Diary Three Read online

  Better yet

  Oh, got to go. Dinner.

  Late Friday night 2/19

  I just thought of something. I have been so wrapped up in the excitement of the tickets and my fantasies about Pierre that I’ve barely paid attention to one horrifying detail. Ducky said he wants to take Amalia, me, and SUNNY to the concert.

  SUNNY.

  An evening with SUNNY.

  With SUNNY?

  What was I thinking?

  Saturday morning 2/20 9:02

  I cannot go to the concert with Sunny. I just can’t.

  Saturday morning 2/20 9:07

  Not see Jax live? Not see Pierre in person? I must be crazy. Of course I’m going to go to the concert.

  Saturday morning 2/20 9:10

  With SUNNY????

  Saturday evening 2/20

  I have been thinking about the Sunny dilemma all day. Obsessively. I’ve thought about it way more than about having to ask Dad and Carol for permission to go to the concert in the first place. Maybe I should worry about that instead. After all, the concert is in just 13 days. I have a lot of work to do.

  Saturday night 2/20 10:42

  13 NIGHTS FROM RIGHT NOW I WILL BE IN THE SAME ROOM WITH JAX AND PIERRE X!!!!!

  Saturday night 2/20 10:44

  If Dad and Carol let me go.

  Sunday 2/21

  All right. I decided I have to settle down and concentrate on how to handle the concert. I called Ducky.

  “Hey, it’s me,” I said when he answered the phone.

  “Hi, Dawn.”

  (I love when people recognize my voice and I don’t have to say who I am. It’s such a nice intimate feeling because it means you know somebody really well. I think that voice recognition over the phone is an important step in a friendship.)

  “How are you?” I asked.

  “Good,” replied Ducky, although he really didn’t sound too good. “Did you talk to your parents about the concert yet?”

  “No. I decided to talk to you first. I’m pretty sure I can convince Dad and Carol to let me go. I just have to handle it carefully. But there’s one other thing.”

  “Yes?” said Ducky patiently.

  “Yes.” I paused. “Sunny.”

  I think that a little teeny corner of me was hoping that Ducky would recognize my extreme discomfort at the thought of spending an evening with Sunny, and he would offer to (somehow) uninvite her. I held my breath.

  “What about Sunny?” Ducky said.

  “Well, we’re still not speaking,” I began, “and…we haven’t exactly spent much time together lately.”

  “So you think the concert might be uncomfortable for you?”

  “Yes!”

  “Then maybe you should try to talk to Sunny before the concert.”

  “Oh.”

  “You should talk to her anyway, Dawn. I mean, you two should be friends again. You’ve been friends for such a long time. And if Sunny ever needed you, it’s right now.”

  “Ha.”

  “No, really.”

  “Ducky, I love you. You know that. So pardon me when I say that you’re such a guy. That is such a guy thing to say.”

  This was followed by a pause so long that I thought Ducky might have left the phone for some reason. Finally I said, “Ducky?”

  After another slight pause he said, “Yeah. I’m here.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing.”

  I frowned, which, of course, Ducky couldn’t see.

  A few minutes later we got off the phone.

  School, Monday 2/22

  Study hall. I just passed Sunny coming out of the library. I was about to say hi to her, but she didn’t see me, and I didn’t feel like calling out to her. I’m not sure why. I know that if she had looked up and seen me I would have said hi. But she didn’t so I didn’t. And now I feel small and mean, which is silly because she doesn’t even know that I just walked by her.

  Monday afternoon 2/22

  Ducky dropped by after school today. Unannounced. (I think maybe he had gone to Sunny’s house first, but she wasn’t home, so he came over here.) It was unusually warm today, so we sat in the sun on our back steps. Carol wheeled Gracie out in her stroller and parked her in the shade. Ducky and I watched over her while she napped.

  “Dawn?” said Ducky. “Do you think Maggie minds about the tickets?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you guys are all friends. You and Sunny and Amalia and Maggie. And me. And I gave tickets to everyone except Maggie.”

  “Well, you couldn’t get more than four tickets. Maggie knows that. And she didn’t want to go to the concert anyway. She doesn’t even know who Jax is.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope. She really doesn’t.”

  “But do you think she feels left out anyway?”

  “Ducky, you worry too much.”

  “I know.”

  Worrying is sort of Ducky’s function in life.

  After a moment Ducky said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

  I sighed. “Well, I haven’t spoken to Maggie about it, but I don’t think you hurt her feelings. I really don’t.”

  Ducky was certainly obsessing about Maggie, which gave me an idea. I remembered when I was obsessing about Groundhog Day. Maybe Ducky was actually worrying about something else. “Are you thinking about Alex again?” I asked suddenly.

  Ducky looked at me out of the corners of his eyes but didn’t turn his head. “I think about him every day,” he replied.

  “Ducky, what Alex did was not your fault. It had nothing to do with you.”

  “How do you know?”

  “He tried to kill himself. He tried to kill himself.”

  “But maybe I wasn’t a good enough friend to him.”

  “Oh, that is so self-centered. Don’t give yourself so much credit.”

