When midterm report cards were given out at Washington, I received a terrible shock. Mr. Levin had given me an eighty-five in English 6.
While most students would have been perfectly happy with an eighty-five, this wasn’t the case with me. In my entire time in high school, I had never received a grade below ninety. My parents, to whom education was the most important thing in the world, had come to expect only grades in the nineties from me. They were sure to look upon the eighty-five as a sign I was slipping in school, and they were bound to blame it on Lenny.
Besides, there was no way I deserved eighty-five. English 6 was my off-term class, the one with all the kids who were repeating the course, and I was by far the best student in the class. The work was so easy for me I had gotten at least ninety-five on every test and A’s on every paper without much effort.
I went to Mr. Levin after school to complain about my grade. I asked him to check his grade book to see if he had made a mistake. There, in the book, were the grades just as I had remembered—a string of ninety-fives, hundreds, and A’s. And underneath was the grade he had put on my report card—eighty-five.
“There must be some mistake,” I told him. “There’s no way you can average out my grades and come up with an eighty-five.”
“True,” he admitted. “But eighty-five is all I felt you deserved this term; therefore, eighty-five is what I gave you.”
“But—but I don’t understand. How do you figure I deserve eighty-five when my average is at least ten points higher?”
“Because I don’t think you worked hard enough to deserve more,” he said. “You’re much smarter than the other kids in the class. The work comes too easily to you.”
I couldn’t believe what he was saying. “But I did everything I needed to do to get good grades. It’s not my fault if the other kids in the class are dumb.”
“See—that’s exactly what I’m talking about. You look upon the other kids as dumb. Well, that’s where you have a thing or two to learn. Not everyone in this class is here because they’re stupid, you know. There are kids with all sorts of problems that might be interfering with their learning, but you haven’t been interested enough to find out about things like that. Well, that’s not an A attitude in my book. When I see you really taking an interest in this class and the people in it, that’s when you’ll get an A from me.”
* * *
“It’s not fair!” I expressed my frustration to Lenny when I met him at the subway after work later that afternoon. “Instead of giving me the grade I deserve, Levin is penalizing me because of what he thinks my attitude is. And he’s wrong about that, too. I don’t think everyone who doesn’t do well in school is stupid—if I did, I couldn’t possibly be going with you, could I?”
“Well, thanks a lot—it’s real big of you not to brand me as stupid.” For a moment Lenny sounded angry, and I was afraid I had said the wrong thing, but then he began to laugh. “And speaking of report cards—I got mine from night school yesterday. I brought it with me because I thought you might like to see it.” He took the card out of his coat pocket and handed it to me.
I stared at it in surprise. Report cards were something that, in the past, Lenny had always kept hidden. It had to be a good sign for him to voluntarily show it to me. I took the card, and for a moment thought my eyes were playing tricks on me in the dim light from the street.
“Your lowest grade is eighty, and you got a ninety in history!” I said in disbelief. “That’s wonderful, Lenny! I’m so proud of you!”
He grinned broadly. “See, I told you to have faith in me. Night school is better for me than day school was because the teachers treat you like adults. They would never pull the kind of crap Levin did with you.”
My happiness at his good report card faded as I thought of mine. “It’s not fair!” I said again.
He put his arm around me. “Well, life isn’t always fair, is it? But don’t be so upset, Linda. Mid semester grades don’t count in your average, only final ones do. If you figure out what Levin expects from you and do it, you’ll get what you deserve in the end.”
“Probably. But in the meantime, I’ve got to show this report card to my parents. I absolutely dread having to explain this grade to them!”
* * *
As I had feared, my parents had a hard time accepting the drop in my English grade. And as expected, they blamed it all on Lenny.
“If you weren’t so involved with that boy, you could concentrate on your schoolwork and get the grades you’re capable of getting.” My mother made the inevitable statement even though I had gone through this long explanation about how Mr. Levin had deliberately given me a grade less than I deserved.
“And the grades you get this term are probably the most important of all, because these are the last ones the colleges will have to look at when they’re deciding whether or not to accept you,” my father added. “You do want to get into a good college, don’t you?”
“Of course.” I sat back in my chair and sighed. We were sitting around the kitchen table, the place where most serious discussions seemed to take place in my family. “But it’s not this grade, only the final one, that goes on your record for college.”
“And speaking of college ...” My father glanced at my mother as if hoping she would pick up on what he wanted to say.
