Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself

by Judy Blume

  “I can’t,” Sally said. “I have Virus X … remember?”

  “Then go to the bathroom.”

  “I don’t have to.”

  “Go anyway …”

  “Oh …” Sally said, stomping across the livingroom, through the sleeping alcove and into the bathroom.

  She heard Mom sigh. “She’s such a funny little girl … always afraid of missing out … and I miss you too, Arnold … Sally, will you close the bathroom door, please!”

  The next day Sally went back to school. She met Jackie, the new girl, during recess. Jackie was small and frail, with very pale skin and long, straight dark hair. “My brother, Douglas, had nephritis,” Sally said.

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Jackie answered.

  “He’s okay now.”

  “That’s good.”

  “So what did you have?”

  “Mine’s very complicated … it doesn’t have a name … it’s got to do with my blood …”

  “Oh.”

  “I was in the hospital three months … I almost died.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “Yes … that’s what everyone said … but I’m going to be all right now … my mother promised …”

  While they were talking Peter ran up to Sally and pulled her braids. “Oh … he makes me so mad!”

  “I think he’s cute.” Jackie said. “I wouldn’t mind if he pulled my hair.”

  Andrea was sick for a week. One afternoon Sally asked Mom if she could go to the park with Shelby.

  “Walking or riding?” Mom asked.

  “Riding … but we’ll be very careful.”

  “And be back by five on the dot?”

  “Yes, five on the dot … I promise,” Sally said.

  Sally and Shelby rode to the park and watched Georgia Blue Eyes and his friends play ball.

  Shelby said, “I really want to kiss him … don’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” Sally answered.

  “We could chase him until he drops,” Shelby suggested, “and then both of us could jump on him and you could hold him still while I kiss him and then I’d hold him still for you … what do you think?”

  “I don’t want to kiss him that much,” Sally said.

  “Oh, well … too bad …”

  They circled the field on their bicycles, then tried out a new bike path. “Watch this …” Shelby said, pedalling faster and faster. “No hands …”

  “Be careful,” Sally called, trying to catch up with Shelby. But it was too late. Shelby fell and her bicycle toppled over her. “Oh, no …” Sally jumped off her bicycle and freed Shelby. “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “No,” Shelby whimpered.

  “What hurts?”

  “Everything.” Shelby began to cry. “Everything hurts …”

  Shelby’s knees and one elbow were badly scraped and bleeding. “Oh, boy …” Sally said, “are you going to have good scabs!”

  That made Shelby cry harder.

  “Can you ride?” Sally asked.

  “No … how can I ride … I’m bleeding.”

  “Well …” Sally thought fast. “You stay right here and don’t move an inch. I’ll go for help and be right back.”

  Shelby nodded and squeezed her nostrils together to keep them from dripping.

  Sally hopped on her bicycle and took off. As she rounded the corner of the path she spotted Mr. Zavodsky on a bench, reading his newspaper. Don’t look up, Sally said under her breath. Don’t notice me … just keep reading your paper. I don’t have time for you now, Adolf … I’ve got other things to worry about, like Shelby … She rode with her head down and her shirt collar pulled up. What good luck, she thought as she passed him, he didn’t see me. She checked her new Mickey Mouse watch. It was two minutes to five. Mom would be really angry if she was late. She pedalled as fast as she could, all the way home. When she got there she burst in the door, calling, “Mom … Mom!”

  “What is it …” Mom asked, “and do you know you’re five minutes late?”

  “Shelby fell off her bike and she’s bleeding.”

  “Where?”

  “Her knees and her elbow …”

  “I mean, where is she?” Mom said.

  “In the park … I told her to stay right there and I’d get help.”

  “You left her in the park … bleeding?”

  “Well, you told me to be home by five …”

  “But Sally … how could you leave your friend that way … I’m surprised at you … how would you feel if you’d had an accident and Shelby left you alone?”

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” Sally said.

  “So now I have to go to the park … is that right?” Mom asked.

