Diary Three: Dawn, Sunny, Maggie, Amalia, and Ducky Page 2

  “Well…”

  “Well, I really have to finish studying,” said Maggie. (Very few things can come between Maggie and her studying.) “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

  “Yeah. See you.”

  I put the phone down, then picked it up and called Ducky. “What are you doing?” I asked him.

  “I just finished dinner.”

  I looked at my watch “Now?” It was a quarter to ten.

  “Yeah. I thought my brother was coming home, but I guess he isn’t. Not yet, anyway. So I finally took the pizza out of the oven. I ate all of it except for the two pieces I dropped on the floor. I saved those for Ted.”

  I laughed. Ducky didn’t. I thought he sounded a little sad or something. “Ducky? Is everything okay?”

  “Sure.”

  I knew it wasn’t. I cast around for what could be wrong. Let’s see. He was worried about Sunny. He missed his parents. Oh, wait. Alex. He missed Alex or felt guilty about him or was mad at him. “Is it Alex?” I asked.

  Ducky was startled. “What?”

  “Is that what you’re upset about?”

  “I didn’t say I was upset.”

  “I know, but you are.”

  Ducky sighed. “I called his mother today. Alex probably isn’t going to come back to Vista anytime soon.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why not?”

  “He just…isn’t.”

  “But why?” I pressed.

  “He needs special, um, treatment. For at least a few months. I guess he’ll be in a hospital or something.”

  I didn’t know what to say. I mean, he’s Ducky’s best friend and he tried to kill himself.

  “Dawn?” said Ducky after a moment. “It’s okay.”

  “I know. I know it will be, anyway. But it’s awful right now.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What’s the worst part?”

  Ducky paused for so long that I said, “Is it that you miss him?”

  “No.”

  “What, then?”

  “That I think I could have prevented it from happening.”

  “Oh, Ducky. Don’t do that to yourself. Anyway, you kept the worst from happening,” I pointed out.

  “Yeah.” Ducky did not sound convinced.

  I changed the subject. “Sunny came over today.”

  “You’re kidding. Really?”

  “To visit Carol. She fled when I came home.”

  “I’m glad she talks to Carol,” said Ducky.

  For some reason, tears sprang to my eyes. “Well…” was all I managed to say.

  “Dawn, just go easy on her.”

  When Carol says things like that I want to stick my tongue out at her. When Ducky says them, I just love him even more.

  “Okay,” I replied.

  Even later Sunday night 2/7

  After I hung up the phone I was going to call Amalia, but the conversation with Ducky had tired me out. And then the phone rang and it was Amalia. Of course, when Carol called me to the phone she had to whisper, “Tell your friends not to call so late.”

  I looked at my watch again. It was 10:05. I couldn’t decide whether that was actually late for a phone call, so I didn’t say anything. I just took the phone from Carol.

  “Hi, it’s Amalia,” said Amalia. “Is it too late to call?”

  I considered. “Carol thinks so, but I don’t,” I said finally.

  Amalia laughed. Then we talked about school and Brendan and Maggie and Ducky and even Sunny (a little). Finally I noticed that Carol was standing in the kitchen doorway, circling her finger at me, which is her embarrassing way of silently telling me to wind up the call. I made a face, but when we reached a lull in the conversation, I said, “Amalia, I have to go.” I was going to whisper that Carol was making me get off the phone, but she was still standing right there. Luckily Amalia understood.

  “Yeah. My dad’s telling me to go too. I’ll see you in school tomorrow.”

  Study hall, Monday 2/8

  Last night when I got off the phone I didn’t go to sleep. I had created enough excitement with my phone calls so that I was just a little too keyed up to fall asleep. I found the newspaper and took it into bed with me. Not that dinky 8-page paper, but the Palo City weekly paper. I thumbed through it. Headlines ran by my eyes. Stuff about the school board, potholes, the town’s budget. Yawn, yawn, yawn.

  Then I read the wedding announcements, the birth announcements, and the police blotter.

