by Judy Blume
We lost that game 5–2.
Grandma said, “Soccer looks like hard work to me. All that running around …”
“Running is the fun part,” I told her. “That’s why I don’t want to play goalie.”
“But you’re a good goalie,” Grandma said.
“No, I’m not. Half the time I let them score a goal.”
“Yes,” Grandma said. “But the other half you stop them.”
I never thought of that.
The next day, Justin called. “You want to come over?”
“Okay.”
“Bring your soccer ball,” Justin said.
We played soccer all afternoon. William came by and asked if he could play.
We said, “Sure.”
Then Michael came over.
Then Annie and Jenny, who are in fourth grade.
We had a great time.
Later, Justin walked me home. “I’ll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell,” he said.
“I promise.”
“I like soccer but I don’t like soccer league.”
“Same,” I said.
Then we were both quiet. We sat on the front steps of my house. Finally, Justin said, “I wish I could play goalie.”
I was surprised. “You want to play goalie?”
Justin nodded.
“I wish I could play any other position,” I told him.
“Really?” Justin looked surprised.
Then we just sat there, drawing in the dirt with sticks.
The Great One came out of the house and looked at us. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Who says anything’s wrong?” I said.
“I can tell,” she said. “I can read your mind.”
Before I could tell her she’ll never be able to read my mind, Justin blurted it out. “I want to play goalie and Jake wants to play any position but.”
The Great One said, “No problem. Tell your coach. You’d think he’d want someone else to play goalie since you’ve lost every game.”
“But the coach is his father,” I said.
“So?” the Great One looked at Justin. “Just tell him it’s not fair that your friend gets to hog the best position.”
“Just tell him?” Justin asked.
“Duh …” the Great One said. “How is he supposed to know if you don’t tell him?”
Justin looked at me. I looked back at him.
At our next game I gave Justin the goalie jersey and the goalie gloves.
“What’s going on?” Soccer Doc asked when he saw Justin.
Justin said, “It’s not fair that only Jake gets to play goalie.”
Then everybody else on our team chanted, “We want to play goalie too!”
Soccer Doc shook his head. He took off his glasses. He wiped them on his shirt. Then he took a deep breath and said, “All right. We’ll take turns playing goalie.”
“And all the other positions too?” I asked.
Soccer Doc looked right at me. I could feel my heart beating. Finally, he said, “Why not? We’ll take turns playing everything.”
The team cheered.
Soccer Doc was surprised. He smiled for the first time.
We still lost the game 4–3 but we had fun playing. I even scored a goal. My first. And Justin was a good goalie. Except when he stopped to watch a bird, or a squirrel, or the clouds go by.
The Great Pretender
The Great One can’t ride a bike. She doesn’t want anyone to know. Especially her friends. “What person in third grade doesn’t already know how to ride?” I asked her.
She said, “I could ride if I wanted to. But I can go faster on Rollerblades—or a scooter—or a skateboard.”
“You don’t have a skateboard,” I reminded her.
She has a bike. It’s blue. It sits in the garage, waiting for her to learn to ride it. “There’s no hurry,” Mom said last week. “Abigail will learn when she’s ready.” Mom’s been saying that for more than a year. Still nothing.
Sometimes I catch the Great One looking at it. One time I caught her touching it. “It’s so easy,” I told her. “You just get on and pedal.”
“Don’t you think I know that?” she said. “If I felt like it I could hop on and ride better than you!”
I laughed because I know that’s not true.
I’m not supposed to tell the Great One’s friends she can’t ride a bike. “Some things are private,” Mom said.
“Some things stay in the family,” Dad said.
The Great One said, “If you ever tell my friends I can’t ride a bike I will never speak to you again!”
“Is that a promise?” I asked.
She threw Bruno at me. “And I’ll tell all your friends you still sleep with a stuffed elephant!”
“So?” I said. “Dylan sleeps with fifty stuffed animals.”
“But does he chew on their ears?” she asked.
“I don’t chew on Bruno’s ear!” I shouted.
“Then how come it’s wet and slobbery in the morning?” she asked.
I didn’t answer. I’m never going to tell her about Bruno’s ear.
On Saturday I was riding my bike in front of our house. The Great One was blading behind me. “Ha, ha! Abigail can’t ride a bike!” I sang as I flew by her. “Abigail can’t ride a biiiike!”
“Shut up, you little twig!” she yelled.
“Twig?” I called, zooming around her. “What’s a twig?”
“A stick!” she yelled. “And that’s what you are. You’re a little stick! I could break you in half if I wanted to.”
“You’d have to catch me first,” I called, racing up the street.
Later, the Great One’s friends rode their bikes over. Emily called, “Hi, Abigail—we’re riding to Sasha’s house. Want to come?”
“Sure,” the Great One said. “But my bike is being fixed.”
“Still?” Kaylee asked.
“Yes,” the Great One said. “They can’t figure out what’s wrong with it. So I’ll go on my blades instead.”
Emily said, “It will take you forever on your blades.”
“No, it won’t,” the Great One told her. “I’m a whiz on my blades. Bet I’ll get to Sasha’s house before you.”
