To the bemusement of the Armstrongs, Suefran spent most of her Thursday morning
reading from Sue Ellen's diary. She read while eating, she read while getting
dressed; the only place where she didn't read was in the bathtub. As she
walked down the street toward the elementary school, she frequently had to
shake off the snowflakes that were clinging to the pages.
"November 7th. I was so sad because Carla broke up with Nigel. I went to Arthur's house to get my saxophone and be cheered up. He was so kind and sweet. He let me cry on his shoulder. Then the most wonderful thing happened. I kissed him! And then he kissed me back! And then we kissed some more! I'm not sad anymore, because Arthur loves me!" The borders of the page were lined with hearts, flowers, and repeated scrawlings of "I love Arthur" and "Arthur loves me".
When the bell rang at the end of first period, Suefran put away her science book and eagerly pulled the diary from her bag. Whipping it open, she resumed her reading of Sue Ellen's ecstatic musings about the prospect of Arthur going to Africa with her. After Mr. Wald and the rest of the kids had left the room, she sensed that someone was peering over her shoulder. She turned her head, and Francine was standing there, grinning. Suefran was actually happy this to see the face that had once belonged to her.
"You're getting close to the part about the accident," Fransue informed her. "I hope it doesn't gross you out too much."
"I've got your stomach," Suefran pointed out.
Fransue held out the red-speckled notebook that she had purchased to record her new diary. "What do you think?" she asked.
"Oh, it's nice." Suefran put out a hand to touch the book, but Fransue yanked it away.
The two girls met again in the center court during morning recess. Suefran was poring over the diary when Fransue casually strolled past, whistling.
"Hey, uh, Francine," Suefran greeted her. "I wanna talk to you."
Fransue took a seat next to her. Suefran looked at her seriously and asked, "You really did love Arthur, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did," Fransue replied solemnly. "As much as a nine-year-old girl could love a nine-year-old boy. And for a while he loved me too. But then he got cold feet. And then I went to Africa, and the accident happened..."
"Do you still love him?"
Fransue grimaced with embarrassment. Then she appeared to be deep in thought for several seconds, as if she was searching her feelings.
"Yes," she answered sadly. "But I'm like his sister now. He's known Francine forever."
Suefran (heretofore called Sue Ellen) took Fransue (heretofore called Francine) by the shoulder. "If you love him, tell him," she urged.
Francine shook her head. "I can't. He doesn't look at me that way."
As Sue Ellen opened her mouth to offer more words of encouragement, she saw Jenna walking by, all alone. "Hey, Jenna, why aren't you with Adil?" she asked the girl.
Jenna scowled, but not at Sue Ellen. "That boy's a nutcase," she complained. "He says his mom and dad picked a girl for him to marry, but he'd rather marry me."
"You're right," Sue Ellen agreed. "He is a nutcase."
"No, he isn't," Francine chimed in. "If I'm not mistaken, he's from the southeastern part of Turkey, where arranged marriages are very common."
"What kind of marriages?" asked Jenna.
"Arranged," Francine replied. "That means your parents choose who you marry."
"No way!" said the visibly disgusted Jenna. "I'd never let my parents tell me who to marry."
"Of course not," Francine went on. "But in some parts of the world, that's the custom. They probably look at us and say it's stupid for us to have to look for someone to marry when we can just let our parents choose. I don't think Adil understands that we do things differently here in America."
Jenna looked toward Sue Ellen, as if expecting a second opinion. "Uh...what she said," was Sue Ellen's response.
"Arranged marriages, huh?" said Jenna thoughtfully. "That's really weird, but I guess it's what he's used to." She shrugged and walked away.
There were no further interruptions, so Sue Ellen attempted once again to provoke Francine to express her feelings to Arthur. "I think you two would make a great couple. You're his valentine, right? Give him a card. Give him flowers. I never did that."
"I could try," said Francine meekly.
----
Lunch hour arrived, and Sue Ellen was enjoying a meal of vermicelli noodles with mystery meat (she gave no thought as to whether it was kosher) while perusing the diary written by the former inhabitant of her body. She had arrived at the page on which the description of the plane crash began.
"We were over the Okavango Delta. There was nothing but hills and marshes. One of the engines went out, and we had to land, but there wasn't a good place. The plane got lower and lower, and then there was a loud noise, and things were flying all over the place, and then the noise stopped, and I was on the floor, and my arm was hurting, and blood was coming out of it like a squirtgun, and I fainted."
