“Do you have to leave?” Janice asked.
“I think I’d better. See you around.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
She was eating breakfast when Mom called her to the phone. “Who is it?” Janice asked.
Mom shrugged. “He didn’t say.”
Janice went into the den. As she picked up the extension, she remembered that Mike had used it last night. Touching it, she felt close to him, and sad. “Hello,” she said.
“Hi, Janice. This is Freddy Miller.”
“Oh, hi, Freddy. What’s up?”
“Can I talk to you?” he asked.
“Sure. Go ahead.”
“I mean, in person. Would that be okay? If you don’t already have other plans, I thought maybe we could go somewhere like McDonald’s for lunch.”
“Today?” Janice asked.
“Oh, you’re busy, I guess. I was afraid of that.”
“No, I’m not busy. I just wanted to be sure you meant today. I’ll go with you, sure.”
“You will?” He sounded surprised.
“Yeah.”
“Okay. I’ll come by your house, and we can walk over.”
“What time?” Janice asked.
“Oh, I don’t care. When do you want?”
“It doesn’t matter,” she said, wishing he would make up his mind.
“When do you normally eat lunch?”
“About noon.”
“I could come by at noon, if you want.”
“Fine,” Janice told him. “See you then.”
“Oh. One other thing. Don’t tell Susan about this, okay?”
With the wind so strong, Janice wished she had worn pants instead of her kilt. All the way to McDonald’s, she worried about keeping the skirt from blowing.
They didn’t talk much. Whatever Freddy was so eager to discuss, he held it back.
When they got to McDonald’s, they picked up quarter-pounders, French fries, and milk shakes at the counter, and took them to a booth in the rear. Freddy ate, saying nothing. By the time Janice was halfway finished with her hamburger, she could stand the silence no longer.
“Freddy, isn’t there something you wanted to talk about?”
“I guess so.” He didn’t seem very eager.
“Well?”
“You know the dance Friday night after the game?”
She nodded. The food in her mouth suddenly tasted dry, and she didn’t think she could swallow it.
“Are you going?” he asked.
She managed to swallow some, washing it down with milk shake. “I don’t know yet,” she answered.
“I mean, have you got a date for it?”
“No.”
Here it comes, she thought. She wondered what to tell him.
“I don’t think Susan will go to the dance, if you don’t.”
“What?” she asked.
“I was thinking maybe I might ask Susan to the dance, and maybe we could double-date or something.”
“I don’t think I’ll be going.”
“If you’re not…” He shook his head and ate a French fry.
“You should ask Susan anyway.”
“Maybe she doesn’t like me.”
“Sure she does.”
“She didn’t act that way on the telephone last night.”
“When she called you from my house?”
“Yeah. I planned to invite her then, but she acted… oh, like she was in a big hurry. I really think she doesn’t like me very much.”
“Last night was just weird. It didn’t have to do with you. Why don’t you call her again, and this time invite her to the dance? I bet she’d go.”
Freddy stared into his empty bag of French fries. “Would you do me a favor?”
“What sort of favor?”
“Would you talk to Susan? About me, I mean? Then you could let me know if I should call her.”
“That’s pretty weird, Freddy.”
“I know. But I just… I don’t want to bother her if she isn’t interested.”
“Well…” Janice knew how he must feel: terribly frightened of Susan telling him no. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll talk to her.”
“Then you’ll let me know, okay? If she wants to go with me, I’ll call and invite her.”
“Okay. Sure. As Susan would say, ‘Why not?’”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Hello?” he answered.
It was Mike’s voice on the phone. Janice fought off an urge to hang up. She swallowed to get rid of the sudden tight feeling in her throat. “Hi, Mike,” she said.
“Janice? How are you?”
“Okay, I guess.” She listened to a brief silence that seemed to stretch for minutes. “Is Susan home?”
“Yeah. I’ll call her.”
She heard Mike yell. As she waited, she knew he was still at the phone. She wished he would speak. He didn’t.
“What’s up?” Susan asked, a moment later.
“I got another letter today.”
“Yeah? From el weirdo?”
“This one has me worried.”
“It’s about time.”
“Can you come over? I want you to read it.”
“Sure.”
Half an hour later, Susan arrived. They went upstairs. On their way down the hall, they passed the study. Its door stood open. Janice’s mother, at the desk, stopped typing and looked over her shoulder. “Oh, hi, girls.”
They both said hi.
“Are you composing another poem?” Susan asked.
“I’m trying.”
“I read one in Redbook, Mrs. O’Neil. I liked it. So did my mom.”
“Well, thank you very much.”
“We’ll be in my room,” Janice said.
“Have a good time, girls.”
In the bedroom, Janice shut the door. “Wait till you see this,” she said. From her top desk drawer, she took an envelope. She sat beside Susan on the bed. “It came in today’s mail.”
“Doesn’t your mother see the mail first?” Susan asked.
Janice nodded.
“Then she knows about these letters, doesn’t she?”
“I told her they’re from this girl I met at camp last year.”
