My Girl

by Patricia Hermes

"You're nuts!" I said. "What do you want it for, anyway?"

  " 'Cause they're neat," he said. "I have a wasps' nest, and now I'll have a beehive. Anyway, there are no bees around it. They swarm around if it's a live nest. I saw that when I got the wasps' nest. This is empty. And did you ever see inside a hive? It's really cool. There's a million separate spaces, like each bee has its own little tiny room."

  "Thomas J," I said. "You are too weird. And we're both going to get stung."

  He looked so sad that for a minute I felt sorry for him. And then I decided if he wanted the hive, I'd help him get it. Anyway, he was probably right about it being empty. There wasn't a bee in sight. Besides, knowing Thomas J's athletic ability—or lack of it—I was sure he'd never hit the hive by himself.

  We both picked up rocks and threw.

  I couldn't hit it for beans. I had almost as bad an aim as he did.

  But finally, after a few more throws, Thomas J hit the hive—hit it hard—and the hive fell. A soft thump and it was right there on the ground in front of us.

  We both jumped back, and I threw my arm in front of Thomas J, holding him back like I was protecting him. What was I doing that for? Did I think I was his mother? Dummy. But I was sure that about a thousand bees would come swarming at us.

  I didn't have to worry, though. Nothing happened. There were no bees in it at all.

  Thomas J went closer and poked the hive with the toe of his sneaker.

  No bees. He must have been right that it was an old hive, an empty one.

  And then I looked down at my hand. My ring, my mood ring! It was gone!

  "My ring!" I yelled. "It's gone." I got down on my hands and knees and began searching the grass. "Help me, Thomas J!" I said. "My ring. It's lost."

  "Where'd it go?" he said.

  "If I knew where . . . Oh, never mind. But I had it on. It must have come off when I was throwing!"

  Thomas J got down on his hands and knees next to me. We both searched, patting the grass.

  It wasn't there. And it was my favorite ring!

  "I loved that ring!" I said. I felt close to tears.

  "You'll find it," Thomas J said. "Don't worry. I'll help you."

  Maybe it had fallen off at Dr. Welty's when Thomas J and I were chasing each other?

  "Help! Watch it!" Thomas J yelled suddenly.

  He grabbed my arm and yanked hard. "Run! They're alive."

  I looked where he was looking. Bees, a million bees! They were swarming toward us from out of the hive, zillions of them, a whole black cloud of them.

  "They're after us!" Thomas J yelled. He looked around wildly.

  At that exact moment I saw my ring.

  I reached for it just as the black cloud zoomed at my head.

  Forget the ring!

  "Run. I shouted to Thomas J. "Run for your life!"

  I jumped to my feet, and he did, too.

  I raced for the water, the bees right above my head. "In the water!" I shouted. "In the lake."

  "But I got my clothes on!" Thomas J shouted. He stopped at the edge of the water.

  I didn't care what he did. I didn't stop to argue, either.

  I just threw myself into the lake, clothes and shoes and all.

  In just a second Thomas J splashed in next to me.

  We stayed underwater as long as we could. When we came up, we didn't even speak for a few minutes. My heart was racing like mad.

  Thomas J reached out and took my hand. Together we crouched in the lake, just our eyes and noses above water, watching the bees at the edge of the lake, swarming and buzzing around like an angry cloud.

  "They're not in the hive anymore," Thomas J said softly. "Later I can get it."

  "Dork!" I said. "You could have gotten us both hurt bad."

  "But the bees are out of it now," he said. "And we didn't get hurt." He sounded very smug.

  "Right. And the bees are about to attack us if we come out of the water. We might have to stay here all day."

  "Oh, no," Thomas J said. "I told my mother I'd be home for lunch."

  A bee dive-bombed toward us, and we both ducked under.

  When I came back up I said, "We better move farther out."

  Thomas J looked nervous. "You know I can't swim."

  "We don't have to get out over your head," I said.

  We inched farther out, watching the swarming bees.

