“It still tastes good,” Terri said, putting the mint into her mouth.
“Want to know something, Terri? I wanted to talk to you before yesterday.”
“You did? You never said anything.”
“Well, I didn’t know if you really liked me. Sometimes you seemed real cool.”
“I’m not cool,” Terri said. “You know, not inside. I was worried about you.”
“Me? But I’m so friendly.” Shaundra lolled her tongue at the corner of her mouth and panted like a little dog. “Isn’t it gross the way people are always worrying about what other people think of them?”
“I know, but it’s hard to help it.”
“Maybe for kids, but what about when you’re grown up?” Shaundra split the last mint in half. “What’s the point of even growing up, if you still go around moaning and groaning? It’s bad enough being our age and feeling so insecure. You should hear my mother every time she has to sub at a new school. ‘Oh! oh! what if those kids don’t like me?’ I always tell her, ‘Relax, Ma, they’re not going to like you. Kids hate substitutes.’”
“I don’t think my father worries about stuff like that,” Terri said. “He’s usually sort of confident, but sometimes—his worst fault is that he might not want to talk about what I want to talk about.”
“Oh, I can’t stand it when people clam up,” Shaundra said. “In case you haven’t noticed it, talking must be my favorite thing in the world. Too bad they don’t have fitness tests in talking. I’d be a ten.”
They were both laughing. Shaundra put her hand on Terri’s arm. “I have this feeling—do you have it? We’re going to be best friends. Don’t you think so?”
Terri thought of the long trail of best friends behind her: Susan Whittacker in Boston, Enid Cohen in Dallas, Jeannie Whizenand in that little town called Sterling . . . and Rachey Stevenson, and Nini, and Jennifer, and Holly. “I hope so,” she said.
“Is that all?” Shaundra looked disappointed.
Terri squeezed her hand. “I like you. I like you a lot. I do want to be best friends.”
“Then we will be,” Shaundra said. “And that’s all there is to it!”
Lunch hour and still warm enough to eat outside. Terri leaned back on the step, waiting for Shaundra. The sun in her eyes made her feel sleepy. The night before, she’d had the dream again. It was always the same. Her father was leaving her, she ran after him, calling his name, but he was gone, and she was alone. Sometimes in the dream she was in a house, sometimes walking down a dark street, but always alone. And it was the alone feeling she would wake up with. Dreams were supposed to mean something about your life, but this dream didn’t make sense. Her father had never left her.
She saw Shaundra coming around the side of the building and waved. “Were you waiting long?” Shaundra sat down, rolling up the sleeves of her checked shirt. “Higgens was having a temper tantrum and didn’t let us go when the bell rang.”
Shaundra unwrapped her sandwich. “I just love the man. You know how he flings out his arms? Well, today he leaped right up on his chair. Oh, ugh, tuna fish,” she said, taking a bite.
They had been friends now for nearly a month. They ate lunch together every day and went to each other’s houses after school whenever they could. Shaundra had a Mickey Mouse pin, and gave it to Terri. Terri had a friendship ring, and gave it to Shaundra. Shaundra said Terri’s present was much better, but Terri loved the Mickey Mouse pin, which was just the head of Mickey with big white ears, and wore it all the time on her sweaters or pinned to her bookbag.
“My mother’s idea of a heavenly lunch,” Shaundra said, taking another bite of her sandwich. “Why can’t she get it through her head I hate tuna fish?”
“I’ll trade with you,” Terri said.
“You will? You are a good friend.”
After school they met by the bicycle rack. “Guess what Higgens gave us for our assignment?” Shaundra said as they got on their bikes. “Three hundred words on our earliest memory. Now I ask you. Could you tell which memory is your first?”
“Mmm,” Terri said, aware that for her it wasn’t which memory to choose, but to find any early memory. When she looked back and tried to remember things from before she was in school, it was like staring into a dark, dark room. A room you sensed wasn’t empty, but where you couldn’t see anything. Sometimes, just once in a great while, there was a swift, tiny flash of light into that darkness. It could be words. Daddy’s girl. . . you’re Daddy’s girl. . . drink this orange pop . . . Daddy’s girl likes orange pop . . . Or a feeling-memory. Sick to her stomach . . . the rocking of a car . . . crying . . . or words again. Mommy, want Mommy . . . Mommy . . .
“So, what’s your first memory?” Shaundra said.
“Uh, oh . . .” Terri groped, thought of pale orange light sliding in through the window of a car . . . orange light on an orange can . . .
“See,” Shaundra said, “you don’t know, either.”
“Yes, I do.” Her voice sounded too loud. “My first memory is of, of an orange. Peeling an orange and eating it. I’ve always loved oranges,” she added, wondering if that sounded convincing, like a real memory. It must have been okay, because Shaundra didn’t challenge it.
Halfway up Dunn Street Hill Shaundra got off her bike and pushed. Terri took off her corduroy jacket, stuffed it into the saddle bag, then stood up on the pedals. “You could walk faster,” Shaundra said.
“I know.” She hated to give up too easily. A car passed, and the driver looked out at her. Terri hardly saw the woman, only caught a glint of light off her sunglasses, but for an instant that dark room in her mind lit up. It must have been the strange state of mind she was still in from her dream. She saw yellow sunglasses sitting on a bureau, then sneakers. Yellow sneakers. Yellow glasses and yellow sneakers.
“Turkey,” Shaundra taunted, looking back. “Why don’t you get a horse?”
Fixing her eyes on the crest of the hill, Terri thought that if she could make it to the top she’d know what the glasses and sneakers meant. But a moment later she had to get off and push, also.
At Shaundra’s house there was a note from her mother telling her to do a laundry and clean the bathroom. “And don’t forget the toilet,” she wrote.
“How disgusting,” Shaundra said.
“I’ll help you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Well, I’ll do the yucky job. You can clean the sink and the mirror. Let’s do it fast and go to your house so I don’t get stuck with my gross little brothers.” She started throwing things into the washing machine. Terri raced after her, throwing in more clothes and the soap powder. She slammed down the machine top, and they ran into the bathroom and began cleaning as fast as they could.
They were still laughing when they got to Terri’s house about an hour later. The phone was ringing as Terri unlocked the door. “Hurry up,” Shaundra said.
“The key’s stuck.”
The phone rang again. Barkley was scratching the door.
“I can’t stand a ringing phone,” Shaundra moaned.
“It’s not for you,” Terri said, giving the key a hard twist. “It’s probably a wrong number, anyway.”