Secrets

by Marthe Jocelyn

  Janice had just got back from the hairdresser’s for her annual summer perm. Her head looked like a Kurly Kate pot scrubber. The curls coiled around like a herd of snails. Later in the summer, we were planning to put on a show in her backyard, including a musical performance – maybe something from Annie, so her hair was perfect. My poker-straight Buster Brown bowl cut meant I would probably be wearing a bathing cap and taking the role of the bald Daddy Warbucks.

  “Hate you?” I didn’t like the sound of that. “Why would I hate you?”

  “We’re going away. Camping.”

  I lost my page in The Secret inside the Box and sat up. “You’re going away? You can’t!” The words poured out of me before I could even think of swallowing them. “Where are you going? For how long? When?”

  “Killarney Park, up north somewhere. For three weeks. We leave on Saturday.” She winced.

  “Three weeks?” One third of the summer? I won’t last. This would not, could not, happen. “But you told me you couldn’t go away because of your dad’s new job.” Obviously she’d forgotten this detail. Good thing I was here to remind her, so she could tell her family the camping trip was off.

  Janice dug her thumb between the pages of her book. “No, we’re going with my Aunt Bobbie and her two kids. Just the moms and the kids.” I felt my stomach squeeze up, as if trying to hide under my ribs. “Mom says the park ranger will give us a hand if we need it. We’ll have a spot on the beach. But I’ll write you every day and I can get mail at the tuck shop, my mom said. I’ll give you the address. And we’ll each make a chart to count off the days till I’m back.” My stomach popped up into my throat. She smiled like someone had just given her a needle and she was trying to put on a brave face.

  I quickly looked down the driveway at the street. There were no other kids, no hide-and-seek, no Red Rover, no dogs rolling in the grass. Sure, that was because they were all somewhere right now having fun, the best times of their lives – splashing in a lake, eating Creamsicles, making crafts out of pinecones.

  I looked up and saw Wayne Bleeker, three fences over, throwing a lacrosse ball in and out of his stick against the wall. A dull whump whump sounded each time the India rubber ball hit the concrete. Janice couldn’t leave me behind with creepy people like Wayne Bleeker.

  On Friday, our last day before all happiness stopped, we wore our almost-matching madras plaid shirts and shorts – mine blue, hers red. We put exactly the same things in our tote bags (comb, one Kleenex, chap-stick, and two dollars), and headed up to the Met Restaurant for french fries with gravy and a Coke. Usually my favorite, the gravy congealed like a beret over my untouched fries. I dug holes into them with my fork as Janice talked about all the things they’d do camping. She couldn’t help it. She’d been brainwashed, made to think this was a good idea. There’s an astronomer and an anthropologist in the park, she told me, and at night they gather all the campers together to look at the stars. They also do this thing where they call the wolves, then there’s a big huge bonfire and a marshmallow roast for everybody.

  “We’re going to look at cribs,” I said, trying to keep up my end of the conversation. How could my mother have a stupid baby when I was eleven? It had ruined my entire summer!

  I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I watched the second hand on my alarm clock click sixty times every minute. I stopped counting at 1,027 seconds.

  In the morning, from behind the veil of our living room sheers, I saw the Muncasters pack the big green station wagon. It was filled to bursting with luggage and tents and badminton rackets. Bicycles were tied to the roof rack. Mrs. Muncaster, Janice, and her sister, Lindsay, piled into the car.

  I ran outside when the car’s engine roared to life. “Send me a postcard!” I hollered, and waved like crazy as they pulled out of the driveway. Janice leaned out the window and pulled up her nose in a piggy salute. I did the same. The car disappeared around the corner.

  “She’ll be back before you know it,” Mr. Muncaster called from across the street. He was cleaning his golf clubs with the garden hose. I could see he was really broken up. He didn’t understand. Being without Janice was like my arm falling off.

  I went into the house and crossed off the first day with black permanent marker. Then I slumped into the living room and lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. The fan on the stereo cabinet moved back and forth, only stirring the hot air. Life as I knew it was over.

