the theater entrance. She hated to play hide-and-seek with Jon, it made her feel sneaky, but she just didn't want to talk to him right then.
Once Christie was inside, she desperately looked around the lobby for someone she could talk to and hide behind at the same time. Most of the kids were eighth- and ninth-graders who wouldn't want to have anything to do with a seventh-grader, or were seventh-graders she didn't know very well.
She could see Jon through the glass doors. He was walking back and forth, searching the crowd. Suddenly he turned and cupped his hands against the glass and looked into the lobby. Christie ducked behind the nearest boy.
"Hi." It was Tim Riggs.
"Oh, hi," she said, smiling.
"Are you hiding from someone?" Tim asked, looking around.
"Me? Oh, no. I just came in for popcorn." She peered around Tim's shoulder. Jon pushed open a door and stepped into the lobby. Christie moved slightly to the right to hide herself better. It was a good thing Tim was as tall as she was. Most of the boys in the seventh grade she couldn't have hidden behind.
"The popcorn machine's over there," said Tim, smiling.
"Uh, I know. I thought I'd just stop and ask how things were going for you at the hot-line center." Jon was headed their way.
"Fine, I . . ."
Christie left Tim in the middle of his sentence and slipped behind two other people. It was Kaci Davis and Andy Trudeau, and he was just kissing her on the forehead.
"Oops! Sorry," Christie said, grimacing at her goof.
Jon stopped to talk to Whitney Larkin and Curtis Trowbridge, and Christie headed for the door. Katie, Jana, Beth, and Melanie were coming in just as she reached it.
"Here's your ticket," said Beth.
"Where's Jon, Christie?" asked Melanie. Christie held a finger to her lips and pointed at him with the other hand. Her four friends circled around her and hustled her down an aisle where she took the innermost seat. When Jon came in, she slouched down in her seat as he looked around.
Christie's mind kept wandering during the movie. She just had to find a way to tell Jon how she felt. She supposed the best way was to go straight up to him and talk about it. But Jon and she had shared some warm moments, and she really didn't want to hurt his feelings. It also worried her that it could damage his self-confidence, and he might sink back into feeling sorry for himself. She didn't want that to happen, either. Christie felt that the world was closing in on her again. No matter how she tried to simply do her own thing, problems seemed to seek her out.
CHAPTER 5
Christie dropped her purse on her desk in the hotline center the next Tuesday evening. Tim Riggs waved at her with the candy bar he was eating, and Kyle Zimmerman, who was sitting at the ninth-grade cubicle instead of Pam Wolthoff, smiled a hello. Mr. Snider was at a long table at the back of the room grading papers.
Tim got up and sauntered over to Christie's booth. "How did you like the movie Friday?" He was so tall she had to look straight up to talk to him.
"Fine," she said, smiling. She didn't want to tell him that she had had so much on her mind that she hardly remembered what it was about.
"Did you ever find the popcorn stand?"
Christie blushed. She knew Tim was teasing her. He had been awfully nice to her when they were on the Super Quiz team together.
"I found it all right," she said, laughing. "That shows you how smart I am when I can't even find the popcorn in a theater." They chatted a few minutes longer before he went back to his cubicle.
Christie checked to see if she had plenty of paper and then sharpened a few pencils before sitting down. She looked at her watch. She was on time.
The first three calls she took were from kids needing help with biology. The chapter everyone in the seventh grade was working on was tough, but Christie was able to help them. The next call was for help with English, which was a snap, and the next was for help with social studies, which was also easy. Christie was humming happily to herself when the phone rang for a sixth time.
"Homework hot-line center. This is Christie, how may I help you?"
"I'm having trouble with algebra," came a slightly muffled voice.
She froze. It was the caller who had said he set fires. She reached for the algebra book and asked cautiously, "What's your problem?"
"I'm having difficulty with number fifteen," he said.
Christie led him through the problem, and he seemed to catch on easily as they worked through a few more. Everytime he spoke, she listened closely. His voice, even though he seemed to be disguising it, sounded familiar. She just couldn't pin it down.
She was relieved when they finished and was about to hang up when he said, "What did you think about my little trick?"
"What trick?" she asked, trying to sound as if she didn't know what he was talking about.
"Don't kid me. You know what trick. Everyone in school was talking about the bubbles in the City Hall fountain."
"Did you do that?"
"Who else?
Pretty spectacular, wasn't it?"
"Actually, I thought it was juvenile," she said. There was no way she was going to encourage him by saying she thought his little stunt had been funny.
The line was silent for a moment. Then the caller spoke again in a hurt-sounding tone. "What do you know? It got everyone's attention, didn't it? It got yours, too."
"It may have," Christie snapped, "but a lot of people had to work hard to clean up the fountain. That's wasting taxpayers' money."
"Why do you care about that? All you do is hang out with your friends at Bumpers anyway. When did you ever save the taxpayers any money?"
"Look," Christie said, "this is a dumb conversation. I wasn't impressed by your putting soap in the fountain, if you really did do that. Let's leave it at that. Now, can we end this conversation so I can get back to helping kids who really need help with their homework?"
"Sure. But if the bubbles didn't impress you, maybe I can think of something that will."
A chill went through Christie. She hadn't meant what she said to be a challenge to him. "Wait a minute. You don't have to prove anything to me. Let's forget we even talked about it, okay?"
"Umm, let's see. What would impress you?" he asked.
Her anger flared. "Nothing you could do would impress me. Now stop it, and get off the line!"
"I've got it!" he cried. "It's something that you and all the friends you hang out with will get to see up close. You won't be able to miss it."
Christie panicked. "Wait a minute," she pleaded. "Don't do something you'll regret."
"Don't worry. I told you I would never do anything that would hurt anyone. But you'll really notice this trick."
"Those aren't tricks you're do . . ." The phone clicked before she could finish the sentence. He had hung up.
Christie stared at the telephone as if she expected to see the caller's face appear on the receiver. Who was he? That voice, it sounded vaguely familiar. If she could only hear it more clearly, she thought she might recognize it.