It Happened to Nancy

by Beatrice Sparks

  Wednesday, May 2

  7:01 P.M.

  El and Red and Dorie were all soooooo glad to see me. We went to the mall after school and looked at all the things we wanted to buy and couldn’t. I finally bought, after three hours, one tiny little tank top to wear the next time Mom and I go to the beach. I hope we go to the very same beach and the very same cottage.

  9:14 P.M.

  I was working on a problem, and suddenly a picture of Mom and me trying to do my homework in our crazy little beach house popped into my head. Mom was really trying, probably trying even harder than I was, but neither one of us could get it. I got disgusted and said it was like a foreign language. Mom said it was even worse than that. It was like asking a baby to read, and I said it was like trying to make gold out of straw like in Rumpelstiltskin, and Mom said it was like trying to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear. We both gave up at that and laughed, because neither one of us knew what it meant, although we’d both heard Grandma Mamie say it a million times.

  I’ll always remember that day. It was a nice memory. Once when Dad and Mom and I had been backpacking in the Grand Canyon, and I was so scrawny that sometimes they had to backpack me, Dad had looked up at the golden peaks piercing up through the golden sky and said, “We are making memories.” I wonder if Mom ever thinks of those times like I do.

  Saturday, May 5

  8:10 A.M.

  Dear Self:

  As you know, I started taking flute lessons in February and I’ve progressed so fast that Mr. Miller let me play with the band at State today. It was really exciting. All the bands from around the area in runoffs. We only came in fifth, but it was fun. I met lots of kids from this area, and Dorie and I checked out everything there was to check out. We felt a little lonely without El and Red, but neither one of them is into the band bit. But you know all this dribble, don’t you?

  I can’t believe it—five more days and I’ll be fifteen. Wow! Then just one more year and I’ll be able to drive. Me…driving…non-dependent…free! Being able to go where I want to go, when I want to go—that is, if and when Mom lets me take her car. Pop…there goes another hot-air bubble.

  Oh well, I will still be fifteen and in the last year of junior high school next year when school starts.

  Sunday, May 6

  Nothing.

  Monday, May 7

  Nothing. My life is one nothing after another nothing.

  Tuesday, May 8

  I’m really hurt. I asked Mom if we could do something special for my birthday, and she said she’d see.

  I asked the gaggle (Mom always calls me and El and Red and Dorie the “gaggle of girls,” sometimes the “goofy, giggling gaggle of girls”) if they wanted to do something on the tenth, and none of them seemed interested. Chips, what’s happened to us? We used to be a foursome of Siamese twins, kind of.

  Wednesday, May 9

  Another boring day of school. Not one person even mentioned my birthday. I guess maybe we’re growing up, and birthdays aren’t important anymore; at least mine doesn’t seem to be.

  Thursday, May 10

  1:15 A.M.

  What oz friends I have. I didn’t think Mom or any of the gaggle could ever keep a secret two minutes, but they did this time! Did they ever! I had noooooo clue.

  Before school, Mom asked if I’d like to go to a nice place for dinner, just the two of us. It didn’t sound like much of a celebration, but it was better than nothing. She even offered to take me to the mall after school and buy me a new outfit, which, of course, was an offer I couldn’t refuse…. I bought this really mag white pantsuit and a pair of maggy mag shoes. I couldn’t tell Mom, but I felt they were too magnif just to go out to dinner with her.

  We had an early dinner because Mom said she had an eight o’clock meeting tomorrow morning, and she had to prepare for it. And besides, she felt like she was coming down with a cold.

  On our way home Mom said she just remembered that El had called and said she had an assignment that Miss Collier, our science teacher, had forgotten to give to me when we got home from the beach.

  I didn’t think it could be very important, but Mom said she thought it might be.

  I didn’t want to go into El’s house. I was half mad at her because she hadn’t wanted to do anything with me. The house was dark, and for a minute I was jealous. She’d probably gone out with some other kids when she should have been out with me, if she was any kind of a friend at all, which obviously she wasn’t.

