Ardis looked around. “I like your apartment.”
I was surprised. It wasn’t fabulous like BeeBee’s. Inside the door, next to where we were standing, was a table where we dumped whatever we had when we came in. Right now it was covered with my backpack, a week’s worth of junk mail, and today’s New York Times. From here you could see into the kitchen and the living room. In the living room, the coffee table was piled high with more newspapers and a few books. A quilt was draped across the couch and trailed onto the floor.
It wasn’t dirty, just messy. The rug was vacuumed, for example, and Mom didn’t let us leave dirty dishes in the sink.
“In our house,” Ardis said, “we have to take our shoes off before we come in, and I feel guilty about my smelly feet touching the floor.”
We went into the living room. Maud was in our bedroom studying. Mom was at the soup kitchen where she volunteers.
“Show me the caricature.”
“Close your eyes.”
The caricatures were in the coat closet. I pulled out the poster-size one of me. I really wanted Ardis to like it, to see it the way Jared and I did.
I held it up against my chest. “Ready.”
Ardis opened her eyes. Silence.
“It’s interesting?” I giggled nervously.
“It’s funny,” Ardis finally said. “But you’re much prettier.”
I was? Really?
She was quiet again.
“It’s funny because it’s true. My teeth are too big, and my neck is too short.”
“Not like that. It’s not noticeable, except to a caricaturist—”
“Or to somebody like Suzanne Russo.” And to me.
“Yeah,” Ardis said. “Suzanne probably thinks everybody looks like a caricature. And nobody—especially not Suzanne—will understand why you’re letting Jared show a drawing of you that’s . . .” She searched for a word. “. . . that’s not flattering.”
I was letting him because it seemed like a good joke to share with people. But maybe I should call him tonight and tell him I changed my mind. I could give him a real photo of me to put up in his locker.
Ardis sank into Mom’s chair. “Look, Wilma. Remember how we talked about popularity before? Well, none of—”
Reggie started barking. The doorbell rang.
Just when Ardis was saying something important. Who could it be, anyway?
“I’ll get it,” I yelled to Maud. If I didn’t answer the door, she’d tell Mom how I made her interrupt her studying.
Ardis said, sounding surprised, “Reggie barks at everyone, not only me.”
I dropped the poster on the couch. “Don’t forget what you were saying before. I want to hear it.”
I opened the door. Suzanne stood there, holding a shrink-wrapped box that Reggie started sniffing. “I didn’t know you had company,” she said before she even looked in the living room.
She knew.
“Hi, Ardis,” she called.
“Suzanne!” Ardis rushed at her. “What are you doing here? Wilma was showing me her videotapes, but before that we were in the kitchen. Let’s go back in there. I like it better there.”
She was diverting Suzanne from the poster. She was protecting me. That was so nice that a lump formed in my throat.
Suzanne glanced suspiciously into the living room but followed Ardis. Reggie came after us, still interested in Suzanne’s package.
“What’s that?” Ardis pointed at the box.
“Gourmet dog treats. I came over to give them to your dog.” She handed them to me.
“What’s a gourmet dog treat?” Ardis asked.
“How should I know?” Suzanne said. “But I’m dying to find out. Open it, Wilma.”
I turned the box over and read out loud, “‘These elegant treats come in three delicious flavors: venison, organic filet mignon, and free-range chicken.’” I tore off the plastic wrap and lifted the cover. Inside were nine dog biscuits in three shapes—deer, cow, and chicken. I looked at the plastic wrap again. She had paid seven dollars for an excuse to come over.
I found myself feeling sorry for her. “Thanks. Here, Reggie.” I gave him a deer, and he trotted off with it.
“What’s happening?” Suzanne asked.
“Nothing,” Ardis said. “We’re just hanging out.”
“That’s cool.” She looked around the kitchen for a second.
Then she leaned toward us and her eyes gleamed. “Did you hear that Mr. Pike sent Daphne to the principal because of her b.o.? And Mr. Winby sent her home?”
I stopped feeling sorry. The worst part of Suzanne’s gossip was that I sort of enjoyed hearing about other people’s problems. I didn’t enjoy the enjoyment though. And I hated knowing that I’d never forget the tidbit. I could forget what six times seven equals or the name of Hamlet’s girlfriend, but I’d remember Daphne’s body odor forever.
“No, I didn’t hear—”
“Thanks for sharing,” Ardis said. “But Wilma and I were talking about some personal things, and you won’t mind, will you, if we all get together another time?”
“I can’t stay anyway. We’re having dinner soon.” She left the kitchen, but instead of going to the door, she went into the living room. “I heard your mom say you were getting a new TV. How big is the—”
We raced to get to the couch first.
“What’s this?” Suzanne picked up the caricature and unrolled it. First she held it out so she could see it better, and then she brought it near for a closer inspection.
“She’s memorizing it,” Ardis whispered to me.
“This is so neat,” Suzanne finally said. “Where did you get it? Who’s Antoinette? You’re a genius.”
“We got it in Central Park.”
“You and Ardis?”
“Me and Jared.”
“Jared? You mean . . .” She put her finger across the bridge of her nose. “That Jared?”
I nodded.
“You like him?”
I nodded. No hesitation at all.
She nodded with me. “You make a cute couple. He’s cute, except . . . He’s cute. I could go for him.”
“You like the caricature?” I think Ardis tried to keep the astonishment out of her voice, but I heard it.
“Don’t you? I mean, I’m no art critic—”
“I love it,” Ardis said firmly. “I think it’s a riot.”
“It’s funny? Right. I knew that.” She made herself laugh.
“’Bye, Suzanne,” I said.
“’Bye.” She stopped at our door. “Ardis and I are the first ones to see it?”
“Except Jared.”
“Are you going to show anybody else?”
“You’ll see,” I said.
“Well, ’bye,” she said. “I have to go. Dinner.” Now she couldn’t wait to leave. If her phone was more than two minutes away, she would have a heart attack before she got there.
I locked the door and came back to the living room. “Tell me what you were going to say before.”
“It doesn’t matter anymore.” Ardis shook her head. “I don’t believe that. She liked it. I thought she’d start destroying you the second she saw it.”
“You know Suzanne. If she thought she could hurt me, she would.”
“But she can’t?”
Oops! I thought fast. “With you here? With you saying you liked it?” Would she believe me?
“I guess.” She grinned. “I like being your fairy godmother.”
Jared called that night. The first thing he said was “My brother’s going to give me kissing lessons tomorrow. He already told me the Five Rules of Kissing.”
“What are they?”
“You’ll see.”
“Come on. Tell.”
“No. I’ll tell you after we try them out. Could we do it after school on Wednesday? That’ll give me time to practice.”
Try out kissing? That meant kissing. You couldn’t try it out without doing it. My heart started pounding, three days ahead of time. “Okay.”
“Good. What did your family think of the caricatures?”
“Maud—she’s my older sister—thinks we’re crazy. She said I should bury them in Central Park, six feet down and under a boulder.”
“What did your parents think?”
“My mom wants to get a wallet-size one of me to carry around with her.”
“How about your dad?”
“They’re divorced. What about your family?”
“Dad says I have good taste in girls.”
“What did your brother say?”
“Which one? My older brother, Brad, said he wished he knew a girl like you. Andy—he’s five—started to cry when he saw my picture. But he liked yours. He wanted to know if your teeth are really that big.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said they were bigger, and he can’t wait to meet you either.”
I laughed. “The saber-toothed tigress.”
It was fun having a boyfriend.