"M-marry you?" Jenna stuttered in shock. "B-but I'm only nine!"
"We will be married when we are older," said Adil with a tone of innocence. He took Jenna's hand and caressed it fondly.
"But we may not be together that long," said Jenna, pulling her hand away. "Besides, I may love somebody else by that time. I'm sorry, Adil. I can't promise to marry you when we're older."
Disappointment was evident on the girl's face as she walked away from Adil. The Turkish boy, unwilling to accept defeat, grabbed her by the arm. "Please, Jenna!" he pleaded. "I love you. I love you more than the girl that my mother and father want me to marry."
"What?" cried Jenna in astonishment. "What do you mean?"
"My mother and father choose a girl, and they want me to marry her," Adil explained.
"That's crazy!" Brimming with indignation, Jenna tore her arm away from Adil's grasp and walked quickly away from the now forlorn-looking boy.
She ignored or avoided Adil for the remainder of the school day. The desperate look on his face inspired no compassion in her heart. "What kind of wild boy would propose to a nine-year-old girl?" she asked herself in disbelief.
----
Shortly after the end of school, Fransue accompanied Catherine on a trip to the local thrift store. Sue Ellen had never visited McDollar's before, as she had only lived in the country for a little over a year, and had done most of her shopping at the mall. As she followed her new older sister around the aisles, she saw little that interested her, except perhaps makeup. But she was Francine now, and try as she might, she couldn't picture Francine's face with makeup on it.
At the back of the store, Fransue and Catherine came upon a display of berets of various colors, including red, green, and blue. "You keep saying you want a red beret," Catherine informed her. "How much do you have saved up?"
Fransue reached into her pocket and drew out a wallet. It was a humble cloth pouch that had belonged to Francine, but had been transferred to her along with many more of Francine's things, most of them unwelcome. She opened the clip, pulled out several bills, and counted them. Five dollars and a few coins--just enough to buy a blue beret.
It would make her look French. Perhaps a change of fashion would help her to feel more comfortable in her new body.
"No," she said, shaking her head.
Catherine picked up a few teen magazines, and the two girls started toward the checkout line. Along the way, Fransue noticed several bound notebooks sitting on one of the shelves. They had red speckled covers, and on the front of each were printed the words PROPERTY OF, with a space underneath for the owner to write his or her name. They were much plainer than the journal that had been ruined in the school fire, let alone the personally embossed one that Muffy had given her as a gift. But the price--$3.99--was within her reach.
She impulsively reached out and picked up one of the notebooks. Moments later, she was the ambivalent owner of a new journal. On the way back to the Frensky apartment, she deliberated about what she would write in it. Should she tell the truth about what happened to her? Would her children and grandchildren believe it? How would she keep it private, now that she shared a room?
"If I know you," Catherine taunted her, "you'll only write in it once a month." How wrong she was.
After enjoying a humble dinner of fried chicken and kosher beans with the Frenskys, Fransue retired to her bedroom, took a seat on the bed, and placed the journal on her lap. Catherine was talking on the phone with Mitch Branca, so she would have plenty of time to herself.
Nervously gripping a ball-point pen in her right hand (the Frenskys found it remarkable that she had suddenly become right-handed), Fransue compelled herself to write her name--her new name--in the space provided on the cover: FRANCINE ALICE FRENSKY. Every letter she inked felt as if she was slicing off a section of her heart. She had written Francine's name on homework several times, but never on something so personal as a journal.
She opened the cover and began to write, slowly and uncertainly at first.
"Dear Diary: The last time I started a new diary, it was because the old one was burned in a fire. Now I'm starting another one, and something much worse has happened."
A small drop of water fell onto the page below the words she had penned. She rubbed it off with her sleeve, then wiped her eyes with her fingers. What she was doing felt like an act of treason against her best friend.
She moved the journal further down her lap, so that the tears rolling down her face would land on her pants instead. Sadness overwhelmed her, and she felt an urge to choke up, but she knew she had to keep writing, even if she was doomed to experience the same painful emotions every time she re-read this page.
----
The oval-shaped slice of honey-baked ham lay on the plate in front of Suefran, tempting her with its luscious aroma. Francine had eaten a hot dog from a concession stand once, only to endure a stern lecture from her father. She had never knowingly ingested pig products since then. It was just something Jewish people didn't do. But she wasn't Jewish anymore...was she?
