“Oh, hi there,” she said. She kept flipping through the magazine.
“Welllll?”
She turned a page. “Do you like this outfit?” She held it up for me to see.
“Not really.”
“Hmm.” She flipped to the next page.
“Welllll?” I was beginning to feel a little invisible.
“Hmm?” She was studying an underwear ad.
“Aren’t you going to tell me about last night?” Normally she would have been pouring out every single detail even if she and her parents had gone to the Tast-ee Freeze.
“Oh.” She put the magazine down and stretched out on the bed, fixing the nightgown as if someone was going to take her picture. Then she got this dreamy look on her face and said, “It was di-viiiiine.”
Di-viiiiine? Did she say di-viiiiine?
“Derek is truly wonderful.”
Truly? Where did she get these words like divine and truly?
“He’s truly precious.”
Truly precious. I thought I was going to gag. She sounded just like Christy and Megan at school. “Beth Ann, just tell me what you did, huh? Did you go to the drive-in?”
She nodded and got this big smile on her face.
“With Judy and what’s-his-name?”
“Gregory. Derek’s brother’s name is Gregory.”
“Okay, with Judy and Gregory?”
“Yes.”
This was driving me crazy. Beth Ann (normally) would tell you what everyone wore and what color the car was and what color the interior of the car was and if it was clean or dirty, and then she would get on to what time he picked her up and what her mother said and what her father said and on and on and on.
Then she sat up and said, “So what are you doing tonight?”
“Nothing. Want to go to the movies or something?”
She started winding a piece of her hair around her finger. “Oh, I’d love to, Mary Lou, but I can’t. Derek and I are going to some party with Judy and Gregory.”
I went home. It really bothered me all day that she didn’t tell me anything about her date and that she dropped that bit about her and Derek going out again, dropped it like some big bomb right on my head. I didn’t think best friends did that sort of thing.
Even though our house was full of people all day, I kept having this lonely feeling. It was really strange. Am I jealous?
I’ll probably never have a date. I’ll probably go on and on watching Maggie and Beth Ann be all soppy over boys and I’ll probably wake up one day and be seventy-five years old in my wheelchair, with drool running down my chin, and I will still not ever have been on a date.
It didn’t help matters that Maggie spent the entire day soaking in the tub and doing her nails and fixing her hair. I have to admit, though, that she looked terrific when she got ready to go.
When Kenny came to pick her up, he came into the house and sat down (he never sits down) and pretended to talk like an adult to my father.
He said, “Hello, Mr. Finney, sir.”
My dad just sort of smiled. “Hello, Kenny.”
“Have you had a nice day, Mr. Finney, uh, sir?”
“Yes.”
Kenny kept turning his head. I think his collar was too small. He was all dressed up in a gray suit and a white shirt and a blue tie.
“So where exactly is this party?” my dad asked.
“Oh, yes, sir, it’s at the Fergusons’. Do you know Bill Ferguson?”
“No, I don’t think I do.”
“Well, he’s a very nice guy. You’d like him, Mr. Finney. Well, I think you might.”
“And where exactly does this Bill Ferguson live?”
“Oh, he lives in this big house over in Norton. Seven-three-three Lindale Street. Here’s the phone number. I wrote it down for you.”
My dad looked at the piece of paper Kenny gave him. “Hmmm.”
So they went on like that until Maggie came downstairs and everybody fell all over her saying how terrific she looked. Carl Ray kept staring at her as if she was some sort of goddess or something. And, of course, Dad reminded her to be home by midnight and Kenny right away said, “Oh, of course, sir. Midnight it is. Very good.”
It’s now eleven o’clock. I wonder what time she’ll really be home.
Sunday, June 24
Well! Would anyone in this world be surprised to learn that Maggie got home at two o’clock? And that she’s not even in trouble? Cinderella called around midnight and asked for an extension.
But I found out a lot of stuff from Maggie today! I asked her about the party and for once she decided to talk to me and she told me all about it. It was very fancy, she said, with butlers and maids. They had all kinds of little things to eat like dips and mushrooms and there was a live band that played outside on the patio and everyone danced and the neighbors didn’t even complain.
