by Cari Best
“What do you think, Mouse?” Shirley whispered. “Will this be the day Mr. Merrill realizes he made a big mistake?” Shirley had realized that she no longer needed to actually look at Mouse or even be at home when she talked to him.
The second thing Shirley did that morning was remember her promise to let Barry-the-Brain know what she was going to do about the prom.
“I have something for you,” said Barry.
“I’ve decided about the prom,” said Shirley before Barry could pull out the snack-size bag of Fritos from his desk. Which seemed weird to her because it wasn’t after lunch yet.
“Are you going with me?” Barry asked, smiling brightly, dislodging a few dandruff flakes as he adjusted his glasses.
Shirley had been thinking about her answer. “Maury Gordon also asked me to go to the prom with him. I like you both, so maybe the three of us could go to the prom together. Would you mind?”
“Great!” Barry answered. “This is what I wanted to give you.” He reached all the way in toward the back of his desk, not for the familiar bag of Fritos as expected, but for something else.
“Girls don’t usually have one,” he told her, “but you’re a girl who should.”
It was his Louisville Slugger baseball glove. Shirley nearly fainted.
She felt the leather and smelled it and slipped her left hand inside, each finger finding its place in the glove, which was like new. Incredible. At first Shirley thought she should give the glove back. That’s what Anna would tell her to do. Then she thought she shouldn’t. Barry-the-Brain looked so happy. And what would he do with a baseball glove anyway.
“Thanks a million billion!” she said.
Shirley couldn’t believe how nice Barry was. How glad she was that he had accepted her reply to his prom invitation.
Mr. Merrill addressed the class. “You all seem very chatty today. It must be because it’s the first day of summer. On that note, we’ll say the Pledge of Allegiance and then talk about your free-writing compositions, which I will return. A lot of you mentioned plans for the summer. I myself will be going to England to study Shakespeare.”
“Good for you, Mr. Merrill,” said Beth Ann. “I’m going to Disneyland!”
Shirley listened to others with lofty travel plans, holding the baseball glove in her lap and happily thinking about her own plan to go to Lake Winnipesaukee. Until the classroom door opened and there was Mrs. Greif, looking as elegant as ever in a cantaloupe-colored chemise (French for “shift”—say: “shuh-meez”).
“See you all later,” said Mr. Merrill to the class.
Mrs. Greif taught everyone summer words like: soleil (“sun”—say: “so-lay”), plage (“beach”—say: “plahzh”), vacances (“vacation”—say: “vah-cahnce”), and été (“summer”—say: ay-tay).
At the end she said, “This is our last French class together. Next year you will all have the option in your new schools to continue with French or to choose Spanish. How many of you will choose Spanish?”
Lannie Kaufman stuck up her hand immediately and said, “Me!” Cynthia Sparks put her hand up, too. Shirley was sure Cynthia was thinking about the rubber band she’d be shot with if she didn’t agree with Lannie.
Shirley hoped Mrs. Greif wouldn’t be offended. “Au revoir,” Madame Greif said (“Till I see you again”—say: “O reh-vwah”).
Shirley wondered when that would be. Maybe never. Until she didn’t wonder anymore because there was Mrs. Greif standing right beside her and asking a question.
“Would you help me start a French club this summer, Mademoiselle Shirley? I checked the school file for your address, and it seems we live so close to one another that you can walk to my apartment from your apartment. I live near Smilen Brothers! Remember, I will be going to Paris for the second two weeks in July. But I will be home after that.”
“I’ll have to ask my mother,” Shirley answered, but already the wheels in her head were spinning. Forward.
Mrs. Greif wrote down her phone number on a piece of paper, which Shirley put in the pocket of her dress. And then Mrs. Greif and her very French perfume were gone, taking the time only to greet Mr. Merrill as they changed places.
Shirley watched as Mr. Merrill fiddled at his desk for a few minutes arranging papers, straightening books, opening a drawer, taking off his jacket, and then hanging it on the back of his chair. Shirley watched every move with her head down, but not her eyes. At any moment she expected Mr. Merrill to send her to the office. To tell her to forget about the rest of the school year—no prom for you—to express his disbelief that she dared insinuate that he’d made a mistake. Teachers don’t make mistakes, Mr. Merrill would boom in front of the whole class. Eyes enraged. Nostrils flaring out like a dragon’s. Crushing Shirley’s valiant attempt to stick up for herself—in the name of justice—in an un-erasable letter that she had written in pen.
