Slam Book Read online

  “It’s me. I’ve got major news!”

  Silence.

  “Jessie? Are you there?”

  “Yes.” Jessie’s voice was fading.

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “My mom just left.”

  “Left for where?”

  “Left for good,” said Jessie. “Walked out. Took a hike. Set herself free.” Jessie’s voice was rising hysterically.

  “Calm down,” said Anna sharply. “Are you alone?”

  “Aloner than ever.” More giggling.

  “Come over, Jess,” said Anna. “Mom and I are here.”

  Jessie’s giggles turned to sobs. “What am I going to do, Anna? She left me. I always thought she’d leave them, but not me. I thought I’d go with her. We belong together … She left me.”

  “Jess, come over here. Right now. Please. Okay?”

  “Okay, okay, okay.”

  Anna ran downstairs. “Mom,” she cried, “Mrs. Smith walked out. Jessie’s, like, hysterical or something. She’s coming over here. Let me talk to her alone first, all right?”

  “Oh, dear God,” said Mrs. Wallace. “Yes. All right. Why don’t you and Jessie go to your room? I’ll come upstairs a little later.”

  Anna nodded. She forced herself to be calm. When the doorbell rang a few minutes later, she answered it immediately, hugged Jessie, and escorted her upstairs.

  “Jess, tell me everything that happened, okay?” she said as they settled themselves on Anna’s bed.

  “Yes. Okay.” Jessie drew in a deep breath. “Okay,” she said again. “I came home early. I was supposed to go to a meeting this afternoon, but it was canceled. I went to my parents’ room, and I saw these two suitcases open on the bed. They were overflowing with clothes. And Mom was pulling stuff out of her drawers and the closet.

  “So I said, ‘Where are you going? What’s wrong? Is Grandma sick? Or Grandpa?’ And Mom said, ‘No, no, they’re both fine.’ Then she handed me this piece of paper and said ‘Here, read this. I was going to leave it on your dresser.’ And then she started trying to close the suitcases.”

  “What did she give you?” asked Anna.

  “This note.” Jessie thrust it toward Anna.

  “Dear Jessie,” the note said. “I don’t know where I’ll be by the time you read this. I can’t live with your father anymore. I have to get out and start a life of my own. I know you’ll understand. I promise to write to you often. If you want to get in touch with me, call Grandma and Grandpa. They’ll know where to reach me. Everything will work out one day, Jessie. I promise. Remember that I love you. Mom.”

  “Oh, my God,” was all Anna could say.

  “I didn’t know what to do,” Jessie went on. “For some crazy reason, all I could think of was this scene from Mary Poppins where little Michael Banks is just staring at his nanny, and Mary Poppins tells him to close his mouth because ‘We are not a codfish.’”

  Jessie giggled nervously. “So my mother is, like, bustling around the bedroom. She’d closed the suitcases, but she kept finding things she wanted to add to them. Photographs and stuff. And I just watched.

  “Finally Mom looked around and couldn’t find anything else to pack. So I actually helped her lug the suitcases downstairs. Then she called a cab and asked to be taken to the train station. She sat on that wooden bench in the front hall, waiting.

  “I started to say something, but Mom said, ‘Don’t make me say anything. I can’t say anything. The note says it all. One more word, and I won’t be able to leave.’ I should have said another word.” Jessie rubbed her eyes. “Then the cab came and Mom kissed me and left. And then you called. I haven’t even told my father yet.”

  At that moment, Mrs. Wallace knocked softly on Anna’s bedroom door and let herself in. Jessie burst into tears. Anna’s mother sat on the bed and rocked Jessie back and forth until her sobs subsided.

  Five minutes later, Mrs. Wallace called Jessie’s father at his office.

  Chapter Eleven

  JESSIE STAYED WITH THE Wallaces for two nights. Then Mr. Smith ordered his daughter home. “He doesn’t want me,” Jessie told Anna and Randy the following week. “He wants a cook and a maid. It’s too bad he can’t afford real ones, but he’s used to my mother, who worked for free.”

