My First Love and Other Disasters (6 page)

“Oh, hi, Barry,” I say, giving my mouth a quick wipe for any stray cone crumbs, pulling in my stomach, smiling, and trying inconspicuously not to notice if Jim is anywhere around. With another couple of seconds I could do a fast fix on my hair, which probably looks like rat tails hanging from my head. But I guess it's okay, because I don't see Jim around anyway.

“Hey,” Barry says, coming over to us, “I didn't know you were going to be out here.” And he looks so nice and smiley that I think it's not going to be hard making friends with him. Actually he's a lot
cuter than I thought he was in school. Maybe it's that terrific tan he's got. It goes great with his wavy black hair. He just looks different out here. I always thought of him as a string bean, kind of tall and skinny, but he's not really skinny, he's slim, and he's got a fairly nice build. Don't get me wrong; he's far from gorgeous—his nose is a little biggish and his smile doesn't dazzle like Jim's, but his eyes are soft brown and friendly, and he's got a shy, sweet look about him that makes me feel totally relaxed.

Another thing, Jim is so perfect that I sometimes think I would probably feel kind of clunky next to him, but with Barry I feel pretty. Prettier than Barry, anyway.

A wide grin crosses his face and he asks, “How long are you here for?”

“All summer,” I say. “I'm a mother's helper.”

“No kidding. Are those the victims?” He winks at David and DeeDee.

“Right,” I say, and introduce him to the kids.

“How do you do, David,” he says, solemnly shaking DeeDee's hand, and she practically falls down giggling. And then David gets into it and shakes Barry's hand and says he's DeeDee, and then Barry says no,
he's
DeeDee, and then I get into it and we're all bowing and shaking hands, and the kids are hysterical, and in two seconds we're all old friends. He's cute. Barry, I mean. Nice cute.

I don't want him to know how much I know about him, so I have to ask him what he's doing out here, and then he tells me all the things I already know and one extra. The best one. That ferry I mentioned? The one that's just about pulling into the slip right this minute? Well, Jim is on it. How's that for timing?

Now, of course, I've got to find a way to fix my hair. Inconspicuously. I don't want Barry to think it's because of Jim.

“DeeDee, honey,” I coo to her, wiggling my finger for her to come. “I just want to fix your hair a little,” I tell her. Of course she's going to say no, and then I'll tell her, “See, I'm going to fix my hair too.”

“Okay,” she says, screwing up the whole plan.

It's too late to change plans, so like a fool I add, “See, I'm going to fix my hair too.”

“So what?”

“And then I'll fix your hair.”

“I wanna go first.”

“And so you will.” I smile down at her, frantically brushing my hair. “Right after me, you go first.”

She's so confused she doesn't even make a fuss.

“Look,” I tell the kids, “the ferry's docking.”

The four of us stand there, watching the people coming off the boat. Everyone is loaded down with tons of luggage and backpacks and things. It's the
opening of the season, and people with houses are moving all their things out. My heart is practically pounding out of my chest knowing I'm going to see Jim. I'm getting worse every day.

There he is. And . . .

“There they are.” Barry pokes me to look at Jim leaving the ferry with this horrendous growth hanging off his left arm. Barry waves at them!

“Hey! Jimmy! Gloria! Over here!”

“I didn't know Gloria was coming out here too,” I say very casually.

“She's just here for the day,” Barry says, and looks at me kind of surprised. “Don't you like her?”

“Are you kidding? I think she's . . . she's . . . something else.” I'm smart enough not to say what. Actually I despise her type of girl—as I told you—the cutesy cheerleader kind with the slippery blond hair that hangs a mile down their backs and the dimples that simply look like cheek holes to me.

A lot of the little kids in school are impressed just because Gloria is captain of the cheerleaders. They think she's a real big deal, and at the ball games you're always hearing them saying did you see what Gloria did with her hair, or get a load of those boots Gloria's wearing, or something about her eyes. You'd think she was the only person in the world to have blue eyes. In my opinion, one look in those eyes and you think nobody's home.

