YOUR SECRET ADMIRER, Page 6

  “Well…”

  “Please. I don’t like it here alone. He might come back.”

  “Hold on a minute, I’ll ask.” Susan went away from the phone. She seemed to be gone a long time. When she returned, she said, “It’s okay with Mom, but she says I’m not supposed to eat any starches or sweets.”

  “Great. See you in five minutes, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Ten minutes later, Susan arrived.

  “Did you see any sign of Glen?” Janice asked.

  “Nope.”

  “Maybe he went away. I think I really hurt his arm.”

  “How did you manage that?”

  She told all about it. While she was talking, Susan’s stomach growled. Susan chuckled. “My gut has a mind of its own.”

  “We’d better feed it.”

  They went into the kitchen and Janice leaned against the counter as Susan studied the refrigerator’s contents.

  “There’s hot dogs,” Janice suggested. “And left-over roast.”

  “Hmm.” Susan continued to search. She opened half a dozen lids and peered inside, making little grunts of interest or disgust. Then she shut the door, shrugged, and opened the door of the freezer compartment. “Ice cream,” she muttered.

  “For dinner?”

  “Ah!” She pulled out a clear plastic container that showed red inside. She pried off the top. “What’s this?”

  “Spaghetti sauce.”

  “Yeah?” She beamed. “Have you got any noodles?”

  “Noodles?”

  “You know, spaghetti. That’s what Granny calls them. She’s from Italy, you know. She calls them noodles, and the sauce is gravy.”

  “Noodles and gravy? Weird.”

  “Not so weird if you’re from Italy. So, have you got some noodles?”

  Janice checked a cupboard and found a box of spaghetti.

  “Fabulous!”

  “Didn’t your mom say something about no starches? This is all starch.”

  “Who cares? She’ll never know.”

  “I thought you wanted to lose weight.”

  Susan shrugged. She crouched down and searched a cupboard for a pot. “The way I see it,” she said, “it doesn’t matter much. What are a few extra pounds, here and there, when the rest of me is such a wreck?”

  “You’re not a wreck.”

  She found a saucepan, set it on the floor, and kept searching. “Hey, I could drop fifteen pounds, and guys would still call me four-eyes and tinsel-teeth.” She found a pot for the spaghetti, and stood up. “I might as well eat good, huh?”

  “It’s up to you.”

  The sauce was like a block of ice. It banged into the sauce pan. Susan covered the pan and turned the burner on under it. “That’ll take a while, I guess.”

  “Probably.”

  “Mind if I have a hot dog while I wait?”

  “Help yourself.”

  Susan took a raw hot dog from the refrigerator, and they went into the den and turned on the television. They tried all the channels but nothing looked good, so they settled for a rerun of The Avengers.

  “Any more letters from the nut?” Susan asked. She poked the last of the hot dog into her mouth.

  “Today? We just left my letter for him last night. Even if he wrote back right away, I couldn’t get it before Monday.”

  Susan grinned. “Maybe he’ll come and visit.”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m serious.” She swallowed. “The way you encouraged him, it wouldn’t surprise me. Mike thinks you’re crazy.”

  “You told him?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’d you do that for?”

  “Why not?”

  “For one thing, you promised. Boy, Susan, can’t you keep anything to yourself?” She tried to look angry, but secretly she was glad Susan had told Mike about the letters. “What did you tell him?” she asked.

  “Just that this guy was glad you and Mike broke up, and how he wanted you to write back to him. And that you did write back. I told him what you said about wanting to meet the guy. That’s when he said you’re crazy.”

  “Wonderful,” Janice muttered.

  “I always told you he’s a creep. Hey, I’d better check the sauce.”

  They went into the kitchen. The block of red had diminished to half size. At the bottom of the pan, the run-off was boiling. Susan got a knife, and stabbed the hard chunk, breaking it to pieces. “That’ll speed up the process,” she said. “Still too early to put the noodles on.”

  “Do you want another hot dog while you wait?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.”

  With a second raw hot dog in her hand, Susan led the way back to the den. They talked and watched television. Later, they checked the sauce again. It was completely thawed and boiling. The chunks of sausage were bobbing, the slices of mushroom twisting as if alive.

  Susan turned the flame way down, and put the spaghetti on a back burner.

  Finally, the meal was ready. Though Janice had eaten dinner earlier, the smell of the sauce was too much for her. She prepared a small bowl for herself, a huge bowl for Susan.

  They sat at the kitchen table.

  “You can have my toadstools,” Janice offered.

  “Not toadstools,” Susan corrected her. “Mushrooms.”

  “You hope.”

  They both laughed, but the sharp blare of the telephone interrupted. Janice crossed the kitchen. She picked up the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hi, sweet stuff.”

  She suddenly felt sick. “Glen.”

  “That wasn’t nice, what you did to my arm.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Sure you meant to,” he said. From the sound of his voice, Janice could picture his nasty smile. “I owe you one, sugar.”

  “I said I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have tried to come in like that. It was your own stupid fault.”

  “We had a date.”

  “We did not. I just told you that so you’d stop bothering me.”

  “Yeah? Well, it didn’t work. You’re gonna get it, now.”