"It's very good, Daisy," said Mr. Armstrong, who was greedily devouring his own slice, like a pig cannibalizing a fallen comrade.
Suefran imagined that the piece of ham before her resembled a road sign. A one-way sign. If she took a bite, she could never go home again.
Slowly, nervously, she took up knife and fork, cut off a small segment, and lifted it into her mouth. The taste was unusual, but not unpleasant. She began to chew, and found it rather enjoyable. Forgetting herself entirely, she swallowed, then carved off another chunk. She hoped that Father Abraham and great-grandpa Frensky would understand her special situation.
After finishing her slice of ham, she requested another slice, which Mrs. Armstrong gladly provided. Suefran ate hastily and eagerly, as if hoping that the strange meat would drive away her memories of her previous life as Francine, resulting in oblivious contentment.
"I haven't seen you so hungry since...well, for a long time," Mrs. Armstrong remarked.
Having sated herself with ham, Suefran excused herself and went into the bedroom. Dinner was out of the way, and the moment she had long awaited was upon her. She went to the bookshelf and picked up Sue Ellen's diary.
PROPERTY OF SUE ELLEN, warned the cover. PRIVATE. DO NOT OPEN. FAVOR NO ABRIR. But she was Sue Ellen now...she had the right...
This was even more difficult than the ham. Her hands felt dirty and unworthy as she carried the large 300-page notebook across the room and onto the bed.
Once she was comfortably seated with her back against a pillow, she untied and removed her bandanna, allowing her curls to fall wantonly around her shoulders.
She grasped edge of the front cover and slowly turned it. There was writing on the first page. She felt the excitement drain from her heart. She suddenly felt not as if she was on the brink of a wonderful and tantalizing discovery, but more like she was studying for an arduous entrance exam. The entrance into a life that she had not lived, but was doomed to complete...
Summoning determination, she began to read silently.
"Dear Diary: I'm starting a new diary after the old one was burned. I don't remember very much of what was in the old diary. I'll just write things down as I remember them. Muffy gave me this new journal. I think she just wants me to feel like she owns me. Sometimes I want to slap that stupid snob."
Suefran felt offended. Muffy was a snob, but she wasn't stupid.
"May 25. Spent the day in downtown Crown City with Muffy and Carla. We went to the international market, the thrift store, and the poetry slam at Renee's. Muffy did nothing but whine. Then she saw the subway, and she loved it. She didn't whine anymore after that, but she sang that silly song over and over. I wish she had a mute button."
"May 29. Woke up, took a bath, ate breakfast, went to school. Mr. Ratburn was sick, so his sister substituted again. When I got home I had to write in my journal right way, to make sure I hadn't forgotten how to write. I haven't. What a relief."
"June 10. Mom and Dad and I got on the plane to fly to India. It was a really long flight. We stopped in Portland, and then we flew over the ocean. I had to use the barf bag twice."
"June 13. We drove into the countryside. I saw a herd of Indian elephants, and Mom took a picture of them." A copy of the picture was taped to the page in the journal.
"July 4. Woke up, ate breakfast. Shezadi made a special rice pudding with raisins and nuts because she knew it was a special day for Americans. Dad was at work the whole day. All the Americans at the embassy got together for a party. There was a cake frosted like the American flag."
"July 13. Woke up, ate breakfast. Shezadi taught me a new Hindi word, but Dad told me never to say it."
Suefran's eyelids began to droop. Even Sue Ellen's description of her stay in India was mostly dull and repetitive, as if spending the summer in an exotic locale was routine for her. And, other than her sentiments toward Muffy, she hadn't gained much new insight into the girl's character.
Then Sue Ellen began to recount her return to America, and things became more interesting...
"August 8. We arrived in Elwood City. Went back to the house, unpacked our things. Some of my friends came to visit. Francine was there, and Muffy, and Fern, and Buster, and the Brain, and Arthur. Francine fell off a horse and broke her arm. I was so happy to see Arthur. I thought about Arthur all the time when I was in India. That never happened to me before. I think I'm in love with Arthur."
There followed several paragraphs describing in great detail Sue Ellen's feelings toward Arthur. Francine's broken arm was not mentioned again.
The romantic ramblings went on and on, and Suefran was getting sleepy. She inserted a bookmark, closed the journal, and laid it on the night stand. It would still be there in the morning, and she would still be Sue Ellen.