The thing that surprised me the most was when she said that Beth Ann was there! And then, after Maggie made me PROMISE not to tell, she said that Beth Ann was hanging allllllll over Derek-the-Divine, and that Derek was “sort of a jerk.” She said, “He’s just sort of gawky and his eyes sort of bug out so he always looks surprised and he didn’t say two words, just sort of followed Judy and what’s-his-name around, and Beth Ann followed him around.”
Then, out of the blue, Maggie said, “Oh, funny, I just remembered that there was some guy there who asked about you.”
“Meeee? Somebody asked about me?”
“Now what was his name? He lives next door to Bill Ferguson—the guy who had the party. That’s probably why he was there. I don’t think he had a date, and I only saw him there at the beginning.”
“You don’t remember his name?” Maggie never remembers names. It’s exasperating. “Describe him, then,” I said.
“Well. He’s pretty cute, sort of tallish and thin-nish, blondish hair, with pinkish skin…”
“Alex? Was it Alex Cheevey? He lives in Norton and he has this sort of pinkish…”
“Alex! That’s it. Yes, Alex.”
Alex Cheevey was at the party. And he asked about me. Well, sort of. And Beth Ann’s “truly divine wonderful gorgeous Derek” is sort of a jerk.
I felt a lot better today.
Monday, June 25
This is the first day of the new journal, but I’m not going to write much because I am sooooo sleepy.
I had to watch Tommy all afternoon even though it was supposed to be Maggie’s day (she traded Friday with me), but Mr. Furtz is sick. He came home early from the store and Mrs. Furtz had to take him to the doctor, so Maggie had to go over there and stay with Cathy, Barry, and David. Mrs. Furtz didn’t get home until eight, and she was all upset because the doctor said Mr. Furtz should go right into the hospital for some tests.
Maggie’s going to go over again tomorrow so Mrs. Furtz can go to the hospital. The surprising thing is that Mr. Furtz looks like one of those real healthy types—he plays lots of golf and tennis and is always running around in his gym shorts and tennis shoes. He’s got these really long skinny legs and great big feet. Mom says she bets he’s home in a couple days and these doctors are always scaring people with tests for every little thing.
I don’t much like doctors, because they never really listen to you, but I guess it must be hard to sit there and listen to people complain all day.
I still haven’t heard from Beth Ann, and I decided I wasn’t going to call her. I’ll wait till she wants to talk to me.
Oh, I guess I better tell about Carl Ray. Dad had to call him about a thousand times this morning to get him out of bed for his first day of work, but he finally did get up. Then at dinner, when Dad asked how his job was, Carl Ray said, “Enhh.”
And surprisingly, Dad didn’t say, “Does that mean…?” Instead he said, “Well, good. I’m glad to hear it.” I think he’s getting sort of fed up with Carl Ray. Mom asked Carl Ray if someone took over for Mr. Furtz at the store while he was at the doctor’s, and Carl Ray said, “Yup,” but he ne
ver said who it was.
When I was cleaning Carl Ray’s room today, I put a can of deodorant on his dresser. Har har har. Is that mean? Well, it was just supposed to be a hint.
Good night, whoever you are out there.
Tuesday, June 26
Mr. Furtz is still in the hospital. He had a bunch of tests, but no results yet, and he has to have some more tests tomorrow. Maggie said that Mrs. Furtz is a wreck. I’m sure Mr. Furtz will be home soon.
No word from my best friend, Beth Ann.
Do you want to know how Carl Ray’s job went today? Well, at dinner, when Mom asked him, he said, “Ehhh.”
I examined the can of deodorant today, but I couldn’t tell if it had been used. So I added a new bar of soap to his dresser top. Har har har.
Today, in the mail, we all got our summer reading lists for school. On it are about a million books for each grade and you’re supposed to read “as many as possible,” and then take notes.
Tommy and I went to the library today. He picked out a bunch of easy-reader books (he can’t read yet, but he pretends) and a book on Eskimos (Eskimos???). I checked out two on the list: the Odyssey and Poems of Robert Frost.