  Jessie was angry, but Anna was glad for it. Her friend was returning to her old self. She’d been depressed and melancholy since her mother had left. And now with Jessie back at her house, Anna could begin to concentrate on other subjects—like Gooz and the history project. Their proposal had been accepted, Friday night had been wonderful, and Gooz had asked her to go out with him again on Friday.

  Anna had agreed immediately. Going to the movies the week before had been an experience she knew she’d never forget. If you didn’t count going to the library, then Friday had been the first time Anna had ever gone out with a boy, and she had felt very special. It wasn’t because Gooz did things for her, such as hold doors open and buy her popcorn (although he did); it was that Gooz made Anna feel that no one and nothing else was as important to him as she was then. She found herself the center of someone else’s universe. It was scary, but it was also exhilarating.

  Then there was the slam book. The kids who had seen “Paige’s” comment about Cheryl Sutphin had taken it for a joke. Nobody, including Paige, could figure out who’d written it. Anna didn’t know what Paige thought about the joke, though, since Paige barely spoke to her anymore. Or to Randy or Jessie, for that matter. Anna supposed this was because they were still friends with Anna. Any friend of Anna’s seemed to be an enemy of Paige’s.

  Anna had selected Kirk Norris as the object of the slam-book comment on Cheryl’s page for a specific reason. He was not the most popular boy in the freshman class, but it was generally agreed that he was one of the nicest. He was polite, funny, smart, and involved in school activities. He could always be counted on to lend a hand. Almost every kid in the class knew him and liked him, despite the fact that he wasn’t particularly good-looking, wasn’t a sports star, and certainly wasn’t any Romeo. Kirk was a good choice because he didn’t have a girlfriend, but he was the kind of guy a girl would be flattered to be liked by.

  On Friday Anna managed to position herself near Cheryl in study hall. She came in a little late, giving Cheryl enough time to get settled, and sat down at one of the many empty desks surrounding her. Anna worked studiously for twenty minutes. Then she asked the supervisor for permission to leave the room to get a book out of her locker. She left the slam book open on her desk, turned to Cheryl’s page, and angled it toward her. She figured that no matter how hurt Cheryl had been, she wouldn’t be able to resist that kind of temptation.

  “We’re going out again tonight,” Anna told Randy and Jessie at lunch that day.

  Gooz was sitting nearby with Tim and two other boys. He had told Anna that he didn’t want to ignore his friends just because he and Anna were dating sometimes. He said he had made that mistake with Casey, and it had almost cost him his friendship with Tim. Anna respected that. She didn’t want to hurt her friendships, either.

  Randy grinned. “That’s great. What are you going to do?”

  “Movies again,” replied Anna.

  “Again? Did the one at the Playhouse change already?”

  “No, that’ll be there for years. We’re going to the library. They’re having a Marx Brothers festival. We’re going to see Duck Soup and Horsefeathers—I think. I don’t know much about the Marx Brothers, but Gooz likes them. And on Sunday we’re going to work on our history project.”

  “I heard from my mom,” Jessie said suddenly.

  “What?” said Anna, her mind on Gooz.

  “I heard from my mom. Last night.”

  “Oh, Jessie! That’s wonderful!” said Randy.

  Jessie shrugged.

  “Well, did she call you or what?” Anna wanted to know.

  “I called her. She won’t call our house because she’s afraid my father will answer the phone.
But he was out last night, so I called my grandparents, and they gave me a number where I could reach my mom. Guess where she is.”

  “Where?” asked Anna and Randy at the same time.

  “New York.”

  “New York City?” exclaimed Anna. “God, when she leaves, she really leaves.” Randy kicked Anna under the table. “I—I thought she was going to stay with your grandparents,” Anna went on, trying to be more tactful.

  “Me too. But she’s really getting away from things. She said she’s having a great time. Maybe she just needs a break. I don’t remember the last time she took a vacation.”

  “Well, what did she say exactly?” asked Randy.

  “She said New York is huge and exciting and she loves the Metropolitan Museum of Art and she misses me. And loves me.”

  Jessie’s eyes filled.

  “Well,” said Anna helplessly.

  Randy reached over and took Jessie’s hand for a moment. “You’ll see her again,” she said.

  “I know,” Jessie replied, sniffling. “It’s just that I always thought she’d take me with her.”

  “You always thought?” Randy repeated.