  Ducky looked wounded, just for a moment. Then he burst out laughing. “I don’t know whether to feel insulted or comforted,” he said.

  I laughed too. “Look, don’t worry. Maggie is not going to kill herself because you didn’t give her a ticket to a concert by a group she’s never heard of.”

  Gracie started to fuss then, and Carol appeared at the back door, tugging at her blouse. Ducky leaped to his feet and announced that he had to leave. I couldn’t blame him.

  Monday night 2/22

  Carol and I sat on the back steps while she fed Gracie.

  “What do you think it means that Mrs. Winslow is already back in the hospital?” I asked.

  “I think it means that it turned out to be more difficult to care for her at home than the Winslows had imagined,” Carol replied. “Right now she needs so many procedures that are more easily done at the hospital.” Carol shifted Gracie to her other breast.

  I couldn’t tell if Carol was telling the truth or not.

  Either way I felt horrible for Sunny.

  Tuesday night 2/23

  I visited Mrs. Winslow at the hospital this afternoon.

  Yikes.

  This time she wasn’t joking about pirates or hairstyles. All she did was lie in her bed. She could barely move. I saw that she didn’t have the energy to move. I mean, she could barely raise an arm or turn her head. Her mouth is covered with sores from the chemo and they hurt her so much that she can’t eat. The sores go all the way down her throat, I think. Even sipping water hurts her.

  She looked SO ill that I thought she might not want me to stay. After all, she couldn’t talk. So after I’d told her absolutely everything I could think of about school, my family, the concert (I even told her about being in love with Pierre X and I think she tried to smile), I stood up and said that maybe I better leave.

  But that was when Mrs. Winslow did manage to move a little. She put her hand on my arm. So I sat down again.

  Now what?

  What was left to talk about? I couldn’t think of anything, so I reached into my backpack and pulled out Franny and Zooey,
by J. D. Salinger. I’m really enjoying the book and I thought Mrs. Winslow might like to hear it, even if she’d already read it.

  I read to her until Mr. Winslow appeared. Then I left.

  Later Tuesday night 2/23

  Things to tell Mrs. Winslow if she still can’t talk the next time I visit her:

  1. Jeff got an honorable mention in the science fair for his project, “The Food Chain.”

  2. Mary Anne might visit over spring break.

  3. The plots of any movies I’ve seen lately.

  4. What Carol tried to fix for dinner

  5. (Nothing else is coming to mind.)

  Wednesday afternoon 2/24

  I popped into the hospital after school today. Mr. Winslow had been there at lunch, and two of Mrs. Winslow’s friends were just leaving. I had been hoping for some miniscule improvement in Mrs. Winslow’s condition. Truly. A miniscule improvement would have been acceptable. But she seemed worse. She was just lying in bed with her eyes closed. I thought she was asleep. So I whispered to her friends, “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  But one of the friends said, “No, that’s okay. She’s awake.” Then they left. I watched them hurry down the hall.

  I fished around in my pocket for the list of things to tell Mrs. Winslow, glanced at it, and put it back. Nothing felt right.

  Then I opened Franny and Zooey and continued reading.

  Cafeteria, Thursday 2/25

  Pouring rain today.

  Ducky was just here. We split a juice.

  I asked Ducky if he’s visited Mrs. Winslow recently.

  “I’ve only been to the hospital once,” he said. “A couple of months ago.”

  I forget that Ducky hasn’t known us very long. He seems like such an old, old friend.

  “Oh. I went yesterday,” I told him. “Ducky, she looks—HORRIBLE.” (Ducky winced.) “Yeah. And each time I see her, she looks even worse, no matter how bad she already looked.”

  “Poor Sunny.”

  “Poor Sunny? What about poor Mrs. Winslow?”

  “Dawn, how would you feel if Mrs. Winslow were your mother?”

  I looked at the table. “Awful,” I replied. “No. You know what? I don’t even know how I’d feel.”

  I decided it was time to talk to Sunny.

  Thursday afternoon 2/25

  I visited Mrs. Winslow again after school. (I just read some more Franny and Zooey to her because she still can’t talk.) When I was leaving, I ran into Sunny. I was zipping up my jacket as I stepped into the hallway, and I nearly bumped into her.

  “Oh, sorry,” I said. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” replied Sunny, but she sounded as if she’d just seen a snake.

  “I was visiting your mom.”

  Now, I know that was an unnecessary thing to say, but I don’t think it deserved such a withering look from Sunny.

  “No kidding,” she said.

  “Well, I think she likes the company.”

  Right away I knew I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to imply that Sunny should visit her mother more often, but that’s how she took it.

  “I’m sure she does, Pollyanna,” replied Sunny.

  I lowered my eyes and walked away.

  Thursday night 2/25

  I have been trying to tell myself that going to the concert with Sunny will be just fine. I think about the things Ducky has been saying. I think how horrible I’d feel if my mother were as sick as Sunny’s. Plus, I remind myself of the years of friendship Sunny and I had before our fight.

  Now, after our meeting at the hospital, I wonder if we can survive the concert together. Just thinking about it is making me squirm. And shiver.

