"What's his first name?"
"That is his first name. His last name is Reynolds."
"Parker Reynolds," Lisa repeated, wrinkling her nose. "Sounds like a society snob. Is he good at it?"
"At what?"
"Kissing, of course."
"Oh. Well—yes. Absolutely fantastic."
Lisa sent her a mocking look. "He's never kissed you. Your face turns pink when you lie."
Meredith stood up abruptly. "Now, look," she began angrily. "I didn't ask you to come over here, and I—"
"Hey, don't get into a sweat over it. Kissing isn't all that wonderful. I mean, the first time Mario kissed me, it was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life."
Meredith's anger evaporated now that Lisa was about to confess something about herself, and she sat back down. "It was embarrassing because he kissed you?"
"No, it was embarrassing because I leaned against the front door when he did it, and my shoulder hit the doorbell. My father pulled the door open, and I went crashing backwards into his arms with Mario still holding onto me for dear life. It took ages to untangle all three of us on the floor."
Meredith's shriek of laughter was abruptly terminated by the sight of the Rolls turning the corner. "There's my—my ride," she hedged, sobering.
Lisa glanced sideways and gaped. "Jesus, is that a Rolls?"
Nodding uncomfortably, Meredith said with a shrug as she picked up her books, "I live a long way from here, and my father doesn't want me to take the bus."
"Your dad's a chauffeur, huh?" Lisa said, walking with Meredith toward the car. "It must be great to be able to ride around in a car like that, pretending you're rich." Without waiting for Meredith to answer, she said, "My dad's a pipe fitter. His union's on strike right now, so we moved here where the rent's even cheaper. You know how that goes."
Meredith had no idea "how that goes" from any personal experience, but she knew from her father's angry tirades what effect unions and strikes had on business owners like the Bancrofts. Even so, she nodded in sympathetic reaction to Lisa's grim sigh. "It must be tough," she said, and then impulsively added, "Do you want a ride home?"
"Do I! No, wait—can I do it next week? I've got seven brothers and sisters, and my ma will have twenty chores for me to do. I'd rather hang around here a little while, and then get home at the normal time."
That had been a week ago, and the tentative friendship that began that day had blossomed and grown, nourished by more exchanged confidences and laughing admissions. Now, as Meredith sat gazing at Parker's picture in the scrapbook and thinking about the dance Saturday night, she decided to ask Lisa for advice at school tomorrow. Lisa knew a lot about hair styles and things. Perhaps she could suggest something that would make Meredith more attractive to Parker.
She followed through with that plan as they sat outside, eating their lunch the next day. "What do you think?" she asked Lisa. "Other than having plastic surgery, is there anything I could do to myself that would really make a difference by tomorrow night—anything at all that would make Parker see me as older and pretty?"
Before replying, Lisa subjected her to a long, thorough scrutiny. "Those glasses and braces aren't exactly inspirations to passion, you know," she joked. "Take off your glasses and stand up."
Meredith complied, then waited in amused chagrin as Lisa strolled around her, looking her over. "You really go out of your way to look plain," Lisa concluded. "You have great eyes and hair. If you'd use a little makeup, take off your glasses, and do something different with your hair, ol' Parker might just give you a second look tomorrow night."
"Do you really think he would?" Meredith asked, her heart in her eyes as she thought of him.
"I said he might." Lisa corrected Meredith with ruthless honesty. "He's an older man, so your age is a drawback. What answer did you get for that last problem on the math test this morning?"
In the week they'd been friends, Meredith had become accustomed to Lisa's rapid-fire changes of topic. It was as if she were too bright to concentrate on only one topic at a time. Meredith told her the answer she'd gotten, and Lisa said, "That's the same one I got. With two brains like ours," she teased, "it's obvious that's the right answer. Did you know everyone in this dumpy school thinks that Rolls belongs to your dad?"
"I never told them it didn't," Meredith said truthfully.
Lisa bit into her apple and nodded. "Why should you? If they're so dumb they think a rich kid would go to school here, I'd probably let them think the same thing."