(To be continued...)
"We will be married when we are older," said Adil with a tone of innocence. He took Jenna's hand and caressed it fondly.
"But we may not be together that long," said Jenna, pulling her hand away. "Besides, I may love somebody else by that time. I'm sorry, Adil. I can't promise to marry you when we're older."
Disappointment was evident on the girl's face as she walked away from Adil. The Turkish boy, unwilling to accept defeat, grabbed her by the arm. "Please, Jenna!" he pleaded. "I love you. I love you more than the girl that my mother and father want me to marry."
"What?" cried Jenna in astonishment. "What do you mean?"
"My mother and father choose a girl, and they want me to marry her," Adil explained.
"That's crazy!" Brimming with indignation, Jenna tore her arm away from Adil's grasp and walked quickly away from the now forlorn-looking boy.
She ignored or avoided Adil for the remainder of the school day. The desperate look on his face inspired no compassion in her heart. "What kind of wild boy would propose to a nine-year-old girl?" she asked herself in disbelief.
----
Shortly after the end of school, Fransue accompanied Catherine on a trip to the local thrift store. Sue Ellen had never visited McDollar's before, as she had only lived in the country for a little over a year, and had done most of her shopping at the mall. As she followed her new older sister around the aisles, she saw little that interested her, except perhaps makeup. But she was Francine now, and try as she might, she couldn't picture Francine's face with makeup on it.
At the back of the store, Fransue and Catherine came upon a display of berets of various colors, including red, green, and blue. "You keep saying you want a red beret," Catherine informed her. "How much do you have saved up?"
Fransue reached into her pocket and drew out a wallet. It was a humble cloth pouch that had belonged to Francine, but had been transferred to her along with many more of Francine's things, most of them unwelcome. She opened the clip, pulled out several bills, and counted them. Five dollars and a few coins--just enough to buy a blue beret.
It would make her look French. Perhaps a change of fashion would help her to feel more comfortable in her new body.
"No," she said, shaking her head.
Catherine picked up a few teen magazines, and the two girls started toward the checkout line. Along the way, Fransue noticed several bound notebooks sitting on one of the shelves. They had red speckled covers, and on the front of each were printed the words PROPERTY OF, with a space underneath for the owner to write his or her name. They were much plainer than the journal that had been ruined in the school fire, let alone the personally embossed one that Muffy had given her as a gift. But the price--$3.99--was within her reach.
She impulsively reached out and picked up one of the notebooks. Moments later, she was the ambivalent owner of a new journal. On the way back to the Frensky apartment, she deliberated about what she would write in it. Should she tell the truth about what happened to her? Would her children and grandchildren believe it? How would she keep it private, now that she shared a room?
"If I know you," Catherine taunted her, "you'll only write in it once a month." How wrong she was.
After enjoying a humble dinner of fried chicken and kosher beans with the Frenskys, Fransue retired to her bedroom, took a seat on the bed, and placed the journal on her lap. Catherine was talking on the phone with Mitch Branca, so she would have plenty of time to herself.
Nervously gripping a ball-point pen in her right hand (the Frenskys found it remarkable that she had suddenly become right-handed), Fransue compelled herself to write her name--her new name--in the space provided on the cover: FRANCINE ALICE FRENSKY. Every letter she inked felt as if she was slicing off a section of her heart. She had written Francine's name on homework several times, but never on something so personal as a journal.
She opened the cover and began to write, slowly and uncertainly at first.
"Dear Diary: The last time I started a new diary, it was because the old one was burned in a fire. Now I'm starting another one, and something much worse has happened."
A small drop of water fell onto the page below the words she had penned. She rubbed it off with her sleeve, then wiped her eyes with her fingers. What she was doing felt like an act of treason against her best friend.
She moved the journal further down her lap, so that the tears rolling down her face would land on her pants instead. Sadness overwhelmed her, and she felt an urge to choke up, but she knew she had to keep writing, even if she was doomed to experience the same painful emotions every time she re-read this page.
----
The oval-shaped slice of honey-baked ham lay on the plate in front of Suefran, tempting her with its luscious aroma. Francine had eaten a hot dog from a concession stand once, only to endure a stern lecture from her father. She had never knowingly ingested pig products since then. It was just something Jewish people didn't do. But she wasn't Jewish anymore...was she?