  “Well, yes …” Sally didn’t understand her mother. She’d come home for help. What else should she have done?

  Mom ran into the bathroom, muttering, and threw some supplies into a paper bag. “Okay … let’s go.”

  “To the park?” Sally asked.

  “Honestly, Sally …” Mom let the screen door slam and raced down the stairs.

  Sally followed.

  “How are we going to get there?” she asked, trying to keep up with her mother.

  “On bicycles,” Mom said.

  “Both of us on mine?”

  “No … I’ll ride Douglas’s.”

  “You know how to ride a boy’s bike?”

  “Of course.”

  “I never knew that.”

  “There are many things you don’t know.”

  They rode to the park, side by side. Mom gathered her skirt between her legs and after a wobbly start became more sure of herself and rode as fast as Sally.

  Sally led her mother to the bicycle path where she had left Shelby, but both Shelby and her bicycle were gone.

  “Well …” Mom said, “where is she?”

  “I don’t know.” But Sally had an idea—an idea so horrible it was almost too scary to think about. Mr. Zavodsky. He had found Shelby. Yes, he had found her lying there, helpless and bleeding. And then, when he saw that she was wearing a Jewish star around her neck he couldn’t control himself anymore. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a rope. He tied it around Shelby’s neck, pulling it tighter and tighter, until Shelby’s face turned blue. She died with her eyes open, staring into space. And then, while her body was still warm, Mr. Zavodsky pulled out his knife, sharp and shiny, and he peeled off Shelby’s skin, slowly, so as not to rip any. And then he went home to make a new lampshade.

  “Sally … what is wrong with you?” Mom asked.

  “What … me … nothing …” Sally said.

  “You look funny …”

  “It’s Shelby … I …”

  “Now you see why you shouldn’t have left her?”

  “Oh, yes,” Sally said, unable to hold back her tears. “And I’m sorry … I really am …”

  “I know you are,” Mom said. “You must never leave the scene of an accident. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes …”

  Mom put her arm around Sally. “It’s all right now … you’ve learned your lesson … stop crying and let’s go …”

  “It’s not all right …”

  “It will be … once we find Shelby.”

  “But we can’t … she’ll be …”

  “We can and we will … and when we do, we’ll tell her we’re sorry …”

  “But you don’t understand …”

  “We’ll go to her house first,” Mom said. “Her grandmother is probably worried sick.”

  “But Mom …” Who should Sally tell first … Shelby’s mother or her father? And how would she ever find them? All she knew was they lived somewhere in New York. They’d be sorry now … sorry they’d spent so much time fighting over Shelby …

  “Follow me, Sally … and no more buts …”

  Sally could just imagine what would happen next. Shelby’s grandmother would answer the door and say, Hello, Sally … come in … come in … hav
e a cookie … have a piece of Challah, fresh from the oven …

  Then Sally would say, I really can’t stay, Mrs. Bierman … you see, I’ve come with had news … very, very bad …

  Mrs. Bierman would clutch her chest and Sally would take a big breath and say, I’m sorry to tell you that Shelby has been murdered by Adolf Hitler. No need to tell Mrs. Bierman the gruesome details.

  Adolf Hitler? Mrs. Bierman would say, unbelievingly.

  Yes.

  Not the Adolf Hitler?

  The very same one.

  But how?

  He came here to retire, you see.

  Oh, I didn’t know.

  Nobody does.

  Then Mrs. Bierman would begin to cry. She would sob and yell and scream and beat her fists against the wall.

  It’s all my fault, Sally would tell her. I hope you’ll forgive me some day but if you won’t I’ll understand because I know you’re old and Shelby is all you had in the whole world and now there’s nothing left to live for … but I really didn’t do it on purpose … in fact, I was sure I was doing the right thing … going home to get my mother and all … but now I realize that I must never ever leave the scene of an accident … and maybe I should have gone straight to the police about Mr. Zavodsky …

  Zavodsky … who’s Zavodsky?

