Animal, the Vegetable, and John D Jones by Betsy Byars

Author:Betsy Byars [Byars, Betsy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-4532-9423-9
Publisher: Open Road
Published: 2013-01-02T15:51:00+00:00

“ARE YOU SITTING OUT here all by yourself for a reason?” Delores asked.

Clara’s head jerked up. She had been sitting on the steps, watching the ocean and wishing she were at home. “No, no reason,” she said quickly. “I’m just sitting here watching the waves.” She had come out here to get away from everybody in the house but she knew not to say that.

“The ocean’s so beautiful at night, isn’t it?”

“Yes.”

For a moment they both watched the beach. The foam-edged waves formed a white line along the shore. The even breaking of the waves made the kind of sound that lulls people to sleep.

Delores walked down three steps and sat beside Clara.

“You don’t like to play Charades, do you?” Delores said.

“No.”

“I gathered as much.”

They had just finished a short game of Charades in which Clara had not guessed a single syllable. She had never cared much for pantomime, and the quickness required for Charades—the signals, the happy cries—“Title … TV show … three words … first syllable …” and the final triumphant “Sha Na Na!” Tonight it had seemed more like a bad dream than a game.

“I don’t either usually,” Delores went on. “It’s too much like life, with everybody having trouble communicating. But—I don’t know—here at the beach everything seems more fun, don’t you think?” She hugged her knees and waited.

Clara could feel Delores looking at her. “I guess,” she said. She turned her head away, casually, up the beach where the moon hung full and white over the sea.

“You aren’t having a very good time, are you, Clara.”

“It’s all right.”

“I know you didn’t have fun at the amusement park yesterday.”

“I like to swim,” Clara said.

“Yes, you do seem to enjoy the ocean.”

There was another awkward silence. Clara waited for Delores to go back into the house. Instead she heard Delores say, “I don’t think John D’s having a good time either.”

Clara said “Oh” without interest.

“He doesn’t make friends easily.”

I bet, Clara thought. She kept looking at the moon. Anyway, who does make friends easily? Her eyes narrowed slightly, blurring the round moon.

What did adults expect? she wondered. They throw perfectly strange kids together and can’t understand it when these perfectly strange kids don’t become instant friends. Does anyone realize, she went on, that it has taken me my entire lifetime to find—in all the hundreds and hundreds of people in my school—two friends? Two!

“I wish you and John D could become friends,” Delores went on. “I think you have a lot in common.”

Clara turned and looked at Delores, her eyes wide open with surprise.

“I do think so. You’re both serious and sensitive and have good minds. Your father’s told me about your making Honor Society, and he’s showed me some of your stories and poems.”

Clara gasped. She turned away, no longer pretending to be looking at the moon or the shore. She began breathing through her mouth. Her body had begun to need more air than her nose could inhale.

Delores said quickly, “I hope you don’t mind your father sharing your stories with me.

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