I skimmed through the Odyssey and think perhaps I made a mistake getting this one. The print is so small (I hate that) and there’s all these weird names in it. Maybe I’ll try reading it tomorrow.
I read a couple poems in the Robert Frost book. Some are okay, but some are very strange, like the one in the front about a pasture. Someone is going out to the pasture and tells someone else to come along too. That’s about it, really. I wrote a poem once about a lunch box and a bologna (why is that word spelled like that?) sandwich, and I think even that was better than the one about the pasture.
Wednesday, June 27
The worst thing happened today.
After dinner, Mom and I were in the kitchen (Maggie was still over at the Furtzes’) and the phone rang. Mom answered it and I heard her suck in her breath and then say, “Oh, no,” and “How?” and “When?” I just knew it was some kind of bad news.
When she hung up, she ran right upstairs calling, “Sam, Sam, Sam.” My dad met her at the top of the stairs, and she said, “Oh, Sam. That new neighbor—Mr. Furtz—he’s dead.”
She told my dad that she had just talked to Maggie, who had just talked to Mrs. Furtz, who was still at the hospital and practically hysterical, so Maggie didn’t find out too much except that Mr. Furtz had been resting after some tests and he was supposed to come home tomorrow. Mrs. Furtz was waiting out in the hall while a nurse was doing something in there, and all of a sudden this light started flashing over his door and all these people started running in and out and Mrs. Furtz thought it was his roommate who was in trouble because she had just seen her husband and he was fine.
Then a nurse asked Mrs. Furtz to come down the hall with her, and they took her into a room and fifteen minutes later they told her that Mr. Furtz was dead.
He had a gigantic heart attack or something.
I just can’t believe it.
My mom and dad had only met Mr. Furtz once, but they went right over to the Furtzes’ to wait for Mrs. Furtz to come home.
I keep wondering about Cathy and Barry and little David (who is Tommy’s age). What is their mother going to tell them?
I don’t feel like writing about other stuff just now, because it doesn’t seem right. It’s scary that a person can be as healthy-looking as Mr. Furtz and then, boom, all of a sudden he isn’t here anymore. I’m glad Mrs. Furtz was visiting Mr. Furtz just before it happened. Maybe she was holding his hand or something. I don’t much like it, though, that Mrs. Furtz wasn’t in the room when all the lights started flashing. That’s probably when Mr. Furtz needed his wife the most. Maybe he wanted to tell her one last thing.
And what about Mrs. Furtz standing out there in the hallway, not expecting this to happen? And what about his children and his friends and neighbors who are just going along, doing the dishes and stuff and then all of a sudden the telephone rings and you think it’s going to be some regular person calling with some regular ole chatter, and wham, it’s the most awful news.
And I also keep wondering about my mom and dad. They seem so healthy too. Please, please, please don’t let anything happen to them.
Thursday, June 28
Oh Lord, I don’t like this dead Mr. Furtz business at all.
Maggie and I went over to the Furtzes’ today to see if we could take Cathy, Barry, and David out somewhere, just to get them out of the house. About a hundred (well, maybe twenty) relatives were swarming all over. They said Mrs. Furtz had to go pick out a coffin. Can you imagine that? With your husband dead and all, they make you go pick out a coffin. How do you do that? Is there a room with a bunch of coffins and you just choose one? Do you choose one because it is pretty or because it is sturdy and won’t, sort of, leak? What if you don’t have enough money for a good, leakproof coffin?
Cathy and Barry were up in their rooms playing Monopoly with their cousins. At first I thought it was strange that they were sitting there buying hotels and trading property when their father was dead and their mother was out shopping around for a coffin, but then I couldn’t imagine what they should be doing. Maybe crying and looking at some pictures of him or something. Cathy and Barry didn’t want to go anywhere because they wanted to finish Monopoly.
Little David Furtz was sitting at the kitchen table playing with some Play-Doh. When I asked him what he was making, he said, “Sort of a squirrel.”
I peered at it and it even looked like a squirrel, so I said, “That’s a great squirrel.”
And do you know what he said? He said, “It’s for Daddy.”
