Cha. 9 Three Little Conversations
Carlos stepped into the front door of his house slowly, looking around to make sure nobody was around. But nobody wasn't around. His mom was flitting through the kitchen-he could see that through the non-glass window to his right. And Mikey was chanting something to himself in the living room-obviously doing homework at the coffee table while eating a snack.
"Hi, Carl! May I take you order, please?" Mrs. Ramone smiled and poked her head through the square opening. She was handing him a sandwich and a soda can.
Carlos accepted it, but avoided her eyes. He knew that if he looked into them-he would feel more hot-tempered than he already felt. Yet, underneath all that anger because of being mistreated behind his back for so long, way deep down at the bottom of his heart he felt a little sorry for how his parents were going to feel when he talked to them about this, and accused them of being unfair. His father wouldn't be that emotional, but Carlos would sense his feelings, too. But ... how could he keep from talking roughly to them, after what they had done to him? It didn't seem possible to go calmly about this situation. It seemed too dramatically wrong!
"Hey, bro," Mikey piped up from behind a heap of open books. "It's not what it looks like," he added with a groan, pointing at his pile of homework.
Carlos shrugged and curled up on a sofa, turning on the TV. He didn't notice Mikey watching him with a solemness in his eyes. Suddenly, as the television was droning on and Carlos' mind was as far away as it could get, Mikey wheeled over and snapped his fingers in his older brother's face.
Carlos was brought back to present time in a daze. "Hey," he complained, pushing his fingers away. "Mind your own stuff."
But Mikey wasn't finished. He leaned over and whispered, "When are you gonna talk to Mom and Dad?"
"Funny, you must think I'm smart in waiting," Carlos replied sarcastically, "or you would've spilled the beans a long time ago."
"No, I wouldn't," Mikey protested, looking surprised. He reversed his chair slightly. "You can count on me, Carlos. Stop pretending you can't to make me look bad!"
Carlos rolled his eyes, and then a sharp thing came out that he hadn't actually wanted to say-"You must think you're really cool, step-brother."
Mikey looked stunned. He and his brother very rarely had quarrels, and Carlos never talked in such a sarcastic way to him before. He backed up again, blinking his eyes.
Carlos could have slapped himself. He felt like it! But before he could apologize, their mother came into the room. "Cartoons?" She looked puzzled. "Don't you prefer a realistic comedy show, Carlos?"
"Nah, I'm good," Carlos muttered, getting up and leaving the room.
Before he was completely up the stairs, he heard Mrs. Ramone say, "Mikey, do you know what's wrong with him?"
He waited tensely.
"He'll come around, Mom," was the reply.
"Well, I hope so-it's not like him, is it?" The question was said more like a statement. Carlos ran up the last few steps and threw open his bedroom door. He wasn't planning to come down till suppertime-and by then, his suitcase would be packed!
I'm getting outa here, he thought, his heart pounding with determination as he tore open his closet. My parents don't deserve an explanation after all these years! I'm gonna make it even-and I'm going to find my real parents! When I find them, my parents can regret what they did for another fifteen years, and then I'll come back to forgive them.
Maybe.
...
Wanda stood on the arcade room, pushing buttons and pulling levers in monotony. Frustrated at losing a game, she hit the side of the pinball machine and yelled. Nobody could hear her anyway. And if someone had heard her-even someone who was suppose to care about the smallest details in her life-well, she wished it to happen! It wasn't fair!
Tears blurred her vision and she missed the ball again. Game Over! came across in digital letters. She sat down next to the pinball machine and rested her black head against it unhappily.
Why did it seem like nobody cared about her anymore? Why did she have to busy herself something awful just to ignore that empty feeling inside? Nobody felt this way-not even Ralphie! Even though his father wasn't around either. At least his dad came back on holidays-but Wanda's last summer had been one disappointment. Oh yes ... she had touched the fingers of some of her favorite pop stars and beheld the fireworks that exploded in brilliance in the navy-blue Hollywood sky. But that didn't matter now-it was all past.
If only her dad would've enjoyed the summer holidays with her and her mother and brother, there would still be a happy, warm feeling inside. Oh, how she missed her father!
"No letters, no phone calls, no nothing," she said bitterly to the wall. "No dad at all! It's like he forgot all about my existence!"