  “If you try anything, you’ll be in big trouble!” She slammed the phone down. Her hand was shaking and sweaty. She wiped it on her jeans.

  “What did he say?” Susan asked.

  “He says he’s going to get me.”

  “Good gripes.” Susan frowned as she twisted spaghetti onto her fork. “Did he say when?”

  Janice shook her head.

  “Maybe tonight.” She chewed, her eyes half shut. “Hey, this stuff is great.”

  Janice no longer felt like eating. “You want mine?”

  “Sure.”

  Janice pushed the plate across the table to her.

  “Wonder what he means by get.”

  “I don’t want to think about it,” Janice said.

  “Did he say where he was calling from?”

  “No.”

  Susan forked a big slice of mushroom and ate it. “There’s a phone booth at the Thrifty. That’s only two blocks. He could get back here in a couple of minutes, running.”

  “If he does…”

  The ring of the telephone startled her.

  Susan stopped chewing. She looked frightened, herself. She swallowed. “Don’t answer it,” she said. Its second ring filled the room.

  “What if it’s not him?”

  “It has to be.” It rang again.

  “Maybe it’s Mom or Dad,” Janice said. “If I don’t answer, they’ll worry.”

  “If it’s Glen and you don’t answer, he’ll think you’ve gone out. Then we’re rid of him for the night.”

  “Or maybe he’ll just keep calling.”

  They sat silently, listening to the ringing phone. Janice tried to decide whether to answer. She didn’t want to but thought she’d better. She got up from the table slowly, hoping the person would hang up. How many rings had that been? Six or seven? It rang twice more as she crossed the kitchen. She touched it. H
er fingers flinched as it rang again.

  “Hello?” she asked into the phone.

  She heard silence except for a windy, empty sound.

  “Hello?” she asked again.

  “Guess who.”

  The sound of his voice made her stomach hurt. “You’d better stop calling,” she said.

  “It’s a free country.”

  “If you call again, you’ll be in big trouble.”

  “Maybe I won’t call. Maybe I’ll just show up.” He laughed.

  “If you do, I’ll call the police.”

  “Sure you will.”

  “I’m not here alone.”

  “Surprise surprise. Do you think I care? Your fat little friend couldn’t lick her weight in postage stamps.”

  Janice hung up the phone. “He knows you’re here,” she told Susan.

  “Of course. You just told him.”

  “I mean, he knew who you were. He must have seen you come.”

  Susan stared down at her spaghetti as if she had lost her appetite.

  The sudden blaring telephone made Janice jump. She turned on it, wanting to knock it off the wall. That would solve nothing, though.

  “Let it ring,” Susan said.

  Janice nodded.

  As the phone continued to fill the kitchen with its sharp clamor, neither girl moved. Janice counted. After each ring, she hoped there would be no more. But each time, another one came. Until the thirteenth. Then it stopped.

  “I don’t think we should stay here,” Susan whispered. She looked pale.

  “Where could we go?”

  “My house?”

  “Are your parents home?”

  Susan shook her head. “Just Mike.”

  Just Mike. She imagined the three of them together. Glen wouldn’t dare try anything. And maybe Mike… How could she possibly face him after what she’d said that night in front of the library?

  I never liked you.

  You’re a creep, just like Susan says.

  I never want to see you again.

  Just thinking about it made her feel sweaty. She would die if she had to face Mike.

  “Are you sure Mike is home?” Janice asked.

  “Oh, yeah. Brita’s out of town with her family this weekend. Besides, Mike wants to see some cop movie that’s on at nine. Don’t worry, we don’t have to see him or anything. We can go right up to my room. But he’d be there and Glen wouldn’t dare try anything with Mike.”

  Janice sat down at the table. She slumped down in her chair and crossed her arms. “I don’t know, Susan. How would we get to your place?”

  “I guess we’d have to walk.”

  “What about Glen? He might be right outside by now.”

  “Yeah.” Susan glared at a chunk of sausage. She stabbed it with her fork. “I guess you’re right.”

  “At least if we stay in here, he can’t get to us.”

  “We hope,” Susan said. She put the sausage into her mouth and chewed slowly. Suddenly, she smiled. “I’ve got it! We’ll call a cab! How much money have you got?”

  “Two or three dollars,” Janice admitted.

  “I’ve got a buck fifty. That would be plenty.”

  “I suppose.” Janice wasn’t sure she liked the idea. If they went to Susan’s place, she would see Mike, for sure. So embarrassing. Not only that, it would hurt.

  “What’s wrong?”

  Janice shrugged. “Nothing.”

  “That jerk.”

  “Who?”

  “Mike, that’s who. You don’t even want to come over anymore, and it’s all his fault.”

  “That’s not true,” she said.

  “Oh, yes it is, I’m not stupid. That creep wrecks everything.”

  “It’s not him,” Janice said. “I just don’t want to spend all my money on a taxi. I mean, I’ve been saving up for the new Jim and Kristi album.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “I have!”

  “I don’t know what you see in Mike. He isn’t interested in you. He’s been with Brita Kramer every night this week. Why don’t you forget about—”

  A bell stopped her voice.

