Intensely Alice
Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
When the perfect summer is not so perfect …
Wouldn’t it be great to go back to the time before Pamela got pregnant, before Patrick left for the University of Chicago, before anyone was making any big decisions about sex or college or life in general? Wouldn’t it be great to get the whole gang together again, just once? But what it takes for this to happen will change Alice (and the whole gang) forever.
SHARE THE UPS AND DOWNS IN THE
LIVES OF ALICE MCKINLEY AND HER FRIENDS.
Look inside for a complete list of the Alice books.
SIMON PULSE
Simon & Schuster, New York
Cover photograph copyright 2010 by Getty Images/
The Image Bank/Blasius Erlinger
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Phyllis Reynolds Naylor is the author of more than 135 books for both children and adults, including the Alice series, hailed by Entertainment Weekly as “tender” and “wonderful,” and by Booklist as “a road map for a girl growing up today.” She includes many of her own growing-up experiences in the Alice books. Phyllis lives with her husband, Rex, in Gaithersburg, Maryland. She is the mother of two grown sons and the grandmother of Sophia, Tressa, Garrett, and Beckett.
Intensely Alice
Books by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
Shiloh Books
Shiloh
Shiloh Season
Saving Shiloh
The Alice Books
Starting with Alice
Alice in Blunderland
Lovingly Alice
The Agony of Alice
Alice in Rapture, Sort of
Reluctantly Alice
All But Alice
Alice in April
Alice In-Between
Alice the Brave
Alice in Lace
Outrageously Alice
Achingly Alice
Alice on the Outside
The Grooming of Alice
Alice Alone
Simply Alice
Patiently Alice
Including Alice
Alice on Her Way
Alice in the Know
Dangerously Alice
Almost Alice
The Bernie Magruder Books
Bernie Magruder and the Case of the Big Stink
Bernie Magruder and the Disappearing Bodies
Bernie Magruder and the Haunted Hotel
Bernie Magruder and the Drive-thru Funeral Parlor
Bernie Magruder and the Bus Station Blowup
Bernie Magruder and the Pirate’s Treasure
Bernie Magruder and the Parachute Peril
Bernie Magruder and the Bats in the Belfry
The Cat Pack Books
The Grand Escape
The Healing of Texas Jake
Carlotta’s Kittens
Polo’s Mother
The York Trilogy
Shadows on the Wall
Faces in the Water
Footprints at the Window
The Witch Books
Witch’s Sister
Witch Water
The Witch Herself
The Witch’s Eye
Witch Weed
The Witch Returns
Picture Books
King of the Playground
The Boy with the Helium Head
Old Sadie and the Christmas Bear
Keeping a Christmas Secret
Ducks Disappearing
I Can’t Take You Anywhere
Sweet Strawberries
Please DO Feed the Bears
Books for Young Readers
Josie’s Troubles
How Lazy Can You Get?
All Because I’m Older
Maudie in the Middle
One of the Third-Grade Thonkers
Roxie and the Hooligans
Books for Middle Readers
Walking Through the Dark
How I Came to Be a Writer
Eddie, Incorporated
The Solomon System
The Keeper
Beetles, Lightly Toasted
The Fear Place
Being Danny’s Dog
Danny’s Desert Rats
Walker’s Crossing
Books for Older Readers
A String of Chances
Night Cry
The Dark of the Tunnel
The Year of the Gopher
Send No Blessings
Ice
Sang Spell
Jade Green
Blizzard’s Wake
Cricket Man
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
SIMON PULSE
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
First Simon Pulse paperback edition August 2010
Copyright © 2009 by Phyllis Reynolds Naylor
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
SIMON PULSE and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
Also available in an Atheneum hardcover edition.
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The text of this book was set in Berkeley.
The Library of Congress has cataloged the hardcover edition as follows: Naylor, Phyllis Reynolds.
Intensely Alice / Phyllis Reynolds Naylor.—1st ed.
p. cm.
Summary: During the summer between her junior and senior years of high school, Maryland teenager Alice McKinley volunteers at a local soup kitchen, tries to do “something wild” without getting arrested, and wonders if her trip to Chicago to visit boyfriend Patrick will result in a sleepover.
ISBN 978-1-4169-7551-9 (hc)
[1. Coming of age—Fiction. 2. Summer—Fiction. 3. Maryland—Fiction.]
I. Title.
PZ7.N24Iq 2009 [Fic]—dc22
2008049047
ISBN 978-1-4169-7554-0 (pbk)
ISBN 978-1-41699-491-6 (eBook)
To Matt Zakosek,
undercover agent extraordinaire
Intensely Alice
Contents
Chapter One: Planning Ahead
Chapter Two: Company
Chapter Three: Cemetery Tag
Chapter Four: Change of Plans
Chapter Five: Window Seat
Chapter Six: The List
Chapter Seven: Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence Swenson
Chapter Eight: Max and the Med
Chapter Nine: The Night in Max P.