"I didn't know you felt that way," came a timid voice in the doorway. She looked up in surprise; she hadn't noticed Pheobe and Arnold enter the room.
With a sigh, Wanda dropped her gaze to the floor again. Pheobe sat down next to her and looked at her sympathetically. Arnold came nearer, but he remained on his feet.
"Look, Wanda, you should have told us," Pheobe said gently. "If I'd only known what was wrong with you-Wanda, I wouldn't have acted so ignorant to how you felt! And I'm thinking you looked on me that way sometimes."
"Well, you guys didn't wanna hang out with me a lot-" Wanda began stiffly, then stopped. Her voice relaxed sadly. "You're right, I should have told you. But I didn't think you would understand. I mean, both of you have your dads right near you, coming home to you every day! And mine is over in Asia ... and who knows when he's planning to come back!"
"You didn't spend your summer holidays with your dad and it was hard, right?" Pheobe said understandingly.
Wanda sniffled and wiped her eyes. "If he would have at least given me a phone call or a note or something that told me he was sorry about it, I wouldn't feel this way! But now it feels like he's just forgetting all about me!" she cried.
"Wanda, your dad could never forget you," Arnold said kindly. "You're the unforgettable sort."
Wanda giggled through her tears and tried to mop up quickly. "But ... but he would have let me know ... and it just-I don't know."
"Look, Wanda, I don't understand everything that's going on between you and your family," Arnold said slowly, "but remember the time you celebrated your eighth birthday? Your dad came in and gave you this puppy and you were so happy about it? I could see by his eyes that he adored you, Wanda. Now that may have been about six years ago, but that was total love and adoration I saw there."
Wanda smiled faintly. "I always think of him when I play with Mudpie."
"Of course you do," Pheobe said. "Have you ever tried to write him a letter and tell him how much you miss him? Send him a picture of you?"
"Well, no," Wanda sniffled a bit and wiped her eyes. "I guess I always thought he would do something before I would. After all, he's my dad. But ... I guess maybe I should do that."
"So you've been trying to busy yourself with other stuff so you wouldn't have to miss your dad so much?" Pheobe asked.
Wanda nodded. "Yeah ... I guess I never could get what I wanted."
Just then, Janet entered the room. "Okay, could you three continue this conversation later?" she demanded. "My little nephew wants to play now; and Wanda, do you have a problem with all your money? You can't buy your dad, you know!"
Arnold stepped up to his cousin suddenly. "Janet," he said sternly, "don't talk like that to Wanda."
Janet looked startled. Then her cheeks flushed with anger. "Who are you to tell me what to say or do?" she snapped. She stepped toward her cousin threateningly. "I'm in charge of myself! You have something to reply to that?"
Arnold looked like he wanted to retort, but his courage failed him. He stepped back uncertainly and retreated to his friends.
Janet looked at the three faces contemptuously. "I don't know what's wrong with you kids. Carlos is an adopted nobody, and you actually hang out with him! Wanda misses her dad when he's given her enough money to forget about him for years! And Arnold ... a guy that actually stood up to his favorite cousin! I can't believe you're not humiliated, all of you!" Janet shouted. Then she stormed out, scolding her little nephew for cheerfully waving good-bye, and left Arnold with his mouth hanging open.
"I ... I always thought she seemed a little rude and misunderstanding," Pheobe faltered, "but I didn't know even Janet could talk this bad."
"Arnold, you weaselly wimp!" Wanda cried, standing up next to him. "You heard her! And pray tell, why didn't you slay her afterward?"
"I ... I'm sorry, Wanda," Arnold stammered, holding up his hands innocently. "I just didn't expect a ... a full comeback like that."
"Anyhow, he stood up for you," Pheobe reminded Wanda, also getting to her feet and dusting off her pants. "That should count for something, right?"
Wanda smiled at Arnold. Then she looked at Pheobe. "You know, you've given me an idea, Pheebs," she said, a hopeful light glowing on her face. "I don't think it's necessary to call my dad and ask him why he never wrote. I think ... I've got a plan!"
"Don't tell me I'm part of it," Arnold cringed.
Wanda flashed an impish smile. "Don't you wish you weren't?"
...
