She returned to her bedroom and closed the door again.
Why, she wondered, had Justin kept the truth from her?
Chapter Four
IT WAS IMPOSSIBLE FOR Mel to keep her secret a secret. By the end of school the next day, it seemed as if the whole world knew about Justin Hart and Melanie Braderman.
Things started in the cafeteria at lunchtime. Mel, brooding, was just settling down at a table with Diana and two other girls, Valerie and Jane, when Dee ran over to them, waving a copy of People.
Mel realized what was coming. She wished she were an ostrich so she could bury her head in the sand.
“Mel! Mel!” shouted Dee. “Have you seen this? Have you seen this? It’s Justin. Your Justin! The guy everyone’s talking about is Justin Hart!”
Mel nodded slowly. “I know.” (Why couldn’t Dee have confronted her at home?)
“You know?” Dee repeated. She pulled up a chair and sat down with Mel and her friends. Mel figured that Dee must be out of her mind with excitement. That was the only way to explain a junior voluntarily sitting at a table with a bunch of freshmen. “You mean all last month you knew about this and kept it quiet?” Dee regarded Mel with a look that was annoyance mingled with surprise and respect.
“What?” asked Diana. “What about Justin Hart…Mel?”
“Yeah…what?” echoed Valerie and Jane.
“Mel met this guy on Fire Island over the summer. They went out for an entire month,” Dee explained.
“You did?” Valerie and Jane’s eyes grew as wide as saucers.
Diana’s practically dropped out of their sockets. “The guy you told me about is Justin Hart? Oh, wow—your Justin is this Justin!”
Mel slid a fraction of an inch further down in her seat. She nodded miserably.
“And you knew?” Dee asked again.
Mel didn’t know what to say. She didn’t want to lie, but she felt foolish admitting that, in fact, she was as surprised as Dee and her friends were. Her astonishment at Justin was slowly mixing with anger. He had humiliated her.
Suddenly Mel stood up. She had decided that she didn’t have to answer any questions. “I don’t feel like discussing it,” was all she said. Leaving her uneaten lunch behind, she stalked out of the cafeteria.
Mel did her best to avoid her sister and friends in school that afternoon. She knew she owed Diana and Dee, at least, some sort of explanation, but she couldn’t face them. Not yet.
The first thing Mel did when she got home was ask permission to lock herself in her parents’ room and phone Lacey, something she should have done the previous afternoon when she tried to call her. She warned her mother that it might be a long call and said that she would pay for it when the bill came. Mrs. Braderman, seeing that Mel was upset, immediately gave her permission and didn’t ask any questions.
Mel settled herself on her parents’ bed. She checked her watch. There was a good chance that Lacey wasn’t back from school yet. She usually took the subway home, and, since Mel had been on the subway herself several times, she was surprised Lacey ever made it home at all, let alone late.
But she dialed the Reeders’ number anyway.
Someone picked up after the second ring. “Hello?”
“Hello…Lacey?” Mel found it hard to tell Lacey and Jeanmarie apart over the phone.
“Yes…Mel?”
“Yeah, it’s me. I’m so glad you’re home. I really didn’t think you would be.”
“Mel, I raced home today. I mean, I took a taxi from school just to get home as fast as possible.” Lacey’s voice sounded breathless and excited.
“You did? Why?” asked Mel. “What’s up?”
“What’s up? Are you kidding? Have you seen People magazine?”
“Oh…Yes. That’s why I’m—”
“Can you believe it?! Justin was famous, or almost famous, and he never let on…did he? Did he tell you?”
“No.”
There was a pause.
“Mel?” asked Lacey. “What’s wrong? Something’s wrong. I can tell.”
“Well, I’m mad, that’s what’s wrong. This is so humiliating. I feel like a fool. Everyone is running around waving copies of People in my face and being impressed that I went out with Justin Hart, and then I have to admit that I didn’t know he was a big star—or going to be a big star—either. Why would he keep that from me?”
“You mean,” said Lacey after a moment, “you really didn’t know about any of this?”
