Slam Book

  “Sure!” exclaimed Anna. “I haven’t come up with an idea yet either, but together maybe we could think of something really good.”

  Anna felt like singing. Gorgeous Gooz was paying attention to her. Incredible! But her elation vanished when her eyes met Paige’s at the other end of the table. In one moment—so short a time that Anna wasn’t sure she had actually seen it—Paige’s eyes flashed pure hatred at Anna. Then Paige stood up and stalked out of the cafeteria.

  Bewildered, Anna turned back to Gooz. Apparently he hadn’t noticed. The bell rang, and Anna tracked down the slam book and tucked it between her books again. Gooz walked her to her next class. Although neither Anna nor Gooz was aware of it, both Casey and Paige followed them through the halls, staring at them angrily.

  Chapter Eight

  CHERYL’S BALONEY SANDWICH WAS sitting in her stomach like a rock. She had eaten it too quickly, but she didn’t mind. For once she’d had a really good seat in the cafeteria. She had been alone, as usual, but near enough to the table that Anna Wallace, Jessie Smith, Paige Beaulac, and that Black girl, Randy somebody, shared. They were the popular kids—at least they had been in junior high—and they fascinated Cheryl. Especially Paige. No doubt about it, Cheryl and Paige were true and exact opposites. Paige was the richest girl in Calvin; Cheryl was the poorest. Paige was fair and beautiful; Cheryl was blotchy-skinned and homely. Paige was willowy; Cheryl was fat. Paige was smart; Cheryl was … well, not. The list went on and on.

  Today the girls had been passing around some kind of book. Everyone wanted to see it. They read it, wrote in it, squealed and laughed over it, and one girl looked like she’d cried over it. It must be really something, that book. Whatever it was.

  Cheryl patted her unhappy stomach. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. Study hall was the l-o-n-g-e-s-t class teachers had ever invented, especially when you didn’t have much to do. Which Cheryl didn’t. She looked around her. This study hall room was bigger than any of the ones at the junior high school. There were forty, maybe fifty kids in it.

  A flurry of activity caught Cheryl’s eye. Over to her left, something was being passed secretly from student to student, lap to lap. That was the only way to do it, Cheryl thought. The only way to pass something all the way across the room without getting yelled at by the study hall supervisor.

  Cheryl watched the progress of the something. Closer and closer it came. Cheryl seemed to be right in its path. Now it was two students away from her, now one. The boy on her left—a complete stranger—slipped it to Cheryl and indicated that she should pass it along.

  What an honor! Cheryl was never included in good, secret things like this. She’d do her part, all right. She’d pass it—

  Cheryl paused mid-pass. She drew in her breath. It was that book. That book. The one everyone had been looking at during lunch. It was right in her hands. Cheryl slid her eyes to her left and her right. The kids on either side of her were silently begging her to keep the book moving. But Cheryl was safe. The kids couldn’t really do anything without getting caught.

  Cheryl opened the book. It looked like a regular old notebook, except that the pages had been written in by lots of people. Different handwritings, pencils, blue pens, red pens, a green pen. At the top of the first page was the name “Casey Reade.” The things written under it must have been about Casey. There were comments like “Showoff,” “Casey and Gooz, the perfect pair,” and “Needs a bigger bra. Ha ha.” Cheryl blushed. That kind of talk wasn’t nice. Hadn’t her mother always told her so?

  Cheryl turned the page. The next few pages were like the first, but with different names at the top.

  There was a page for Paige Beaulac. Paige’s page! That was a pretty funny joke, thought Cheryl. Her mother would have liked it. She’d always liked Cheryl’s jokes.

  Cheryl studied the page. “Too perfect,” “Most beautiful girl in the class,” and “What an ego” were a few of the comments. Hmm.

  Cheryl turned another page. Her own name jumped out at her. There it was. Right there. “Cheryl Sutphin,” it said. “Buys clothes at the Salvation Army.” How did they know? Cheryl wondered. She’d only done that once. Who had been watching her?

  “She isn’t playing with a full deck.” Cheryl frowned and read on. “Possible head lice?” Head lice? Cheryl didn’t have head lice. What a rotten thing to say. “Lose a ton or two, Cheryl.” A deep flush crept up Cheryl’s neck to her face.