  That’s what Hitler calls himself now … hut you see, the police would want evidence … they always do … and until Shelby’s murder we didn’t have any … now, of course, they’ll arrest him and stick him in the electric chair where he belongs and he won’t kill any more children, ever.

  Mrs. Bierman would nod.

  Maybe you could adopt a poor orphan from Europe and then you’d have someone to live for again …

  “Here we are,” Mom said. “Which apartment?”

  “2 C,” Sally said, feeling her legs shake.

  Mom rang the bell.

  Shelby’s grandmother answered. “Hello, Sally,” she said. “Come in … come in … have some Challah, fresh from the oven …”

  Sally shook her head. “I really can’t stay …” she began, but then, as Mrs. Bierman opened the apartment door all the way, Sally saw Shelby, sitting on the floor, shooting marbles. “Hi …” she said. “I got tired of waiting in the park so I rode home. Granny cleaned up my knees … there were pebbles stuck to them.”

  “I had some job,” Mrs. Bierman said.

  Sally started to cry again.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Shelby asked.

  “Nothing …”

  “Listen,” Shelby said, “I’m really sorry … Granny told me it wasn’t right that I left the park after you went to get help for me … she explained how I should have waited right there until you came back … and we’ve been calling your house … but your grandmother didn’t know where you were …”

  “That’s not it,” Sally said, fighting to control herself.

  “Then what?”

  “I thought you were dead, that’s what!”

  “God forbid!” Mrs. Bierman said.

  “God forbid!” Mom repeated, and then, sounding embarrassed, she added, “Sally has an active imagination.”

  “Such an imagination!” Mrs. Beirman shook her head.

  Shelby laughed and laughed. “Why would I be dead? I just fell off my bicycle … you don’t die from that … that’s the silliest thing I ever heard.” She shot her black marble across the room. It hit Sally in the foot.

  Dear Mr. Zavodsky,

  I know what you were thinking of doing to Shelby today. I always know what you are thinking! Any day now I will have the evidence I need and then you will get what you deserve!

  Before Miss Beverly dismissed the Saturday morning ballet class she announced a contest, sponsored by Raymond’s Shoe Store. Raymond’s had the very pair of pink satin toe slippers that Margaret O’Brien had worn while filming The Unfinished Dance. Sally had now seen the movie three times and it was still her favorite. Everyone who took ballet lessons in Miami Beach was invited to try them on. And the person who fit best into Margaret O’Brien’s shoes would win the contest and get a free trip to Hollywood—and a screen test—and lunch with Margaret herself!

  Sally just had to win. Then she would be discovered and get to be a famous movie star too. And when she caught Virus X again, it would say so in all the papers, including The Forward. And Miss Swetnick would say, Isn’t it wonderful … two girls from my class becoming famous in the same year … Barbara Ash for spelling and Sally Freedman for the movies!

  “Let’s go over to Raymond’s right after lunch,” Andrea said, as she and Sally walked home from ballet class. They each carried a package. Andrea hugged hers and said, “Don’t you just love our new ballet dresses?”

  “They’re okay,” Sally said, shifting her package from one arm to the other. She tried to hide her disappointment, because instead of the pink net tutu she’d been hoping for, her ballet dress turned out to be white cotton, with red smocking.

  “In Brooklyn I had this ugly exercise outfit for acrobatics,” Andrea said. “A blue skirt and a beige jersey top. This one is beautiful. We’re so lucky!”

  “In New Jersey I had a pink dotted Swiss ballet dress.”

  “Dotted Swiss!” Andrea said. “That’s so fancy.”

  “I went to a fancy dancing school.” Sally couldn’t tell if Andrea was impressed or if she thought fancy meant bad. “My teacher had ballet slippers in every color.”

  “Even red?”

  “Yes … and green and blue and yellow, too.”

  “I never saw ballet slippers in those colors …” Andrea said, giving Sally a skeptical look.