“Okay,” Kaylee said. “Let’s race.” And her friends took off on their bikes.
As soon as they were gone, the Great One ran into the house and asked Mom for a ride to Sasha’s house. She said, “I have to get there before my friends. It’s a race and I told them I’d win on my blades.”
“Abigail …” Mom said.
“Please, Mom … just this one time,” the Great One begged.
“Abigail …” Mom said again.
“Pretty, pretty please with strawberries on top?”
“Abigail,” Mom said. “This is getting out of hand.”
“This is the last time,” the Great One said. “I promise.”
Mom looked at the Great One.
The Great One whispered, “I can’t tell my friends.”
“I’ll bet they’d understand,” Mom said.
“Please don’t make me tell them.”
Mom sighed. Then she grabbed her car keys.
The Great One got into the car wearing her blades. I jumped in too. “Let me off a block away,” the Great One said to Mom.
Mom stopped the car before we got to Sasha’s house. The Great One jumped out and bladed away.
As we were driving home I asked Mom, “How come it’s okay for the Great One to lie to her friends?”
“It’s not exactly lying,” Mom said. “It’s more like pretending.”
“Pretending she can ride a bike?” I asked.
“Pretending she can blade faster than they can ride,” Mom said.
“It sounds like lying to me,” I told Mom.
“Sometimes it’s not that easy to tell the difference,” Mom said.
“And sometimes you have to let people figure things out on their own.”
But I
have figured it out on my own. And I say the Great One is lying!
That night I told her so. “Liar, liar, liar!” I sang while I jumped on her bed.
“Get off my bed, stick!” she yelled. “Get out of my room or you’ll be very, very sorry!”
I could tell she meant it, so I took off. The second I was gone she slammed her bedroom door.
Later, when she thought I was asleep, I heard her on the phone. “Hello, Emily,” she said. “I have something to tell you.…”
I got out of bed and tiptoed over to my door. Fluzzy followed me. I put my ear right up against the door so I wouldn’t miss anything.
“You know my bike?” I heard the Great One say. “Yes, the one that needs to be fixed …
Well, here’s the thing.…”
That’s when I sneezed. A big, noisy sneeze. I couldn’t help it. It just came out. Fluzzy jumped. The Great One shrieked. Then she said, “Emily … I’ll call you right back. As soon as I …” Then she mumbled something I didn’t get. Something that ended with “ … my brother.” I knew it wasn’t good. I ran back to bed, pulled up my blanket, and pretended I was asleep. Fluzzy jumped on top of me.
Two seconds later my door opened. “Jacob Edward Porter!” the Great One shouted. Uh-oh! She used my whole name. “Were you spying on me? Because if you were, you are in Big Trouble … capital B, capital T!”
The Great One marched over to my bed. “I know you’re not really asleep. People don’t sneeze while they’re sleeping.” She poked me. “Wake up!”
“What?” I sat up and acted really surprised. I held Bruno against me.
“You can’t fool me!” she said. “You were spying.”
“I was sleeping. You woke me up.”
“Ha!” she said. “I know exactly what you were doing. I always know exactly what you’re doing.”
“No, you don’t,” I said. “You don’t know anything.”
“No more spying or I’ll tell.”
“Spying is better than lying,” I shouted as she marched away.
She stopped. She turned. She looked right at me. “So you admit you were spying?”
“If you admit you were lying,” I said.
“I’m not a liar!” she said. “I’m a great pretender. And I can ride a bike. I just don’t like to fall.”
“Is that what you were going to tell Emily?”
“That proves it! You were spying. And if I ever catch you spying again, you will be sorrier than sorry.” She walked out, shutting my bedroom door behind her.
This time I didn’t bother to get out of bed when I heard her say “Hello, Emily … it’s me again.” This time I didn’t have to spy. I already knew what she was going to say. Fluzzy and I just laughed to ourselves. Then we fell asleep.
Party Girl
I’m having a sleepover party on Saturday night. I’ve been waiting all my life to have one and now it’s finally happening. Emily, Sasha, and Kaylee are coming to celebrate my half birthday.
My real birthday is on July fourth. Every year our family has a picnic. All the aunts, uncles, and cousins come. Every year it’s the same. Oh, sure—they sing “Happy Birthday” to me. But the cupcakes have red, white, and blue sprinkles on top.
On Saturday night everything will be different. On Saturday night everything will be pink. Pink, pink, pink! It’s going to be the best party ever. It could be the best party in the history of the world. And one of the reasons is, the Pain won’t be here. He won’t be here to toot his horn, or jump on my bed, or sing stupid songs at the top of his lungs. He won’t be here because he’s going to Grandma’s house.
He cried when Mom told him. “This proves it,” he said. “You love Abigail better than me!”
“Sweetie,” Mom said to him. “I know this is disappointing, but there will be other birthday parties.”
The Pain looked at me. I reminded him that he doesn’t eat chocolate. And the frosting on my cake is going to be gooey, yummy double chocolate.
“What about the roses on top?” he asked.
“Pink,” I told him. “Pink roses with green leaves.”
“Oh,” he said. “I thought they would be white.”