  They seemed to have settled down around the hive, and they weren't looking for us anymore. But there were hundreds of them swarming back and forth between the tree and the hive. Some settled on top of it, some were just buzzing around.

  "When it's empty, I'm going to go get it," Thomas J said.

  "You're weird," I said.

  But now what? We couldn't come out of the water yet. We might be stuck here for a long time.

  Thomas J looked at me, as if he had had the same thought as I did. "Can we sit down?" he said.

  I laughed.

  "If you can breathe."

  We inched around in the water, getting closer to the edge where it wasn't so deep, keeping one eye on the bees.

  When we were able to sit, we both did, just our heads sticking up.

  "Vada?" he said. "How come you go to Dr. Welty's so much?"

  " 'Cause I'm sick!"

  "What did Dr. Welty say before?" he asked.

  "Nothing. You know him. He said I was fine."

  "Are you?" he asked.

  "No," I said.

  "Are you dying, you think?"

  It sounded weird, saying it out loud like that. I just shrugged.

  Thomas J looked at me.

  Water was dripping off his hair, and he looked even younger than he usually looks.

  "Do you think I'm dying?" I asked.

  "No," Thomas J said. "No."

  For some reason, him saying that made me feel better than when Dr. Welty said it.

  "But you know what I do think?" he said.

  "What?" I said.

  Because, funny—but I did want to know what he thought. I wondered myself sometimes why I was so sure that I was dying.

  "I think you get scared of all those dead people in your house," Thomas J said. "And you know how they say if you can't beat them, join them? If you're one of them, then it's not so scary."

  Wow. Thomas J thought that?

  Could he be right? But I didn't think so. It was more than that, more than just having dead people around. But I didn't know what.

  "Anyway," Thomas J said, "you're my best friend. I hope you don't die."

  And you're my best friend, I thought.

  But for some odd reason, I couldn't say it out loud. It just sounded too dorky.

  Instead, I just stood up cautiously and looked toward the edge of the lake.

  Most of the bees were gone now, some circling the hive, some at the tree. But they weren't swarming angrily around, looking for us anymore.

  "Can we go now?" Thomas J said. "My mother will be worried."

  "I think so," I said. "I think it's all okay now."

  CHAPTER XVII

  For the next couple days after that Thomas J and I didn't go back to the lake or the tree to find my mood ring, even thought Thomas J kept pestering me that he wanted to get the hive. Instead, we just played around his house or mine. I wasn't chancing anything yet. Who knew about bees? They might stay mad for a long time for all I knew.

  I had played at Thomas J's all day Friday, and when I came home it was almost suppertime.

  "Is that you, Vada?" Dad yelled down the stairs when I came in.

  "Yes," I called back.

  "I've been waiting for you," Dad said. "We're going to the fair, the carnival, tonight. Be ready to go in five minutes, okay?"

  "Okay!" I shouted. I bounded up the stairs.

  Dad popped his head out his bedroom door.

  "Shelly's coming with us," he said. "She says you might need a sweater. It gets cold out there at night."

  I just stared at him.

  Shelly was going? Shelly says
I need a sweater? What about him and me? He said that night that we would go to the fair. He didn't say him and me and Shelly.

  Dad disappeared back into his room.

  "Hurry now," he said.

  Why had she ever come here anyway?

  And Uncle Phil says Dad's in love with her. I hated him. Her, too. But what could I do?

  When we were all ready and Shelly got there, we all got in Dad's car. Of course, I had to sit in the back, and of course I was carsick by the time we got there. I always get carsick sitting in the back, and Dad knows it, too.

  As we got out of the car at the fair, Shelly said to me, "Be careful what you eat here. When I was a kid, I went to a carnival with my cousins Gary and Frank. They both ate hot dogs, and next day they got nephritis.''

  I rolled my eyes. Then I looked straight at Dad. "Nephritis is a kidney disease," I said sweetly. "You don't get it from hot dogs."

  Dad just smiled at Shelly and reached out to take her hand.

  "Well, I'm no doctor," Shelly said. "Maybe I have the wrong word. But all I know is they both ate hot dogs and they both got this high fever and their faces got very fat."