  Mom came into the room, wiping her hands on a tea towel. “You’ve got to keep busy, Susan. Your room could use a cleanup, you know. There used to be a desk in there, but I don’t think I’ve seen it since January. And I’m going up the street later. I could drop you off at the library and pick you up when I’m finished. Want to come?”

  I couldn’t move. I had no doubt that the instant boredom had paralyzed me. I continued to stare straight up.

  “Suit yourself,” Mom said, and went back to whatever it is moms do that keeps them busy every single minute of the day.

  I felt the heat cover me like a blanket as I lay there listening to the fan whirring. Then I heard a whump whump whump from outside. I peeled myself off the couch and peeked out the curtain. Wayne Bleeker was bouncing his stupid lacrosse ball from his lacrosse stick on the sidewalk. I watched for a minute. I’d better go out and tell him people were trying to recuperate in here. I slipped out the screen door and onto the porch. “Hi, Susan,” Wayne said, without looking up at me. He kept bouncing his dumb old ball. I guessed it wouldn’t hurt if I came a little closer. No need to shout. I came down the porch steps and stood on the edge of our lawn.

  “Hi, Wayne.” I watched him bounce the ball, pretending he didn’t notice me. Janice and I pretty well ignored Wayne. She said his hair was like a tuft of wiry shoots that always looks dusty. I thought he looked like Punkin’ Head in Eaton’s Santa Claus Parade. He kept bouncing the ball like it was some kind of duty.

  “Hey, hi.” It was Franny Fenny, giggling. Franny lived at the other end of the street, but it might as well have been another city. Funny how there’s a dividing line on the street. People who live beyond that border, you don’t have a clue about how they live, sometimes even what their names are. But we knew Franny because all the kids were at our end, so she showed up whenever she thought there might be something going on. Franny’s family was practically foreign, from Newfoundland. Her mom was loud and called people love and ducky. It seemed there was a whole brood of Fennies, either hollering or eating molasses on bread. Franny was always jumping and giggling, her dark red braids always swinging and her knees always skinned. I never ever thought of asking her to play. She was from the other end of the street, for Pete’s sake.

  “What’re ya doin’?” Franny asked, in a Newfoundland accent.

  “Nothing.” I shrugged. Wayne just kept bouncing his ball. I should go in, I thought, sit on my bed, and wait for Janice to come home. I don’t want to be out here with these two.

  “Want to do something?” Wayne asked. He had stopped bouncing his ball and grinned at me. His tiny pointy teeth were the color of the inside of a banana.

  “Sure. What?” Franny didn’t wait to see if she was included.

  “Want to do something?” Wayne repeated, looking at me.

  I never played with these kids. Not by myself. Only when there was a whole gang of us for British bulldog or hide-and-seek. I didn’t know how to play with them by myself.

  “Like what?” I asked. Maybe? Could I…?

  “Want to go over to Sayvette’s? Look around?” He glanced at Franny, as if this was some secret code.

  She must have known the code because she immediately agreed. “Yeah, let’s go to Sayvette’s!” She clapped, making her braids bounce.

  Sayvette’s was the department store at the plaza. The plaza was on the other side of the creek, and then down the highway. Janice and I never went there. We were not allowed to go there, ever.

  “I haven’t got any money,” I said, hoping this would be the end of it.


  “Doesn’t matter, we don’t need money,” said Wayne. “We’ll just look around. Let’s go.” He waited for a moment, then turned and threw his lacrosse stick up onto his lawn. He started walking toward the end of Thames Avenue, which led down to the creek. Franny skipped after him.

  I looked over at the house. My mother would want me back inside. She wouldn’t want me to go with these two. I knew it.

  Franny and Wayne were at the end of the street now. I should at least tell her, at least that….

  I ran after them.

  At the creek we slid down the deep embankment and ran across the rocky ground to the water’s edge. The green water twisted and swirled below. It stank like an over-used outhouse. I could taste the smell at the back of my throat.

  Wayne led us upstream to a so-called bridge he’d made of large rocks. As light as a squirrel on a wire, Franny hippity-hopped across to the other side. I reached out a toe and skated it across the top of the first flat rock, then pulled it back. “I can’t,” I said.