  There weren’t any cars around and no lights, and I almost didn’t ring the bell. When I did, El answered the door and said dully, “Yeah, I’ve got something for you in here on the desk.”

  She hadn’t even said hello or anything, and I was really beginning to think black-and-red explosive thoughts when suddenly all the lights turned on, and the roof almost disintegrated as everybody yelled, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NANCY.”

  I was so delighted and surprised, I almost wet my pants. Then El and I were hugging, and Red and Dorie and all the others were trying to hug me too. It was wild. Wild and magnif.

  The first game we played was Who’s Going Where, and Lew and I were teamed up. There were posters for mountain, stream, ocean, cliff, gorge and stuff, and in the house and all around the yard. Half the things I couldn’t do, and Lew finally picked me up and carried me over the line. We won! But we never would have if he hadn’t carried me.

  Next Brian tried to carry Trish, and they both fell down! It was hilarious. I would have died if I had fallen down in my new white suit—that is, I would have died if Mom hadn’t killed me first!

  Later some of the kids played volleyball and some danced. Lew and I played table tennis. That made me happy because it’s one of the things I do pretty well. He had to really concentrate to keep me from beating him. Thank goodness for the Ping-Pong table in the rec room of our apartment house.

  I had such a wonderful, wonderful time! Lew asked me if I wanted to call my mom and tell her his older brother Mike would take me home. Did I? Did I ever!

  Sitting in the front seat between Lew and his brother was heavenly! I thought I was going to float right off the planet. Lew walked me to the door and softly said, “I hope you had a nice birthday party, Nancy, because I really did.”

  I wanted to jump up and down and yell, “Yes, I did. I did! I did! I’ve never had such a mag party in my whole life.” But, of course, I didn’t; that would not have been FIFTEENISH!

  Sunday, May 13—Mother’s Day

  What a lovely, sacred day. I’ve got the best mother in the world. After Mass, just the two of us went on a picnic and daylong hike. I’m soooo glad Mom is my mom.

  Friday, May 18

  Lew has lunch with me and El and Dorie and Red every day, and we all go home together on the same bus.

  Today I was really embarrassed when Dorie said she thought we should make him one of the gaggle. He didn’t seem to mind; in fact, he said superiorly that he thought that was an inspired suggestion. He told us a gaggle meant a “flock of geese or chattering company” and that he could buy that, if we’d let him be the token gander. We all agreed like we’d known all along what a gaggle meant, which I’m sure we didn’t. I didn’t even know what a gander was till I got home and looked it up in the dictionary. It’s a male goose.

  Saturday, May 19

  12:15 P.M.

  Tonight a bunch of us went to the show, except Lew and I didn’t go to the show. We just walked around town and talked and stopped at Big Jack’s and had a hamburger. He had onions, so I had onions too, even though I don’t like them and wouldn’t have touched one if I’d been with the gaggle.

  Lew’s been a part of my life from as far back as I can remember. We used to live just around the corner from him before Mom and Dad divorced me. I mean divorced each other. Lew’s folks are divorced now too.

  We had a little corner booth way in the back; and they weren’t busy, so we just sat and talked for almost the whole movie time. It passed so quickly, but we had a lot to tal
k about. I’d forgotten that Lew taught me to ride my first tricycle, but I remembered his teaching me to ride my two-wheeler and telling me over and over that I could do it, after I’d fallen off and skinned my knee and my elbow a hundred times.

  I remember really clearly sitting on my porch and watching him ride like the wind in and out of the trees and over curbs and doing wheelies and all sorts of other fancy stuff as we grew older. I really thought he was the greatest. I remember when we were in first grade we had said we were going to get married, but I didn’t mention that until he did. We laughed and recalled how his big brother, who now chauffeured us, had to babysit us, and how much he had hated it. He’d have to take us to the park and watch us sometimes, while his buddies played ball. He called us brats and pigs and bugs…sometimes even things we didn’t dare tattle to his mother, but we didn’t care; we just dug in the sand or went down the slides, feet-first, headfirst or tandem.

  It was funny how Lew always took care of me then like he’s beginning to take care of me now. He pushed me to put a paper in a school Literature project…and I did…and just like he said I would, I won honorable mention. He’s so comfortable, and my life has become almost normal again.