“Not a word. If I did, I would have told you. I tell you everything…Why do you think he did this?”
“I don’t know. But you know what I think you should do?”
“What?”
“Call him and ask him point blank.”
“I can’t.”
“Sure you can. You’re Melanie Braderman. You’re not afraid of things like—”
“It’s not that,” Mel interrupted Lacey. “I don’t have his phone numbers or addresses. He didn’t give them to me because he said both his parents were moving this month. He said he’d give me the new numbers and addresses later.”
“Well,” said Lacey practically, “I’m sitting right next to a New York City phone book. I’ll just look his parents up for you. We’ll find out where they are now.”
“Oh, Lacey! What a great idea! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Hold on just a sec.” Mel could hear a thunk as Lacey put the receiver down, and then the sound of pages turning. After a moment, Lacey got the phone again. “I hope you know his parents’ first names,” she said. “There are three and a half columns of Harts.”
Mel groaned. “I don’t know. I mean, I think Justin mentioned the names, but it’ll take me a while to remember them…Lacey, tell me the truth. Why do you think Justin kept all this a secret?”
Lacey sighed. “Well, he’s shy. He probably just didn’t want to talk about himself too much.”
“But it was almost as if he lied to me. He mentioned his work in New York a couple of times, but he never said what it was. I assumed he was, I don’t know, a clerk in an office, or a gofer or an assistant somewhere. But he must have been filming instead, probably working on the TV series. You know what I think? I think I was convenient. I think I was someone nice to pal around with in a place where he didn’t know anybody, but now that he’s a star, he can have his pick of starlets. He doesn’t need me anymore. Did you see that gorgeous Tania Delaney who plays his sister? She’s a hundred times prettier than I am. And she’s glamorous—”
“Mel,” said Lacey, “stop it. I wish you could hear yourself.”
“But think about it,” Mel rushed on. “This must be why he didn’t give me a phone number. He didn’t want me to call him. He doesn’t need plain, skinny old Melanie Braderman anymore.”
“Mel, stop,” Lacey said sharply. “I didn’t get to know Justin very well, but from what I saw, he seemed honest and straightforward…and just plain nice. What I want you to do is get off the phone and think seriously about your relationship with Justin. Try to remember conversations you had, and the things he said to you and how he looked when he said them. After you relive it all, if you still think the whole thing was a farce, then you can worry.”
Mel took Lacey’s advice. When they got off the phone, she went to her own room, stretched out on her bed, crossed her legs, put her hands behind her head, and leaned against the wall. She remembered that the first time she had met Justin, Timmy had injured him. Justin had seemed pleasant but eager to be on his way. He had looked like a loner.
She remembered that she had made all the next moves—following Justin and spying on him—and that she had been interested in him—even concerned about him—because he was always by himself.
She remembered that Justin hadn’t taken any interest in her until he had been overcome with curiosity about the person spying on his house with binoculars.
What did all that tell her? It told her that Justin wouldn’t even have noticed her if she hadn’t gone after him.
On the other hand, Mel reminded herself, once Justin had become interested in her, he hadn’t (as far as she knew) paid attention to any other girls in Davis Park, even though there were gorgeous, available ones (like Lacey) everywhere you looked. Justin had chosen Mel and stuck with her.
She felt a bit better.
Then, as Lacey had suggested, Mel tried to remember some of the talks she and Justin had had. She recalled reciting the Robert Louis Stevenson poem with him. Then bits of actual conversation came back: Justin saying, “The sun’s out and I thought maybe we could take a walk.” And “I’ve only known you for two days, but it feels like a lot longer…I wish it didn’t feel so long…Because it’s going to be so hard to leave.” And other things—talks about freshman year and fights with friends and how it feels to be a “divorced” kid. Would Justin have said those things, divulged those feelings, to someone he didn’t really care about? Mel didn’t think so.
She felt even better.
She tried to conjure up Justin’s face. When she couldn’t do it vividly enough, she pulled People out from her desk drawer and gazed at him. Slowly she found herself lost in the feelings of their first kiss, lips meeting tenderly, hearts pounding.
