by Betsy Haynes
Finally Mrs. Winchell pushed the papers aside and looked up at me. "Tell me more about your secret admirer." She was smiling kindly and looking very interested.
"There isn't really much to tell. First, I got this note." I unfolded the first secret admirer note and slid it across the desk to her.
Mrs. Winchell read the note and then asked, "When did you get this one?"
"Tuesday. Right after afternoon recess. Then on Wednesday my friends and I began watching all the boys in class to see who looked at me the most. That's why I know one of them has looked at me five whole times," I said proudly.
Mrs. Winchell smiled. "When did you get the second note?"
"Yesterday, after recess again." I handed her the second note. "Then I found this one stuck in my locker door after school."
Mrs. Winchell studied all three notes. Then she looked at me again. "You must be pretty confident that you know who your secret admirer is and that he's someone you'd like to go to the movies with, since I notice you're wearing red today, just as the note instructs you to do."
I nodded and whispered, "I think it's Keith Masterson."
"Oh," she said knowingly. "Well. He certainly is a nice boy."
"And cute, too." I giggled.
Mrs. Winchell sank back in her chair. I could tell by her expression that she was going to say something else. I was right. "Jana," she began slowly. "I'm not sure exactly how to say this, but I'd like for you to be a little careful about these notes."
Surprise must have shown on my face because she laughed nervously and said, "I don't want to upset you. It's just that . . . well . . . do you remember that I mentioned to you yesterday that you weren't the only one at school who had received a secret admirer note?"
I nodded and tried to swallow, but a big lump was growing in my throat.
"There are certain things about your notes that are similar to the other person's note," she said gently.
"Like what?"
"Well, for one thing, they're all typed on school paper, and also the wording is similar. Two different people probably wouldn't use the same words to express their feelings."
I knew what Mrs. Winchell was saying, but I couldn't believe it. She was saying that someone was really playing a trick on me. That Keith Masterson wasn't my secret admirer after all. I bit my lower lip to keep it from trembling and asked, "Couldn't somebody have gotten the idea from my note? Maybe they wanted to tell someone else that they liked them and just didn't bother to make up new words."
Mrs. Winchell nodded. "That's certainly another possibility," she said kindly. "It's also my responsibility to everyone in this school to make sure no one is doing anything unkind or harmful. I hope you understand that."
I did and nodded to Mrs. Winchell. "Who is the other person getting secret admirer notes?"
Sighing, she said, "I'm afraid I can't tell you that. The other person wants it kept a secret."
A secret? I thought. Then it couldn't be Taffy Sinclair. She would want everybody in the whole wide world to know about it. But who could it be? And who would want to do anything unkind or harmful to this other person and me? I thought about Mom just then, too. I was remembering how paranoid she had gotten when she read her secret admirer note last night. She was sure someone dangerous was out to hurt us, when I was the one who wrote it all along.
That idea made me feel better. Probably Mrs. Winchell was misunderstanding, too. I certainly hoped so. I really wanted Keith Masterson to be my secret admirer and to ask me to go to the movie with him. Probably the other secret admirer just wanted someone to go to the movie with, too.
Mrs. Winchell handed back my notes and said I could leave. I thanked her and was headed for the door when she called my name again. "Jana, there was one more thing I wanted to ask about. Would you sit down again, dear? This will only take a minute."
I sat down on the edge of the chair and waited for her question. She sighed again, as if it was a hard thing for her to ask.
"You were here after school yesterday using the typewriter in the Media Center. Isn't that what you told me?"
I nodded.
"I don't mean to be nosy, but what were you typing? Was it something you couldn't do during the day?"
I tried to look at her, but tears were blurring my sight. I knew what she meant. She thought I had sneaked back after everybody had gone home and typed those notes myself!
"Please, Jana. It's important that you tell me. As you know, the notes were all typed. I'm convinced they were typed on the school typewriter by a student. I don't want to believe that you're the one who typed them, so if you'll just tell me what it was you were typing, we can get this unpleasant business over with once and for all."
