BFF* by Judy Blume

Author:Judy Blume [Blume, Judy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-49410-8
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2007-09-16T04:00:00+00:00

Slow Dancing

A package arrived from Dad on Friday. I took it to my room. The card showed an older elephant talking to a younger one. It said Happy Birthday to someone young enough to enjoy it but old enough to know better. Under that, Dad had written, Wish I could be with you to celebrate your thirteenth! Love, Dad. I turned it over to see if it was made of recycled paper. It was. I unwrapped the box and opened it slowly. Inside was an amethyst heart on a gold chain. Amethyst is my birthstone.

I ran downstairs. Mom was fixing an early dinner because the Ground Hog Day dance was starting at seven-thirty. “Look what Dad sent for my birthday,” I said, dangling the necklace under her nose.

Mom glanced up from the chicken and vegetables she was stir-frying. “Very pretty.”

“You think he picked it out himself?” I asked.

“I hope so,” Mom said.

“Me too … because if Iris picked it out I’ll never wear it. I’ll flush it down the toilet first!”

“Really, Steph …” Mom laughed. But I think she was glad I said that.

“How would it look with my green outfit?”

“When you get dressed for the dance you can try it and see,” Mom said.

“But how can I wear this plus my bee-sting necklace?”

“There are no bees at night,” Mom said, “especially in the winter.”

“Then I guess I’ll wear Dad’s necklace tonight and tomorrow, when I go to New York, I’ll wear Gran Lola’s.” I paused for a second. “And I’ll wear my new boots tomorrow, too.” I added that because Mom had given me a pair of cowboy boots for my birthday. They’re something like the ones Marcella wore to the movies the night I saw her with Jeremy Dragon, except mine are a soft grayish color and Marcella’s are white. I didn’t get my own phone. Oh, well … there’s always next year.

“Steph …” Mom began.

“I really love the boots you gave me!” I said. I didn’t want to hurt Mom’s feelings, making her think I liked Dad’s present better.

But Mom had something else on her mind. “Don’t you think we should ask Rachel if she needs a ride to the dance tonight?” she asked.

“No!”

Rachel had written a note to my mother:

Dear Mrs. Hirsch,

Due to a change in plans I won’t be able to go to New York on Saturday to help celebrate Stephanie’s birthday.

Sincerely,

Rachel Robinson

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