“Would ya, Merry? Please?”
If I wanted her to be halfway accepted by English teenagers, I’d have to do something with her long locks. Short of cutting her hair, I had to find a more becoming style, at least for a day at James Buchanan High.
“What about a French braid?” I suggested.
She grinned, showing her gums. “Whatever that is, I don’t rightly know, but it sounds mighty nice. Foreign too.”
I chuckled. “It’s mostly American, I guess you could say.
Don’t worry, nobody’s gonna mistake you for a French girl.”
“Puh!” she said, and we had a good laugh.
Thankfully, she’d already eaten breakfast at home, so we were able to bypass the kitchen on our way out the front door.
Mom was busy in her sewing room, so I put a finger to my lips, signaling Rachel to be discreet. I’d told her to meet me at the bus stop. While I went to say good-bye to my mom, Rachel crept down the hall to the entry and outside.
“What’s Rachel want so early?” Mom asked as I tried to wave to her and leave.
“What?” I said.
Mom looked up, needle poised in midair. “You heard me. What’s Rachel doing over here?”
I couldn’t tell her the ridiculous plan. She’d put her foot down; I knew she would. As I contemplated the situation, I realized that I was actually looking forward to taking Rachel to school with me, showing her around, introducing her to “what she’d missed.”
But first I had to get past my mother, who’d obviously smelled a rat, and that wasn’t just a joke. She was on to something.
Standing up, she came to the doorjamb and leaned out into the hall. “Where is she?”
“Rachel left already.” It was true.
“Oh, so that’s the end of it.”
“The end of what?” I said, wishing I hadn’t taken a bite of her bait.
She frowned, looking at me with inquisitive eyes. “From what your father says, Rachel Zook is walking a tightrope between Amish and English. He—uh, we don’t think you should be the one to assist her in this journey.”
“I’m not trying to influence her in any bad way.”
Mom put her hands on both my shoulders. “Oh, honey, I don’t mean to accuse you. Please don’t misunderstand. We want you to continue being a good friend to her.”
“But the best of friends put up with weird things sometimes,” I said, hoping Mom wouldn’t read anything into my comment.
“You’re right about that. And I know you’ll do the right thing by Rachel Zook.”
My heart was beating ninety miles an hour. I knew that if I didn’t leave soon, I might start blurting out some of the top-secret plans Rachel and I had together in order to defend myself.
Fortunately, I heard the familiar grinding and groaning of the school bus. Rachel would be freaking out about now, wondering why I wasn’t coming.
“There’s the bus, Mom. Gotta run.”
“Have a good day,” she called after me.
“Thanks, I will.”
Hopefully, it would be a good day.
First off, Chelsea wanted Rachel and me to sit with her on the bus. This came as no surprise. I always sat with Chelsea. Besides that, she no doubt remembered Rachel from a couple visits last fall and early winter. Rachel had even given her one of their puppy litter—a golden-haired cocker spaniel.
Still, I was curious if Chelsea would recognize my “cousin” today, all done up in fancy clothes.
“This is Rachel, my neighbor,” I said.
Chelsea did a double take. She studied her and then glanced at me. “You’re Rachel Zook?” she whispered.
“Jah,” said my Amish friend.
“Say ‘yes’ instead,” I advised her. “And please remember to say it all day.”
Chelsea was beginning to frown, leaning forward in her seat to survey the situation. “You’re not saying—”
“Yep,” I interrupted. “And it’d be best if you play along. Know what I mean?”
“Hey,” she laughed. “You’re the boss!”
Relieved that she had agreed to cooperate and keep things under wraps, I talked softly to Rachel, hoping I’d covered everything necessary. “The main thing is not to worry about taking tests or doing homework assignments. Teachers won’t expect you to participate. You’re an observer, just visiting. Don’t forget, okay?”
“Jah…I mean, yes.”
She was catching on fast.