Ralphie sat on the bench next to his teammates, deep in thought. The umpire yelled "Strike one!" and he looked up, only to be struck by blinding sunlight at first glance toward the batter. No wonder he's not making a hit, he thought sullenly, kicking his shoe against the dirt. Well, just wait. I'm on deck.
His thoughts hurried back to their previous interest-how nobody seemed to know what happened to Keesha's cards. He must have asked almost every kid in school-even those that didn't know Keesh-and nobody knew what he was talking about. He buried his face in his hands. How was he going to prove that he hadn't stolen them?
Look, Keesha, he thought angrily, you said I could look at your cards. If you hadn't, I wouldn't have bothered to look. And If I hadn't, you wouldn't immediately accuse me of stealing them! Who do you think I am? What's it gonna take to change your stubborn little mind?
If only he had the free permission to speak to her! Maybe they could clear it up faster that way than trying to solve the mystery behind her back! It was frustrating, and Ralphie was tempted to forget about everything. Then wait for the stuck-up girl to forget about it, and they would somehow become friends again. How long could Keesha have a grudge on him anyway? Wasn't he irresistible to be with at other points?
He tried to make himself feel better with that. Just then, he heard the bellowing, "Strike three! You're out!" and poor Jimmy Malone trudged around the backstop and sat down next to Ralphie.
"Good try, buddy," Ralphie whispered, getting to his feet and grabbing a bat. He choked up his grip on it and glared at the waiting ball in the pitcher's hand. After a few moments of dead silence and pure concentration on Ralphie's part, the ball came flying over the base-he swung heartily-and with a mighty crack he sent the ball out of the diamond.
After completing the daily home run and sliding over home plate, Ralphie came back to his teammates, wiping the sweat off his face rapturously. They were still cheering about his beautiful slide and Jimmy looked especially proud.
"Say, Ralphie," he said admiringly, "where did you learn to slide like that?"
Ralphie laughed it off proudly, sitting down next to him. "I've played baseball nearly my entire life ... and at some point you gotta learn how to make a good-looking slide, I guess."
Jimmy was known as one of the "bad guys" in school-he got into trouble frequently and all his teachers despised him. To be admired or complimented by Jimmy somehow made Ralphie feel very important. He chatted enthusiastically with his teammate as they watched the others take turns in batting.
He was still hearing Jimmy's invitation to come to his house echoing in his mind when he suddenly bumped into Keesha on the way home. She had just come out of the library with a pile of books and they all crashed to the sidewalk. When she looked up, an angry look crossed her face instantly. She looked outraged.
"I told you never to bump into me again!" she spat.
Ralphie reached down and picked up her books humbly, something he usually didn't do when someone was mad at him. "Sorry, Keesh. Look, I-"
"Sorry! Oh yeah, I sure." Keesha danced in a rage around him. "Saying 'sorry' is just a way to ease your guilty conscience, isn't it? Ralphie, stealing stuff won't make you somebody cool. Trust me. And when you're older and sneaking around buildings, cutting the strings off people's money purses ... well, I don't want anyone asking me if I ever knew you. Got it? Now get outa my way." She attempted to brush past him very coldly.
"Keesha, wait!" Ralphie insisted, and she turned around with an icey look on her face. "I need to talk to you."
"You're gonna talk?" Keesha sneered. "Whatever you say won't soften my heart toward a poor little thief, I'll have you know. Sorry is an old-fashioned, wasted word and I won't buy it-again!"
"No, listen to me!" Ralphie snapped, taking a step toward her bravely. "You may think I stole your cards once. But you act like I did it again or something!"
Keesha laughed bitterly. "I don't even have to tell you, do I? Ralphie, that's why I won't buy any kind of apology from you. You wrong me, act innocent about it, do it again, and apologize! No, you shut up and listen. Is it any wonder I don't want to see you again? Now, I'm going-and this was our last meeting. Got it?" With that, she stamped past him again and didn't look back till she turned the corner and disappeared out of his sight.
Ralphie, despite his frustration, managed a little wicked grin. He already knew now that he wasgoing to prove it to Keesha. He wasn't sure how, but he would. And how would the ferocious little slut feel after she found out he had been innocent all along? Determination made a little echo in his step as he hurried homeward to his hot dogs. Someday, he would have the right to yell at her ... and he wouldn't.