  “It’s like, deep down, I’ve known all along that she’d have to get out someday. But I thought our whole family would split up, like in a divorce. I didn’t think she’d just leave me.”

  Anna and Randy glanced at each other. They didn’t know what to say. Their parents rarely even argued. Anna tried to imagine living with the knowledge that one day, one of her parents would have to leave. She couldn’t do it.

  “We’re here,” said Anna finally. “You’ve got us.”

  “And me. Don’t forget about me,” said a bitter voice several seats away.

  It was Paige.

  “I’d be delighted to help you.”

  Anna was taken by surprise. Nobody knew what to say.

  Paige shook her head in disgust, gathered up her books, and left the cafeteria.

  “What’s with her?” asked Jessie, bewildered, wiping her eyes. “Did I do something?”

  “Yeah, you committed a federal crime,” Anna answered sarcastically. “You remained my friend.”

  “And mine,” added Randy. “Two strikes against you. You’re hanging out with criminals. One of us has the audacity to be the girl Gooz went after when he dropped Casey. The other has the audacity to be black—and happy with it.”

  Jessie widened her watery eyes. “Whew. Big time,” she commented.

  Chapter Twelve

  FOR THE FIRST TIME in she didn’t know how long, Cheryl Sutphin woke up and nearly purred with pleasure. She rolled over in bed and stretched like a contented cat.

  That book had said that if only Cheryl knew how much Kirk Norris liked her, she’d fix herself up. Well, Cheryl was going to do just that.

  And Cheryl knew who’d written the comment. It was Paige Beaulac, of all people. Cheryl recognized her handwriting immediately. See? Cheryl wasn’t as stupid as everyone thought.

  Cheryl had had some luck. Bud was working all weekend. He had a job hauling a load of something all the way to western Ohio for a friend of his. So Cheryl had been on her own.

  First thing, as soon as Bud was gone, Cheryl had found that box of her mother’s stuff—the one labeled “Veronica” that contained all of Mrs. Sutphin’s things—and had gone through it. She’d found her mother’s beautiful pink prom dress, the one with the filmy flowers sewn onto the sleeves and the waist, and even some old makeup.

  Cheryl tried the dress on. It fit pretty well, considering. Then she experimented with the makeup. A smear of blue eye shadow here, a gash of red lipstick there. It did make a difference. Then Cheryl tried putting her hair up. She hadn’t washed it in a while. Maybe it would look less dirty piled on her head. She stuck some bobby pins in to hold it in place and decided she looked older. “I hope I look half as beautiful as you, Ma,” she said softly.

  Cheryl would make her grand entrance at school on Monday. That is, if she could sneak out without Bud seeing her.

  Cheryl’s luck held out. Bud hadn’t come home from his trip by Monday morning. (He was probably drinking away his earnings in some roadside bar.) Well, fine. That gave Cheryl the freedom to put the pink dress on just right and get her hair and makeup all fixed. She could sneak out without Bud’s ever knowing she’d been into the Veronica box.

  “Ma, stay with me today, okay?” Cheryl pleaded silently as she waited for the school bus.

  Cheryl caused a stir in school, no two ways about it. When she entered Mr. Roscoe’s English class, every head turned toward her. She heard rustlings and saw kids whisper to each other—even though they were supposed to be taking a test. Cheryl noted with special pleasure that Anna Wallace saw her. Since Anna was a friend of Paige’s, she’d be sure to tell her that Cheryl had paid attention to what Paige had written.

  Still pleased with herself, Cheryl apologized to Mr. Roscoe for being late, accepted her test paper, and sat down at her desk. She knew every eye was on her.

  She’d never felt better.

  Cheryl’s incredible luck continued to hold out. Right after English class, who should she run into but Paige Beaulac! Paige was at her locker, hurriedly exchanging books.

  Cheryl rushed over to her. “Oh, Paige,” she said. “How can I ever thank you?”

  Paige glanced up with a look that Cheryl couldn’t quite read. She must have been very surprised at the “new” Cheryl.

  “Excuse me?” said Paige.

  “I wanted to thank you.” Cheryl reached her hand out toward Paige’s arm, and Paige jerked back. She slammed her locker shut and spun the dial of the combination lock. Her face was turning red.