She did. “We were wondering what your thoughts are on where you would like to go to school next year. If your SAT scores come out as high as your average has been until now, you should have no trouble getting into a decent school. Private colleges are very expensive, but if you could get good financial aid, we might be able to manage. And of course, New York has some excellent state schools.”
“Private colleges? State schools? Are you talking about having me go away to college? Why? I always assumed I would go to a city college because it’s so much cheaper.”
“True. But the way things have been going, your father and I see a lot of advantages to your going out of town that might justify the extra expense. You’d have the experiences of living on your own with other boys and girls your age, and your social life would be so much better.”
“And you’d be away from the influences of that boy,” my father couldn’t resist adding.
“That’s the real reason, isn’t it?” Filled with anger, I jumped up from my seat. My parents could never let the issue of Lenny rest for long. “It’s as if you spend your entire lives thinking up ways to get me away from him! Why don’t you ease off him, already? He’s doing the right thing now—he’s got a decent job, and for your information, he did great on his report card, too!”
“That’s all fine,” my mother said with a sigh. “But how long can it last? Your father and I have learned from experience that whenever things seem to be going well with that boy, he does something to ruin it.”
“He’s not going to ruin it—not this time!” I insisted.
“Lower your voice, Linda. You’re starting to shout,” my mother warned.
“You see—all you have to do is start talking about him, and in no time you’re disrespectful to your parents,” said my father.
By this time the conversation was making me so angry that I was afraid I really would start to shout. “Could you two ever try to understand how I feel about Lenny?” I struggled to control myself. “Or if you can’t understand it, at least try to accept it and not make me miserable all the time?”
Pleadingly, I looked from my father to my mother, but I might as well have been staring at a brick wall. They might try to be civil to Lenny, but it always came down to the same thing. There was nothing they wanted more than to have me break up with him. College, to them, was one more way to do it.
* * *
“If you get past your initial reaction of anger, you might find that your parents have a point,” said Nat when I talked to her on the phone that night. Nat was in the midst of deciding what colleges to apply for herself, and knew a lot about different schools.
“What point?”
“That there really are advantages to going away to school. You grow up faster. And the social life is better. There are always kids around, events, and parties—and”—she giggled—“lots of boys!”
“Nat! You know I’m not interested in that kind of thing. Lenny is the only boy I want, and there are enough kids and parties right here in my neighborhood. By the way, when are you going to come spend a weekend at my house, anyway?”
“Well, actually, I can come this weekend, if you want me to.”
“This weekend? Weren’t you supposed to go visit Andy this weekend?”
“I was—but he called and claimed he has too much work to do. I know there’s a lot of work in college, and I want to believe him, but—oh, Linda!” I heard her voice crack. “Don’t you think that if he really wanted to see me, he’d find some way to squeeze in the time? I know I would for him. I miss him so much, and now I won’t be able to see him until Thanksgiving.”
“Well, Thanksgiving’s not so far away.” I tried to console her, although deep down I agreed with Nat that if Andy really did want to see her, he would have made the time. “And you’ll have a good time this weekend, I know you will.”
* * *
I tried to plan the best weekend I could for Nat to help get her out of her depressed mood. Saturday was a nice day for November, so I showed her around Washington Heights and introduced her to some of the kids from the crowd who were playing football in the park. We met Cesca for lunch and, over burgers and fries, filled one another in on what had been happening since we had last been together over the summer.
“School is the same as it always was,” said Cesca. “But this year everyone’s buckling down more than ever because of applying for college and taking SATs. I’ve decided to apply only for schools in California.”
“California!” I gasped. “But that’s so—so far away!”
“From here, yes,” said Cesca. “But not from my family. You see, my father is being transferred to San Diego this summer.”
“You’re moving to San Diego?” I felt awful at the news. “We’ll never get to see you, Cesca!”
“Don’t say never.” She smiled at me. “My grandparents still live in New York, so we’ll come to visit every summer. I’ll be sure to keep in touch. But that’s enough about me. I want to know where you guys are applying.”
“Well, I’m applying to Rutgers to be with Andy, of course,” said Nat. “But in case things don’t work out with him, I think I’d really like to go to Boston University. Boston is supposed to be the greatest college town, you know. There are so many schools there and so many kids. They say the place is really jumping.”
“That’s what I heard, too,” said Cesca. “And what about you, Linda? Where do you want to go to school?”
“I—I’m not sure.” Uncomfortable with this question, I busied myself dipping fries into ketchup and stuffing them into my mouth. “My parents want me to go to a state university, but that would mean leaving Lenny. I’ll probably wind up going to City College here at home.”