  I looked at Dad again and smiled.

  "Well, it's true," Shelly went on. "They baffled medical science. They were in a magazine. Popular Mechanics—I mean, Popular Science."

  I gave Dad that secret smile again, but he wasn't looking at me. He had an arm around Shelly's shoulder.

  "Popular diseases," he whispered to her and they both laughed.

  I made a face at their backs.

  We left the parking lot and got to the carnival itself. I walked behind.

  It was a madhouse, all rides and noise and games. It was hard to even hear yourself think.

  There were colored lights swirling on the Ferris wheel and lights on all the zillion other rides. I saw this big ride that looks a little like a spider—a fat body with long legs. At the end of each leg is a cage. The cages sort of get thrown outward from the spider's body while getting spun around and around at the same time.

  I hate that ride. Last year I went on it with Thomas J. We were both okay till the ride was over. Then Thomas J stepped off the ride and threw up all over my shoes.

  "What's your favorite ride, Vada?" Shelly asked me as we passed the merry-go-round.

  "The freak show," I said.

  Mean. As mean as I could be.

  After that we went on some rides and played some games and mostly it was fun. Although I did get sick of seeing Dad and Shelly making eyes at each other. And I thought if they whispered to each other even once more, I would definitely throw up.

  And then, when we were all very tired and just about to go home, I saw something that really almost made me throw up.

  We were trying to get Ping-Pong balls to land in little fish bowls so I could win a fish. It took a zillion throws, but finally I won a fish! Wow! If I could have thrown that good the other day, we would have hit the beehive on the first throw.

  "I won! I won!" I said.

  They gave me the fish in a little plastic bag of water, and I immediately named it Shelly. It looked just like her, with its big open mouth.

  "That's a gorgeous goldfish, Vada," Shelly said, handing the, fish to me.

  And then that's when I saw Shelly's hand. And the ring. It wasn't a regular ring, like my mood ring or anything. It was a diamond ring. On her left hand. Like an . . . engagement ring.

  "Shelly?" I said. "Where'd you get the ring? Did you win it?"

  Shelly looked at Dad and took a deep breath.

  "Harry, you tell her," she said softly.

  "Well, Vada," Dad said. "We have good news. Shelly and I are going to get married."

  I dropped my fish. Married. They were going to get married.

  "My fish!" I said, and I bent to pick it up. Was my fish all right? I held it up and looked at it.

  Married. They were going to get married.

  "You'll be okay, little fish," I whispered. "You will."

  Neither Dad nor Shelly said anything more, like they were waiting. For what?

  Finally Shelly sighed. "Vada?" she said quietly. "You okay? You want us to get you another fish?"

  "No, he's fine. Fish are very resilient animals, you know." I held the bag up and looked in at it. "Don't worry, fish," I said. "I won't get another fish."

  Dad was frowning at me. "Don't we have some things to talk about? Our wedding? Your new mother?"

  She'll never be my mother. But I didn't say it. I didn't say anything.

  After a minute Shelly said, "Look! Bumper cars! How can you go to a carnival without riding the bumper cars?"

  "I'll go on them with you!" I said suddenly.

  Dad took my fish and Shelly and I went to the bumper cars.

  I'm great at bumper cars. Last year I bumped Thomas J till he could hardly stand for a week.

  I got my car and steered it straight for Shelly.

  She had gotten stuck in a corner, and she had no way out.

  I charged her at full speed.

  Bam!

  She looked surprised.

  I rammed her again. And again.

  Too bad about her and Dad.

  Because I did like Shelly.

  I just didn't like her and Dad together.

  I had her trapped and bammed her a lot more times before she was able to get loose.

  She was frowning, looking surprised and—and what? I didn't know. But I thought it was good that she should know how surprise feels. Especially when it wasn't a good surprise, either.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  All night long all I could think of was running away, even though it sounded so babyish. Besides, I was pretty sure that wouldn't work. First, where would I go? I could go to Thomas J's, I knew, because his mother would let me stay for a while. But I also knew she'd tell Dad where I was. And I didn't have any money, anyway, even if I could think of a place to go.