It wasn't the best thing to read during lunch, and Sue Ellen was hard pressed to keep her food down while reading the graphic details of what happened after the former Sue Ellen regained consciousness.
As she took the last bite of vermicelli, she happened upon a segment that piqued her interest: "My dad thought somebody was trying to hurt us. He thought somebody sabotaged the plane so it would crash. I don't know if it's true or not. I know some people want to hurt my dad, but I'm not allowed to write about that."
Elsewhere in the cafeteria, Adil and Jenna were seated opposite each other, as Jenna explained the American customs of courtship and marriage to Adil.
"The big cities in Turkey are very much like the West," said Adil. "But my mother and father believe in the old ways. They were engaged when they were eight years old."
"That's not how we do it in America," Jenna told him.
"I am sorry, Jenna," said Adil humbly. "I did not understand when Arthur told me what is a valentine. I thought that my valentine is the girl I will marry."
Jenna giggled. "No, silly. I'm only your valentine until Valentine's Day is over."
Adil lowered his eyes. "I do not understand American customs. I am a very strange person here."
"You're not strange," said Jenna encouragingly. "You just have an original point of view."
Meanwhile, Francine was strolling out of the cafeteria when Sue Ellen caught up with her, clutching the diary. Making sure nobody was within earshot, she asked, "Who wants to hurt your dad?"
Francine froze to the spot. Her eyes widened. "I-I can't talk about that."
"Come on, Sue...Francine," Sue Ellen pressured her. "He's my dad now. If someone has it in for him, I want to know."
Francine took a deep, slow breath, as if hoping that Sue Ellen would be distracted by something else while she filled her lungs.
"He's a diplomat," said Sue Ellen, waving her arms emphatically. "Who'd want to hurt a diplomat? Diplomats make peace."
"Exactly," Francine replied. "Think about it. Who'd want to hurt a peacemaker?" She grinned as if relieved to have deflected the question.
"A...a warmaker," Sue Ellen answered.
Francine strode away without another word. Sue Ellen watched her quizzically as she disappeared around a corner. A feeling in her gut told her that something important was being kept from her. Or was it just the vermicelli?
(To be continued...)
"November 7th. I was so sad because Carla broke up with Nigel. I went to Arthur's house to get my saxophone and be cheered up. He was so kind and sweet. He let me cry on his shoulder. Then the most wonderful thing happened. I kissed him! And then he kissed me back! And then we kissed some more! I'm not sad anymore, because Arthur loves me!" The borders of the page were lined with hearts, flowers, and repeated scrawlings of "I love Arthur" and "Arthur loves me".
When the bell rang at the end of first period, Suefran put away her science book and eagerly pulled the diary from her bag. Whipping it open, she resumed her reading of Sue Ellen's ecstatic musings about the prospect of Arthur going to Africa with her. After Mr. Wald and the rest of the kids had left the room, she sensed that someone was peering over her shoulder. She turned her head, and Francine was standing there, grinning. Suefran was actually happy this to see the face that had once belonged to her.
"You're getting close to the part about the accident," Fransue informed her. "I hope it doesn't gross you out too much."
"I've got your stomach," Suefran pointed out.
Fransue held out the red-speckled notebook that she had purchased to record her new diary. "What do you think?" she asked.
"Oh, it's nice." Suefran put out a hand to touch the book, but Fransue yanked it away.
The two girls met again in the center court during morning recess. Suefran was poring over the diary when Fransue casually strolled past, whistling.
"Hey, uh, Francine," Suefran greeted her. "I wanna talk to you."
Fransue took a seat next to her. Suefran looked at her seriously and asked, "You really did love Arthur, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did," Fransue replied solemnly. "As much as a nine-year-old girl could love a nine-year-old boy. And for a while he loved me too. But then he got cold feet. And then I went to Africa, and the accident happened..."
"Do you still love him?"
Fransue grimaced with embarrassment. Then she appeared to be deep in thought for several seconds, as if she was searching her feelings.
"Yes," she answered sadly. "But I'm like his sister now. He's known Francine forever."
Suefran (heretofore called Sue Ellen) took Fransue (heretofore called Francine) by the shoulder. "If you love him, tell him," she urged.