“While you were having the last French class of the year with Mrs. Greif,” Mr. Merrill started, “I was meeting with the other sixth-grade teachers about the prom. It’s all set for next Tuesday, the last day of school.”
Shirley couldn’t move except to shake, to sweat cold everywhere a kid could sweat, and to feel the contents of her stomach sloshing around like clothes in a washing machine. Has Mr. Merrill read my letter yet? she asked herself. And then she knew the answer.
“Shirley,” said Mr. Merrill, “please stay and talk to me before you join the others in the lunchroom.”
When the last of the members of Class 6-1 filed out of the room, Mr. Merrill said, “I read your letter, Shirley. Twice, as a matter of fact. Clearly it was written straight from your heart.”
He read it, Shirley thought, her face flushing who knew what color.
“I waited last Friday afternoon for you to tell me that your Listening Post essay was, in fact, your own, hoping you would defend yourself like any good writer would. But when you said nothing, I assumed your silence was an admission of guilt,” Mr. Merrill said, kindly and with soft eyes. “I was wrong not to trust you, and I’m deeply sorry. Of course, it’s too late to send your essay to WNYC, but I hope you will regard that essay as one of your finest accomplishments in sixth grade. It will be truly meaningful when you join the Peace Corps, which I have no doubt you will.” Mr. Merrill stopped talking. He waited for Shirley to say something.
This time she did. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “I wanted to speak up. But I couldn’t.”
“Shirley Alice Burns, you have such a nice voice,” said Mr. Merrill. “I hope you will let everyone hear it in junior high.”
He said I have a nice voice, thought Shirley. Now that was something to hold on to.
Then she left the classroom to join the other kids at lunch.
Chapter 16
THE LAST SUPPER
To celebrate the end of school, or so Shirley thought, she and Anna and Hal, but not Grandma, were going out for dinner to the House of Wing, the best Chinese restaurant in Queens. Shirley wore her new hydrangea sundress, which Grandma had just finished sewing, and her new sandals, which had only needed to be walked around in for a couple of days with socks on until they were broken in.
Shirley twirled around in Grandma’s latest creation. Grandma reached over to adjust one of the straps. Anna brushed Shirley’s droopy eyebrows upward with her fingers. Shirley, in turn, went into the Palace of Light. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror. She liked what she saw.
“Guess what, Mouse?” she whispered. “Shirley Alice Burns has turned mountains of fear into molehills. She had the courage of her convictions to stand up to a teacher, of all people. Who knows what this girl will do next!”
When Hal beeped the horn, Grandma told Shirley, “Have a vonderful time!”
“I’ll bring you a spare rib,” Shirley promised.
“No, thank you,” said Grandma.
Anna and Shirley left the apartment together. But Shirley stopped to talk to Luke.
“Congratulations, missy,” he said.
&
nbsp; “For what?” Shirley asked.
“Fer just about completin’ the sixth grade,” said Luke. “I was hopin’ ta run into ye.” Luke took a small yellow case out of one of the front pockets of his overalls.
“I got this fer ye,” he said.
It was a set of screwdrivers: the smallest one was so small that Shirley could fix Grandma’s unnecessary eyeglasses with it if a screw ever fell out. The biggest was the perfect size to fix the frying-pan handle if it ever came loose.
Shirley’s smile would be enough for Luke, she knew, but she also said, “I really love it!” which made Luke smile, too. “I’m going to help you this summer, if that’s okay, Luke,” Shirley said, which made him smile even more broadly.
Anna might have had something to say about that, but Anna was already in Hal’s van and didn’t hear Shirley’s offer.
Or Luke’s answer. “Anytime at all, missy. Anytime at all.”
* * *
“Hiya, Skinny,” said Hal when Shirley creaked open the passenger-side door.
Shirley assumed Anna had gotten the kiss she wanted; she looked happy. But Shirley got what she wanted, too: no kiss, because she was too far away on the long bench seat for Hal to reach. In front of the mannequin arms and legs and heads that were about to roll.