"I didn't do it, Mrs. Winchell!" I sobbed. "I told you the truth."
"Okay, Jana. I believe you," she said softly, and handed me a tissue. "I didn't mean to make you cry."
I blew my nose and stared at my left shoe. I still didn't look up when she said again that I could leave, and I scurried out the door. She thought I was the one who wrote the notes. I knew I could never look her in the eye again.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The bell rang as soon as I got out of Mrs. Winchell's office, and I was glad that I had to go straight to class. I certainly didn't feel like talking to anybody. Not even to my four best friends. I was just too depressed. I knew they would be dying to know what I was doing in the principal's office. How could I tell them that she thought I was writing secret admirer notes to myself? And maybe to another person, also? It was just too humiliating.
I sank into my seat and was only partly aware of Wiggins's taking roll and making the morning announcements. I had too many things on my mind to pay attention or even to watch to see which boys were looking at me. What did it matter anyway—if the notes were just a joke? Then I thought about all the times Keith had looked at me and the worried expression he had had when he helped me up in the hall. The notes couldn't be a joke. They just couldn't!
At morning recess my friends were all as chirpy as birds. They had no way of knowing how miserable I felt.
"Did you see how many times Randy Kirwan was looking at you this morning?" cried Beth. She was dancing around excitedly and pointing to her chart. "I saw him three times."
"I saw him twice," said Melanie. She was almost as excited as Beth. "I think he was trying to get your attention."
A rush of hope swept over me for an instant, but it was gone again as I remembered seeing Randy in the hall. He had been trying to get my attention then, too, but from the look on his face I knew he was going to give me bad news.
"He was probably going to tell me that he doesn't like me anymore and that he's taking Taffy out on Saturday," I said dejectedly.
"Jana, how can you say that?" asked Christie in an exasperated voice. "He's your BOYFRIEND! I'd give anything if Mr. Scott would look at me three whole times in one morning."
I explained to them about seeing Randy in the hall on my way to the office to see Mrs. Winchell and the funny look he'd had on his face. Then I told them about trying to get away before he could say anything and running smack into Keith Masterson.
"I know Keith's my secret admirer." I sounded more confident than I felt. "No matter what Mrs. Winchell thinks."
The moment I said that I knew I had goofed. My friends were looking at me questioningly, and then Christie asked slowly, "What do you mean? What does my mother think?"
"She thinks I sent the notes to myself to get attention and that I even sent a note to someone else." I blurted.
Christie got a horrified look on her face, but she didn't say anything. It was Katie who asked, "She thinks you sent a note to someone else? What are you talking about?"
"There is someone in this school who has gotten a secret admirer note, also. Mrs. Winchell wanted to see my notes to check for similarities. She thinks I wrote all of them because I was using the typewriter after school yesterday and they're all typed. Not only that, but the other letter has some of the
same words in it as mine."
"That doesn't prove anything," said Christie.
"I know that," I said, "but SHE thinks it does."
"Who is the other person who got a secret admirer note?" asked Beth.
"I don't know," I confessed. "Mrs. Winchell said the other person wanted it kept a secret."
"That sounds dumb to me," said Melanie. "I'd think she'd want everybody to know."
"At first I thought it might be Taffy Sinclair," I offered. "But you're right, Mel. She'd want everybody in the world to know. But the worst thing is that Mrs. Winchell thinks I've done something terrible, and it's all because of the person who wrote that other note. What am I going to do?"
Beth put an arm around me and gave me a sympathetic hug, but she didn't offer any suggestions. Neither did anybody else. I could see they were as worried as I was.
Christie had been drawing circles in the dirt with the toe of her sneaker. Finally she stopped and said in a tiny voice, "I know who the other person is who has a secret admirer."
"You?!" I cried. "Why didn't you tell us?"