The biggest hurdle was getting past Miss Fritz, our gregarious school counselor. She was known to roam the halls, greeting students by their first names, always eager to visit with new kids and their parents. Miss Fritz especially liked to meet visitors to the school. Actually, you were required to check in with her about any student or visitor who was not enrolled at James Buchanan High. A standing rule.
The second snag in getting Rachel through the halls and safely into my homeroom would be Jon Klein and his usual pre-class routine.
With Miss Fritz and the Alliteration Wizard on my mind, I guided Rachel through the labyrinth of hundreds of students, pointing her in the direction of the counselor’s office. “Don’t ask questions, just follow me,” I instructed. “I’ll do all the talking.”
Rachel seemed content with taking it all in. She scanned the rows of lockers, the banners on the wall, the water fountain, everything. There was a big smile on her face as we made the turn into the school office.
Miss Fritz was standing at her post near the attendance office, monitoring students with absentee slips and early dismissal permission slips. She was beaming as we came in.
“Good morning, girls,” she said, glancing at Rachel and then back at me.
“Miss Fritz, I’d like you to meet my cousin Rachel. She’s visiting school for the day,” I said.
“Welcome to James Buchanan High School.” Miss Fritz extended her hand. “Nice to have you, Rachel.”
My heart pumped extra hard as they shook hands.
“How long will you be staying in Lancaster?” asked the counselor.
Rachel looked at me, obviously unsure of herself.
“Oh, she’s from right here…out in the country, really.”
“Whereabouts?” came the question I’d dreaded.
“SummerHill,” I spoke up on Rachel’s behalf.
I was one-hundred-percent-amen sure what the next question would be. Well, then, Rachel, why aren’t you in school? she might ask.
Waiting for the inevitable, I realized I was holding my breath. Relax, I told myself.
The worst thing that could happen was for Rachel to be asked to leave, to go home. Where she oughta be, I thought.
But Miss Fritz didn’t press for personal declarations. She winked at me and welcomed Rachel to school once more.
“Whew, we did it,” I told her as we headed to my lockers. “We’re almost home free.”
“Home free?” she muttered. “What’s that?”
“I’ll tell you later.” I twirled my combination lock faster than most days. Now…if I could just keep Rachel from spilling the beans to the Alliteration Wizard, we’d be on our way.
“Mistress of Mirth!” I heard my alliterated nickname come floating down through the ocean of humanity in the hallway all the way to my locker.
“Jovial Jon,” I said, turning around.
He stopped in his tracks, glancing at Rachel. “Friend or foe?”
“This is my cousin Rachel.”
His face lit up. “Well, any relative of Merry’s is a friend of mine,” he said, pouring on the charm.
“Good to meetcha,” she said.
I wondered how on earth Rachel had remembered to substitute the word good for gut. Thinking that I would just reach up and grab my books from my locker and get going, I caught myself. I absorbed the interesting fact that Jon seemed taken with my thoroughly modern Amish cousin, clearly not remembering her from our Christmas skating party.
He was still gazing at her as I explained, “Rachel’s here visi
ting today. She’s my guest.”
They were in the middle of a proper handshake, and I waited for a moment till the initial greetings had been exchanged. Oddly enough, Jon seemed to have forgotten all about alliteration-eze and our before-the-first-bell word game frenzy.
Evidently, something more important was occupying the empty space in his brain.
Someone.
I watched, expecting him to back away from my locker, smile his biggest smile, and say “see ya around,” but this non-Merry-focused encounter was lasting longer than usual. Awkwardly so.
“Say, that was some science assignment,” I said, choosing s to bait him.
He looked at me momentarily, almost dazed. “You’re right.”
No alliteration comeback? What was going on?
I tried again. “Where’s the wonderful word Wizard?”
W—one of his favorite letters, I thought.
“I’ll walk you to homeroom,” he said, meaning both of us. But he didn’t jump on the word game.
Truly amazing!