  “Don’t you know for what?” Cheryl continued.

  “No,” snapped Paige, backing away.

  “For letting me know about Kirk.”

  “Great, great.” Paige rushed off.

  Cheryl was mystified, but she didn’t give up. At lunch, she approached Paige again. She pulled up a chair and sat down next to her.

  “So what do you think?” she asked. “How did I do with the makeup?”

  Paige stared at her food, apparently trying to ignore her.

  “Too much lipstick?” asked Cheryl.

  Paige slammed her sandwich down and walked out of the cafeteria.

  Cheryl followed.

  Anna Wallace was uncontrollable. She laughed for five minutes. This was the ultimate in humiliation for Paige.

  That night, while she was supposed to be finishing her homework, Anna opened the slam book to Cheryl’s page and in the carefully practiced spiky handwriting wrote, “What a change! I’m so proud of Cheryl! Kirk may ask her out.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  TWO NEW COMMENTS APPEARED in the slam book.

  On Anna’s page:

  Sweet on the outside, evil on the inside.

  Pretty to look at, but Do Not Touch. A rattlesnake. Boy-Stealer.

  On Randy’s page:

  Black on the outside, white on the inside.

  A human Oreo. Ha, ha.

  Both were in Paige’s handwriting.

  Anna was fuming. How did Paige dare to write such things? How did she even think of them? And why didn’t she bother to disguise her handwriting? Anna couldn’t understand the perverse pleasure that Paige must be getting from what she’d done. Okay, so maybe she had reason to be mad at Anna because of what had happened with Gooz. But Randy hadn’t done anything to Paige. Not a thing. Yet Paige had written the crudest, most hurtful thing about Randy that she could think of. Somewhere, far back in Anna’s mind, a little alarm bell began to go off. The bell was signaling something about Paige being deeply troubled. But Anna didn’t listen to it. She ignored it because she was so angry. She had had enough.

  Anna brought the slam book with her to lunch. The best kind of confrontation would be a public one.

  Anna arranged herself with Randy, Jessie, Gooz, and Tim at one end of their usual table. Paige was sitting at the opposite end. Anna had
told no one what she was going to do. In fact, she wasn’t precisely sure herself.

  After a while, the slam book was taken from her pile of books and passed around. Anna kept her eye on it, as if it were a nut in the shell game. Eventually, Paige reached for it.

  Almost without thinking, Anna rose from her seat and walked to the other end of the table. She snatched the slam book out of Paige’s hands.

  “Hey!” cried Paige. “What are you doing?”

  “This is off-limits for you from now on,” Anna said.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Keep away from the slam book.”

  Paige bristled. “I’ll write in it if I want to.”

  “No,” said Anna firmly. “It’s mine. And I want you to leave it alone.”

  By that time, all heads at the table had swiveled toward Anna and Paige. Gooz half rose from his seat.

  “What’s the matter?” asked Paige. “Can’t take a little criticism?”

  “You go way beyond criticism,” Anna retorted. “You’re cruel and you lie.”

  “Won’t Goozie protect you?”

  “Leave Gooz out of this!”

  “Hey, Anna?” said Gooz tentatively.

  “It’s all right,” Anna replied without looking at him.

  “Anna, a slam book is a slam book,” said Randy. “Anyone can write in it.”

  “Maybe,” replied Anna, “But … well, let me give you a little selection of Paige’s comments.” Anna opened the book and thumbed through it. “Here’s a nice one. This is from your page, Randy. ‘Black on the outside, white on the inside. A human Oreo. Ha, ha.’”

  At the other end of the table, Randy’s frown turned to astonishment. She buried her face in her hands.

  “And this is from my page—twice,” Anna continued. “‘Boy-stealer.’ What a laugh. It’s as funny as ‘human Oreo.’ And you know what’s funnier?”

  “Anna,” said Gooz, “I think you’ve said enough. Why don’t you put the slam book away?”

  “No. I’m not finished. The best is yet to come, and I want everyone here to know about it.”

  Not only was Anna’s table dead-quiet by then, but so were several tables nearby. Half the freshman class was listening to Paige’s humiliation.