Mel was trying to follow what Justin was saying. “What do you mean, they have fans, not friends, Justin?” she asked after a moment.
“I mean, they’re…Do you remember right after I signed your napkin today, another girl wanted my autograph?”
“Yes.”
“Well, she wanted it signed from Zack,” said Justin. “She liked my character, not me. And I’m not my character. I play Zack Brody for several hours each day when we’re shooting ‘It’s No Joke.’ But I am Justin Hart. In fact, I’m Justin Herbert Hart.”
“Justin Herbert Hart?” Mel couldn’t help giggling. Then she stopped abruptly. “Okay,” she said, “I understand how important a real friend was—is—to you—”
“And you were a real friend,” said Justin. “I have to admit that at first I thought you might have been one of the few people who recognized me from the commercials I’d done, especially when I found you spying on our house and everything, but I realized pretty fast that that wasn’t true at all. You didn’t know my name, and you were more interested in Robert Louis Stevenson than in who my father is.”
“But Justin,” said Mel, “now for the big question. Why didn’t you tell me about the TV show and the movies? When I found out about them—and obviously you knew that would happen—I felt like a real jerk. It was so humiliating. Dee was going around telling everyone that you and I had dated over the summer, and meanwhile I didn’t know a thing about your career. It made me look awfully silly, or it would have if I’d admitted that I didn’t know anything.”
“I didn’t tell you,” said Justin slowly, “because I thought it would change our friendship. I liked…I loved you so much that I just couldn’t bear the thought of our friendship having anything to do with what I am instead of who I am.”
Justin paused and took a deep breath. “Plus…” he went on, sounding hideously guilty.
“Why do I have the feeling I’m not going to like whatever it is you’re going to say?”
“I don’t know,” answered Justin, “but you’re right, you’re not. Plus…I didn’t want to hurt you.”
“What?”
“I knew I was going to be spending a lot of time with Tania Delaney and other girls. I’d work with them, or I’d be asked to take them places—to benefits and award ceremonies and stuff—and I kind of wanted to play the field. You know, see who else is out there. But I didn’t want us to worry about that while we were together over the summer. So I figured if you didn’t know about my career, then…”
“Is there anything to worry about?” asked Mel, remembering the rumors of a relationship between Justin and Tania that she’d read about in the magazines.
“No…not now.”
“So you have gone out with her?”
“Yes. And with several other girls, too. With Meredith Fitzhugh—she guest-starred on the show once—and with—”
“Justin, please. I do not want a list of the girls you dated.”
“Sorry.”
“Why didn’t you just tell me this is what you wanted to do?” Mel asked crossly. She was hurt, and having a hard time covering it up.
“I tried to,” Justin replied gently. “I meant it when I said we should be free—both of us—to date other people.”
Mel sighed. It was true. He had tried to tell her. And in fact she had gone out with P.J. But for Mel, P.J. was just someone to hang around with since she didn’t have Justin, while it sounded as if Justin had shoved her aside because he really wanted to date Tania and Meredith and who knows who else.
“So,” said Mel after a moment, “you never intended to call me?”
“I don’t know,” replied Justin. “Not for a long time, I guess.”
“And all that stuff about your parents moving—was that a lie?”
“No, it was all true. Mom’s already moved, and Dad’s found a new apartment. We move in three weeks.”
“Well, anyway,” Mel went on, “why did you give me your phone number today?”
“Because as soon as I saw you, I knew how stupid I’d been. All I had to do was look at you, and I realized how much you mean to me. I knew you didn’t care a bit about Zack Brody or the show. You’d come to Lincoln Center just to see me, right?”
“Right…Well, I had a few questions for you, too, of course.”
“Yeah. I figured you might be just a little bit mad, so I decided to give you the choice of whether to call me. But Mel, I haven’t told you the most important thing yet.”
“What’s that?” asked Mel, already dreading it.
“That I didn’t like any of the girls I went out with.”
“Not one?”
“Well, a couple of them were okay, but none of them was you. I mean, I didn’t feel the same way about them that I do about you.”
“Really?”
“Really. Believe me, where Tania’s concerned, what you see is what you get. She’s false eyelashes and expensive clothes, and guess what’s underneath?”
“What?” asked Mel.
“Nothing.”
“So you really don’t like her? Or the others? I keep looking at the pictures of Tania and feeling so plain and ordinary.”
“Mel,” Justin said seriously, “anyone who tails me on the beach and lies in the sand dunes spying on me with binoculars because I’m Justin Hart, not Zack Brody, is not ordinary, and is much more my type—and means much more to me—than a million Tanias or Merediths. And now I have a question for you…Would you come into the city some Saturday and spend the day with me?”
“Oh, Justin, you know I would. Just name the day,” replied Melanie.
So he did.
Chapter Ten
BECAUSE OF JUSTIN’S HECTIC schedule, Mel couldn’t see him for three weeks. But that was all right—sort of. Mel hated waiting, but she knew she wouldn’t have gotten permission to go into the city again any sooner.
Meanwhile, she had things to do. There were school and school activities and Diana.