Chapter Ten: Boots and Butts
Chapter Eleven: People Care
Chapter Twelve: Shelley’s Sermon
Chapter Thirteen: A Heated Discussion
Chapter Fourteen: Marking Time
Chapter Fifteen: Settling In
Chapter Sixteen: A Woman Caller
Chapter Seventeen: The Unthinkable
Chapter Eighteen: Believing. Or Not.
Chapter Nineteen: Good-byes and Beginnings
1
Planning Ahead
“We’ve got to do something wild this summer.”
Pamela extended her toes, checking the polish, then leaned back in the deck chair and pulled the bill of
her cap down a little farther over her forehead.
“Define ‘wild,’” said Gwen, eyes closed, hands resting on her stomach.
It was a Sunday afternoon. The Stedmeisters had opened their pool two weeks ago, and Mark had invited the old crew back again for a swim. Not the whole crew, because Patrick had left for summer courses at the University of Chicago and Karen was visiting her grandmother in Maine.
Everyone else had gathered at the picnic table except Liz, Gwen, Pamela, and me. The four of us seemed too lazy to move. We’d played badminton for an hour and a half, then took a swim, and now there was a wonderful breeze that played with my hair. I thought of Patrick.
“I don’t mean dangerous wild,” said Pamela. “I just want to do something spectacular. If not spectacular, then unusual. I want at least one good story to tell when we go back to school.”
“Such as?” asked Elizabeth, reaching for her glass of iced tea.
“I don’t know. That we visited a nudist colony or something?”
Liz almost dropped her glass. “You’re joking.”
“Why? Nudity’s a natural thing. Don’t you want to know what it feels like to play badminton with a breeze touching every square inch of your body?”
Gwen opened her eyes and gave Pam the once-over. “Girl, in the bathing suit you’re wearing, the only parts of your body the breeze can’t touch are the private parts of your privates.”
We laughed.
“You guys want any crab dip before it’s gone?” Mark called.
Even if we’re not hungry, we make a point of tasting whatever Mrs. Stedmeister puts out for us. She and Mark’s dad have been so great all these years about letting us hang out at their pool. They’re older than most of the other parents, and I guess they figure that since Mark doesn’t have any siblings, they’ll do whatever they can to keep his friends around.
We’d filled up on hamburgers earlier, but Gwen padded over to the picnic table, her brown feet pointing outward like a dancer’s, her short, shapely legs bringing her back again, dip in one hand, a basket of crackers in the other.
“Well,” she said to Pamela, offering the crackers, “you could always get yourself arrested. That would be a first.”
“For what?” Pamela asked, considering it.
“Don’t encourage her,” I said, but who was I kidding? I wouldn’t refuse a little excitement, especially with Patrick gone and nothing more for me to do all summer except work at Dad’s music store. My cousin’s wedding was coming up soon, though, and that would make life more interesting.
“Here’s something you all could do,” Gwen suggested. “If you’re going to be around the third week of July, you could volunteer from four to nine in a soup kitchen. Montgomery County’s asking for high school students to take over that week and give the regular volunteers a break.”
Jill and some of the others had followed the crab dip back to where the four of us were sitting.
“Whoop-de-doo. Now that’s a fun idea,” Jill said, rolling her eyes.
“What kind of help do they want?” I asked, ignoring Jill.
“Whatever they need: scrape veggies, set tables, serve food, clean up. We wouldn’t have to plan the actual cooking. There will be one adult at each place to supervise that. I’m volunteering for the soup kitchen in Silver Spring.”
Brian, all 170 pounds of him, sat perched on a deck stool, Coke in hand. “Why don’t they make the homeless cook for themselves?” he asked. “I work hard at Safeway. Why should I spend my evenings waiting on people who don’t even work at all?”
“Because most of them would trade places with you in a minute if they could,” Gwen told him.
“I’ll volunteer,” I offered.
“Me too,” said Liz. “Come on, Pam. It’s only for a week.”
“I suppose,” said Pamela.
Justin said he would if he could get off work early. Penny said she’d be away. But Mark said we could count on him, and he’d call his friend Keeno to see if he wanted to come.
I think Gwen was pleased with the response. It was about what I expected from Brian. And even if Justin could get off work, it was up for grabs whether or not Jill would let him come. For the rest of us, it was altruism mixed with the fact that since we weren’t going to be in London or Paris or even the beach that week in July, we might as well make ourselves useful. But it wasn’t exactly what Pamela had in mind.
Later, Pamela and I walked slowly back with Liz to her house. I hadn’t seen Tim around for weeks, and Pamela confirmed what I’d suspected.
“We broke up,” she said. “It wasn’t so much a breakup as … I don’t know. Just scared off, I guess.”
Getting pregnant last spring, she meant. Scared all of us. Even after Pam had a miscarriage, it was too much for Tim.
“I’m really sorry,” I said, and Liz slipped one arm around her.