  I wished I was old enough to marry Mr. Bixler. I'd go there.

  I remembered something Thomas J and I had talked about once a year or so ago, right after Gramoo began being weird. I was hating my house, missing Gramoo, and Dad always busy with dead people. And Thomas J, he was mad at his mom. So together we decided we'd run away to Hollywood. We used to watch reruns of "The Brady Bunch" and "The Partridge Family." I said I wanted to live with the Brady Bunch, and he said he did, too. So we had a big fight because I told him that the Brady Bunch had enough kids, especially if they were getting me, so he had to live with the Partridge Family. He was mad at first, but finally he agreed. We decided that both families seemed like nice kinds of families to have. I've always wanted to be Marcia Brady.

  But I knew now that was a dream of a little kid. What could a kid like me do?

  Dad was getting married.

  He liked Shelly more than me.

  And I hated them both.

  I got up and went down the hall, looking for Dad, thinking I'd ask him when they were going to do this. Maybe it wouldn't be for a long time yet. Maybe years. That would, be all right, because by then I'd be old enough to have left home myself.

  But Dad wasn't in his room, and when I looked outside, I couldn't see his car, unless it was still in the garage.

  I went in the bathroom to pee.

  And that's when I saw it. Oh, no! I was bleeding! Dying! The cancer. It had spread.

  I could hardly move for a minute. My pants. There was blood. Everywhere.

  Oh, God.

  I began to feel weak, my head funny, like I was fainting. Oh, God. The blood, it was draining out of

  me.

  "Daddy!" I went out of the bathroom and raced down the hall.

  "Daddy!" I called.

  He wasn't anywhere.

  I ran downstairs, holding the banister, feeling weak and dizzy.

  "Daddy? Daddy?"

  He wasn't in the hall. He wasn't in his office.

  I ran down the hall to the kitchen-family room, inching slowly, feeling the blood dripping down my legs.


  No one was in the kitchen, not even Gramoo.

  All the girls talk about getting their period. But this wasn't my period. This was way too much blood. I was hemorrhaging, I knew it.

  "Daddy!"

  I began crying. I couldn't help it.

  I ran back to the hall, just as Shelly was walking in the front door.

  "Vada?" she said. "What's wrong?"

  "Where's Daddy?"

  "He just left. What's the matter?"

  "I'm hemorrhaging!"

  "What do you mean, hemorrhaging?"

  "I want Daddy! I want Gramoo. I don't want you."

  I turned to run upstairs, but Shelly came and caught me by the arms.

  "Vada?" Shelly turned me to look at her. "Did this happen in the bathroom? Is that what you mean?"

  I nodded.

  "How old are you, Vada?" Shelly asked.

  "I'm eleven and a half," I said.

  Shelly sighed. "Come upstairs with me," she said quietly. "We have to have a talk."

  "Talk? I'm bleeding to death."

  "No. No, you're not," she said. "Come with me. It's okay."

  And for some reason, her calm made me feel calm, too.

  She took me by the hand like I was just a little kid. And, weird—but I let her.

  She led me upstairs and into my room. I sat down on my bed, and she sat down with me.

  "Are you going to tell me this is my period?" I said.

  She raised her eyebrows. "You know about that?"

  I nodded.

  "Then why do you think you're hemorrhaging?" she asked.

  I shrugged. I couldn't tell her how dumb I really felt about it, that all I knew was what some of the girls whispered about and what the school nurse told us that one time—that it lasted five to seven days—every month. And that we couldn't go swimming when we had it. But the nurse never said why about any of it, not even the swimming part.

  And she also never told us it would be like this.

  It wasn't fair! Why did girls have this? Why not boys?

  And right then, when I asked, Shelly told me why. Right then. Everything.

  Gross!

  I mean, it wasn't news to me or anything, how babies got made, but I never knew about the rest of it, why my period had anything to do with it.

  It was disgusting, I decided. Just disgusting. Why did it have to happen to me? I wasn't ever going to have a baby, anyway.