  And then a headline caught my eye that was so exciting it was responsible for keeping me up until nearly 3:00. It read: JAX TO PLAY IN NORTH PALO. Since I didn’t believe this could actually refer to the Jax, I almost turned the page. But something made me glance at the article anyway, and I nearly began screaming. I had to read the first paragraph twice to make sure I understood it. But sure enough, it said that Jax, “the rock phenomenon from Belgium,” was going to play a concert—a single concert—at a club in North Palo in a few weeks.

  Jax. The real Jax.

  The band of my dreams.

  The band for which Pierre X is one of the singers.

  I know almost nothing about him except that I am in love with him.

  I have to get to that concert.

  Math class, Monday 2/8

  Possible names X could stand for:

  Xavier—is that a Belgian name? (Does it have to be a Belgian name? Maybe Pierre’s family is from some other country.)

  Xanadu. Well, you never know.

  Xerxes. This is the dorkiest name in the history of the world, but there just aren’t that many names that begin with X. I’m desperate. Anyway, maybe Pierre shortened his name precisely because it is dorky.

  X-tremely Adorabl

  Monday afternoon 2/8

  I almost got caught, which would have been majorly humiliating. Amanda Janson walked by my desk really s-l-o-w-l-y, and I realized that she had noticed I was writing in my journal. I guess she just had to see what I was writing about. (Clearly, Amanda does not yet understand the concept of our journals. Maybe she will after she’s been at Vista a little longer.)

  Anyway. Back to more important things.

  I HAVE TO GET A TICKET TO THE CONCERT.

  Wednesday 2/10

  Reasons I am in love with Pierre:

  1. He is so cool when he’s onstage.

  2. When he sings, he closes his eyes and you can just tell that he’s lost in his own world, which must be a wonderful place.

  3. I’ve never seen him in person, but I imagine that when he sings he gets a little bit sweaty. Not drippy sweaty, but just damply sweaty. So you can just barely smell it, and it isn’t a bad smell, but actually attractive. Like you’d sort of want to lean into him and collapse against his chest.

  4. His hair curls at the nape of his neck.

  5. When he gives interviews he looks RIGHT INTO the eyes of the interviewer. (If I were an interviewer, I would melt into a puddle.) And his eyes are piercing yet gentle. They are sincere eyes.

  Thursday 2/11

  Jax tickets go on sale on Monday. Numbered bracelets for the tickets will be given out on Saturday.

  I HAVE TO GET A TICKET.

  I HAVE TO SEE PIERRE LIVE, IN PERSON.

  Later Thursday 2/11

  Also, I HAVE to get to North Palo on Saturday so I can stand in that bracelet line. The bracelet line could be my only ticket to a ticket to seeing Pierre live.

  Hmm. I will have to handle this subject carefully with Dad and Carol. I don’t think they’re going to want to drive me to North Palo to wait in an endless line. Of course, they are not going to want me to attend a late-night concert at a club in North Palo either, but I’ll cross that bridge after I get a ticket. I think I’ll call Maggie.

  Thursday night 2/11

  Maggie must be the only thirteen-year-old in the entire county who doesn’t want to go to the Jax concert. It’s really unfortunate, since I know her father would have provided his limo and driver to take us there
.

  This was my disappointing conversation with Maggie:

  “Hi, it’s me.”

  “Hey, Dawn.”

  “Hey. So…how many tickets are you going to try to get for Jax?”

  “Jax?”

  “The group?”

  “What group?” Maggie is clueless.

  “You know. Pierre? Pierre X?”

  “Um…” Not a glimmer of recognition.

  “Well. Then I guess you aren’t going to be lining up for a bracelet.”

  “No…Should I?”

  “I guess not. Not if you don’t know Jax.”

  “I really don’t.”

  “That’s okay. They’re kind of new.”

  After we hung up I had a brainstorm. Call Amalia. Much more sensible. I should have called her in the first place.

