Ten

The next morning Al and I skinned down the service stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. We didn’t want to take the chance of running into Sparky’s mom. We still hadn’t decided whether we’d take her up on her invite.

“What’s that?” I pointed to Al’s book bag, which was stuffed with what looked like a bunch of old clothes.

“My sweats,” Al said. “I figured we might give the health club another shot on our way home. After all, Al did seem a kindly gentleman.” She gave me her owl eye for an instant. “So I’m prepared. How about you?”

“My leotard’s too small,” I said. “I tried it on last night. It’s about right for Teddy, I figure.”

“Hey, cool,” Al said. “Teddy as a ballet dancer. It boggles the mind, n’est-ce pas? If Ted decides he wants to emulate Barishnykov, he can save your folks a bundle by skipping into your leotard and they won’t have to buy him a new one.”

“I had a discussion with my mother last night about blind dates,” I said. “She had three blind dates in the eighth grade. All with friends’ brothers. She said she had a lousy time.”

“No kidding? I asked my mother if she’d ever gone on a blind date and you know what she said?”

“No. What?”

“She said her mother was very, very strict, so strict my mother couldn’t even go out with a boy unless she brought the boy home so her mother could meet him, check him out and all. How do you like them apples?”

“That’s strict, all right,” I agreed. “My mother said she was always taller than the boys her age. She said the short boys always picked her to dance with.”

“I knew your mother and I had lots in common!” Al said, smiling. “I appreciate her predicament. I bet if Michael J. Fox and I were at the same dance, he’d make a beeline for me when they played a waltz. Same with R. Redford. I hear he also goes for the tall ones. If that happened, all the other girls would be green with envy, I bet.”

“How tall is Brian?” I said. “You never told me.”

“Oh, he’s tall,” Al said. “Pretty tall. He’s still growing, of course. Guys reach their full growth a lot later than girls do, you know. Ask any medical doctor, they’ll tell you.

“I just wondered,” I said. “I mean, you’re always asking how tall some boy is and you never told me how tall Brian is, so all I’m doing is asking.”

“Next time I write him, I’ll ask him,” Al said. I knew she was being sarcastic, but I said, “Yeah, good idea,” anyway.

“What’ll we do about Sparky’s mom’s fête?” Al said. “We can’t go on dodging her. My heart won’t take the strain of taking the stairs every time we go in or out of the building. It’s crazy. What if we run into her in the elevator and she pins us up to the mat and says ‘Gimme a yes or a no.’ What then?”

“She’ll probably sic Sparky on us,” I said. “The mutt will start in on our feet and nibble his way up.”

“I tell you one thing,” Al said. “If that mutt sinks one fang into me, I’ll give him such a case of indigestion he’ll never touch another bite of girl again as long as he lives. He’ll barf and pee and heave up such a storm his little insides will rumble for weeks.”

“You are really and truly gross,” I said. I love it when Al’s gross. She lets her imagination soar when it comes to being gross. It’s part of her charm.

“What I want to know is what do we do about Polly’s cousin and the tea dance,” I said. “If we don’t go, Polly might get sore.”

“Does that mean she’ll cut off the invites to join her for Sunday lunch and other goodies?” Al said.

“Probably.”

“Then I tell you what. You go,” Al said, “and I’ll stay home with a good book.” And although we’d been fooling around, I knew she was serious.

“You mean go without you?” I said.

“Sure. You’re much more the thé dansant type than I am,” Al said. “I can see you now, spinning around the dance floor, one hand on your partner’s shoulder, the other clutching a cup of tea. You go and tell me how it went. I’d be like a bull in a china shop at a tea dance.”

“You would not,” I said. “That’s crazy.”

“Yes, I would. Believe me, I know my own limitations. Hey”—Al was suddenly jolly, changing the subject—“let’s ask Ms. Bolton is she wants to go to the health club today. I brought my sweats and you can wear your gym shorts. They’d be perfect.”

I got mad.

“Why do you always have to go and spoil things?” I said. “We always do things together. I don’t want to go to the tea dance without you. Part of the fun is going together. You know that.”

Al was silent. Then she said, “Have you wondered why all of a sudden we’re in demand? Everyone wants us for tea dances and fêtes for brilliant, darling nephews. Only we’re in demand by people who’ve never seen us. Polly’s cousin hasn’t seen us, and anyway, what does he know with one blue eye and one brown. And Sparky’s mom has never really seen us because she’s too vain to wear glasses, without which she’s practically blind. If Sparky’s mom could see us as we are, our true selves, she’d dump us fast. All of the above is true. The God’s truth. Respectfully, signed Mother Zandi.”

“O.K.,” I said, after thinking about what she’d said. “My gym shorts are dirty but who cares. Let’s go. A good workout is good for the bones.”

Al scrooched up her face and said, “Did Mr. Richards say that?”

“No,” I said. “I did.”