  “Well, Miss Elsie had them … you can ask my mother … and a different ballet costume every week, to match her slippers …”

  “Hmmm … I’ll bet you anything my feet will fit into Margaret O’Brien’s toe slippers,” Andrea said.

  “What makes you so sure?”

  “We have the same build … haven’t you noticed?”

  “No,” Sally said.

  “Take a good look.” Andrea stood still.

  Sally looked her up and down. “I can’t remember Margaret O’Brien’s build.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t noticed how much alike we look,” Andrea said.

  “Who … you and me?”

  Andrea made a sound with her tongue. “No … me and Margaret O’Brien.”

  Sally hid a smile.

  “You don’t think so?” Andrea asked.

  “Nope.”

  “We both have dark hair …”

  “So does Hitler.”

  Andrea spit. “How many times have I told you never to say that name in front of me!” She spit again.

  “I’m sorry … I forgot …”

  “You better spit, Sally … you better spit right now or I’m never speaking to you again.”

  “Okay … okay …” Sally went to the curb and worked up some saliva. Then she took a big breath. “Hoc-tooey,” she said, spitting into the street. At the same moment, a bird, flying overhead, plopped on Sally’s arm. “Look at this!” she said to Andrea.

  “Eeuuwww …” Andrea held her nose. “How disgusting!”

  “That’s how much you know …”

  Sally ran the rest of the way home. When she got there she raced up the stairs, kicked open the door, tossed her package on the floor and shouted, “Look at this … a bird made on me … look …” She held out her arm for Douglas and Mom and Ma Fanny to see.

  Ma Fanny clapped her hands together. “Good luck for a year!” she said, hugging Sally. “And it couldn’t happen to a better person.”

  “It’s not just superstition … is it?” Sally asked.

  “No more than knock on wood or bad things always happen in threes,” Douglas said, sarcastically.

  “Good luck for a year,” Ma Fanny repeated. “You can take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it!” Sally thought of what this could mean. That her father would be all right. That the polic
e would arrest Mr. Zavodsky. That she’d win the contest at the shoe store. That Miss Swetnick would start asking her easier words during spelling bees. That Georgia Blue Eyes would kiss her, voluntarily. That Peter Hornstein would grow up into a Latin Lover and want her for his partner. That Big Ted would give Daddy such good tips in the stock market they’d get rich. That Harriet Goodman would get transferred to another class. That …

  “So … I’m going to the Roney,” Douglas said, stretching.

  “Not so fast,” Mom told him “… I haven’t decided yet.”

  “When we were interrupted by Miss Bird Crap …”

  “Douglas!”

  “When my dear, sweet little sister came home we were in the midst of a …”

  “We were discussing the situation,” Mom said.

  “Some discussion!” Douglas said. “It was more like the Spanish Inquisition …”

  “What’s that?” Sally asked.

  “Mind your own business, for once!” Douglas told her.

  “You know,” Mom said, “I’m on your side, Douglas.”

  “Good … then it’s all settled …”

  “Such a swell my son picks for his friend,” Mom said, sounding half-annoyed and half-pleased.

  “I don’t get you,” Douglas said to Mom. “First, it’s Douglas, make friends … try harder … don’t sit around by yourself so much … so I find a friend … so now all I hear is The Swells … so they’re rich … so what’s wrong with that … aren’t you the one who’s always saying it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich person as a poor one?”

  “That’s enough, Douglas!” Mom said and Sally could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t just angry but that her feelings were hurt too.

  “When you can’t think of anything better to say it’s always, That’s enough, Douglas!” He mimicked Mom and sounded surprisingly like her.

  “Dougie …” Ma Fanny said, “don’t talk like that to your mother … she loves you …”

  “Love-schmov …” Douglas retreated to the bathroom.

  “What am I going to do with that boy?” Mom asked.

  “Sha …” Ma Fanny said, “everything will turn out fine … he’s a good boy … he’s got growing pains, that’s all.”

  “Does it hurt when your bones begin to grow fast?” Sally asked.