That afternoon after school, Lisa was again willing to have Meredith's "father" drive her home as Fenwick had reluctantly agreed to do all week. When the Rolls pulled up in front of the brown brick bungalow where the Pontinis lived, Meredith took in the usual tangle of kids and toys in the front yard. Lisa's mother was standing on the front porch, wrapped in her ever-present apron. "Lisa," she called, her voice heavily accented with Italian, "Mario's on the phone. He wants to talk to you. Hiya, Meredith," she added with a wave. "You stay for supper soon. You stay the night, too, so your papa don't have to drive out here late to bring you home."
"Thank you, Mrs. Pontini," Meredith called, waving back from the car. "I will." It was the way Meredith had always dreamed it would be—having a friend to confide in, being invited to stay overnight, and she was euphoric.
Lisa shut the car door and leaned in the window.
"Your mother said Mario is on the phone," Meredith reminded her.
"It's good to keep a guy waiting," Lisa said, "it keeps him guessing. Now, don't forget to call me Sunday and tell me everything that happens with Parker tomorrow night. I wish I could do your hair before you leave for the dance."
"I wish you could too," Meredith said, although she knew she'd never be able to prevent Lisa from discovering that Fenwick wasn't her father if she came to the house. Each day she'd intended to confess the truth, and each day she stalled, telling herself that the longer Lisa knew the real her, the less difference it would make to Lisa whether Meredith's father was rich or poor. Wistfully, she continued, "If you came over tomorrow, you could spend the night. While I was at the dance, you could do homework, then when I got back home, I could tell you how it went."
"But I can't. I have a date with Mario tomorrow night," Lisa remarked unnecessarily. Meredith had been stunned that Lisa's parents permitted her to go out with boys at fourteen, but Lisa had only laughed and said Mario wouldn't dare get out of line because he knew her father and uncles would come after him if he did. Shoving away from the car, Lisa said, "Just remember what I told you, okay? Flirt with Parker and look into his eyes. And wear your hair up, so you look more sophisticated."
"That is his first name. His last name is Reynolds."
"Parker Reynolds," Lisa repeated, wrinkling her nose. "Sounds like a society snob. Is he good at it?"
"At what?"
"Kissing, of course."
"Oh. Well—yes. Absolutely fantastic."
Lisa sent her a mocking look. "He's never kissed you. Your face turns pink when you lie."
Meredith stood up abruptly. "Now, look," she began angrily. "I didn't ask you to come over here, and I—"
"Hey, don't get into a sweat over it. Kissing isn't all that wonderful. I mean, the first time Mario kissed me, it was the most embarrassing moment of my entire life."
Meredith's anger evaporated now that Lisa was about to confess something about herself, and she sat back down. "It was embarrassing because he kissed you?"
"No, it was embarrassing because I leaned against the front door when he did it, and my shoulder hit the doorbell. My father pulled the door open, and I went crashing backwards into his arms with Mario still holding onto me for dear life. It took ages to untangle all three of us on the floor."
Meredith's shriek of laughter was abruptly terminated by the sight of the Rolls turning the corner. "There's my—my ride," she hedged, sobering.
Lisa glanced sideways and gaped. "Jesus, is that a Rolls?"
Nodding uncomfortably, Meredith said with a shrug as she picked up her books, "I live a long way from here, and my father doesn't want me to take the bus."
"Your dad's a chauffeur, huh?" Lisa said, walking with Meredith toward the car. "It must be great to be able to ride around in a car like that, pretending you're rich." Without waiting for Meredith to answer, she said, "My dad's a pipe fitter. His union's on strike right now, so we moved here where the rent's even cheaper. You know how that goes."
Meredith had no idea "how that goes" from any personal experience, but she knew from her father's angry tirades what effect unions and strikes had on business owners like the Bancrofts. Even so, she nodded in sympathetic reaction to Lisa's grim sigh. "It must be tough," she said, and then impulsively added, "Do you want a ride home?"