So we walked, the three of us. I couldn’t begin to set him straight about who Rachel really was, not without blowing the whistle on her temporary charade. But it was all I could do to stifle a giggle as we moved through the crush of students.
Wouldn’t Jon be surprised to know that Rachel was Amish? Wouldn’t he be embarrassed, too, that his alluring alliteration skills had just flown the coop?
The boy was smitten. For the first time in his life he was showing signs of truly liking a girl, and it had to be Rachel Zook. An Amish girl, of all things!
Chapter
14
“You have to keep Rachel’s secret all day,” I told Chelsea outside homeroom—after Jon said good-bye to Rachel and a total of zero words to me.
“No problem,” she said.
“I’m trusting you not to tell a soul,” I whispered, hoping Rachel was gawking at the students running to beat the bell, not listening in on my conversation with Chelsea.
Staring at me with those sea-green eyes, Chelsea teased, “Is there an echo in here?”
“Sorry, it’s just that I’ve stumbled onto something that might help us beat Jon at his own game.” I had to keep my voice low. Rachel was inching closer, leaning against the classroom door a few feet behind us.
“You’ve gotta be kidding—like what?”
We put our heads together. “He’s nuts about Rachel.”
“No way.”
“It’s true.” I went on to explain that he’d stopped alliterating around her. “I tried to get him going twice this morning. No response. Couldn’t even get him interested.”
Chelsea shifted her pile of books from one arm to the other. “How do you know he won’t start again?”
“That’s what I wanna check out,” I said. “At lunch, let’s see what happens.”
“Great idea.” She was grinning now. “I’ll invite Jon to sit with us. We’ll throw around some phrases…see if he plays along. Maybe he’ll want to show off for her.”
“It’s genius!”
She nodded. “For once, Merry, you’re right about that.”
Genius? I thought. What a wondrous word.
Rachel was curious about everything, it seemed. She thumbed through my three-ring binder, reading all my homework assignments before each class. She was also quite taken with some of the posters of actors or music stars plastered inside various lockers. Other things, too. Like tiny vanity mirrors and shelves for hairbrushes and makeup supplies.
“A school locker’s like a mini home away from home,” I tried to explain. “A pit stop…to check your face. You know, to see how you look before rushing off to class.”
“Pit stop,” she mumbled, trying on the word for size, I suppose. “Tell me about home free?”
I was surprised she’d remembered to ask. I did my best to describe a baseball game, with all three bases loaded.
“Oh jah, Amish play baseball all the time,” she said. “I know…you must be talkin’ about stealing home?”
“Well, sorta, only it’s a little different when you say you’re ‘home free.’ It really means that you’re almost where you want to be. You’ve almost accomplished what you set out to do.”
“Ach yes, Merry. I think I see what you mean.” Then she giggled.
I wasn’t sure if she caught the connection between the ball game and the phrase. But she was having a good time here at school. A good morning, at least.
It would be entertaining to see what happened at lunch—that is, if Jon joined us. I wanted to start thinking in terms of alliterating most everything. Warming up in my mind, so to speak.
I wished that Lissa and Ashley knew about lunch with Jon. They needed the most work on speaking alliteration-eze off the top of their heads. Still, I hoped that maybe today could be a practice round…or better. Since Rachel would be eating at our table, maybe her presence would distract Jon. Again.
Suddenly I wondered what Levi would think of all this alliterating madness. Probably he’d find our mind-bending game silly, though harmless enough.
Thinking about Levi, I decided to write a letter later today, after I returned Rachel safely home. It had been several weeks since I’d taken time to write. Besides, I owed my Mennonite friend a letter.
Switching mental gears from Jon to Levi had nothing to do with Rachel’s coming to school today. Nothing to do with Jon’s obvious interest in her, either.
Nope. I had plenty of friends. Besides, why should I put all my eggs in one fickle Klein basket?
Chapter
15
Everything happened too fast.
Chelsea, Lissa, and Ashley had seated themselves on one side of the lunchroom table. Rachel and I sat on the other side.