Christie was shaking her head. "It isn't me. It's . . . it's Mr. Scott. I know because I wrote him the note."
I was too flabbergasted to say anything as Christie went on with her story. "It seemed like such a good idea. He never pays any attention to me, and I think he's so wonderful. I wasn't trying to get a date with him or anything. I know that will never happen. I just wanted him to know that somebody really likes him."
"So you copied the first note I got from my secret admirer and left it where he could find it." Christie nodded. "I wrote, 'Dear Mr. Scott, I am writing to tell you that I have been noticing you for a long time. I think you are very nice and very handsome. I know that you probably like someone else, but I will keep hoping that someday you will like me. Your Secret Admirer.' You've got to believe me, Jana. I had no idea that he would show it to my mother."
Part of me was sympathetic with Christie, but part of me wasn't. "But I'M the one who got in trouble," I insisted.
"Oh, please, PLEASE don't tell on me," Christie begged. "I'll do anything you want me to. You just can't tell her. Okay?"
"Didn't you hear me? I'm the one she thinks wrote all the notes."
"But you didn't," said Melanie. "And when Keith asks you to the movie, you'll have proof that he wrote the ones to you. Mrs. Winchell will believe you then."
"Oh, she will!" said Christie. "I know my mom. She'll believe you."
I sighed, wondering how I ever got myself into these things. "Okay," I said at last. "I'll keep my mouth shut for now, but this had better work out the way you said, Christie. That's all there is to it."
Christie kept bugging me to let her do something to pay me back for not telling her mother the truth. I kept telling her that best friends don't have to pay each other back, but after recess when Wiggins took us to the Media Center for free reading again, I got this great idea.
I was sitting at one of the library tables doodling in my notebook. I was thinking about all the secret admirer notes that had been sent to people since the week began and all the problems they had caused. I shook my head in wonder as I thought about all those notes spreading around like the flu. It was practically an epidemic.
First there were my notes. The first one had made me ecstatic, and so had the second one. Even the third one, the one asking me to wear something red to school today if I liked movies, had been sort of fun at first. But now I wasn't sure I really had a secret admirer, and Mrs. Winchell thought I wrote those notes myself. Then there was the note to Mr. Scott. How could Christie have done something so dumb? Now her mother suspected me of writing it and practically thought I was a criminal. Last was the note I had written to Mom to try to add some excitement to her life. I hadn't meant to frighten her to death.
Still, the more I thought about Mom, the more I realized that the only way I could get her to stop worrying was to write one more note. Just one more. That's all it would take. I glanced over at the typewriter. No one was using it. But what if Mrs. Birney was watching? What if Mrs. Winchell had asked her to report everybody who typed on it? I'd be in more trouble than ever. But nobody suspected Christie, and she'd be glad to do it for me. Especially when I explained about the trouble I had started by writing a secret admirer note to Mom. In a way, Christie and I were in the same boat and could help each other out. I smiled to myself and began deciding what the note would say.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
By lunchtime I was beginning to see red. I had been wearing my red jumpsuit all day, not to mention red socks and red barrettes, and Keith had not said one word to me about the movie. After Christie typed the secret admirer note for my mom in the Media Center, I began paying more attention to him. He was looking at me again. I caught him twice before we had to go back to our homeroom. So, why hadn't he said anything to me yet?
The first person I saw when my friends and I got onto the playground after lunch was Taffy Sinclair. She was standing with Mona, and when she saw me she got the biggest smirk on her face I had ever seen.
"I see you're wearing red today, Jana," she said in a sarcastic voice.
"I happen to like red. In fact, it's my favorite color."
"I'll bet it is. It's too bad you aren't going to the movie with everybody Saturday."
Her words hit me like a bolt of lightning. I looked at her, and she was still smirking. What did she mean by that? I was dying to ask her, but I didn't dare. When she said everybody, was she including herself? Had my worst fears come true? Did she have a date with Randy?