While they waited for their main courses at the House of Wing, Anna, Hal, and Shirley drank their exotic drinks and tasted different appetizers. Anna allowed Shirley to have ginger ale, which gave her hiccups. Their drinks had pink-and-yellow paper umbrellas in them that Shirley thought would be perfect for a diorama. They dipped noodles into a dish of sweet duck sauce, nibbled on spare ribs from the pupu platter, and slurped bowls of wonton soup. The YCDBSOYA tie clip helped Hal keep his tie out of the soup, but it didn’t do anything about keeping the soup out of his mustache.
Shirley made an effort to look interested when Hal talked about espadrilles, the shoes every woman wanted for summer. Shirley felt herself beginning to soften just a little where Hal was concerned. At the very least, for Anna, who thought Hal was the man of her dreams. Shirley wanted Anna to stay happy because maybe then she would be nicer. Also the YCDBSOYA on Hal’s tie clip had helped Shirley with Mr. Merrill.
Shirley excused herself to check out the opulent ladies’ room, a Chinese Palace of Light. When she got back, their main courses had arrived, but Hal and Anna were engaged in a lively and smoky discussion and were not eating them. They stopped abruptly when Shirley sat down.
Hal reached to the right of his seat and handed Shirley a white shoebox with a new pair of Keds inside—to wear to camp, he said—and a book called The Shirley Temple Storybook. “For your birthday coming soon,” Hal said. “She’s a Shoiley like you’re a Shoiley.”
Shirley accepted the presents, only minding a little that Hal had signed his name on the inside of the book in ink: From Hal to Shirley With Love.
But then Anna started crying and holding on to Hal’s hand.
“I am going to Baltimore to open a new shoe store called Halwyn’s, because Hal wants to win, Shoiley, my goil,” said Hal.
Shirley now understood the reason for Anna’s tears.
“I know you and your ravishing mom and captivating grandma will get along capitally without me,” Hal added with his usual largesse, this time of words.
After Hal’s declaration, Anna and Shirley did not stay to eat the main course or the dessert or fortune cookies. They stayed for as long as Hal needed to pay the check. Anna’s decision.
Shirley was truly shocked that Hal was absconding to Baltimore even though his demise had been one of her private hopes. She pretended to read “Rumpelstiltskin” in her new Shirley Temple Storybook at the table while Anna yelled, but she was actually thinking about some more reasons for remembering Hal: she would remember him for making her blood boil over the Big Daddy thing; for the words of the week he brought to dinner on Sundays, including ravishing and captivating and capitally; for letting her see the sweet side of Anna as someone’s amie (“girlfriend” in French—say: “ah-me”); and for making Grandma speak Russian so much that Shirley learned many new words. Hal was pretty pivotal in all of their lives.
Grandma had been right about Hal, however. He had a secret: three of them, in fact. One wife and two children, who would be moving to Baltimore with him, which Hal had told Anna about at the restaurant—and which Anna told Shirley about in the taxi going home.
“And a lot of stolen shoes,” Anna said, negating any largesse that Shirley thought Hal had displayed. Anna did not say: Smart Grandma. But Shirley thought it.
* * *
“I’ll never forget Hal’s tie clip,” Shirley told Grandma on the couch that night.
“Vhat in the vorld are all those letters?” Grandma asked, braiding her hair.
Shirley wrote out the words on the back of a Larry’s Taxicab Company envelope—You Can’t Do Business Sitting On Your Apron—so that Grandma would understand better.
Shirley went outside. She swung around on the post that held up the roof over the stoop, assuring herself that she and Anna would be okay once Grandma moved. Shirley knew how to warm things up on the stove and cook if she had to, shop for things, wash dishes, and vacuum. She could do the laundry and would remember her key so she could get inside when she came home from school or from anywhere else. Shirley was thinking of the one thing she would not have—a dog—when Mr. Bickerstaff and Mustard came downstairs.
“You have a great dog, Mr. Bickerstaff,” Shirley said, and then added, “In case you’re interested, I would be happy to take Mustard to the park this summer while you are at work. It’s so pretty there, and Mustard would love to run around with the other dogs and with me. I have a lot of experience from walking my aunt Claire’s dog, Natalie.”
“I’ll pay you three dollars a week,” said Mr. Bickerstaff, a dollar more than Shirley had been getting from Hal for her allowance.