"It's very good, Daisy," said Mr. Armstrong, who was greedily devouring his own slice, like a pig cannibalizing a fallen comrade.
Suefran imagined that the piece of ham before her resembled a road sign. A one-way sign. If she took a bite, she could never go home again.
Slowly, nervously, she took up knife and fork, cut off a small segment, and lifted it into her mouth. The taste was unusual, but not unpleasant. She began to chew, and found it rather enjoyable. Forgetting herself entirely, she swallowed, then carved off another chunk. She hoped that Father Abraham and great-grandpa Frensky would understand her special situation.
After finishing her slice of ham, she requested another slice, which Mrs. Armstrong gladly provided. Suefran ate hastily and eagerly, as if hoping that the strange meat would drive away her memories of her previous life as Francine, resulting in oblivious contentment.
"I haven't seen you so hungry since...well, for a long time," Mrs. Armstrong remarked.
Having sated herself with ham, Suefran excused herself and went into the bedroom. Dinner was out of the way, and the moment she had long awaited was upon her. She went to the bookshelf and picked up Sue Ellen's diary.
PROPERTY OF SUE ELLEN, warned the cover. PRIVATE. DO NOT OPEN. FAVOR NO ABRIR. But she was Sue Ellen now...she had the right...
This was even more difficult than the ham. Her hands felt dirty and unworthy as she carried the large 300-page notebook across the room and onto the bed.
Once she was comfortably seated with her back against a pillow, she untied and removed her bandanna, allowing her curls to fall wantonly around her shoulders.
She grasped edge of the front cover and slowly turned it. There was writing on the first page. She felt the excitement drain from her heart. She suddenly felt not as if she was on the brink of a wonderful and tantalizing discovery, but more like she was studying for an arduous entrance exam. The entrance into a life that she had not lived, but was doomed to complete...
Summoning determination, she began to read silently.
"Dear Diary: I'm starting a new diary after the old one was burned. I don't remember very much of what was in the old diary. I'll just write things down as I remember them. Muffy gave me this new journal. I think she just wants me to feel like she owns me. Sometimes I want to slap that stupid snob."
Suefran felt offended. Muffy was a snob, but she wasn't stupid.
"May 25. Spent the day in downtown Crown City with Muffy and Carla. We went to the international market, the thrift store, and the poetry slam at Renee's. Muffy did nothing but whine. Then she saw the subway, and she loved it. She didn't whine anymore after that, but she sang that silly song over and over. I wish she had a mute button."
"May 29. Woke up, took a bath, ate breakfast, went to school. Mr. Ratburn was sick, so his sister substituted again. When I got home I had to write in my journal right way, to make sure I hadn't forgotten how to write. I haven't. What a relief."
"June 10. Mom and Dad and I got on the plane to fly to India. It was a really long flight. We stopped in Portland, and then we flew over the ocean. I had to use the barf bag twice."
"June 13. We drove into the countryside. I saw a herd of Indian elephants, and Mom took a picture of them." A copy of the picture was taped to the page in the journal.
"July 4. Woke up, ate breakfast. Shezadi made a special rice pudding with raisins and nuts because she knew it was a special day for Americans. Dad was at work the whole day. All the Americans at the embassy got together for a party. There was a cake frosted like the American flag."
"July 13. Woke up, ate breakfast. Shezadi taught me a new Hindi word, but Dad told me never to say it."
Suefran's eyelids began to droop. Even Sue Ellen's description of her stay in India was mostly dull and repetitive, as if spending the summer in an exotic locale was routine for her. And, other than her sentiments toward Muffy, she hadn't gained much new insight into the girl's character.
Then Sue Ellen began to recount her return to America, and things became more interesting...
"August 8. We arrived in Elwood City. Went back to the house, unpacked our things. Some of my friends came to visit. Francine was there, and Muffy, and Fern, and Buster, and the Brain, and Arthur. Francine fell off a horse and broke her arm. I was so happy to see Arthur. I thought about Arthur all the time when I was in India. That never happened to me before. I think I'm in love with Arthur."
There followed several paragraphs describing in great detail Sue Ellen's feelings toward Arthur. Francine's broken arm was not mentioned again.
The romantic ramblings went on and on, and Suefran was getting sleepy. She inserted a bookmark, closed the journal, and laid it on the night stand. It would still be there in the morning, and she would still be Sue Ellen.
(To be continued...)
