I told him, and he shook his head.
"That's too bad."
"I hope she'll be all right," I said.
"Me, too. My mother's terrified of becoming old," he said after a moment, "but not because she might die. She's afraid of wrinkles and dry skin and gray hairs. She's had two cosmetic surgeries this year alone and"--he lowered his voice to a whisper--"a tummy tuck. You look tired." He studied me harder.
We heard loud laughter and looked up front, where Helga and some of the other kids were talking and gazing back at us.
"When I first met Helga, I thought it would be nice to have a friend. I never really had a close friend," I said. "I almost made a big mistake."
"The woods are full of wolves," he muttered, staring at them. Then he turned to me. "I'll be your close friend if you like."
I smiled. "Okay," I said.
He went back to his reading as if looking at me was painful now. I sat with my eyes closed and shut out the chatter and the laughter until we reached the school and the beginning of my second day.
It was nearly impossible to concentrate in class. I couldn't help wondering and worrying. At
lunchtime, Bernie escorted me to the pay phone and waited as I called home. The phone rang and rang until Karl's voice came on from the answering machine, asking the caller to leave a name and number, time of call, and a brief statement of the call's purpose. It sounded more like the message at an office than at a house. I left my name.
"No one's home yet," I told Bernie.
He thought a moment, "Well, that's good. Whatever's being done for her is still being done."
Bernie was a little reluctant about returning to the cafeteria to have lunch with me, but he agreed, and we sat together at a small table toward the rear. From this position, we could see that many other students were looking at us and talking about us.
"It feels like we're in a fishbowl," Bernie quipped. He ate and read his science book, pausing occasionally to talk about something from our class work.
I began to wonder if his kissing me was something I had imagined. He showed so little interest in me and actually jumped in his seat when our arms grazed each other. Other girls who had boyfriends sat closer to them, some practically on their laps, laughing and talking to each other as if there were no one else in the cafeteria. When the bell rang to end the lunch hour, they walked off holding hands. Bernie and I walked side by side but clutching our books as if they were life vests and we were on the deck of a sinking ship. I saw from the way some of the other girls looked at us, whispering and giggling, that we were already the subject of very nasty jokes.
My next class was nearly half over when the speaker on the wall clicked and a voice requested that my teacher send me to the principal's office. Everyone looked at me as I rose and left the room. The principal's secretary told me to take a seat and wait. A few minutes later, the door opened, and there was Karl with Mr. Nissen. I didn't need to hear any words. The expressions on their faces told all.
"I didn't want to take you out of school, Crystal, but Thelma is asking for you and thinks you should come right home with me," he said.
"Of course." I didn't know what else to say.
"Don't worry about your homework. I'll see to it that your assignments are sent to the house," Mr. Nissen said.
"She won't be out that long," Karl assured him. "Take whatever time she needs," Mr. Nissen said. "Please give Mrs. Morris my sympathies."
I realized I had left my briefcase, books, and notebooks on my desk and h
ad to hurry back to get them. Everyone turned my way when I entered and went to my desk. Our teacher paused. I gathered up my books and put them into the briefcase quickly.
"What are you doing, Crystal?" Mr. Saddler asked.
I went up to him. It wasn't the sort of thing I wanted to shout out. "I'm sorry, Mr. Saddler, but I have to go right home. My grandmother has died."
"Oh," he said. He looked awkward and confused, like someone who had stepped onto ice. "Of course. I'm sorry."
He waited for me to leave before he started the class again. As I walked toward the door, I looked over at Bernie. He nodded at me, his face as tight and as serious as a doctor giving his patient's loved ones hard news. I left quickly, the door closing behind me softly, and then I hurried down the corridor to where Karl was waiting. We walked out together, neither of us saying a word until we were in his car.
"What happened?" I finally asked.
"The doctor said she didn't have much more than fifteen percent of her heart muscle working by the time she was brought in. They did the best they could. She lasted longer than they thought she would. Thelma says that was because of you."
"Me?"