“Hmm.” Susan plucked the letter from the torn envelope. She unfolded it. As she read it, Janice studied it again:
Dear Janice,
I was so thrilled to get your letter. I read it over and over. I shall carry it close to my heart always.
Unfortunately, it was damaged by a milk shake someone threw into the garbage. If you put the next letter in a plastic bag, this sort of incident will be avoided.
Also, please do not try to deceive me by hiding in the bushes. I know that you were merely following the suggestion of your friend, Susan. However, that is no excuse for dishonest behavior. Next time, tell her no. If you and Susan continue trying to learn my identity, the consequences might be disastrous for all concerned.
I do not want harm to come to you. That is the last thing I want. After all, I love and adore you.
If you misbehave again, however, I will have to punish you. Do not make me do that.
In time, I will reveal my identity to you. You must be patient, and wait until I decide the time is right.
It may be soon. A plan has occurred to me. If we could run off together, many difficulties would be solved.
Will you come with me?
Where, you ask.
Somewhere far from here, I think. We might consider the lonely, peaceful stretches of a desert. Perhaps Nevada or Arizona would be nice. I will buy a camper truck, and we will live like gypsies, traveling the back roads and never staying anywhere too long. There won’t be anyone to tell us no. We’ll be free! We’ll be together forever, just you and me!
Can you imagine such a life? Won’t it be wonderful?
You don’t have long to wait. Next week, perhaps, I will buy a camper truck—what they call a recreational vehicle. Then we’ll be ready.
Please write so
on, and tell me how much you like my plan. Maybe you have ideas of your own to add.
I do hope we shall soon be together. My thoughts are with you daily, and dreams of you fill my empty nights.
With all my love,
Your Secret Admirer
“Good gripes,” Susan said, handing the letter to Janice. “I knew it, the guy’s bonkers.”
“Do you want to…”
“Janice!” her mother called. “Telephone.”
She hadn’t even noticed the ringing. “Back in a minute,” she told Susan.
At the open door of her mother’s study, she said, “I’ll get it in the den.” She hurried downstairs. As she said, “Hello” into the den phone, she heard her mother hang up.
“Hi. This is Freddy Miller.”
“Oh, how you doing?”
“Okay, I guess.” He didn’t sound too sure. “Have you talked to Susan yet?”
“She’s here right now.”
“Oh, no. Don’t tell her it’s me, okay?”
“All right. What I thought I’d do, I’d talk to her sometime tonight. Why don’t I call you back after she’s gone?”
“Oh, okay.”
“Talk to you th—”
“Janice! One more thing. You won’t tell her, will you, about how you’re helping me?”
“It’ll be our secret,” Janice assured him. “Just between you and me.”
Upstairs again, she found Susan still looking at the letter.
“Who was it?” Susan asked.
“Nobody, just Wendy Jones.”
“That turkey.”
“She wanted to know about the history assignment.”
Susan lost interest, and waved the letter. “Talk about turkeys, this guy is a prize. I figured one thing out while you were gone. He’s definitely a grown-up, or he couldn’t buy an R.V.” Susan’s glasses had slipped. She wrinkled her nose, raising them so she could see Janice. “Think about that for a minute.”
“I already have. Do you want to see the letter I wrote to him?”
“Let me at it.” She pushed her glasses back.
Janice took a handwritten letter from her top desk drawer. She sat on the bed beside Susan. Together, they read it:
Dear Secret Admirer,
I am glad that you like me so much. I’m sure you are a very nice person, in spite of your threats about punishing me, which I didn’t like one bit. I would still like to meet you.
You asked my opinion of your plan about running off to the desert in your camper. Well, here goes.
1. I am only a sophomore, as you know. This means I still have three years of high school to go. College is another four years, and that’s only the beginning. As of now, I plan to be a lawyer. There are too many crooked ones, and so I think an honest person like me is needed. Law school will take a couple of years, at least. Therefore, I don’t want to run away to the desert with you (or anybody else) for another nine years. Maybe even longer! By then, I’ll be twenty-four and ancient.
2. I think you must be pretty old, if you can buy a camper. You must be eighteen, at least. Maybe a lot older. My parents say I shouldn’t go out with boys much older than me, and for once I agree with them. How old are you, anyway?
3. I don’t mean to say there is something wrong with you, but you ought to have a girl friend your own age. Why are you so interested in me? To be frank, this has me worried.
4. I have no intention of running away to live like a gypsy with a person I have never even met.
As you may have guessed by now, my answer about the desert is NO. For a man your age, you are much too serious about me. It isn’t healthy or nice. This is my last letter to you.
My advice is that you stop writing to me. Find a person your own age. I’m sorry, but this is how I feel.
Good-bye forever,
Janice
“Man,” Susan muttered. “He won’t like this.”
“Let’s go to the park and deliver it.”
Susan shrugged. “Sure, why not?”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Janice enjoyed marching practice on Tuesday afternoon. It was even better than the day before, because now the sun was out. The fresh, autumn wind blew against her, feeling good and messing up her hair.
With the help of Marilyn, she had managed to learn the marching formations without making an idiot of herself. By now, she knew her positions so well that she hardly had to think about them.
