by Betsy Haynes
Your Secret Admirer
Wow! I thought. That was great. But if I wrote it, even printed it, she would recognize my handwriting. I would have to type it. We didn't have a typewriter at home, but there was one in the Media Center at school. Kids could use it anytime they wanted to. I looked at my watch. It was only five after three. The school would still be open for after-school activities such as Girl Scouts and for teachers getting their rooms ready for tomorrow. If I hurried, I could get there, type the note, and leave it in our mailbox—all before Mom got home from work.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I grabbed my notebook and went racing off to Mark Twain Elementary. I took my notebook along because I didn't know how many pieces of paper I would have to use before I got the note typed without any mistakes. I couldn't just run a slash mark through wrong letters the way Keith had done my notes. Mom's note would have to be perfect.
When I got to the Media Center, Mrs. Birney, the librarian, was shelving books. She looked surprised to see me, but she smiled and waved for me to come in.
"Would it be all right if I used the typewriter for a few minutes?" I hoped she wouldn't ask me what I was going to type.
Fortunately, she didn't. She just nodded and smiled again.
As soon as I rolled a sheet of paper into the typewriter, I had a terrible thought. It was regular, lined notebook paper. Grown men who wrote secret admirer notes to beautiful women wouldn't use lined notebook paper. They would use expensive stationery. Maybe even stationery that smelled like perfume. I sighed and looked at the paper in the machine. It was all I had. Not only that, I couldn't afford to go out and buy expensive stationery that smelled like perfume. My own stationery at home had kittens on it. Grown men would never write secret admirer notes to beautiful women on stationery with kittens on it, either.
I sighed and started to type. The first mistake I made was forgetting to capitalize D and P in "Dear Pat." I wrote "dear pat." I made a face and pulled the paper out of the machine. Then I rolled a second sheet in and started again. This time I got all the way to "noticing" before I made a mistake. I was glad Wiggins wasn't there to see that I forgot to drop the e off "notice" before adding the "ing."
By the time I finally finished, I had used six sheets of paper. Typing was pretty hard. I didn't know how Mom did it all day long. I put the note into my notebook and thanked Mrs. Birney as I left. It was getting late. I would have to hurry to get home and plant the note in the mailbox before Mom got there. I wished that I could mail it, but I didn't have a stamp. Plus, I was too anxious for Mom to get it. I couldn't stand to wait a day or two for it to go through the mail.
I was almost to the front door of the school when I heard someone call my name. It was Mrs. Winchell, the school principal, and when I turned toward her, she was smiling. "Hi, Jana. What are you doing at school so late?"
"I just needed to use the typewriter in the Media Center." I liked Mrs. Winchell. For a principal she was pretty nice. Besides that, she was Christie's mother, and Christie was one of my best friends.
"I hear that you got a note from a secret admirer."
My heart stopped. "How did you hear about that?"
"Miss Wiggins told me. News such as that travels around the school pretty fast."
"Oh," I said, relaxing a little. I had thought at first that maybe she knew who my secret admirer was. "Actually, I've gotten three notes. The last one was stuck in my locker door after school."
"Well, that's pretty exciting."
I nodded, and a big grin spread across my face.
"Have you figured out who he is yet?"
I nodded again. "I think so, anyway. There's one boy in class that looked at me five times today. I think it's him."
"That sounds like a good possibility to me. By the way, do you have the notes with you?"
"No, they're at home."
Mrs. Winchell's smile faded and she looked thoughtful for a moment. "Would you bring them into the office in the morning and let me look at them? It seems that you aren't the only one at Mark Twain Elementary who has gotten a note from a secret admirer."
My mouth must have dropped open at the news because Mrs. Winchell laughed nervously and added, "There is probably no connection between this other person's secret admirer and yours, but I would like to compare the notes just to make sure. I hope you won't mind."