  Later Thursday night 2/25

  Why does Sunny want to make people feel so miserable? What is she thinking?

  Even later Thursday night 2/25

  I just asked Carol my question about why Sunny would want to make people feel miserable. Carol said she doesn’t think that’s what Sunny is doing.

  “But she was so mean to me today!” I exclaimed. “And she’s been mean to a lot of people lately.”

  Carol drew in a breath. “How can I explain this?” she said. “Dawn, I think Sunny feels that if she isn’t close to people, then if they leave her too, the way her mother seems to be leaving her now, it won’t hurt so much.”

  “But I’m not leaving her!”

  “I know. But I think Sunny thinks you could leave her. After all, anyone could get sick.”

  At first I just stared at Carol. How morbid. But then I understood what she was saying. “Or die in a car accident,” I added.

  “Or something less drastic,” said Carol. “Move away. Switch to a different school. Sunny isn’t taking any chances right now.”

  “But if she pushes everyone away from her,” I went on, “maybe no one can leave her, but she won’t have any friends either.”

  “I didn’t say this was rational,” Carol replied.

  “Sunny needs a shrink.”

  “She probably does need to see a therapist,” Carol said, “but that’s up to Sunny and her parents.”

  Friday 2/26

  A small daydream about Pierre and me:

  Pierre and I somehow get to spend a weekend together. We can do absolutely anything we want to do. So what do we decide on? A nice, cozy weekend at home. We start off by grocery shopping. We buy everything we need to cook up a fancy meal. Roaming the vegetable aisle is SO romantic. Our hands touch as we both reach for the same clump of cilantro. We fill up our cart. Tomatoes, beans, garlic. Pierre says he knows how to make strawberry shortcake, so we buy two huge cartons of fat, scarlet strawberries.

  On the way home from the grocery store, we stop at the video rental place. They’re offering a special—three movies for three days for three bucks. So we choose Gone With the Wind, When Harry Met Sally, and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. We buy all-natural microwave popcorn and we’re out of there.

  We spend the entire afternoon cooking, in a very romantic way. When our supper is ready we decide to eat by candlelight—but we also want to eat by the fireplace in the living room and in front of the TV in the den. So we decide to set a table in the living room, make a fire, and put candles on the table. When supper is over we move into the den and begin a movie marathon.

  After the third movie, it is

  Oh. It is time for class.

  Cafeteria, Friday 2/26

  I just caught sight of Sunny and I decided to be brave again.

  “Hey, Sunny!” I called.

  She turned around and saw me. “Yeah?”

  A thousand thoughts swirled around in my head. I could ask her if she wants to go to the hospital together to visit her mother. (No, she would HATE that.) I could say, “Glad we’re going to the concert.” (Very lame.) I could invite her over. I could ask her if she wants to go shopping or something.

  Finally I said, “Can I call you tonight?”

  Sunny frowned slightly. “Uh, sure.”

  I felt like a dork. I watched Sunny walk out of the cafeteria. Where was she going? Our lunch period had just started. Clearly she wasn’t sticking around for it.

  Now I am sitting by myself with my uneaten lunch. I am going to look for Maggie and Amalia.

  Later Friday 2/26

  Well.

  I can’t believe what Maggie just told me. Sunny left lunch because she thought she could make it to the hospital for a quick visit with her mother and back to school, cutting only one class. (Why she can’t go after school is beyond me, but the important thing is that she’s visiting her mother.)

  Hmm.

  Friday night 2/26 8:17

  Okay. I am going to call Sunny like I said I would.

  Friday night 2/26 8:18

  Really. I’m going to call her.

  Friday night 2/26 8:20

  I’ll call her as soon as I stop hyperventilating.

  Friday night 2/26 8:23

  Still catching my breath.

  Oh god, there’s the phone. Maybe
it’s Sunny.

  Friday night 2/26 8:29

  It was Ducky. He’s so funny. He just called to say, “Can you believe that in a mere week we will be ON OUR WAY to see Pierre?”

  I love that he’s so excited. We chatted for a few minutes, but now I really HAVE to call Sunny. I mean, I told her I’d call her, so I better call her, right?

  Okay. I am no longer hyperventilating. Now I will call her.

  Friday night 2/26 8:30

  She wasn’t home.

  Friday night 2/26 9:42

  I just tried Sunny again and this time she answered the phone. I was finally—really and truly—ready to talk to her. To have a real talk. To try to sort out some of our problems before we get stuck sitting next to each other in the backseat of Ducky’s car and then spending an entire evening together.

  Here is our conversation:

  Sunny: Hello?

  Me: Hi, it’s me.

  Sunny: (Silence.) Um…who?

  Me: Me, Dawn.

  Sunny: (Totally flat voice.) Oh. Hi.

  Me: (What I want to say is, “Calm down, you’ll have a heart attack.”) Uh, I said I’d call.

  Sunny: (More silence.)

  Me: Remember?

  Sunny: Oh, yeah.

  Me: Well, I was thinking we should talk.

  Sunny: About what?