Best of all, no Glen.
Both days, she kept a sharp watch for him in the school halls, and at lunch. She expected to see him, for sure, during band. But he never showed up.
Maybe he’s left school, she thought. Maybe he’s moved out of town. She knew the chances were slim, but there was no harm in hoping.
The drum major’s whistle blew a long, shrill note, startling Janice from her thoughts. For a confused moment, she wondered if she was in the right position.
Glancing sideways, she saw Marilyn beside her. She knew she was where she belonged.
Another long blast, then three quick short ones. She brought her feet down together and stood at attention.
The drum major raised his baton. As it came down, they started to play, “You’ve Gotta Be a Football Hero.”
“You’re doing real fine,” Mr. Chambers called when they finished the tune. “You’ll knock ‘em dead Friday night.” Then he dismissed the band.
On the bus heading home, a junior named Alice sat with her. The moment Alice sat down, she started twitching and moving her lips as if she had a rhythm in her head. She played drums with the band. Maybe she’s rehearsing, Janice thought.
“Going to the dance?” Alice asked.
“I haven’t decided. How about you?”
“I’ll be there. I’m a Squirrel.”
“Huh?”
“A Squirrel. I’m their stick man, you know. The Squirrels. We’re hot.” Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes and pursed her lips and pounded out a beat with imaginary sticks. “We’re gonna burn the air.”
Janice nodded, as if she understood. She supposed the Squirrels was the name of the rock band that would be playing at the dance. “Why are you called Squirrels?” she asked.
“ ‘Cause we’re nuts!”
The bus arrived at Alice’s stop, and she climbed off. Sitting alone, Janice thought about the dance. Unless someone invited her, she would stay away from it. Lots of girls would be going stag, but Janice hated that. The last time she’d done it, all kinds of goofs and creeps had asked her to dance. She could have just said no, she supposed. That seemed impolite, though, and she didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. One guy had awful B.O., one drooled on her shoulder, one kept trying to kiss her neck. The worst, though, was a senior with a mustache who got too involved during a slow dance. He asked her to leave the dance and go to his car in the parking lot. He got nasty when she said no.
If she ever went to a dance again, it wouldn’t be alone.
The bus slowed to a halt at her stop. She hurried down the aisle, and climbed off. She was halfway down the block when Glen stepped out from behind a hedge.
A plaster cast covered his right arm, which was held against his chest in a sling.
“What’s up, sugar face?”
“Stay back.” She tried to step past him, but he grabbed her arm. “You’d better let go!”
“What are you gonna do, break my other arm?” He laughed.
“Leave me alone!”
“Who was that guy on the phone?” he asked. “The one who said he’s a cop?”
“It was a cop.”
“Sure. Come on, who was it?”
“A policeman. I called, and told them all about you, and they sent him over. Honest.”
“You’re lying.” He squeezed her arm.
“Ow!”
A passing car slow down. The man at its wheel frowned, and Glen let go of Janice. She started walking away, but Glen kept pace.
“When you see the guy again, tell him I’m gonna bust h
is head. If he hadn’t pulled the cop stunt, you and me…”
“Don’t!” she shouted as he grabbed her arm again. She looked back, but the car was gone.
“You’re my girl, whether you know it or not. I catch you with another guy, he’s gonna wish he’d stayed home. You follow?”
“Just try it,” she said. “You’ll be sorry.”
“Know what happens Friday? There’s a dance after the football game. I’m taking you. You’re gonna be my date. Got it?”
“No!”
“I won’t be marching in the game, thanks to you.” He glanced down at his broken arm. “I’m gonna be at the game, though. I’ll meet you when it’s over.”
“You’d better not try.”
“We’ll go to the dance and have us a good time.” He grinned.
She shook her head. Her arm burned from his grip.
“Right?” he asked again, squeezing harder.
Again, she shook her head.
He squeezed so hard that it felt as if his fingernails might puncture her skin. “Right?”
“No!”
With her free hand, she swung her clarinet case. As it flew toward Glen’s face, he let go and ducked. A corner of the small case brushed his forehead.
Janice ran.
Looking back, she saw Glen standing motionless. He wore a nasty grin. “See you later,” he called. “You can count on it.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Janice, holding the bowling ball underneath her chin, started forward. She swung the ball down and back, crouched, brought it forward, and released it. It sped up the glossy wooden lane, heading dead center for the lead pin. At the last moment, it curved to the left. It plowed through the side, knocking down a half dozen pins.
Susan marked the score sheet. “You’ve gotta pick up the spare,” she said, “or you’re done for.”
The ball popped from the metal hood. Janice picked it up. She slid her fingers into the smooth holes, and braced the ball under her chin. She tried hard to concentrate. It wasn’t easy, though, with so much else on her mind.
She couldn’t forget Glen. This was Wednesday. Luckily, she hadn’t seen him all day. But the dance was only two days away; he planned to take her to it. A possible solution had occurred to her; she could simply stay home from the game. That would let down the band, though, and herself. She really wanted to march in the half-time show.
YOUR SECRET ADMIRER Page 7