  Sunday, May 20

  5:06 P.M.

  Last night I told you my life was normal. Today it’s the abnormalest it’s ever been! Guess who I saw walking beside the river with Margie Muller? You’re right! Collin. I wanted to run after him and scratch his eyes out. I wished I was an Arnold Schwarzenegger-type terminator so that I could squash his brains into the gravel walk and then squash the rest of him right into his empty head. With my next thought I wanted to grab Margie up in my arms and fly her away. Margie is two years younger than I am and only in seventh grade, just one year out of grade school…she’s a baby. Surely Collin wouldn’t…but something deep, deep inside tells me he would.

  I hope and pray dear little thirteen-year-old Margie won’t be as dumb and gullible as I was…or is it already too late?

  I wonder if I should call Margie’s mother and tell her about Collin, or should I call Margie? Would she believe me if I did, or would she just think I was crazy and jealous? Probably! If someone had called me (how stupid could I have been), I honestly don’t think I would have believed one unkind thing about…I can’t even write his name. If I did, it would make me want to puke on the paper. Or on you! And you don’t deserve that, dear Self. Now I’m writing like I am crazy! Maybe I am. I surely must have been in the past.

  It made me literally sick to my stomach to see pukey blank walking along with Margie, appearing normal and deep-South friendly, at least on the outside, but…maybe I was wrong. Maybe just I brought out the worst in him…or asked for it…or something…. Weird?…possibly?…probably!

  Owww, I am so sick. I haven’t had an attack like this in years. I better go to bed before I pass out. I’ll do something about Margie in the morning.

  Tuesday, May 22

  3:01 P.M.

  Two days have passed since I saw Margie and =*+*. Mom came home just in time to get me to the clinic. I had had an asthma attack that had almost closed my throat. She’s being so sweet and so comforting, and she wouldn’t let me talk if I could. What would I say anyway? It’s all so strange and garbled in my heavily medicated brain. I can hardly read my own writing. I guess I better go back to my sleepy-time escape hole. It’s bright and soft and hidden in there, and no one can get in, and I can’t get out. When I get well I’m going to make it illegal to have nights.

  Day? I dunno.

  The last few days and nights my pillow has been wet with tears. Tears for Margie. Tears for me. I’ve had daymares and nightmares and feelings of guilt, guilt, guilt, guilt. The panic and the feelings of filthiness won’t end. I’m guilty for Margie; I’m guilty for me too! And I CAN’T BEAR SUCH GUILT! I’m too small. I’m too weak. I’m too young.

  I’m totally unworthy of the friendship of nice people like Red and El and Dorie, and especially Lew. Their parents wouldn’t want me to go with them. I know that! If I were a parent, I wouldn’t want me to go with me.

  Saturday, May 26

  My body’s all right, but I can’t seem to get my brain in gear. I can’t get the pollution out of my mind. It’s numbing me! Poisoning me! Crippling me! I don’t want to think about it, but it keeps swirling around and around inside me like mud in a mixer. I really am losing touch with reality. I won’t answer the phone and talk to anyone, and I won’t see anyone, ANYONE! I can’t have them see and hear how I’ve broken down physically and mentally.

  I’ve heard of nervous breakdowns. I wonder if that is what this is. I can’t face life anymore! I don’t want to! I just want to sink away and become part of the black nothingness between the planets and the galaxies. I want my atoms to circle around through the eons as non-living things, no joys, no sorrows, no strains, no pain, no nothing, me nothing!