And there was P.J.
The evening after Mel spoke to Justin, she called P.J. at home.
“Hi,” she said nervously when he answered the phone.
“Hi, Mel!” P.J. replied eagerly.
“Listen, I’ve been thinking about what you asked me, and I’m ready to give you an answer. But you’re not going to like it.”
“Oh…”
“P.J., I’m really flattered that you wanted to be a couple. It means a lot to me.”
“But you’re saying no.”
“That’s right. But only because I simply don’t think I’m ready to go out with just one guy. I’m too young for that. We don’t want to end up like some old married couple, do we?”
P.J. laughed. “I guess not.”
“But I hope we can still be friends and still go out sometimes,” Mel went on. “I heard a rumor that Rocky Thirty-six is coming to town.”
P.J. began to laugh.
By the time Mel hung up the phone, she’d made a movie date (a “just-friends” movie date) with P.J., and had told him she was going to bring Diana along. Diana had grown another half an inch and was feeling glamorous. Mel had vague plans for fixing Diana up with P.J.
After what seemed like a year of waiting, the day arrived when Mel was to meet Justin in New York. She had told her parents what she was up to. Dee, Timmy, Diana, and anyone else who cared, thought Mel was visiting Lacey again. Mel couldn’t lie to her parents, though, and she knew they would keep her secret.
“Do you understand why I don’t want anyone to know about Justin?” Mel had asked Mrs. Braderman in private.
“I think so, sweetheart. And I want you to know how proud your father and I are. Most people would want the whole world to know they were dating someone famous. You must care about Justin very much to take your relationship so seriously.”
“I do, Mom,” Mel replied. “We care about each other.” She gave her mother a hug.
The next morning, Mel took the train into New York City. She was as nervous as a ca
t—and not over little things like finding the information booth at Grand Central. She simply had no idea what the day would hold and how she would feel being with Justin again.
When the train stopped at the terminal, Mel got off and followed the crowd into the big room with the painted ceiling. “Wait for me at the information booth,” Justin had told her. “But look carefully or you’ll never recognize me.
“Why? Do you plan to be in disguise?”
“Yes,” he had replied.
“Oh…Maybe we ought to work out a code. Like you say, ‘The blue poodle barks at midnight,’ so I’ll know it’s you.”
Justin laughed. “You’ll know it’s me. I’ll be wearing sunglasses and a really ugly hat.”
Sure enough, Justin was wearing mirrored glasses (Mel hated not seeing his eyes) and an incredibly ugly hat. “Do you have to wear those things all day?” she asked him.
“I do unless you want sixty or seventy other people along with us.”
“Wear them,” Mel said immediately.
Justin took both of her hands in his, and for a moment, they stood, linked, simply enjoying being together, joined together. Then Justin leaned over and kissed Mel softly on the cheek.
“I’ve missed you so much,” Mel told him as he drew away.
“I’ve missed you, too. I don’t know how I could have wanted us to be apart.”
Mel felt tears spring to her eyes.
Around her, people were hurrying and jostling, calling to one another, cursing the train schedule, and asking harried questions at the information booth. But she and Justin noticed none of it.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” said Justin, grabbing her arm.
Mel, hastily wiping her eyes, ran through the crowd with him and outside. Justin hailed the first cab he saw. “Fifth Avenue and Central Park South, please,” he told the cabbie.
“Where are we going?” asked Mel.
“You’ll see,” Justin answered. “It’s outdoors where I won’t be recognized—I hope. If we went to a restaurant or a movie theater, I’d have to take off my glasses, and then it would all be over in a second.”
“You’re kidding,” said Mel. “It’s that bad already?”
“It’s pretty bad,” he answered, glancing at the cabbie, who was glancing at him in the rear-view mirror. Then Justin shook his head at Mel, and they stopped talking.
Several minutes later, the taxi drew to a halt at a busy intersection. Justin shoved some bills through the little tray in the window that separated the driver from his passengers, and he and Mel scrambled out.
Justin took Mel’s hand again, and they dashed across Fifth Avenue, passed by a strange piece of modern sculpture, and turned between some hedges. “Do you know where we are now?” asked Justin.
“Central Park?” Mel guessed.
“Right. And we’re going to spend the whole day here. You won’t believe the things we can do. There’re the carousel and the boat pond and the zoo and places to eat.”
“Oh, fun!” exclaimed Mel. “What do you want to do first?”
“Well, the zoo’s right here. Let’s walk around the zoo first.”
“So Mel and Justin, hand in hand, looked at the zebras and tigers and llamas and some funny animals called capybaras. They saw a green parrot named Lorita who could say her own name, and they paid a dime each to wander through the children’s petting zoo. They walked under the Delacorte Clock, which played a song when it struck the hour and sent its band of statue animals revolving merrily around the top.
Then they walked through the park. They saw a mime and two musicians, a troupe of Russian folk dancers, and a young man performing feats on his fancy roller skates.
When they were hungry, they bought hot dogs and sodas from a vendor and ate them on a bench near a playground. Afterward, they strolled to the sailboat pond, where Justin bought them ice-cream cones. They sat on a bench away from the crowds and licked their cones in silence.