  Wayne stood in the middle, cool as a cucumber, as if he did this one hundred times every day. He probably did. “You can do it,” he said. “It’s nothing.”

  I shook my head no and backed up a little.

  “C’mon,” he said, “give me your hand.” He leaned over and threw his hand out to me, like it was a lifeline.

  I backed up more and shook my head again. “No, I can’t.”

  “C’mon, I won’t let you fall. Take my hand.” It was an order. What could I do?

  I grabbed his hand. It was hard and dry, like the bottom of a shoe. It gripped mine as if my life depended on it. I’d never touched a boy before. It prickled up the hair on the back of my neck. He pulled me across. The whole time, once he had me, I knew I wouldn’t fall.

  We climbed up the hill and over the guardrail, onto the shoulder of the highway. Cars zipped past. I could hardly breathe, and it wasn’t from the hot asphalt and exhaust fumes. We sang, “Dead skunk in the middle of the road, stinkin’ to high heaven,” at the top of our lungs. When Wayne said he was going to hang a moon at the cars, I could feel my cheeks burning and prayed they didn’t notice. I was glad he didn’t do it.

  Sayvette’s was busy with people on holidays looking for air-conditioning, away from the stinky sweaty heat outside. Moms and sticky babies, teenagers, old people. I’d only ever come here with my mom when we had something specific to buy. Now we were on our own and could go wherever we wanted.

  We looked at fish in tanks, bounced basketballs, tried on sunglasses, and ate free samples of tapioca pudding. We ended up in the candy department. I was beginning to think this was the best time I’d ever had. There was a table display with a kiddie wading pool on top filled with toy boats, all different colors. It looked pretty, like a tiny sea of rainbow baby boats. Maybe my baby sister (fingers crossed) would like one….

  Wayne pressed up behind me and whispered, “Take one.”

  My head came up. “What?”

  “Take one,” he whispered, moving past me. “Put it in your shorts.” He turned around to face me and continued walking, backwards. “When I give the signal, stick one of those in your shorts and run for the exit doors.”

  Franny was beside me now. So close, I could feel her breath on my shoulder. When I glanced at her, her eyes were dancing.

  Wayne kept walking backwards until he stopped at the end of the display table. He whipped his head back and forth, back and forth, watching, waiting. I was shivering and gnawing my knuckle.

  “Okay, now!” he hissed.

  No time to think. I watched my hand reach for a red boat and stuff it down the front of my lime green shorts. I felt it scrape my belly as I shoved it past the waistband, but I didn’t care. I could feel a gouge bloom on the skin of my stomach. In one motion, Wayne grabbed a large cellophane pack of twenty Doublemint gum and jammed it up under his shirt. For a crazy minute, I saw the big stupid rectangle stick out like a bulletproof vest.

  “Run!” Wayne whispered fiercely.

  I ran for the doors like my behind was on fire. I clamped my hands to the bottom hem of my shorts, so the little boat wouldn’t drop out. I flew across the parking lot. I didn’t wait to see where Franny and Wayne were. I was running blind. I ran and ran. My lungs filled up with burning hot liquid, but I kept running straight for the creek. I scrambled over the guardrail, down the hill, lost my footing and hit the ground hard.

  “Ooof.” The air squished out of me. My knee smacked into a rock and started to throb. I didn’t take the time to check for injuries, but jumped back up and limp-raced for the creek. At the water’s edge, I hesitated long enough to realize if I waited one second more I’d lose my nerve. I skittered across the bridge of stones, my arms outstretched and flailing like a crazy tightrope walker. I crawled up the bank monkey-style, on all fours, my hands clawing the dirt and rock. Reaching the top, arms straight out, I surfed onto the grass and lay still.

  Squealing laughter and splashing came from behind. Panting heavily, I turned over and sat up. Wayne and Franny crab-walked up the embankment. Franny flung herself onto the grass beside me and rolled back and forth, laughing herself sick. It was contagious. I could feel laughter come up from deep inside and explode out of me. I flattened myself on the grass and giggled until my stomach hurt. I put my arms around my belly and tried to stop. The sky overhead was a smooth, wonderful, Popsicle blue. Wayne’s face appeared between me and the sky. His gray-green eyes crinkled up at the corners as he smiled down at me.