Francine shook her head. "I can't. He doesn't look at me that way."
As Sue Ellen opened her mouth to offer more words of encouragement, she saw Jenna walking by, all alone. "Hey, Jenna, why aren't you with Adil?" she asked the girl.
Jenna scowled, but not at Sue Ellen. "That boy's a nutcase," she complained. "He says his mom and dad picked a girl for him to marry, but he'd rather marry me."
"You're right," Sue Ellen agreed. "He is a nutcase."
"No, he isn't," Francine chimed in. "If I'm not mistaken, he's from the southeastern part of Turkey, where arranged marriages are very common."
"What kind of marriages?" asked Jenna.
"Arranged," Francine replied. "That means your parents choose who you marry."
"No way!" said the visibly disgusted Jenna. "I'd never let my parents tell me who to marry."
"Of course not," Francine went on. "But in some parts of the world, that's the custom. They probably look at us and say it's stupid for us to have to look for someone to marry when we can just let our parents choose. I don't think Adil understands that we do things differently here in America."
Jenna looked toward Sue Ellen, as if expecting a second opinion. "Uh...what she said," was Sue Ellen's response.
"Arranged marriages, huh?" said Jenna thoughtfully. "That's really weird, but I guess it's what he's used to." She shrugged and walked away.
There were no further interruptions, so Sue Ellen attempted once again to provoke Francine to express her feelings to Arthur. "I think you two would make a great couple. You're his valentine, right? Give him a card. Give him flowers. I never did that."
"I could try," said Francine meekly.
----
Lunch hour arrived, and Sue Ellen was enjoying a meal of vermicelli noodles with mystery meat (she gave no thought as to whether it was kosher) while perusing the diary written by the former inhabitant of her body. She had arrived at the page on which the description of the plane crash began.
"We were over the Okavango Delta. There was nothing but hills and marshes. One of the engines went out, and we had to land, but there wasn't a good place. The plane got lower and lower, and then there was a loud noise, and things were flying all over the place, and then the noise stopped, and I was on the floor, and my arm was hurting, and blood was coming out of it like a squirtgun, and I fainted."
It wasn't the best thing to read during lunch, and Sue Ellen was hard pressed to keep her food down while reading the graphic details of what happened after the former Sue Ellen regained consciousness.
As she took the last bite of vermicelli, she happened upon a segment that piqued her interest: "My dad thought somebody was trying to hurt us. He thought somebody sabotaged the plane so it would crash. I don't know if it's true or not. I know some people want to hurt my dad, but I'm not allowed to write about that."
Elsewhere in the cafeteria, Adil and Jenna were seated opposite each other, as Jenna explained the American customs of courtship and marriage to Adil.
"The big cities in Turkey are very much like the West," said Adil. "But my mother and father believe in the old ways. They were engaged when they were eight years old."
"That's not how we do it in America," Jenna told him.
"I am sorry, Jenna," said Adil humbly. "I did not understand when Arthur told me what is a valentine. I thought that my valentine is the girl I will marry."
Jenna giggled. "No, silly. I'm only your valentine until Valentine's Day is over."
Adil lowered his eyes. "I do not understand American customs. I am a very strange person here."
"You're not strange," said Jenna encouragingly. "You just have an original point of view."
Meanwhile, Francine was strolling out of the cafeteria when Sue Ellen caught up with her, clutching the diary. Making sure nobody was within earshot, she asked, "Who wants to hurt your dad?"
Francine froze to the spot. Her eyes widened. "I-I can't talk about that."
"Come on, Sue...Francine," Sue Ellen pressured her. "He's my dad now. If someone has it in for him, I want to know."
Francine took a deep, slow breath, as if hoping that Sue Ellen would be distracted by something else while she filled her lungs.
"He's a diplomat," said Sue Ellen, waving her arms emphatically. "Who'd want to hurt a diplomat? Diplomats make peace."
"Exactly," Francine replied. "Think about it. Who'd want to hurt a peacemaker?" She grinned as if relieved to have deflected the question.
"A...a warmaker," Sue Ellen answered.
Francine strode away without another word. Sue Ellen watched her quizzically as she disappeared around a corner. A feeling in her gut told her that something important was being kept from her. Or was it just the vermicelli?
(To be continued...)