  Sunday, May 27

  A MIRACLE. I was lying in the living room looking aimlessly out the terrace sliding-glass door, in my obsession black funk, when I heard something hit against the glass. Startled and curious, I darted over and opened the door. A totally helpless, tiny little bright yellow-and-orange bird lay crumpled on the floor. It fluttered its fragile wings the tiniest little bit, then lay silent. I picked it up and cradled it in the palm of my hand. The precious little creature was softer than I knew soft could be and I begged it, pleaded with it, to breathe. I rubbed my finger over its little chest the way we were taught in CPR to do with a baby, but it was soooooo small. I tried to give it mouth-to-mouth. Finally I just gently squeezed its little chest and prayed. “Don’t die, little friend. Please, God, please don’t let it die.” I leaned over and kissed its soft little head. “Live for me. Please…I need you to. I really, truly, honestly do need you to.” At that very moment the baby bird opened his tiny bright eyes and looked right into mine like he knew what I was saying. He didn’t move, but I could feel his heart pounding in his miniature body. He lay so soft and still that I knew he needed me as much as I needed him.

  Mom had come up behind me, and when she saw my new little buddy was moving, she whispered that she’d run down to the storeroom and get the cage in the corner that no one was using.

  Monday, May 28

  7 a.m.

  Glory hallelujah. It’s like we have a new baby in the house. Mom called her secretary and told her she’d be coming in late, and she said she’d give me an excuse so I could be late for school, and she’d drop me there.

  We’ve been so busy trying to make-shift a little nest and stuff and a water bowl till the pet store opens that it’s like Christmas or something.

  I’m sitting here watching baby in his new home, and he seems perfectly happy and content. I expected him to be flapping against the sides trying to get out. He’s so precious! He is a miracle to me!

  Something within me wants me to slip back and wallow in the garbage of my encounter with Collin…but I won’t let it! I shouldn’t!

  Snap out of it, you retarded girl-person. Where is your mind? Where is your heart? Where are your eyes? Where are your ears? You’ve been blocking out everything good in life and concentrating only on the ugly and the bad. That’s sad. It’s bogus mogus, and you nogus it. If this little fragile bird creature can get its life together after its smashup, surely you can too.

  7:26 P.M.

  Mom and I named our little gift from heaven Imperical.

  No one but us will ever know what that really stands for. It’s so special to share a wonderful secret with Mom. Our little Imperical miracle! Mom says imperical means: Magistic! August! Magnificent! Isn’t it spooky that Imperical means my favorite special words, mag and magnif?

  Tuesday, May 29

  Time truly goes quickly when you’re having fun! I know that’s an old, dumb saying, but it’s true.

  Gotta go. One of the gaggle is on the phone, Mom says.

  Wednesday, May 30

  3:55 P.M.

  I feel so heavyhearted. I saw Margie today at scho
ol. It’s pretty clear from her heavy steps and sagging posture that Collin has done her and dumped her too. I want to get everyone I know and go find him and emasculate him…but no matter how guilty I feel about what happened to me and Margie, I’ve made a sacred oath to get out of the past and into my forever-ish long future.

  10:30 P.M.

  I hope it doesn’t take Margie as long to get over her garbage dump as it did me. I wonder if it would help if I talked to her. Maybe I will.

  Wednesday, June 6

  School’s out. Time for fun and games!

  Thursday, June 7

  Red’s parents took the gaggle up to her uncle Bill’s cabin on the lake to celebrate. Did I say cabin? Five bedrooms and a living room that looks out over the lake. The house is as big as a football field. Well, maybe not that big, but fab and mag, and I’ve never had such fun.

  Red’s dad brought Lew up to help with the boats and do a little “fixing up around the place” while we girls just gaggle.

  It’s unbelievably beautiful here with the tall piney forest in the background and the luscious lake in front. I think if I could live anyplace in the world I wanted to, it would be some place like this. Maybe I’d retire and write or paint. Yes, I’d paint like my mom’s aunt Thelma. She’s so gifted she can see something once and paint it months later in the tiniest detail.

  One summer, we spent a week with her up at her ranch in Idaho. She taught me wondrous things, like seeing little miniature flowers that I hadn’t even known were hiding down in the weeds. Flowers so bitsy and fragile and perfect that it almost made me feel like I was living in Gulliver’s Travels, with me the giant and them the normal size. Aunt Thelma had me take a picture of each flower or thing in my mind so that later I could describe them to her in the smallest detail. She also taught me to draw from my mental pictures as well as from real life, and it was an unreal experience! I hope to get to go back to Aunt Thelma’s again soon.