I said that I would bring them and then headed for home. I was totally stunned. Another secret admirer sending notes to someone in our school? The closer I got to our apartment, the more worried I became. What if someone was playing a trick? Sending secret admirer notes to lots of people and then watching to see what they did? But if lots of kids were getting secret admirer notes, why hadn't I heard about them?
A block from home I stopped and leaned against a tree. I had just had another terrible thought. My secret admirer had said to wear red to school tomorrow if I like movies. I had planned to wear my red jumpsuit and red socks and maybe even red barrettes in my hair. What if my secret admirer was the same one who had been sending notes to other kids? And what if a bunch of us showed up tomorrow wearing red? Then whoever was playing a trick on us would have a big laugh.
That settled it. I would not wear red to school tomorrow. Not even if everything else I owned was dirty. I would never wear red to school again for as long as I lived. But instead of being angry, I wanted to cry. I had been so sure that Keith Masterson was my secret admirer.
I thought about the notes again and all the times that Keith had looked at me today. He had to be my secret admirer. He just had to! Maybe someone had heard about my secret admirer and decided to write a note to someone they liked. Surely that was it. I tried to remember what Mrs. Winchell had said. She had said that I wasn't the only one who had a secret admirer. She didn't say that lots of people had them. In fact I remembered her saying something about "this other person's secret admirer." And what if I didn't wear red tomorrow? And my secret admirer really was Keith? And he thought I didn't like movies? He wouldn't ask me to go with him Saturday!
I couldn't help wondering who the other person with a secret admirer was. I knew that if it were any of my four best friends I would know about it. And it wouldn't be Alexis Duvall or Sara Sawyer. They both had dates for Saturday. Taffy Sinclair! It had to be her. Boys were always looking at her and saying how pretty she was. Probably some boy who was too shy to talk to her had heard about my secret admirer and decided to send her a note. Maybe her secret admirer was Gregory Harper, the shy kid who Katie felt certain was sending my notes. I had to giggle at that. It would serve Taffy right. But what if it wasn't? And what if it wasn't someone playing tricks, either? What if it turned out to be Randy Kirwan and he was planning to ask her to the movie on Saturday?
I trudged on home, feeling more confused than ever. There was only one thing I felt certain of. I had to leave the secret admirer note I had just typed in the mailbox where Mom would find it. Since I was the one who wrote it, I knew that no one was playing a trick on her. Well, not really, anyway.
CHAPTER NINE
I opened the mailbox and slipped Mom's secret admirer note in between an envelope with a window in it that was probably a bill and a magazine and hurried upstairs to wait for her. I couldn't sit still, even though she was due home any minute. I spread my homework out on my desk, but I couldn't get started on it. I checked twice to see if my red jumpsuit was clean. It was. My red socks were, too. I checked them three times.
Finally I heard her key turning in the lock. I hurried into the kitchen before she got inside and leaned against the counter, trying to look casual.
"Hi, sweetheart," she called as she came in, and pitched the mail onto the sofa without looking at it. "How was your day?"
Rats! I thought, but I gave her a big smile and said, "Great. How was yours?"
"Okay, but busy."
She still didn't look at the mail. I had to think of something.
"Any interesting mail?" I asked, still trying to appear casual.
"I don't know. I haven't looked at it yet. You can check it if you want to, but it's probably all bills. That's all we ever get around this time of month." I looked down at the assortment of junk mail and other stuff fanned out across the sofa cushion. I could see one corner of the folded sheet of lined notebook paper peeking out, and I got a tingly feeling. I wanted her to pick up the mail and thumb through it and find the secret-admirer note herself.
Mom hung up her coat and headed for the kitchen. When she passed the sofa she gave the mail a disgusted look and said, "All bills, right?" Then she walked on by.
I knew I had to take action. I scooped up the letters and followed her into the kitchen. "I haven't looked yet. Hey, look at this. It's the phone bill."
Mom turned around and gave me a quizzical look. At that instant I pulled the secret-admirer note out and waved it toward her. "I wonder what this is?" Before she could answer, I pushed it into her hand.