I could tell he was disappointed. I tried not to feel sorry for him. I mean, why should I feel sorry for him? It’s not my fault he only eats white food. It’s not my fault he doesn’t know how to behave around my friends.
By the end of the week all I could think about was my party. Saturday, Saturday, Saturday, I sang inside my head. My teacher, Mr. Gee, said, “Abigail … are you with us? Abigail, are you listening?”
“What?” I asked.
“Where are you, Abigail?” Mr. Gee said.
“I’m here,” I told him.
“I’m glad to hear that,” Mr. Gee said. “Then maybe you can answer my question.”
“I don’t know the answer,” I said. I didn’t know the question, either, but I didn’t tell that to Mr. Gee.
Madison Purdy laughed. I don’t like Madison Purdy.
On Friday night I couldn’t fall asleep. I got out of bed and tiptoed down the hall looking for Fluzzy. I found him in his usual place. On the Pain’s bed. I don’t understand why Fluzzy likes to sleep on the Pain’s bed when he could sleep on mine. It’s so unfair—especially since I’m the one who feeds him. I lifted Fluzzy off the bed, careful not to wake the Pain. I carried him into my room and put him down on my bed. He opened his eyes and yawned. “Go back to sleep, Fluzzy,” I told him.
But Fluzzy started licking his paws. He made that slurpy sound he makes when he’s grooming. It’s impossible to sleep while Fluzzy is grooming. So I carried him back to the Pain’s bed. Fluzzy gave me one of his looks. I know what he was thinking. Why can’t Abigail make up her mind? Then I ran back to my bed and dove under the covers.
Finally, I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes it was morning. I ran to my window. It was a gray, sleety winter day. I opened my window wide and stuck out my head. Brrr—it was freezing. But so what? For once, my party would be an inside party.
I ran through the house, checking to see who was awake.
Not the Pain.
Not Fluzzy.
And not Mom or Dad, either.
Maybe they forgot about my party, I thought. I stood over them until Mom opened her eyes. She made room for me under her quilt. I snuggled next to her. She was warm and she smelled sleepy.
“Today’s your big day,” she said, quietly, so she wouldn’t wake Dad.
“I thought you forgot,” I said.
“How could I forget such an important event?” she asked.
That’s when Dad opened his eyes. He said, “What event?”
“My half birthday party,” I told him.
“Oh, that’s right,” Dad said. “Do I have to wear pink too?”
I laughed. “No, Dad. I don’t think pink is your color.”
Then the Pain came into the room and flopped on the bed. “My throat hurts. So does my head.”
“He’s just saying that!” I told Mom and Dad. “He’s just saying that because he wants to stay home and ruin my party.” As soon as I said it I felt bad because I could see he was really sick. He looked terrible.
“What party?” he whispered. He could hardly talk.
“My half birthday party,” I told him.
“Oh, that …” he said, as if he didn’t even care.
Dad felt his forehead. “He’s hot,” he said to Mom.
“Uh-oh,” Mom said.
Dad took him to Dr. Bender’s office. When they came back the Pain lay on the living room sofa. He said, “I have to take medicine. I might throw up.”
“I’d better call the other mothers,” Mom said.
“What other mothers?” I asked.
“Your friends’ mothers. I have to tell them Jake is sick.”
“No … don’t tell them,” I begged. “Please don’t tell them. Let him go to Grandma’s house.”
“I can’t send him to Grandma’s house now,” Mom
said. “That wouldn’t be fair to Grandma or Jake.”
“What about me?” I asked. “It’s not fair to me, either. This proves you love him better than me.”
“Honey,” Mom said, “I know this is disappointing, but …”
I felt tears stinging my eyes. I wanted to go to my room, shut the door, lie on my bed, and cry.
Mom said, “Let’s see what the other mothers say.”
I already knew what Sasha’s mom would say. And I was right. She told Mom Sasha couldn’t come because Sasha gets asthma from every little cold.
Kaylee’s mom said Kaylee had been up all night, sick. She had a fever of a hundred and three, just like the Pain.
My party was falling apart.
But Emily’s mom said she could come. She said they don’t worry about germs in their family because they’ve got four kids and someone is always sick in winter. “Isn’t that good news?” Mom asked when she was off the phone.
“A party with just one friend?” I said.
“One friend is better than none,” Mom said.
When I called Emily she said, “Do I still have to wear pink?”
“Yes,” I told her. “It’s still a Princess in Pink party.”
“I hate pink,” she said.
But when she came to my party she was wearing a pink shirt. “I borrowed it from my sister,” she said. Then she handed me a present wrapped in pink paper. “Happy half birthday. It’s from Sasha and Kaylee, too.”
“Thank you,” I said. I opened the box. Inside was a pink book with blank pages and a sparkly pink pen. “I love it,” I told her. “It’s perfect.”
“Good,” she said. “I hate to give presents that no one likes.”
Then we sat at the table to make our princess tiaras. Each one came with a bag of jewels. You got to stick on the diamonds, rubies, and emeralds yourself.
Emily said, “These aren’t real jewels, are they?”
“No,” I told her. “Real jewels would cost zillions.”
“I thought so,” Emily said.
We wore our tiaras while we ate our pizza.