"Do I! No, wait—can I do it next week? I've got seven brothers and sisters, and my ma will have twenty chores for me to do. I'd rather hang around here a little while, and then get home at the normal time."
That had been a week ago, and the tentative friendship that began that day had blossomed and grown, nourished by more exchanged confidences and laughing admissions. Now, as Meredith sat gazing at Parker's picture in the scrapbook and thinking about the dance Saturday night, she decided to ask Lisa for advice at school tomorrow. Lisa knew a lot about hair styles and things. Perhaps she could suggest something that would make Meredith more attractive to Parker.
She followed through with that plan as they sat outside, eating their lunch the next day. "What do you think?" she asked Lisa. "Other than having plastic surgery, is there anything I could do to myself that would really make a difference by tomorrow night—anything at all that would make Parker see me as older and pretty?"
Before replying, Lisa subjected her to a long, thorough scrutiny. "Those glasses and braces aren't exactly inspirations to passion, you know," she joked. "Take off your glasses and stand up."
Meredith complied, then waited in amused chagrin as Lisa strolled around her, looking her over. "You really go out of your way to look plain," Lisa concluded. "You have great eyes and hair. If you'd use a little makeup, take off your glasses, and do something different with your hair, ol' Parker might just give you a second look tomorrow night."
"Do you really think he would?" Meredith asked, her heart in her eyes as she thought of him.
"I said he might." Lisa corrected Meredith with ruthless honesty. "He's an older man, so your age is a drawback. What answer did you get for that last problem on the math test this morning?"
In the week they'd been friends, Meredith had become accustomed to Lisa's rapid-fire changes of topic. It was as if she were too bright to concentrate on only one topic at a time. Meredith told her the answer she'd gotten, and Lisa said, "That's the same one I got. With two brains like ours," she teased, "it's obvious that's the right answer. Did you know everyone in this dumpy school thinks that Rolls belongs to your dad?"
"I never told them it didn't," Meredith said truthfully.
Lisa bit into her apple and nodded. "Why should you? If they're so dumb they think a rich kid would go to school here, I'd probably let them think the same thing."
That afternoon after school, Lisa was again willing to have Meredith's "father" drive her home as Fenwick had reluctantly agreed to do all week. When the Rolls pulled up in front of the brown brick bungalow where the Pontinis lived, Meredith took in the usual tangle of kids and toys in the front yard. Lisa's mother was standing on the front porch, wrapped in her ever-present apron. "Lisa," she called, her voice heavily accented with Italian, "Mario's on the phone. He wants to talk to you. Hiya, Meredith," she added with a wave. "You stay for supper soon. You stay the night, too, so your papa don't have to drive out here late to bring you home."
"Thank you, Mrs. Pontini," Meredith called, waving back from the car. "I will." It was the way Meredith had always dreamed it would be—having a friend to confide in, being invited to stay overnight, and she was euphoric.
Lisa shut the car door and leaned in the window.
"Your mother said Mario is on the phone," Meredith reminded her.
"It's good to keep a guy waiting," Lisa said, "it keeps him guessing. Now, don't forget to call me Sunday and tell me everything that happens with Parker tomorrow night. I wish I could do your hair before you leave for the dance."
"I wish you could too," Meredith said, although she knew she'd never be able to prevent Lisa from discovering that Fenwick wasn't her father if she came to the house. Each day she'd intended to confess the truth, and each day she stalled, telling herself that the longer Lisa knew the real her, the less difference it would make to Lisa whether Meredith's father was rich or poor. Wistfully, she continued, "If you came over tomorrow, you could spend the night. While I was at the dance, you could do homework, then when I got back home, I could tell you how it went."
"But I can't. I have a date with Mario tomorrow night," Lisa remarked unnecessarily. Meredith had been stunned that Lisa's parents permitted her to go out with boys at fourteen, but Lisa had only laughed and said Mario wouldn't dare get out of line because he knew her father and uncles would come after him if he did. Shoving away from the car, Lisa said, "Just remember what I told you, okay? Flirt with Parker and look into his eyes. And wear your hair up, so you look more sophisticated."