Shrugging, Mom unfolded the lined notebook paper and frowned as she read. "My secret admirer?" she whispered. "This has to be some kind of joke."
"Secret admirer?" I asked, trying to fake surprise.
My heart was racing as she handed me the note. I cleared my throat and read the message out loud. "'Dear Pat, I am writing to tell you that I have been noticing you for a long time. I think you are very nice and very pretty. I know that you like Wallace Pinkerton, but I will keep hoping that someday you will like me instead.' Signed, 'Your Secret Admirer.' Wow! Mom, you have a secret admirer! Isn't it exciting?"
Mom rolled her eyes toward the ceiling and took the note back, only instead of reading it again, she pitched it into the wastebasket. "It's probably some kook," she said angrily. "Just look at it. It's typed and on notebook paper at that. There's no envelope. No stamp. It has to be a kook. Jana," she said, putting both hands on my shoulders and looking me straight in the eye, "I want you to be very careful walking back and forth to school. Don't talk to strangers. And be alert for anyone loitering in the hallway of this apartment building. There are a lot of crazies out there in the world, and we've apparently gotten the attention of one of them."
I blinked hard. "But Mom—" I started to protest.
Mom cut me off. "There are no buts about it, Jana. I've lived longer than you have, and I know that this could be dangerous. I want you to do exactly what I've told you. That's all there is to it."
I scuffed off to my room with my heart in my throat. I was only trying to put some excitement into Mom's life. Some romance. But I had goofed it up, and now she was scared half to death that we were being stalked by some kind of creep.
CHAPTER TEN
I took my red jumpsuit out of the closet the next morning and laid it across my bed. Should I wear it or not? Then I got out my red socks and put them next to the jumpsuit. It was one of my favorite outfits. So what if I just happened to wear it today? That didn't absolutely positively mean I was signaling my secret admirer that I liked movies.
Then I thought about the possibility that the notes were a trick. What if I showed up in red and everyone started laughing? What would I do then?
I had meant to call my best friends after I finished my homework last night and talk the situation over with them. But I had been so depressed over the way Mom had reacted to her secret admirer note that I had never made the calls. She had talked to me again, before she left for work this morning, about not speaking to strangers and staying away from people who seemed to be just standing around. She was really upset.
Suddenly Keith Masterson's face popped into my mind. He was my secret admirer. I couldn't be more convinced if he had signed his name to those notes. I had to wear red today. I had to let him know that I wanted to go to the movie with him. For a moment I thought about Randy and how Taffy was flirting with him. It made me mad that she was taking advantage of the situation, but if Randy wasn't going to ask me to go to the movie, there wasn't anything I could do.
When I got to school, everything looked normal. Kids were standing in groups talking, and a bunch of boys, including Keith and Randy Kirwan, were racing around the baseball diamond. I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't really expected them to be lined up in front of the building just waiting to laugh at me if I showed up wearing red, but I hadn't been certain that they wouldn't, either.
Unfortunately, my feeling of relief didn't last long. I had barely gotten to where my friends were standing near the fence when Taffy Sinclair came marching up to us. Mona Vaughn was following her, naturally, but Alexis and Lisa and Sara were tagging along, too.
"Is it true that you're telling everyone you have a secret admirer?" Taffy challenged.
"I DO have a secret admirer. So what's it to you?"
Taffy just stood there with a nasty look on her face for a moment. Then she smiled confidently at Mona, who said in a meek voice, "Taffy doesn't think the notes are real. She thinks you wrote them yourself. "
"What?!" I shrieked. "How dare you say a thing like that, Taffy Sinclair!"
"Everybody knows that Randy hasn't asked you to go to the movie on Saturday," she said. "You want everybody to think that it doesn't matter because somebody else likes you. But it doesn't take brains to figure out that you're faking it."
"Well, if it took brains to figure anything out, you'd be out of luck!" screamed Beth. "You're just jealous because Jana has a secret admirer."
"Ha!" Taffy snickered. "What kind of boy would be her secret admirer, anyway? It would have to be one who liked girls who went around for DAYS with a big fat hole in her hair right by her face."