I was trying to explain our word game to Rachel, who nodded and smiled, keeping her comments few and far between.
“You just use the same beginning sound in as many words in a row as you can. Sometimes, we’ve even put a twenty-second time limit on it…or less.”
“Oh” was all she said. She seemed distracted by the cafeteria hubbub taking place around us.
We—Chelsea, Lissa, Ashley, and I—began warming up, getting ready to catch the Wizard off guard, when he waltzed over.
“Sorry so late,” he said, carrying a lunch tray.
I didn’t have to guess where he’d want to sit. Politely, he asked if Rachel would mind if he sat next to her. She blushed sweetly and scooted over, closer to me.
Jon took her response as a “yes” and proceeded to set down his tray.
Chelsea got things going. “Ever wonder what words work with all w’s?” she asked, looking directly at Jon.
He turned to Rachel, ignoring the bait from Chelsea. “She talks funny, doesn’t she?”
Smiling, Rachel said nothing.
I spoke up. “I say we have a practice round of alliteration-eze. And while we’re at it, why wait till next week for the championship?”
“Go for it,” Chelsea cheered.
“And may the best woman win,” offered Lissa. A little weak with only two w’s in a row, but she was trying.
As for Ashley, it appeared that she was more taken with trying to decide if Jon was falling for Rachel than attempting to alliterate sentences. Fine with me. From what I’d observed, Jon wasn’t about to make a big verbal impression on any of us. Maybe it was because Rachel was keeping mum, following my orders. After all, how easy was it to converse with someone who remained silent?
Or perhaps Rachel’s demure demeanor had locked up the Wizard’s brain. (The silent woman appeal does it every time!)
Whatever it was about Rachel Zook, Jon couldn’t—or wouldn’t—attempt to alliterate. At least not today.
It was more than frustrating. It was exasperating, and Chelsea told him so. “Look, Jon, we’ve been preparing for this word game thing of yours. Are you gonna play or not?”
He shrugged and glanced down at his plate. For the longest time, he stared at it. Then when I was
sure he was going to cut loose with a yard-long sentence of silliness, he shook his head. “I’m bored with it, I guess.”
“Bored?” Ashley piped up. “How could anybody be bored?”
I clapped for her. “Three b’s in a row—even one inside a word. Not bad.”
“Atta girl, Ashley,” cheered Chelsea. But it was Jon we were bribing—tempting him to play.
The Wizard was caught up in his new interest, however. “Would you like some ice cream?” he asked Rachel.
“Thank you,” she said simply. And he was up and out of his seat.
I shook my head. “A marvelous mind is such a sad thing to waste.”
“Meaning?” Lissa asked, reaching for a straw.
“The Wizard went a-walking,” Chelsea said, giggling.
“He’s horribly hard to handle,” I spouted off. “Has to have his handicap.” I wanted to say he’d forfeited his chances at the championship, but it wasn’t really up to me to decide these things.
When he returned with the ice cream, he asked Rachel about her Anabaptist beliefs. Probably because she was wearing her veiling.
I wondered if now was a good time to set him straight—reveal all—and say she was Amish. Surveying the situation, I noticed that Rachel was particularly enjoying the attention. It would be heartless of me to pull the plug on their budding friendship.
Still, I wondered how Matthew Yoder might feel if he could see the two of them together. I didn’t have to guess, really. Watching Jon talk to Rachel with such animation—was it admiration, too?—seeing her nod or gesture bashfully, without saying much of anything, I knew exactly how Rachel’s young Amish beau would feel.
Truly horrible!
Chapter
16
“I told Jonathan Klein the truth after school,” Rachel said as we hurried upstairs to my bedroom.
“About being Amish?”
“Jah.” She smiled broadly. “Honestly, it feels awful gut to talk normal again.”
“To say what you’re used to saying? The way you’re used to saying it?”
“For sure and for certain,” said Rachel.
SummerHill Secrets, Volume 2 Page 24