"I'm going to get a drink," I mumbled, stomping off toward the drinking fountain by the building. I had to get away from there. I was so mad at Taffy Sinclair that if I stayed around her any longer, I didn't know what terrible thing I might do.
As I bent over the fountain, I heard my name.
"Hey, Jana. Can I talk to you a minute?"
It was Keith. He was trotting up behind me, giving me a great big smile. My knees went weak. I could almost hear those violins again.
"Hi, Keith. What's up?" I said as casually as possible.
"There's something I need to ask you," he said, and then I could swear that he almost blushed. My heart was pounding.
"I guess you know a lot of guys are asking girls to go to the movie this weekend?" he asked self-consciously.
I nodded.
"At first, it was just Scott and Joel and Mark who were going on a dare. Joel said Scott didn't have enough nerve to ask Melanie for a real date, and then Scott said Joel didn't have enough nerve to ask Sara, and then they both jumped on Mark to ask Alexis. Stuff like that. Well, anyway, now some more guys are thinking of asking girls, and . . ." Keith paused as if he was losing his nerve. I thought I'd die. I almost wished I could say the words for him.
He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other. Suddenly he gave me a big grin and blurted, "Do you think Beth would go with me if I ask her?"
You could have knocked me over with one red sock. So that's why he had been staring at me all week. He didn't want to ask me. He wanted to ask Beth.
Keith was still talking. "She's your best friend, so you'd probably know if she would go. Do you think I should ask her?"
"Sure. Why don't you talk to her right now? She's over there."
I pointed toward my friends, turning so that Keith could not see the disappointment on my face. I was happy for Beth. Really happy. But what about me?
Beth was delirious when she told me the news a few minutes later. "Oh, Jana," she cried, clutching my arm. "Keith asked me to the movie! He asked ME! He said he talked to you first." Then she paused and got a concerned look. "You aren't mad, are you? I know you thought he was your secret admirer."
"Of course I'm not mad," I said, hugging her. Then I managed to give her a big smile. "I think it's great. I just didn't know that you liked him. Why didn't you tell me?"
Beth looked a little sheepish. "I've always thought he was cute," she admitted, "but then
, when you decided he was your secret admirer, I started paying more attention to him. That was when I decided he's not just cute, he's fantastic! I didn't want to tell you, though, because I thought he liked you. And Jana," she added, "thanks for not being mad."
How could I be mad at my best friend just because the boy she thought was fantastic had just asked her to go to the movie? It's just that I thought he was cute, too, and now that I had lost Randy, I didn't have anyone.
Beth and Melanie giggled and talked about what they were going to wear Saturday until the bell rang. I tried to join in, but I couldn't. When I got back to my seat, I pulled my chart out of my notebook and drew a line through Keith Masterson's name. If he wasn't my secret admirer, then who was? I had already eliminated Randy and Scott and Mark and Joel. Now Keith was eliminated, too. I'd die if it were Clarence or Curtis or Gregory, so that only left Richie or Eric or Matt. Richie had only looked at me once, and Eric once and a half. I sighed. Matt Zeboski had looked at me four times, just one time less than Keith, but he had only ranked "almost semi-cute" on the cute scale.
Suddenly a terrible thought occurred to me, and I looked up slowly as my eyes focused on the back of Taffy Sinclair's head four seats in front of me. I was remembering what she had said to me on the playground at noon. I see you're wearing red today, Jana. How did Taffy Sinclair know that my secret admirer had told me to wear red? I had gotten that note after school and nobody knew about it except my four best friends and Mrs. Winchell.
I racked my brain for a few minutes, trying to figure out how she knew about it. Had one of them slipped and said something in front of her on the playground this morning? I was pretty sure they hadn't as I thought back over the scene before school. She had come up to my friends and me and had accused me of writing the notes myself. I frowned. I did pull them out of my notebook and wave them at her to prove they were real, but she didn't take them or look at them closely. There was no way she could have read the one telling me to wear red.