All But Alice by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor

Author:Phyllis Reynolds Naylor [Naylor, Phyllis Reynolds]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fiction, GR
ISBN: 9780689317736
Goodreads: 2951352
Publisher: Atheneum Books for Young Readers
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

8

MAR-I-LYN

I HAD THIS DEEP-DOWN FEELING THAT DAD might just possibly give Miss Summers an engagement ring on Valentine’s Day. The fact that he was crabby made it seem all the more possible: He was probably wrestling with an enormous decision.

If he did propose and she accepted, my whole life would change. I’d go through the rest of junior high as Miss Summers’s daughter. She would be here when I had my friends in for overnights, and could make us little sandwiches with the crusts cut off, hot cocoa with whipped cream and cinnamon sticks, and cookies loaded with chocolate chunks, fresh from the oven.

She would teach me how to curl the ends of my hair under and put on panty hose without the legs twisting around three times. When I did something stupid and embarrassing, she’d know the right thing to say; when I was sick, she’d know what to do; and when I was sad, she’d be sad too, because a mom always feels right along with you.

The girls in our earring club spent the next week talking about what to wear on Valentine’s Day. We went back to Tiddly Winks and purchased a pair of red ceramic, heart-shaped earrings, a pair of tiny pink cupids, silver cupids, and some gold hearts tied with miniature red bows. Each afternoon we traded off, along with clothes, deciding what we were going to wear to school on Friday, the big day.

“I’m going to wear a white sweater and red pleated skirt,” said Karen.

“I’m going to wear my white jeans and a red-and-black shirt,” said Jill.

“My mom’s going to braid red silk roses in my hair,” said Pamela, and they all looked at me. “What are you going to wear, Alice?”

“I’ll think of something,” I told them. What I didn’t say was that I usually stick one hand in my closet each morning and pull out whatever it touches first. Then I try to find something to go with it.

Elizabeth hadn’t eaten at our table all week, and as we were leaving the cafeteria Thursday, I caught up with her.

“Where’ve you been?” I asked. “You weren’t at our table.”

“You’ve noticed?” she said.

“You’re mad,” I guessed.

“Not mad. Left out,” she told me. “All you and Pamela ever talk about anymore is earrings, earrings, earrings. I’d think you’d get sick of it.”

“Well, sometimes I do,” I admitted. “What did we used to talk about?” I really couldn’t remember.

“Everything. Boys and teachers and life and stuff.”

We walked along in silence for a while.

“It’s not that we don’t like you, Elizabeth. You just don’t fit in without earrings. All you’d have to do is—”

“Yes, all I’d have to do! Everyone else has to change to fit in with your group. You don’t have to do any changing at all.”

She turned at the next corner, just as I was about to ask if I could borrow her red polka-dot shirt to wear the next day.

At home that afternoon, I took everything out of my closet, looking for stuff that was red or pink or white.

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