Wait till I tell Phillie, she thought. And Anna, who is not yet aware that I will have enough free time to walk Mustard since I won’t be going to Breezy Bay Day Camp. Shirley would even be able to buy her own bathing suit to take to Lake Winni Pee. She couldn’t wait to tell Phillie about that either.
Chapter 17
THE PONY; THE TWIST; ONE, TWO, CHA-CHA-CHA
The first thing Shirley saw when she entered the gym the following Tuesday with her class was a sweeping paper banner that said GOOD LUCK TO PS 606Q’S GRADUATING SIXTH GRADERS!
There were colored balloons with matching ribbons hanging from the basketball hoops, streamers on the lunchroom chairs, shiny silver and gold tablecloths on the lunchroom tables, and pictures of each sixth-grade class on the walls. All the men teachers were dressed up in jackets, some striped, some not, with festive ties. The women teachers wore spaghetti-strap dresses in hot summer colors. Shirley was elated to see Mrs. Greif modeling a silky salmon-colored French party dress, a French twist, and a pair of open-toed shoes exactly like Anna’s. Mrs. Greif always looked so cool, even when it was stifling.
“Bonjour, Madame!” Shirley said.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle!” said Mrs. Greif.
When Shirley told Mrs. Greif that she would love to help with the French club (even though she hadn’t yet told Anna), she got a big hug. Shirley did not know how to say hug in French but promised herself that she’d look it up when she got home—right before she told Anna about her summer plans: all of them. Mrs. Greif led Shirley to a table to taste one of the buttery butterfly cookies she’d made at home for the celebration.
“We’ll learn to bake these this summer,” she told Shirley.
Barry and Maury (who, as Shirley had predicted, was okay sharing her and the prom with Barry), in new pants and new shirts, with no ties, had followed Shirley like loyal puppies, hoping to taste one of Mrs. Greif’s pastries, too. In fact, they hoped to taste everything the various teachers and parents had brought: blond brownies and Toll House cookies, Greek baklava (Shirley’s favorite) and Italian cannoli, Oreos, Lorna Doones, Sugar
Wafers, Twinkies, Ring Dings, Peppermint Patties (which made Shirley sneeze), and Devil Dogs; potato chips, pretzels, and of course Fritos; and Hawaiian Punch, ginger ale, Coke, and Pepsi, as well as cherry, grape, and orange sodas, to wash it all down.
This is some party! Shirley thought, not knowing the difference between a Ring Ding, a Devil Dog, and a Twinkie since Anna didn’t allow them at home.
Then there was the music blasting from amplifiers alongside a big record player that Mr. Hoffmann, the music teacher, had made himself master of, much like Ed Sullivan on The Ed Sullivan Show. Shirley recognized songs she’d listened to on the radio.
She had never done the twist before (or any other dance except ballet), and it was scary to think of doing it in such a big public place like the gym, with a floor that went on for what seemed like miles. The endless floor had never bothered Shirley when she had gym there. But this was the prom, and she felt more than a little unsure of herself.
Shirley looked around and saw that she was among some of the best people: Mrs. Greif, Maury and Barry, Edie, and Benny, kids she had known since kindergarten, along with a handful of her former teachers, who stopped in to say goodbye and good luck to their former students. She noticed Mr. Merrill on the other side of the gym taking pictures of the festivities.
Then Shirley, in a fancy red Helen Katz prom dress, danced the twist with Barry and Maury, Edie, Benny, and anyone else who wanted to join them.
Chubby Checker had a new record out called “Pony Time,” and Sharon Levitt showed everyone how to do the pony when the twist was over. The new dance involved a sort of high gallop to the left and then one to the right, over and over. There were so many kids on the gym floor that Shirley was absorbed into the crowd of them.
Shirley danced the cha-cha with Edie since neither Barry nor Maury knew how to do it. (Anna had taught her one weekend on their living room floor with the rug rolled back, when Madame Macaroni was sidelined by an attack of appendicitis.) When the record finished, Edie and Shirley hugged each other. Edie would be going to sleepaway camp for the summer, along with a lot of other kids like Maury, then on to her neighborhood junior high, different from Shirley’s. Shirley was wondering how she would ever see Edie again when she felt Barry tapping her on the shoulder.