  Susan looked at the telephone.

  “It’s not the phone,” said Janice. “It’s the doorbell.”

  “Oh, no.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “What’ll we do?” Susan whispered.

  “I don’t know. I guess I’d better see who it is.”

  They both left the kitchen. In the living room, Susan said, “Don’t open the door till you know who’s there.”

  Janice went to the far side of the big picture window. She lifted the edge of the curtain, just as she had done earlier that night when Glen showed up. She saw someone on the stoop.

  “Who is it?” Susan asked.

  “I can’t tell.”

  “Is it Glen?”

  “It’s too skinny for him. Turn on the porch light, okay? There’s a switch by the door.”

  Susan turned it on, and Janice recognized the boy. She quickly stepped back from the curtain. Her stomach felt cold inside.

  The doorbell rang again.

  “Who is it?”

  “Mike,” Janice said. “I guess you’d better see what he wants.”

  As Susan pulled the door open, Janice stood by the window not knowing what to do, wanting to hide, wanting to rush into Mike’s arms, not wanting simply to stand there like a stranger. But that’s what she did.

  “Boy,” she heard Susan say, “are we glad to see you.”

  He looked across the room at Janice. “Hi,” he said.

  Janice said, “Hi.” It came out sounding choked.

  “I called a few minutes ago. Nobody answered.”

  “Oh, that was you!” Susan blurted.

  “You mean you were here?”

  “Sure.”

  “How come you didn’t answer?”

  Janice realized he had directed the question at her. “We were afraid it was Glen,” she explained.

  “What’s he up to?”

  “He came here tonight.” Now that Janice was in the conversation, she felt weird standing so far away. She stepped closer. “We sort of had a date.”

  “Oh.”

  “We didn’t really…”

  “What did you call about?” Susan interrupted.

  “Oh, that. Some kid phoned you.”

  “Me?”

  “He wanted to know something about a biology test Monday.”

  “Who was it?”

  “Freddy something.” Mike unbuttoned a pocket of his shirt, and handed a paper to her.

  Susan unfolded it. “Freddy Miller,” she read.

  “I thought I’d phone to let you know, and give you his number so you could call him back if you wanted. Then, when nobody answered…” He smiled at Janice, using only one side of his mouth. “I knew Susan was coming over here. And, you know, I got to thinking about that secret admirer of yours, and about Glen, and I got a little worried. I thought I’d better be sure everything is okay.”

  “That was awfully nice,” she said.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything’s the pits,” Susan said. “First, he comes over and tries to break in. Then he starts calling on the phone. I think he’ll come back and try something.”

  Mike pushed his hands into his jeans pockets, and frowned at the floor. “Maybe I’d better stick around, just in case.”

  They went into the den, and watched television. Mike sat far across the room from Janice. Nobody talked much, except between shows to discuss which program to watch next.

  Janice couldn’t enjoy the television, not with Mike in the room. Her mind kept dwelling on all that had happened between them, all that had led to this—sitting far apart and silent, like nervous strangers.

  Just before nine o’clock, Susan remembered about Freddy. She went to the extension on the table next to Mike.

  “Can’t you use a different phone?” Mike asked.

  “What’s wrong
with this one?”

  “We won’t be able to hear the show.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “Susan.”

  “Okay, okay, don’t get pushy!” She left the room.

  Janice waited, her heart suddenly thundering.

  “Janice?”

  She looked at Mike. He was leaning forward, elbows propped on his knees, his hands clenched tightly together.

  “About what happened,” he said. “You know, at the library. I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” Her throat felt clogged.

  “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

  “It looked like you did.” What made her say that! She could kick herself!

  “I mean, when I went upstairs with her, I wanted to tell her to leave. But then she… you know.”

  “I know. I saw.”

  “I don’t blame you, hating me.”

  “Hate you? I don’t…” Something seemed to break inside. Her eyes filled, and she sobbed. She hurried to the door, but stopped herself. She turned to him. He was all blurry. He was standing. “I don’t hate you!” she cried, and ran from the room.

  She was still in the bathroom when the telephone rang. She had finished crying, but her eyes looked red and swollen. For the past ten minutes, she had been trying to work up enough courage to face Mike again. Now, she didn’t have much choice.

  She heard footsteps.

  “Are you going to get the phone?” Susan asked.

  Janice opened the door. She hurried behind Susan to the kitchen, and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

  “Guess who, sweet thing?”

  “I told you to stop calling.”

  “I don’t take orders from nobody.”

  “If you don’t…” She heard a telephone click.

  “Mr. Rastick?” she heard.

  “Huh?” Glen sounded shocked, but no more shocked than Janice.

  It was Mike on the extension.

  “Mr. Rastick, this is Sergeant Franco, Webster Grove Police Department.”

  “Huh?”

  “Are you aware that harassment is a crime punishable by a fine of five thousand dollars or six months in jail? If you continue…”

  Glen Rastick hung up.

  Janice met Mike as he was heading for the front door.

  “Fantastic!” Susan yelled. “You were fantastic!”

  He made a polite, strained smile at Janice. “I guess I’ll go, now. Glen won’t be any more trouble. Not tonight, anyway.”