With a rush of pleasure and relief, Mel realized that she was still in love with Justin Hart, and that he was in love with her, or at least had been over the summer. She thought she understood why he had wanted just a summer romance, but she didn’t know why he had kept his work a secret from her. And she felt she had a right to know. Mel decided that summer or autumn, phone number or no phone number, she had to see Justin once more. She had to talk to him. The question was—how?
Chapter Five
BY DINNERTIME THAT EVENING, Mel felt much better. Which was a good thing, because Timmy had gotten hold of People at school and had shown the article about Justin Hart to Mr. and Mrs. Braderman. The whole family then knew Mel’s secret, and they were full of questions and speculation.
“What a surprise!” Mrs. Braderman exclaimed. “Did you know about this, Mel?”
Mel tried to be honest without appearing stupid. “Not exactly,” she replied.
Dee looked at her sharply.
“I mean,” Mel went on, “I knew his father was a big-time producer, and I knew Justin was working this summer, but I didn’t exactly know…how famous “It’s No Joke” would make him…”
“To think we knew him, had him over for dinner,” said Mr. Braderman.
“He seemed very unassuming,” added Mel’s mother, “even shy.”
“Lots of actors and actresses are shy people,” Dee commented.
“He was so nice to me!” Timmy said excitedly. “I told everyone in my class how we played volleyball together.”
“Are you going to keep seeing him?” asked Dee.
That was the question Mel had been dreading most of all. “I don’t know. It’s not going to be easy to get together with him. Even if he were a regular person, it wouldn’t be easy. His mom’s moving to L.A., so he’ll be back and forth between California and New York, and I don’t get into the city very often. I just don’t know what will happen. Besides, tomorrow night I’m going out with a boy from school.”
Timmy dropped his fork with a clatter. “You are? You mean like on a date?”
“Yeah,” said Mel. “Like on a date.”
“Ohhh,” moaned Timmy.
“What’s your problem, squirt?”
“You’re dating.”
“So?”
“That means two crazy sisters hogging the bathroom and getting hysterical over their makeup and losing important things right as the doorbell rings.”
Mel laughed.
“Who’s the lucky boy, sweetheart?” Mr. Braderman asked.
“Yeah, who is he?” echoed Dee with interest.
“P.J. Perkins,” replied Mel.
Timmy started laughing and fell sideways out of his chair. “P.J.?” he shrieked as he straightened up. “Like pyjamas?”
“No,” Mel answered with great dignity. “P.J. like Paul Jeremy.” She turned to her parents. “We’re going to the movies. Since P.J. can’t drive yet, we’re just going to meet at the theater. If one of you drives me there, you can meet him.”
“That’s fine,” said Mrs. Braderman. “How are you getting home? I could pick you up after the show and give P.J. a lift.”
“Thanks,” replied Mel. “I’ll have to ask P.J.”
Dee looked as if she had a few more questions for Mel, but she saved them until dinner was over. When the kitchen had been cleaned up and Mel was in her room, seated at her desk ready to start her homework, the door slightly ajar, Dee knocked softly.
“Can I come in?” she called.
“I guess.” Mel was getting tired of talking about Justin.
But Dee’s questions were about P.J.—and dating. “Aren’t you excited, Mel? A real date, with a high school boy!”
“I had several real dates with Justin,” Mel pointed out. “It’s not like this is my first one.”
“But this is different. I mean, it’s normal. Fire Island is fantasy land. This is the real world.”
Mel just nodded. She didn’t want to say anything about how much she liked Justin because she didn’t want any more questions about him.
“So,” Dee went on, “what are you going to wear tomorrow?”
“I don’t know.”
“What are you going to do with your hair?”
“My hair? Nothing.”
“Makeup?”
Mel shrugged.
“Mel!” Dee exclaimed in exasperation. “How much thought have you given to this date?”
“Well,” Mel replied slowly, “not, for instance, as much thought as I’ve given to the global problems of terrorism and population control. Probably not even as much thought as I’ve given to my homework tonight.”