“It was mutual,” Pamela told us. “Things just weren’t the same after that. The only good that came of it is that I’m closer to Mom.” Pamela’s mom had been surprisingly understanding when Pam had told her about the pregnancy—something Pam couldn’t ever have told her dad.
How could it be, I wondered, that Pam and her dad could live in the same house together, and Mr. Jones didn’t have a clue? But then, how much do Dad and my stepmom really know about me? How much do I tell them? They know where I am most of the time, but they don’t always know what I’m doing or how I feel. Certainly not what I’m thinking.
Natural? Or not?
Les, the moocher, came over for dinner that night. Now that his master’s thesis has been held up, he won’t graduate till December. He’s a little more relaxed, though, and we see him more often, especially at mealtime. But Sylvia never cares.
“Got it all planned,” he said, telling us about a mountain bike tour he and his two roommates were taking in Utah the first week of August. “A guy from school’s going to stay in our apartment and look after Mr. Watts in case he needs anything.”
My brother and his roomies live in the upstairs apartment of an old Victorian house in Takoma Park. They get it rent-free in exchange for odd jobs around the place and the assurance that one of them will always be there in the evenings in case old Mr. Watts has an emergency.
“How long a trip is it?” asked Dad. “Sounds spectacular.”
“We fly out on a Friday, stay a week, fly back the next Sunday. Can’t wait.”
I took a bite of chicken diablo. “You ride around looking at monuments or something? Mount Rushmore and Custer’s Last Stand?”
“We ride, Al, we ride,” Les said.
“But if you don’t see anything …”
“Of course we see things. The mountains! The sky! The naked babes lining the trails, waving us on!”
“Seriously, Les. Describe your day.”
“Well, you wake up in a tent. You pull on your jeans, crawl out, take a leak—”
“Where?”
“Depends where we’re camping. A Porta-John. An outhouse. On some tours you’re simply given a shovel and some toilet paper.”
“Eeeuuu! Do you all sleep in one tent?”
“No, they’re small. People usually bring their own.”
I dangled a bit of tomato on my fork and studied my twenty-four-year-old brother. Dark hair, dark eyes, stubble on his cheeks and chin. “Any women on the trip?”
“A few, usually. If they can take the pace. Tours are rated by difficulty, and this one’s pretty rugged.”
“Where do you take a bath?”
“Shower. River. Creek. Whatever’s handy.”
I tried to imagine myself going on a mountain bike trip with a bunch of guys. I could imagine everything except using a field for a toilet. And not brushing my teeth before breakfast. And getting dusty and muddy. And pedaling up steep inclines. And …
“Well, I’m glad you’re getting away for a while,” Dad told Les. “You’ve had your nose to the grindstone lately.”
“But what about you and Sylvia?” Les aske
d him. “When do you guys get a break?”
“We’re going to New York for a weekend,” Dad said. “Sylvia wants to see a new exhibit at the Met, and there’s supposed to be a fabulous new Asian-fusion-something restaurant at Columbus Circle.”
Life is so unfair. No one mentioned me. Nobody even looked in my direction, though Sylvia did say, “We’ve also got to get plane tickets to Chicago soon. Carol’s wedding is July eleventh. If you’re flying with us, Les, we’ll pick up tickets for four.”
“I’d better make my own arrangements,” Lester said. “I probably won’t be staying as long as you are.”
“Yeah, we’ll probably stick around a few days to visit with Milt and Sally,” said Dad.
I took the plunge.
“Oh, by the way, Patrick’s invited me to visit the university while I’m there. Get a taste of college life.”
Now all heads turned in my direction.
“That’s a good idea,” said Sylvia. “Did he say what day?”
“Well … I thought a couple of days, actually. I mean, there’s a lot to see.”
I noticed a pause before Dad spoke. “Did he mention where you’d be staying?”
“Oh, he’ll work something out,” I said, my heart beating wildly.
“When did you decide all this?” asked Dad.
I looked around incredulously at the three of them. “Whoa? Les is going on a mountain bike trip, you and Sylvia are going to New York, and … oh, yeah, I’m working at the Melody Inn this summer, as usual. I thought maybe I was entitled to a couple days of vacation.”
“Of course you are,” said Sylvia.
“We just want to know the details,” said Dad.
That was a yes if I ever heard one. Now all I had to do was tell Patrick.
I called Elizabeth.
“You did what?” she said. “Without checking with Patrick?”
“Yep. It was then or never.”
“Alice, what if he has other plans for that weekend? What if he’s not even there?”
“Then I’ll have his roommate all to myself,” I joked, feeling sort of sweaty.
When I told Pamela, she said, “Maybe we should all go with you. We’re looking for something wild, remember.”
Actually, my even visiting the University of Chicago was wild, because it’s so far out of my league, I’d never get admitted. My IQ would probably go up two points just breathing that rarefied air, I told Gwen when I called her next, but she doesn’t like me to talk like that.