His uncle, who was sitting at the table watching David, whispered, “He doesn’t understand.”
Then David shouted, “I do too!” and he punched the little squirrel flat and ran out of the room.
Tonight, Mom said that there would be a “viewing” (of the body!) tomorrow night at DiMaggio’s Funeral Home, which is about two blocks from our house.
“Can we go?” I asked. I’ve never seen a body before. Except on TV.
Mom looked at Dad. He said, “Hmm.”
“Maybe they should, Sam,” my mom said.
“Hmm.”
“Oh, pleeeease,” said Dennis.
“Well, I’m not going!” said Maggie.
“I wanna go!” said Tommy. He didn’t even know where we were going.
Carl Ray, of course, didn’t say anything. He must have been wondering if he was still going to have a job now, with Mr. Furtz dead and all.
“Well, fine then. You can come, but behave yourselves.”
So we’re all going tomorrow. Except for Maggie and Carl Ray, I guess.
Beth Ann finally called. Surprise, surprise. She said she was sorry she hadn’t called sooner, but she’s been so busy. I didn’t ask her what she was busy doing.
She asked me what I was doing tomorrow night. Well, I’ve fallen for that one before, so I was happy that I had something to say. “Going to the funeral home,” I said. I knew she’d be surprised. She wanted to know who was there, and I told her it was Mr. Furtz, our new neighbor. She asked if he was dead. Of course he was dead, I told her.
I feel terrible about Mr. Furtz. I keep expecting to see him outside, puttering around his yard. I told my parents they ought to take some vitamins.
Here’s some Odyssey notes to take my mind off Mr. Furtz. I’ll write them in red ink.
Sacking Cities
I tried to read the Odyssey today, but I couldn’t get past the first couple of pages. Homer writes so strangely. He begins, “Tell me, O Muse, of that ingenious hero who traveled far and wide after he had sacked the famous town of Troy.” Doesn’t that sound a little much?
Fortunately, I knew what a Muse was from English last year. A Muse is a goddess who sits around inspiring people whenever she feels like it. If you’re telling a story and don’t feel too inspired, you’re supposed to call on t
he Muse for help. It looks like Homer needed some help right from the start. If I were Homer, I don’t think I’d admit that right at the beginning of the story.
And then I just can’t warm right up to a character who is a hero (an ingenious hero) because he “sacked” a town! Lord.
Homer also has a strange way of putting things. For example, instead of saying, “He visited many cities,” Homer will say, “Many cities did he visit.” It reminds me of the preacher at Aunt Radene’s church in West Virginia. He would make his voice really soft and then, boom, he would be shouting and then soft again. And he would say things like “Many people did our Jesus cure,” and “Little did He know.” You could tell that this preacher really liked to talk and that he was really proud of what he said and the way he said it.
Anyway, about all I can make out from the first part of the Odyssey is that it’s going to be about this man Odysseus who “sacked” Troy and then started on his way home but all these gods are trying to decide if they should let Odysseus get started on his journey home to his wife. Then you find out that back at his wife’s house a bunch of men are falling all over her, waiting for the opportunity to marry her. It’s like a soap opera!
It just kills me the way these gods decide everything. Here’s this big hero Odysseus and everything he does is because the gods decide he should do it.
I keep wondering if there are still all these gods like Zeus and Athene and Poseidon sitting around up there on Mount Olympus deciding if I should go to Mr. Furtz’s funeral or, even worse, deciding when it was time for Mr. Furtz to die. Are they saying, “Should Mary Lou Finney die today?”
“Well, yes, I think she should, because many people has she slighted of late.”
“Well, I don’t agree,” says another one. “She’s a good kid. Let us halt awhile.” Etc.
Also, I have trouble keeping track of all the names. In the first three pages, just to give you an idea of why I have trouble, here are the names mentioned: Hyperion, Zeus, Odysseus, Calypso, Poseidon, Ethiopians, Aegisthus, Agamemnon, Orestes, Hermes, Athene, Cronus, Atlas, Polyphemus, Cyclopes, Thoosa, Phorcys, Telemachus, Penelope, Mentes, Taphians.