  “You were great,” he wheezed, leaning on his knees.

  My laughter stopped.

  “I was?” The skin on my arms goose-pimpled.

  He was nodding. “Yeah, great. Fantastic.” He was doubled over, trying to catch his breath. He looked down at me and this time he winked. He held out his hand and yanked me to my feet. My whole insides quivered, like worms in a jar. He slipped the big package of gum out from under his shirt and put it into the waistband at the back of his jeans and pulled his shirt over top. I took out the toy boat, which I realized had been trapped in my underwear, and cradled it in my hand.

  I could have flown home. Nothing could be more thrilling than this. The three of us walked along with big grins all over our faces.

  Wayne turned in at his driveway. He stepped behind the hedge and reached behind his back. There was a sound of crinkling cellophane and then he held out two packages of Doublemint gum.

  “Here,” he said. “A reward.”

  Franny took hers and snickered. Mine was warm from being hidden, and I put it in my pocket. Franny didn’t wait, but shoved a stick into her mouth.

  “I better go,” she said, through the gum. “I gotta baby-sit. Come over if ya want.” This was to me, but she was almost shy about it. And then she ran off.

  Wayne looked at me. “So, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said. He picked up his lacrosse stick from the grass, and took his porch steps two at a time.

  *

  Now the sick feelings began to leak in. I tried to squash them down and make the excitement bubble up again. It almost worked.

  I prayed the bulge of the boat didn’t show when I told my mother I had gone to the creek with Franny Fenny and that I thought she had heard me when I called in the front door to tell her I was going. “Next time,” she said, “make sure that I hear you.” But she really seemed more interested in counting the stitches of the baby blanket she was knitting. She didn’t give me the third degree like she usually did. I guess that meant lucky me.

  I went up to my room and closed the door. The sick feelings started dribbling in again, drip by yellow drip. I lay on my bed and watched the slow-revolving ceiling fan.

  This was summer. It was supposed to be simple.

  It’s not that Wayne and Franny were bad people. They were really fun, but the things they did … the things I did….

  I got up and slipped out to the backyard. I dug a hole as deep as I could and put in the toy boat. I dropped in the package of gum as well. I looked a
t it, sitting on the deck of the boat. I couldn’t leave it there – it was a gift from Wayne. It wasn’t nice to bury a gift. I snatched it up and put it back in my pocket, barely warm now.

  Upstairs, I shoved the gum under my mattress, climbed into bed, and pulled the covers up tight under my chin, even though it was hot in my room.

  See you tomorrow, Wayne had said. What was I going to do about tomorrow?

  I jumped up from the bed and sat at my desk. I grabbed a piece of my best green daisy stationery and began:

  Dear Janice,

  Day One. Nothing much happening here. Hope you’re having fun, but not too much! Seen any wolves yet? Just want to make sure we’re still going to help give out the clothes baskets at the pool when you get back (and swim for free, yahoo!). Counting the days (20, in case you’ve lost your chart!). Write soon. Yours till the kitchen sinks.

  I didn’t say a word about Franny or Wayne. She wouldn’t understand what had happened. Neither did I. What would she think of me?

  I felt like that morning I had woken up as one person and now I was someone completely different. I didn’t feel like the morning me anymore.

  I found myself staring at the wall chart. Tomorrow, after I wrote to Janice, I was going to cross off day 20 and make it nineteen days to go. Maybe make some flowers to decorate the chart. Could take me all day tomorrow.

  I got up, reached under my mattress, and removed the package of gum. It was cold now. I dropped it into my wastebasket. I crumpled up some Kleenexes and paper and dropped them on top of it.

  Simple.

  The Golden Darters

  Elizabeth Winthrop

  I was twelve years old when my father started tying flies. It was an odd hobby for a man recovering from a serious operation on his upper back, but he said at least it gave him a world over which he had some control.