Anyway, here they come. I don't think Jim's going to recognize me from the shoe store because, after all, there are probably lots of customers going in all the time. Why should he just remember me? I wasn't in there that long, and most of the time he was down in the basement anyway. I hope like crazy he doesn't remember me. I don't think I was at my best that day.

“Gloria?” Barry grabs one of Jim's bags from her. Obviously
he
doesn't think nobody's home behind those eyes. “Do you know Victoria Martin? Victoria, do you know Gloria Donovan and Jimmy Freeman?”

And like I never laid eyes on either of them before this minute, I say, “Hi.” Please, God, don't let him recognize me.

“Hi,” Jim says, and he does one of those double takes and looks kind of puzzled, but I keep very cool and look at him like I'm a completely new person. I give him a wide, open kind of smile—slightly upturned face, merry eyes, absolutely nothing to hide. It works. I can practically hear him say to himself, “Naaw, that can't be that nut from the shoe store.”

As for Gloria the Magnificent, she can't even squeeze out a “hi.” All she can manage is a sickly dumb smile with those stupid cheek holes. Naturally every tooth is perfect.

“How's it going, buddy?” Jim says to Barry, giving him one of those affectionate back slaps.

“Okay,” Barry says, “still pretty quiet, though.”

“But picking up a little, right?” Jim kind of motions in my direction. At least I think that's what he's doing. Obviously Barry does, too, because he gets real embarrassed-looking and says, “Yeah, I guess so.”

And Gloria looks annoyed. Great! I guess he did mean me.

“Been getting in any tennis?” Jim asks, and Barry says he's been waiting for him, and Jim says, “Well, buddy, here I am.”

And that's the feeling you get, that it's all about to start because
here he is
. Jim is definitely a mover type, and people like to move with him. Like now, with Barry, Jim's the one who sets the time and date for their tennis game even though it's Barry's court. But that's the way it is, Jim calls the shots, and people just kind of want to go along with him.

Everyone's always talking about how some politicians have charisma. Well, I'm not exactly sure what it is—charisma, I mean—but the way everyone is so attracted to Jim I think he must have tons of it.

“Victoria . . .” DeeDee is sniffing and tugging at my shorts. “My ice cream is melting all down.”

“Who is
that?”
Gloria says, looking at DeeDee
like she was some kind of bug. I admit she looks pretty disgusting with chocolate ice cream all over her face and running down her arm and dripping off her elbow. Still, I don't like Gloria's tone.

“That's DeeDee,” Barry says, “if you can find her under all that ice cream. Victoria's a mother's helper.”

“Who are you working for?” Suddenly Gloria is all interested.

“Cynthia Landry,” I tell her.

“I know her!” she squeals.

“Come on, DeeDee,” I say, paying no attention to Gloria, who obviously can't wait to unload on Cynthia. “I'll wash you off in the water fountain.”

“No,” she says, “I want to do it myself.”

Gloria can't hold it in. “Boy,” she chirps, “poor Cynthia. She had a real rat husband who played around with everyone and ran off to California. Was he gorgeous! Looked like Al Pacino.”

Gross! No wonder Cynthia hates Jed. It's horrendous to think everyone knows your whole life's story and how your husband was playing around. He really was disgusting. And so is Gloria for gossiping around like that.

“That's what a lot of people are saying.” I sniff. “But of course they don't know the real story, so they just keep repeating the old gossip.”

That ought to shut her up.

“Cool! I'd just love to know the whole story,” she says. She's so dumb she doesn't even know when she's being put down. How can Jim stand her?

“Hey, the Landry house is in Ocean Beach too,” she says, and then turns toward Jim. “Isn't that nice,” she purrs, giving him a brilliant smile. “You'll be real close neighbours.”

“I don't know how close we'll be,” I say as nonchalantly as I can manage.

“Well, I do,” she says, really snotty. “The Landry's house is on Evergreen, right around the corner from Jimmy boy's. Actually Cynthia offered
me
the job this year, but I said no. I would have considered it if gorgeous Jed was still there, but I make it a policy never to work for divorced women. They stick you with the kids twenty-four hours a day because they're always running around. Besides,” she says, sending the last bullet directly into my brain, “she was paying peanuts.”