  “Once broke my camera just by posing.” It took Cheryl a moment to figure out what that meant. When she did, tears slowly filled her eyes.

  Cheryl skipped to the last comment on the page. It read, “Her mother isn’t dead, she’s in the wacko ward.”

  That did it.

  Her mother had been dead for five years. And her dying hadn’t been easy. It had taken a long time, and it had hurt a lot. Why would someone say Cheryl’s mother was crazy? That just wasn’t right.

  The tears spilled over, and Cheryl was ashamed.

  She slammed the book onto her desk. It slid to the floor.

  As Cheryl gathered up her things, the kid on her right grabbed for the book.

  The study hall supervisor called after Cheryl as she ran out of the room, but Cheryl ignored her.

  From her desk in the corner, Anna watched the whole scene. As Cheryl fled, Anna closed her eyes and slowly shook her head.

  Chapter Nine

  THE NEXT DAY, ANNA and Randy were the first to reach their table in the cafeteria.

  “Where’s Jessie?” asked Randy.

  “Trying out for the orchestra. She’s coming later.”

  Smiling, Randy shook her head.

  “Tomorrow,” Anna continued, “the poetry review. The next day, gymnastics.” Anna unwrapped her tuna fish sandwich. “So don’t you want to know what happened with Gooz yesterday?”

  “Of course I want to know. I’m dying to know.”

  “He asked me to be his partner on the history project!”

  “Hey, great!” exclaimed Randy.

  “What do you think it means?”

  “Well, it—”

  “It could mean that he’s an awful history student and wants my help,” said Anna, answering her own question. “Or it could mean that …” Anna lowered her voice and glanced around. “Do you think this is Gooz’s way of saying he’s interested in me? And if he is, what does that say about him? Yesterday, he was still going out with Casey. Is this what people mean by ‘catching someone on the rebound’? Or maybe he’s even trying to make Casey jealous.”

  “Oh, God!” exclaimed Randy, giggling. “Why don’t you just take it at face value for now? He asked you to work on the history project and that’s all. So work on it with him. Don’t worry about what it might or might not mean.”

  “You’re right,” Anna agreed.

  “Where is Gooz?” Randy asked.

  “He said he had to talk to his math teacher this period.”

  Anna sensed that the kids were going to start asking for the slam book, so she pulled it out of her notebook.

  “Hey, let’s read Gooz’s page!” she said suddenly. She began to thumb through the book, but it fell open to her own page. Anna’s attention was drawn to a new comment on the very last line. In Paige’s spiky penmanship was written, “Gooz’s next conquest? How far will she go?” Above that, in printing she didn’t recognize, was written simply, “Boy-stealer.”

  “Hey!” exclaimed Anna.

  Boy-stealer! She was not! Who had written that? But Paige’s comment was more disturbing. Paige hadn’t even bothered to disguise her handwriting. What had gotten into her?

  “Look at this,” said Anna indignantly. She pointed out Paige’s comment to Randy.

  Randy frowned. “That was pretty stupid of her. She knows you’d recognize her handwriting. What’s wrong with that girl?”

  “Well,” said Anna thoughtfully, “she has been pretty cool—ever since Casey and Gooz broke up and Gooz started paying attention to me.”

  “But tha
t wasn’t your fault,” Randy pointed out. “Paige was the one who suggested that Casey and Gooz ‘did it.’”

  “Keep your voice down,” said Anna. “Look who just got here.”

  Paige was pulling out a chair at the opposite end of the table. She was as far away from Anna and Randy as she could get.

  “What’s Paige doing way down there?” Randy whispered.

  “Sulking,” a voice answered. It was Jessie. She plopped down next to Randy. “She’s been in a real mood lately.”

  Anna snapped the slam book shut.

  Well, sulking was one thing, but damaging people’s reputations was another. Didn’t Paige know that everyone saw what was written in a slam book? Sooner or later, Gooz would see the remark, too.

  Then it hit her. Of course Paige knew that would happen.

