IN FEBRUARY, THE much-awaited first semester report cards were handed out in homeroom. My heart beat wildly as I stared at the folded piece of paper. Now I would know if all the effort I had put into getting good grades had paid off. I felt I had done well, but you never could tell for sure until the grades were actually in.
Slowly, I unfolded my card. My eyes bulged. There they were, lined up in a row—A’s in every one of my classes! I felt like screaming for joy, but managed to contain myself by thinking of Jan.
With a last name of Zieglebaum, Jan was the last to be called up to Ms. Bouton’s desk to get her report card. It would ruin everything if Jan wasn’t going to be up there with me in the running for the top ten.
“Jan Zieglebaum!” Ms. Bouton finally called. I watched Jan’s face carefully as she unfolded her card. “Yippee!” she sang out, waving her card in the air triumphantly. She practically skipped over to my desk. “I did it, Linda—all A’s!”
“Me, too,” I said, giving her hand a joyful squeeze.
But then Samantha Milken came by to ruin everything. “You couldn’t have done any better than I did,” she said, waving her report card, with its string of A’s, right in my face. “So don’t think you’re going to beat me out of the top ten without a fight!”
* * *
I was too happy about my report card to let Samantha get to me for very long. The way I looked at it, Samantha didn’t deserve to get any honors. There had to be a way that Jan and I would pull right ahead of her before the end of the school year.
In the meanwhile, I couldn’t wait to tell Jeremy about my report card. Things had returned to normal between us recently, as he hadn’t made any further romantic overtures. I decided that I had probably just read too much into what had happened at Christmas.
“This report card clinches it for us,” I told him. “Unless we really blow it next term, the only girls who have a shot for the two representatives to the top ten from our class are me, Jan, and that stuck-up Samantha Milken.”
“That’s great!” Jeremy said enthusiastically. “In fact, it’s really an occasion for a celebration!”
“A c-c-celebration?” I asked. Suddenly, this chill feeling of uneasiness clutched at my stomach. I was pretty sure that I didn’t want to hear what was coming up next.
“Uh-huh. A celebration. Why don’t I take you to the movies next Friday night?” Jeremy said cheerfully. “They’re showing this really great movie right here at the school, and we can invite anyone we like.”
“Friday night? I—uh—I—” I stopped, unsure of what to say. Jeremy had played it low-key for so long now that this invitation had taken me completely by surprise. If I turned him down cold, it would hurt his feelings. But if I accepted, it might encourage him into thinking I liked him as a boyfriend, which was even worse. If only I could come up with some good excuse! But my mind was a complete blank. I couldn’t come up with anything!
“Too bad your parents would never let you downtown so late at night, huh, Linda?” I heard Jan’s voice say.
I looked at her in surprise, and then I realized what she was doing—setting me up with the perfect excuse. “Oh, sure—that’s right, Jeremy. My parents would never agree to anything like that. I can hardly get them to allow me out in my neighborhood at night. Coming home late from downtown would be out of the question. Especially with the buses and subways the way they are.”
“Oh.” Jeremy’s face fell. “Well, maybe next time we have something going on right after school then?”
“Uh—yeah. Maybe,” I said weakly. “Sorry about next Friday.” I threw Jan a look of infinite gratitude.
After that, I avoided coming into contact with Jeremy for the rest of the afternoon. But I had a feeling I had only postponed dealing with the problem.
* * *
I was very grateful to Jan for coming to my rescue with Jeremy. She really was a good friend to me. I started thinking about her situation a great deal.
In a way, I felt sorry for Jan. It must be terrible to develop so much later than everyone else. The boys in the crowd often made fun of her for being flatchested. Sometimes even we girls teased her, and we were supposed to be her friends! Not that we meant anything by it, but now that I thought about it, the teasing probably hurt Jan’s feelings just the same. Maybe that was why she never even put up a fight when her parents made her stay home now more and more.
That bothered me. I was not being the friend I should be to Jan. If we didn’t go to a club meeting together after school, I hardly got to see her because she rarely hung around with us anymore. This was because there were usually boys around now, and her parents were so against our hanging around with boys.
Until now I had just accepted this. I hadn’t done a thing to help Jan. And after the way Jan had always been such a good friend to me, too. I was really ashamed of myself.
That’s when I made the decision to do something really difficult. I would go see Mrs. Zieglebaum, even though she didn’t like me very much. I would speak to her in Jan’s behalf.
* * *
That very afternoon, I didn’t rush home to what had become the hanging out place for our crowd—the candy store on the corner of my block. Instead I went home with Jan.
“This is just like old times, Linda,” she said happily as we sat in her kitchen drinking milk and eating cookies. Then we went into her room and read comic books the way we used to do. Jan seemed to be really enjoying having me there doing these things again, but to tell you the truth, I wasn’t having much fun at all.
The front door opened. Mrs. Zieglebaum was home. She walked in and paused by Jan’s room. “Hello, Jan,” she said. “Did you have a nice day at school?” Then she spotted me.
“Oh. Hello, Linda,” she said in a voice that was less than friendly. “I haven’t seen you here for a while.” The way she said that made me think she would not like to see me for a while longer.
Still, I was determined to speak up for Jan. I swallowed hard. “I know, Mrs. Zieglebaum. Roz, Fran, and I usually hang around by my house now. We wish Jan would come and be with us more often. It’s a lot of fun because a bunch of kids come to the candy store in my building.”
Mrs. Zieglebaum scowled. “Fun? A bunch of kids? Hmph! I know exactly what you mean, Linda Berman. You mean boys. Don’t you hang around that candy store so you can meet boys?”
I squirmed uncomfortably. “Well, uh—yes, and, uh—no. I mean—we like to be with boys, of course, that’s only natural. But we like to be with other girls, too. It’s nice to be in a group.”
Mrs. Zieglebaum let out a nasty laugh. “Do you really expect me to believe that? I know perfectly well what you have in mind, and I don’t want Jan involved in it. She has plenty of time for boys when she’s grown up!”
“But—but learning how to deal with boys is part of growing up,” I protested weakly. “We’re not too young for that.”
“Well perhaps you can convince your parents of that, Linda, but you can’t convince me. Jan just isn’t ready for that type of thing, and she knows it, too. Don’t you, Jan?”
I turned and looked at Jan. She was sitting next to me on the bed, pretending she was still reading her comic. She looked up at her mother meekly and said, “I guess,” in a little voice I had to strain to hear.
“See!” Mrs. Zieglebaum smiled triumphantly. “So if you want to see Jan after school, Linda, you’ll just have to come to our house. Because I’m not going to allow Jan to hang around a street corner with a crowd of boys!” Having said this, she stalked down the hall to her kitchen.
I looked at Jan with dismay, but her face was buried in her comic once again. “Jan,” I said. “Do you really feel the way your mother said? Don’t you want to hang around with us anymore? Be part of the Gruesome Four?”
Jan blinked and sucked in her breath. “I’m not sure,” she said in her squeaky mouse voice, her eyes never leaving the comic book.
I couldn’t believe it! Here I had just made a fool out of myself sticking up for her with Mrs. Zieglebaum, and Jan didn’t even care if she could hang around with us or not! For a moment, I felt angry at Jan, but then I started feeling sorry for her again. Maybe Jan really wasn’t ready for all the changes that were happening to us with the boys. Maybe she just wasn’t ready.