I could feel my ears getting hot and my face blazing red. Taffy was talking about the time when I forgot to spit my gum out before I went to bed. It got stuck in my hair right above my left ear, and I had to cut it out with scissors. How dare she mention a thing like that! Especially since I had gotten a fabulous new haircut that eliminated the hole completely.
I dug around in my notebook until I found the notes. "See!" I shouted, holding them up in the air. "Here they are. Anybody can see that I didn't write them myself."
"That's because they're typed," Taffy argued, ignoring the notes. "Any kid in the whole school can use the typewriter in the Media Center, so that doesn't prove you didn't write them. You're just boy crazy, Jana Morgan, and you want everybody to think that boys are falling all over themselves for you."
"Oh, yeah?" I blurted. "Well, I know who my secret admirer is, but I'd die before I'd tell you. So THERE!" With that I turned and stomped off toward the building. My friends went with me, leaving Taffy and Mona and all the others standing there.
"Do you really know who it is?" asked Melanie, as soon as we were out of earshot.
"Keith, of course," I said.
"Did he call you or something?" asked Christie.
"No, silly. I told you, he looked at me five times yesterday. It's him, I know it is."
None of my friends said anything to that. I knew they weren't as sure as I was. It didn't matter. Keith would be asking me to the movie soon—probably before today was over—and then they would be convinced.
"I have to stop in the office for a minute before the bell rings," I said, suddenly remembering that Mrs. Winchell wanted to see my notes. "I'll tell you why later. See you guys in class."
I was thinking about Taffy Sinclair when I entered the school. I would show her that I had a real secret admirer if it was the last thing I ever did. I would flirt my head off with Keith Masterson if I had to, and I would make sure he saw that I was wearing red today. I was so busy planning my revenge on Taffy that I almost didn't notice Randy Kirwan at the drinking fountain by the door. He looked up when I walked in and smiled, but for the first time in a long time it wasn't his 1,000-watt smile.
"Hi, Randy," I said, smiling back.
"Hi, Jana," he said shyly. Randy didn't usually act shy, and I couldn't help thinking that he wanted to say something else. It couldn't be about the movie Saturday; Scott had already said he wasn't taking me. Was he trying to tell me that he didn't like m
e anymore?
I swallowed hard. First Taffy had zeroed in on me, and now it was Randy's turn. I had to get out of there. I didn't want to hear what he was going to say.
"I have to go to the office," I said. I whirled around as fast as I could, not paying any attention to where I was going. Suddenly I smacked into someone and went sprawling across the floor.
"Hey, Jana? Are you okay?"
When I looked up to see who was talking to me, I couldn't believe my eyes. It was Keith Masterson, and he was reaching down to help me up. Not only that, but he had a worried look on his face as if he thought something terrible had happened to me.
"Sure. I'm okay," I said hastily. I felt like such a klutz. "Honest. I'm fine."
The worried look stayed on his face as he helped me to my feet. "Gosh, I'm sorry I bumped into you," he said earnestly. "I guess I wasn't looking where I was going. I'm really glad that you're okay." He was smiling at me, and it may not have been 1,000-watts, but it was close.
After Keith went on, I brushed myself off, thinking about all those movies where violins start playing just before two lovers kiss for the very first time. I had always thought those movies were mushy, but I had almost heard those violins when Keith helped me to my feet. I was more sure than ever that he was my secret admirer. The worried look on his face had proved that.
I had started on down the hall to Mrs. Winchell's office when I suddenly remembered Randy. I glanced back toward the drinking fountain, but he was gone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mrs. Winchell looked up from her work and gave me a friendly smile. "Sit down." She motioned to a chair beside her desk. "I'll be with you in just a moment."
While Mrs. Winchell finished what she was doing, I looked around the office. It was just a regular principal's office with bookshelves on one wall and big windows in the wall by the door so that she could look out into the reception area where Mrs. Lockwood, the school secretary, sat.