  Boy, thought Anna miserably. Paige must really be angry with me. How unfair! She created the mess, and now she’s trying to hurt me. Some friend she is. Well, Paige Beaulac, two can play your game.

  The only problem was, Anna wasn’t very good at certain games, and now that it was her turn, she had no idea what move to make.

  The problem, however, was cleared up that evening.

  While Anna and her parents were eating dinner, the telephone rang.

  “I’ll get it!” Anna exclaimed, jumping up so fast she startled Bucky.

  “If it’s for you, keep it short,” Mr. Wallace cautioned.

  “Okay.”

  Anna picked up the phone in the kitchen and walked away from the dining room, stretching the cord to its fullest length.

  “Hello,” she said. “Wallace residence.”

  “Hello … Anna?”

  “Hi, Gooz!” Anna recognized his voice right away. She reached down to ruffle Bucky’s fur. He had followed her into the kitchen after recovering from his fright.

  “Hey! How are you? Am I interrupting dinner or anything?”

  “Well, actually we are eating, but I can talk for a minute.”

  “Geez, you eat late. It’s seven-thirty. How do you make it from freshman lunch until seven-thirty?”

  “Snacks,” replied Anna. “And plenty of them.”

  Gooz laughed. “You look too thin to be a snacker.”

  “Looks are deceiving.”

  “Sometimes.”

  What kind of conversation was this?

  “So …” said Anna.

  “So,” said Gooz, “I was wondering if you’d like to get together Friday night. I know it’s short notice, but the movie at the Playhouse just changed. You want to go?”

  “Sure!” replied Anna. She didn’t even care what the movie was. For Gooz, she’d sit through a documentary on golf tournaments, if necessary.

  “Great. My brother and his girlfriend are going, too, so they can give us a ride. We’ll pick you up around six-thirty. Is that okay?”

  “It sounds perfect,” said Anna, who wasn’t even sure her parents would let her go out with a boy.

  “Great,” said Gooz. “And how about working on the history project after school tomorrow? We’ve got to hand the proposal in soon.”

  “That’s fine,” replied Anna. “But I better check with my mother and father about Friday. Can I call you back tonight?”

  “Okay. I’ll talk to you then.”

  “Okay. And thanks! ’Bye, Gooz.”

  “’Bye.”

  Mr. and Mrs. Wallace were not at all happy to hear about Gooz’s invitation—at first. But Anna was ecstatic about the call and couldn’t stop smiling as she pleaded with her parents. Finally they gave in, on the condition that Anna be home by ten. She decided she could live with that.

  “You know, honey, you look positively radiant,” Mrs. Wallace told Anna after she got off the phone with Gooz later that evening. “It’s amazing what a little attention can do. The Pygmalion effect at work.”

  “Oh, Mom,” Anna said.

  But her mother’s words gave her the idea for her next move in the game with Paige.

  Thank you for your handwriting, Anna silently told Paige as she retreated to her room and pulled the slam book out of its hiding place in her closet. It’s a good thing everyone in our entire class can recognize it. You want embarrassment, Beaulac? I’ll give you embarrassment.

  Anna opened the slam book and studied several comments written by Paige. Then, on a pad of scrap paper, she practiced writing in Paige’s scrawl until she could do a decent imitation. When she was ready, she turned the slam book to Cheryl Sutphin’s page, and in Paige’s hand wrote, “If only Cheryl knew how much Kirk Norris likes her, maybe she’d fix herself up.”

  It was a serious move in a dangerous game.

  Chapter Ten

  GOOZ WALKED ANNA TO the library after school on Wednesday. The sidewalk felt like clouds under Anna’s feet. She couldn’t believe that she’d been in high school only a week, and already she was one of the most sought-after girls in the freshman class. And Gooz Drumfield was at her elbow. It was all thanks to the slam book.

  One way or another.

  Just the sight of the slam book made her shiver—a little thrill of delight and fright, of pleasure and fear. She felt the shiver when she read flattering comments about herself, or when kids crowded around her, asking for the book. She’d also felt it when she’d watched Cheryl Sutphin discover her page in the book, and when she’d painstakingly written “Paige’s” comment on Cheryl’s page later that night.