“Justin,” Mel said finally, “am I going to see you again?”
Justin glanced at Mel, then turned back to his cone. “Yes,” he replied firmly. “But it isn’t going to be easy. I really am going to be back and forth between L.A. and New York, and I have almost no spare time.”
“I know,” said Mel. “But?”
“But how could I ever have said I wanted just a summer romance? We can’t do that, you and I.”
“If we can’t see each other, there’s always the phone,” Mel pointed out.
“Yeah. We’ll just have to make the best of our time. You know, we might not see each other more than once a month. The question is, can we make it work? Is our relationship worth it?”
“Yes,” said Mel. “I think it is.”
“So do I,” said Justin.
“I’ll tell you something,” Mel went on. “When I thought I’d lost you for good, I started going out with this guy at school. P.J. Perkins. He was okay, but I didn’t feel anything for him. On the other hand, Justin, I’m only fourteen, and you’re only fifteen, so we have a lot of dating years ahead of us. We’re bound to meet other people we really do like. But I don’t think that’s a reason for us not go out now. Think what we’d be missing.”
“You’re right,” agreed Justin.
“Boy,” exclaimed Mel.
“What?”
“My friend Diana is always saying that life isn’t easy. And she’s right. School isn’t easy, families aren’t easy, and this”—she extended her arms to indicate her and Justin and their predicament—“really isn’t going to be easy. What am I going to do about school dances? You probably won’t be able to come to Bronxville, and P.J. might ask me to go with him. What are you going to do about benefits and publicity stuff when you’re supposed to have a date along? And what about us? Do we keep our relationship a secret?”
Justin merely shook his head. The problems seemed overwhelming. “All I know,” he said at last, “is that we want this to work. Let’s cross those bridges when we come to them.”
“But let’s not burn them behind us.”
“Or count our chickens before they hatch.”
“Or cry over spilled milk,” added Mel, giggling.
When they stopped laughing, Justin went on, “So we’ll see each other when we can. Speaking of which—last night I just happened to mention to my father how much I liked the house we rented on Fire Island, and he said, ‘Oh, really? Would you like to go back?’ and I said, ‘Definitely,’ and he said, ‘Well, I’ll look into it, then.’”
“Oh, that’s wonderful!” cried Mel. “Just think. Another Fire Island summer together.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe.”
Mel and Justin tossed their napkins and the remainders of their cones into a nearby trash can. Justin began fumbling in his pockets. At last he withdrew a small package, which he hid behind his back.
“What’s that?” asked Mel.
“It’s for you.” Justin handed it to her. It was a plastic baggie full of sand.
Mel looked at Justin questioningly.
“It’s from Fire Island,” Justin told her. “To remind you of when we met.”
Mel grinned at him. They kissed gently. And then they rose and walked through the park, their fingers laced together.
A Personal History by Ann M. Martin
I was born on August 12, 1955, in Princeton, New Jersey. I grew up there with my parents and my sister, Jane, who was born two years later. My mother was a preschool teacher and my father was an artist, a cartoonist for the New Yorker and other magazines.
When I was younger, my parents created an imaginative atmosphere for my sister and me. My dad liked circuses and carnivals and magic, and as a teenager, he had been an amateur magician. My father would often work at home, and I would stand behind his chair and watch him draw. When he wasn’t working, he enjoyed making greeting cards.
My parents were very interested in my sister’s and my artistic abilities, and our house was filled with art supplies—easel
s, paints, pastels, crayons, and stacks of paper. Coloring books were allowed, but only truly creative pursuits were encouraged, and I took lots of art classes.
Our house was as full of pets as it was of art supplies. We always had cats, and, except for the first two years of my life, we always had more than one. We also had fish, guinea pigs, and turtles, as well as mice and hamsters.
When I think about my childhood I think of pets and magic and painting and imaginary games with my sister. But there is another activity I remember just as clearly, and that’s reading. I loved to read. I woke up early so I could read in bed before I went to school. I went to bed early so I could read before I fell asleep. And from this love of books and reading came a love of writing.
In 1977 I graduated from Smith College in Massachusetts. I taught elementary school for a year, which is what I had wanted to do, and used children’s literature in the classroom. I loved teaching, but by the end of the school year I had decided that what I really wanted to do was work on children’s books. So I moved to New York City, entered the publishing field, and at the same time, began writing seriously. In 1983, my first book, Bummer Summer, was published.
In 1985, after the release of my first three books—Bummer Summer, Inside Out, and Stage Fright—an editor at Scholastic asked if I’d be interested in writing a series about babysitting. She had a title in mind—the Baby-Sitters Club—and she was thinking of a miniseries consisting of four books. So I created four characters: Kristy, Claudia, Stacey, and Mary Anne, and planned to write one book featuring each girl. The series was supposed to start in 1986 and end in 1987. Instead, it ended fourteen years later in 2000, with over two hundred titles and four related series, including Dawn’s spinoff, California Diaries.