CHAPTER 7

“Dad, you look burned out,” I said. My father had gotten home early.

He nodded wearily. “That’s as good a description of how I feel as any I ever heard.” He settled down with his paper. “I’ll be glad when your mother gets home. And Teddy,” he added as an afterthought. I said I’d be glad when my mother got home too. I pointedly left out Teddy’s name. I don’t think he noticed, though.

Our doorbell rang. Two, then one, then two. The telephone rang at the exact same minute.

“You are on the horns of a dilemma,” my father said. “Which one shall you answer?”

“It’s Al, Dad. I invited her for dinner. Let her in, will you? Hello,” I said into the phone. It was Thelma. Thelma is Polly’s best friend on the West Side. I’m Polly’s best friend on the East Side. And never the twain shall meet.

“I’m having this party,” Thelma said. “Actually, it’s no big deal. I’ve got these two extra boys. They’re sorta twerpy but they are boys. You want to come.” I wasn’t sure if she was asking me or telling me. “And bring Al.”

“When is it?” I stalled, making faces at Al as she stood talking to my father.

“Right now. This minute. We’re having spaghetti.” I know lots of kids who won’t go places for dinner unless they know what’s for eats. Spaghetti’s the safest. Nearly everybody likes spaghetti. And it’s cheaper than pizza.

“Bring records,” Thelma ordered. “Come over as soon as you can. Wear any old thing.” And she hung up. I hadn’t even said I’d go. That was Thelma for you. She assumed people were dying to go to her party.

Thelma has a maximum amount of self-confidence. Since she got a shape and had her ears pierced—a dynamite combination, some would have you believe—there’s no holding her. She was bad enough before, but now—wow!

“Thelma wants us to go over to her house to a party,” I told Al. “They’re having spaghetti.”

“Why’s she want us?” Al asked suspiciously. She’s always suspicious when it comes to Thelma. “She never asked us before. Boy, she must be hard up is all I can say. How come now? Is she having an orgy?” Then Al blushed and put her hand over her mouth. She’d forgotten my father was there. My father has a way of making himself invisible when he goes behind his newspaper.

“She says she’s got two extra boys. Twerps but boys. She says wear any old thing.”

“I usually do,” Al said.

I could feel my father listening to us. His paper was quivering. He thinks Al’s funny. Amusing, not odd. She makes him laugh. I went over to his chair and peered at him over the edge of the paper. He was. Laughing, that is.

“You want me to call her back and say we can’t come?” I said.

“Boy, if Thelma says they’re twerps, you better believe they’re twerps,” Al said darkly.

“The summer is off to a flying start,” my father said. “I don’t know how you stand the pace.”

“Do you mind, Dad? If we go? I took the stuff out of the freezer. All you have to do is cook a hamburger for yourself.”

“Go ahead,” my father said. “I’m happy right here.”

We zapped into my room. And even though Teddy was in Connecticut, I shut my door. Automatic reflex. Teddy lurks a lot. He also pretends he’s sleepwalking when I have a friend over to spend the night. That way he figures he’s got an excuse for prowling through the hall and eavesdropping.

“Did you tell her we’d go?” Al said.

“She didn’t give me a chance to say no. But let’s. It might be fun.”

Al picked at her cuticle. “Those West Side types can be very boring,” she said, frowning. “They take themselves so seriously. Something about living on the West Side makes people take themselves very seriously.”

“They’re into culture,” I said. “But Polly doesn’t take herself seriously.”

“Polly is a citizen of the world,” Al said. It’s true. Polly’s father is in the diplomatic service. She has been to a lot of exotic places. Polly plans on being a chef when she grows up.

“It wouldn’t matter where Polly lived,” Al said. “Polly’s as loose as a goose.”

“I wish she was going to be at Thelma’s,” I said. “But let’s go anyway. We don’t have anything else to do.”

So we went.