  Later Thursday night 2/11

  Not only is Amalia going to try to get tickets to Jax, but Isabel wants to go too, and some friend of Isabel’s boyfriend is taking his van to North Palo first thing Saturday morning. There’s room for me! Tomorrow at breakfast I’ll ask Dad if I can go. I’ll try to catch him when he’s really busy—like feeding Gracie and reading the newspaper at the same time. When I mention it’s a daytime trip and Amalia will be along too, I think he’ll say okay.

  Homeroom, Friday morning 2/12

  It worked! Dad said yes! I can’t wait to tell Amalia the news.

  Friday afternoon 2/12

  My plans for tomorrow:

  1. Set alarm for 5:30. (Have I EVER gotten up at 5:30 on a Saturday?)

  2. Hope to be out of bed by 6:00.

  3. At 6:45, van will arrive.

  4. Bracelets will be given out starting at ten, but we want to be in line EARLY just in case. This is our ONLY SHOT at tickets.

  5. While we’re waiting in line, one or two of us can leave and bring food back for the others.

  MY FINGERS ARE CROSSED.

  Friday night 2/12

  A close call. A little while ago I was starting to get ready for bed when Dad knocked on my door.

  “Where is it you’re going tomorrow morning?” he asked.

  “Um, to North Palo?”

  “And this is for a concert?”

  “Oh, no. It’s just to see about some tickets,” I said vaguely.

  “Dad?” Jeff called from his room. “Can you help me?”

  Perfect timing, little brother, I thought. Dad has not come back to my room. I think he’s forgotten.

  Saturday night 2/13

  Whoa. What a day.

  I managed to get out of the house before anyone else was actually up. I got nervous when I heard Gracie cry at five minutes to six, but Carol took her into bed with her and Dad, and they all went back to sleep. So no one else was up when I ran outside to get in the van. (I left a really bright and pleasant note on the kitchen table, saying I’d be back by the afternoon.)

  Everyone in the van was sleepy but keyed up. Isabel and her friends were drinking coffee from a thermos. I cannot even pretend to like coffee. So I just pretended that I was older than thirteen. No one paid attention to Amalia and me, though. They left us alone in the backseat.

  Guess what. We were not the first in line. About forty people were there ahead of us, camped out along the sidewalk. By ten, HUNDREDS of people were in the line behind us. Literally HUNDREDS. I was amazed. Amalia and I left our group a couple of times to buy juice and fruit and we kept bumping into people we knew. I saw kids I hadn’t seen in years—kids who had lived on my street and moved away, kids who had transferred from Vista to other schools. I even saw our old baby-sitter Carl. I’ll have to ask Jeff if he remembers Carl.

  Anyway, right at ten o’clock, they began giving out bracelets. Amalia and I looked at the numbers on ours and shrugged.

  “Well,” said Amalia.

  “Well,” I said.

  “We’ll keep our fingers crossed.”

  We were home by 11:00.

  Jeff doesn’t remember Carl.

  Later Saturday night 2/13

  Waiting, waiting.

  I just read in People that Pierre X witnessed a minor car accident in Malibu last week and he stopped to help the people in the cars. No one was too seriously hurt, but Pierre waited with them until the paramedics arrived. He handed out autographs before he left.

  Pierre is so kind.

  Even later Saturday night 2/13

  I wonder if Pierre has a house in Malibu.

  Maybe Amalia and I should try to get to Malibu someday. Is Pierre listed on a star map? (Try to find out.) He probably isn’t, since his main residence is in London.

  Sunday 2/14

  VALENTINE’S DAY!!

  I can’t believe it. I’ve been so caught up with Jax and Pierre and tickets that I actually FORGOT it was Valentine’s Day until I came down to breakfast this morning and found envelopes and little hearts all over the table. Carol had made the kitchen look very festive. She even bought presents for everyone. She gave me silver heart-shaped earrings and red heart-shaped soap. I’ll have to make some Valentine’s Day cards this afternoon. It’s Gracie’s first Valentine’s Day.

  Monday 2/15

  Presidents’ Day. No school.

  Isabel and friends are driving back to North Palo this afternoon. Amalia and I will go with them. By tonight I’ll know whether I’ll get to see Pierre LIVE. I only have enough money to buy 1 ticket, but that’s all I need.