  Anna put the slam book out of her mind, though, so that she could enjoy Gooz and her cloud-walk to the public library.

  “So,” said Gooz. “Tell me about you. I mean, tell me the things about you that I don’t already know.”

  Anna blushed. She could never think of interesting things to say about herself. She cleared her throat. “Well, um, I’m the baby of our family. My sister Hilary’s married and has a little boy.”

  “So you’re an aunt,” said Gooz with a smile. “Aunt Anna.”

  “Yeah. Only Seth—that’s the baby—calls me Aunt Annie. And I’m going to be an aunt again in January.”

  Gooz nodded. “What else?”

  “I like to read.”

  “What else? Tell me something deep and personal.”

  “I feel like I’m at the shrink’s!” said Anna. “I don’t know what to say … Oh, here’s something. I’m a Leo.”

  Gooz laughed. “That wasn’t quite what I meant.”

  “Well, give me a clue. Tell me about you,” said Anna.

  “Okay,” replied Gooz. “Let’s see. I’m very organized. And very neat. Clutter drives me crazy—unless it’s under the bed where I can’t see it. I say what’s on my mind. And I’m very honest.”

  “How honest?” asked Anna.

  “Incredibly honest.”

  “If a store clerk was making change and accidentally gave you a ten-dollar bill instead of a five, would you tell him?”

  “Yup,” said Gooz.

  “What if he gave you a quarter instead of a nickel. Would you tell him?”

  “Yup.”

  “What if the store was all the way over in Greendale, and you didn’t realize the mistake until you got home?”

  “Are we talking about the quarter or the ten-dollar bill here?” asked Gooz.

  “The quarter.”

  “I guess there’s a limit to my honesty.”

  Anna and Gooz walked on, smiling.

  “Any ideas about the project?” asked Gooz as they approached the library.

  “Just a time period,” replied Anna. “I like the Second World War. But let’s not do anything about Hitler and the concentration camps. Everybody chooses those topics.”

  “Something to do with American life during World War Two?” suggested Gooz.

  “Yeah, that’s good. Hey!” exclaimed Anna. “I wonder if we could find enough information right here in town to do something about Calvin during World War Two.”

  “How about the effects the war had on a typical small American town?”

  “Oh, that’s pe
rfect! We can interview people who lived here then. And maybe the library has copies of the Calvin Chronicle from the thirties and forties.”

  “Yeah! Seifert’s going to love this!”

  Anna entered the library in great excitement—at least, with as much excitement as she ever felt about a school project.

  An hour and a half later, she and Gooz left in just as much excitement. The library had the Calvin Chronicle on microfilm dating back to 1932 and two books about Calvin written by local historians. Furthermore, Anna realized that anyone fifty or over would remember at least something about the war. There must be plenty of native Calvinites over fifty whom they could interview.

  The most exciting thing about the afternoon, however, was what happened after Gooz had walked Anna to the corner where they would have to separate.

  “I’m glad we’ve got this project under way,” Gooz said.

  “Yeah, me too,” replied Anna.

  “And I’m really glad we’re working together.” Gooz gazed seriously at Anna with his china-blue eyes.

  Anna actually thought she might keel over on the sidewalk. She didn’t think she’d ever seen eyes as intense as Gooz’s. She was sure they could see into her very soul.

  “Oh, me too,” replied Anna, recovering herself.

  “Well, catch you in school tomorrow.”

  Gooz leaned down and kissed Anna on the forehead. Then he turned and strode off.

  Anna was dumbstruck. She practically flew home. She ran through the front door, dropped her books on the floor in the living room, called hello to her mother, and dashed to the upstairs phone.

  She dialed Randy’s number. No answer.

  Anna had to tell somebody. She took a chance that Jessie might be home, and dialed the Smiths.

  After five rings, Anna was ready to hang up. It was so frustrating! She had this fabulous news—and no one to tell it to. The receiver was almost back in its cradle when Anna thought she heard a click. She jerked the phone to her ear.

  “Hello?” said a voice. It sounded like Jessie … but not quite.

  “Jessie?” asked Anna.

  “Yeah?”