“That's really good news!” Barry cuts in. What's good news? That she's paying me peanuts? “All three of us are going to be together this summer,” he continues, and he's really excited. Jim doesn't dare say a word with Gloria staring at him.

“It sounds so cozy, maybe I should plan to spend a little more time out here too.” Gloria says that last line right in my face. God, I loathe her!

“Jimmmmmy.” There goes Gloria the whiner again. “I'm positively exhausted. I simply must get to the house. Are you coming?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jim says, grabbing up his gear. Then he says to me, “You know, I know you from somewhere.”

“It must be from school,” I say weakly. I'm in absolute, stark terror.

“No, not school,” Jim says thoughtfully. “Maybe with Barry. Or—no . . .”

He'll never let go.

“Jim-my!” Gloria whines.

“Okay . . .,” he says. “I was just trying to figure out how I know Barry's girlfriend.”

Barry's girlfriend! That's disaster if he thinks I'm Barry's girlfriend. I have to set him straight right now.

“I think there's some misunderstanding. . . .” I want to do it gently because after all he is Barry's friend, and besides, I don't want to hurt Barry. “Barry and I . . .”

“Jimmy, c'mon . . .”

“Okay . . .,” he says, but he's still looking at me.

“ . . . I'm hungry.”

“Hungry!” he says like he just discovered the wheel, and points to me.

“No, thank you. I just ate. Well, I'll see you all around sometime,” and I grab DeeDee and call
David, who's been lost in a comic book all this time, and take about two giant steps when a hand grabs my shoulder.

“You're the Hungarian who went home with tight shoes!” Jim is on the other end of that hand.

“The Hungarian?” Barry and Gloria say it together like a vaudeville act.

“Oh, man you should have seen her and her friend . . .” And he practically doubles over in hysterics. He starts laughing so hard he can barely tell the story. Frankly I didn't think it was funny at all.

Finally he gets the whole story out, and the three of them are cracking up. I ask, kind of cold, “What's so funny about being Hungarian?”

“Hey, nothing . . . we weren't laughing because you're Hungarian . . .” And he practically falls on the ground, he's laughing so hard.

Anyway, one thing and another and they finally pull themselves together and Jim grabs his stuff, which of course had fallen all over during his little story.

“Hey, see you around,” Jim says to me. Then to Barry, “You really picked yourself a winner, chum,” and he chuckles good-naturedly.

I can do without the whole thing. I am not Barry's girlfriend. “I am
not
Barry's girlfriend,” I say to all three. “I practically only met Barry for the first time today. So I couldn't possibly be Barry's
girlfriend, and furthermore I'm not even Hungarian. My friend is.”

And as if it didn't matter at all, Jim and Gloria say, “Sure, that's terrific,” or something like that. “See you later,” they say, and while my brain is seething, the love of my life takes off with the love of his life, and I'm left alone with David, DeeDee, who just dropped her cone on my left shoe, and lover boy Barry.

“You shouldn't tell people I'm your girlfriend. That's ridiculous, we only practically just met.” I'm not trying to sound angry, but I'm really ticked off.

“I didn't exactly say you were my girlfriend, more like . . . that . . .” I hate to make him struggle like that, but, damn, it's not
fair
.

“More like what?”

“That . . . you know . . . more like I liked you.”

Well, I can't exactly hang him for liking me. At least someone does.

“Actually . . .” Now he's really stammering. “It's more than that. More than like . . .”

Now I'm the one staring at him.

“ . . . I love you.”

No way!

“You can't love me!”

“But I do.”

“But you can't!” I know this is a ridiculous argument, but he can't. “You hardly even know me.”

“I know you better than you think. I've been watching you all year.”

See, I told you he was always following me around and staring at me.

“And I know I'm deeply in love with you.”

Oh, God, he's deeply in love with me. Is he crazy or something?

“I think you're the most beautiful girl in the entire school.”