Dee made a face. “Mel,” she said, “dating is serious business. Don’t you want to look nice tomorrow?”
“Don’t I look nice now?”
“All right, don’t you want to look special tomorrow?”
Mel frowned. She was being difficult, and she knew it. Less than two months earlier, she’d been complaining that she’d never been whistled at, never been asked on a date, wasn’t as pretty as Dee. She should have been ecstatic over her date with P.J. and pleased that Dee was giving her such attention. But there was a problem, and Mel was well aware of it. She loved Justin, and she didn’t feel the same way about P.J. P.J. was nice (and tall), but as far as Mel was concerned, that was all there was to it.
On the other hand, Dee was hanging around, practically begging to help Mel with her hair and makeup and clothes, and Justin might very well be—what was her father’s term?—a pie in the sky, something she could never hope for.
Mel softened. “Dee,” she said, “could you help me? Maybe give me a few more tips on blusher and stuff, and look through my closet with me? I do want to look nice tomorrow.”
“Special,” Dee corrected her.
“Right, special,” Mel repeated, grinning.
Mel and P.J. were going to the seven-thirty movie and had agreed to meet at the theater at seven-fifteen. At seven, Dee gathered Timmy and Mr. and Mrs. Braderman in the living room.
“Get ready!” she cried. Then she called up the stairs, “Okay, Mel, make your entrance!”
Mel walked slowly down the staircase.
“Here she is, folks,” Dee continued, “wearing designer jeans, a baggy pink, very chic sweat shirt borrowed from her sister, and new shoes, purchased just this afternoon. Her hair is by Dee (that’s me), and so is her makeup. May I present to you, Melanie Braderman!”
Timmy and Mrs. Braderman clapped enthusiastically, and Mel’s father let out a low whistle.
“Honey, you look absolutely lovely,” said her mother.
“Thanks,” replied Mel. “I hope P.J. thinks so.”
“If he doesn’t, then he’s a jerk,” said Timmy.
“Shall we go?” asked Mrs. Braderman. “Y
ou don’t want to be late.”
“Okay,” agreed Mel. “And Dee—thanks for all your help.”
Dee smiled. “Any time.”
“I promise to bring your sweat shirt back in mint condition.”
When Mrs. Braderman pulled up in front of the theater,
Mel whispered urgently, “There he is Oh, he sees us.
He’s coming over. Just stay in the car, Mom. I’ll introduce you to him and then you drive off, okay? Don’t get out or anything.”
“All right.” Mrs. Braderman smiled.
“Promise?”
“Promise. Just remember to find out if he needs a ride home.”
In a moment, P.J.’s round face was looking uncertainly into the Braderman’s car. Mel rolled the window down. “Hi,” she said. “P.J., this is my mom. Mom, this is P.J. Perkins.”
“Hi, P.J.,” Mrs. Braderman said warmly.
“P.J., do you want a ride home after the show? My mom can drop you off.”
“Oh, sure. That would be great.”
“What time should I pick you up?” asked Mel’s mother.
“How about ten o’clock?”
“Ten o’clock!” cried Mel.
“Yeah. I thought we’d get something to eat after the movie. We could go to Fitzwillie’s.”
Mel looked at her mother.
“That’s fine,” said Mrs. Braderman. “I’ll see you there. Have fun!”
Slowly, Mel got out of the car. She had almost hoped her mother would say no to Fitzwillie’s.
She and P.J. walked to the ticket window, and Mel pulled out a five-dollar bill.
“Oh, no. I’ll buy your ticket,” said P.J., pushing a ten-dollar bill toward the ticket-taker.
“No, thanks,” said Mel quickly. “I’ll buy my own.” Somehow, it had seemed all right for Justin to treat Mel every now and then, but she didn’t feel comfortable with the idea of P. J. treating her.
“What’ll it be?” the woman in the ticket booth asked P.J. “One or two?”
“Two,” said P.J.
“One,” said Mel. “Really…You know, women’s lib and all that.”
“Okay,” said P.J. “One.” He turned to Mel. “But I’ll buy the popcorn.”