“Oh, Linda. City College is just like an extension of high school. You really ought to go away to school and give yourself a chance,” said Cesca.
“A chance for what? As long as I love Lenny, none of the social life matters to me. And I can get as good an education at a city college as anywhere else.”
“Maybe so, but you’d better be careful,” Cesca warned. “If you close off all your possibilities because of Lenny, you could wind up resenting it later.”
“Come on, Cesca. You’re starting to sound like my mother,” I protested. We changed the topic of conversation, but the issue still gnawed at me. I could put off making a decision about college for a while longer, but I was going to have to deal with it soon whether I wanted to or not. Would the choice that was best for me also be best for me and Lenny? If not, how was I going to be able to decide?
* * *
Jessie’s mother was away for the weekend, so that night Jessie invited the kids in the neighborhood over for a party. She said Nat could come, but only after I swore that Nat was in love with Andy and would pose no threat to Jessie’s relationship with Sheldon.
Jessie forgot all about Nat when Roz showed up unexpectedly for the party. “I had nothing much to do this weekend, and I felt like seeing everyone from the crowd,” Roz told me. “Besides”—her honey-colored eyes twinkled mischievously—“I wanted to see Jessie’s face turn green when I danced with Sheldon.”
Jessie’s face practically did turn green. After she saw Roz dance one dance with Sheldon, Jessie followed him around like a shadow for the rest of the evening. She let him dance with Nat and with me, but not with anyone else. Her jealousy was obvious, and it kept her from having a good time at her own party.
“How does Sheldon stand that kind of possessiveness?” Nat asked as she, Lenny, and I all walked home together later that night. “If I acted like she did, I know it would turn Andy off right away.”
“It turns Sheldon off, too,” Lenny replied. “But he puts up with it for one reason, and every boy in the neighborhood knows what that is. Jessie gives him what he wants and when he wants it. It’s real convenient for him having Jessie live in his apartment building, especially when her mother is away so much. Considering what Sheldon has to look forward to, he can put up with a little nonsense.”
I didn’t like the way this sounded at all. Not that I was so fond of Jessie, but Sheldon’s attitude was chauvinistic and totally degrading to women.
Nat was even more upset about Lenny’s remarks than I was, but I didn’t realize it then. She waited until I had rolled out the bottom bed of my high-riser and made it up for her to sleep in. She sank down on it and pulled the covers around her. It was only then that she began to talk.
“Oh, Linda! Wasn’t it awful what Lenny said about Sheldon getting what he wants from Jessie? Do you think Andy goes around talking that way about me?” Her voice sounded strained in the dark.
“About you? Why would he talk that way about you? Andy’s not like Sheldon, Nat. He cares about you.”
“Does he? I used to feel that way when we were in the country, and everything seemed so perfect between us. But I’m not sure of anything with Andy anymore. You were right, Linda. I should have never allowed myself to get so involved with him until I knew our relationship could stand the test of time. If something should go wrong with us now, I—I won’t be able to stand it!”
Nat was so distraught that I didn’t know what to say to her. I couldn’t tell her that everything would work out fine with her and Andy, because I didn’t really believe that. I couldn’t tell her that it didn’t matter that she had given herself “heart, body, and soul” to him, because I knew it did. I could imagine how devastated I would be if I were in her situation and thought Lenny no longer loved me.
Fortunately, in the state Nat was in, she didn’t require having me say very much. All she needed was someone to listen to her talk her heart out. And talk she did, until she had said everything she possibly could about Andy, and then she turned the topic to me.
“You don’t appreciate enough how lucky you are to live in Washington Heights, Linda. You have so many friends here and so many things to do. Why, all you have to do is walk outside, and you’re bound to run into someone to talk to or hang around with. There’s something happening all the time. But most of all, you’re lucky to have Lenny, someone who really and truly cares for you.”
It was the strangest thing. When I had gone to visit Nat, I couldn’t help thinking how lucky she was for having so much more money, for living in a big, fancy house, and for having her own car. But here she was telling me how lucky I was for the things I had that she didn’t have—things I took for granted most of the time.
When I thought about it, I realized the things that Nat had that I didn’t have were all material things. I knew from my own experiences that the kind of happiness I got from material things felt good for a while but never lasted very long. It was the kind of happiness I got from having good friends and a good relationship with Lenny that really mattered, and I was grateful to Nat for pointing it out to me.
Sometimes it took looking at things through someone else’s eyes to help you see what you had all along.