  My fingers are permanently crossed.

  Monday night 2/15

  Desolation.

  Amalia and I joined the crowd of people in North Palo again. We held our breath as a number was called out. It was 248. I didn’t even need to look at the number on my bracelet. I already knew it was 681. There was no way I was going to be able to buy a ticket. People lined up according to their bracelet numbers, starting with 248. Each person could buy 1, 2, 3, or 4 tickets. The club seats 400 people.

  Tickets were sold out by bracelet #507. Amalia and I tried not to cry on the way home.

  Tuesday 2/16

  Mrs. Winslow is home from the hospital! Carol just told me. I think I’ll go visit her. (I know Sunny isn’t there.)

  Tuesday evening 2/16

  I don’t know why the doctors sent Mrs. Winslow home. She looks AWFUL. Maybe she just wanted to be at home. But still. Is it safe? What if something happens?

  An aide was with Mrs. Winslow when I rang the bell. She was helping her take a shower. (Mrs. Winslow can’t stand up for very long, so she sits on this special shower chair.)

  I stayed with Mrs. Winslow for awhile after her shower. She is now completely bald. She didn’t bother to wear a scarf or anything. At first. Then she got cold and put on a hat.

  I came home and cried.

  Thursday 2/18

  Mrs. Winslow is BACK in the hospital. I guess she wasn’t ready to come home after all.

  Thursday night 2/18

  Just when I was feeling my worst, really HORRIBLE, Ducky called.

  OH! MY! GOD!!!

  I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!

  I haven’t talked to Ducky in a few days, so I had no idea that he’d been in line for Jax tickets and his bracelet was #261. And so he scored FOUR TICKETS. Now get this. He just called and said he wants to take Amalia, Sunny, and me to the concert.

  When Ducky told me this I screamed so loudly into the phone that I hurt his ear and he yelped. And Carol thought something had happened to me and came flying into the kitchen to see what was the matter. The moment she came flying in, I realized something. I couldn’t tell her why I had screamed. Because I can’t tell her about the concert. Not yet. I am going to have to approach the concert issue VERY carefully. Dad and Carol are not going to take well to the concert. I mean, I don’t think that I can say to them, “Can Ducky drive Amalia and Sunny and me to North Palo late on a Friday night to go to a Jax concert in a club where liquor will be served?” and expect them to reply, “Oh, sure, honey. You go along. Have lots of fun.”

  Anyway, I’m off the subject.


  I waved Carol out of the kitchen, saying, “Oh, Ducky just told me some good news. Sorry I scared you.”

  Then I apologized to Ducky for nearly destroying his hearing.

  He said, “That’s all right. I guess we should get used to it. The concert is going to be really loud. So anyway, this means you want to go?”

  “Are you kidding me? Yes, yes, YES!” I paused. “I hope Dad and Carol will let me go,” I added.

  “You think they might not?”

  “I don’t know. A late night. Drinking at the club.”

  “Hmm,” said Ducky. “Well, talk to them, and let me know what happens, okay?”

  “Sure. I may have to work on them slowly, though.”

  Friday 2/19

  Of course, all I have been able to think about since last night is the concert. I AM REALLY AND TRULY GOING TO GET TO SEE PIERRE X!!!! I still can’t quite believe it. Last night I actually pinched myself to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. (I wasn’t. And now I have a bruise on my thigh.)

  I have been daydreaming endlessly about Pierre. It will be fantastic to see him in person…but what if, somehow, I get to MEET him? Maybe Ducky and I could hang around the back entrance of the club and when the band members leave I could thrust a slip of paper at Pierre and he could AUTOGRAPH it for me. Maybe he would even write his full name and I would find out what the X is for.

  No. I can’t hang around and wait for his autograph like some silly Beatles fan. That’s no good.

  Maybe I could encourage Ducky to have a little car accident on the way home. Just a slight one. And then Pierre would happen along in his red Jaguar (I’m positive that’s what he drives) and stop to help us. That way, not only would I get a personal greeting and an autograph, but I might even get to touch him.