shoulder and her waist, Eric plucked something off her dress. "Aha!" he said. "Got it!" He held it up for Mrs. Remo to see.
"Why, Eric . . ." Mrs. Remo said, taking the lens off his finger, "you must have remarkable eyes! How did you know it would be on my dress?"
"My mother wears contacts," Eric said. "Whenever she thinks she's lost one it's always stuck to her clothes."
"Thank you, Eric," Mrs. Remo said.
The class applauded and Eric took a bow.
Alison leaned across the aisle and whispered, "He's so cute!"
I made a face. Eric is too impossible to be cute. On his way back to his desk Eric stopped next to Alison's. "Do you wear contacts, Thumbelina?"
He's been calling her Thumbelina since the second week of school but she doesn't seem to mind.
"No," Alison told him. "My eyes are as perfect as yours."
"Too bad . . ." Eric said, "because I wouldn't mind finding your lost lenses."
Alison started to giggle and once she gets started she can't stop.
As soon as Mrs. Remo had her lens back in place she held up a flyer and said, "I've got an announcement, class. The seventh grade bake sale will be held a week from Monday. The first
." She stopped and shook her head. "All right, Alison . . . either calm down or share the joke with the rest of us."
Alison covered her mouth with both hands to keep from laughing out loud but I could tell she still had the giggles.
Mrs. Remo continued with her announcement. "The first $150 will be used to donate food baskets to the needy. Anything over that will go to the seventh grade activity fund. Last year's
seventh grade class earned enough to hold a winter dance."
A winter dance, I thought. Now that sounds interesting.
"So . . ." Mrs. Remo went on, "we need to appoint a bake sale chairperson . . . someone to keep track of who's baking what."
"Mrs. Remo. . ." Eric called, waving his arm.
"Yes, Eric?"
"I nominate Peter Kiaff as chairperson. He's very organized. When I run for President he's going to be my campaign manager."
Was Eric planning to run for President of Fox Junior High, I wondered, or President of the United States?
"Peter . . ." Mrs. Remo said, "would you like to be chairperson of the bake sale?"
Everyone looked at Peter Kiaff. He's shorter than me and much thinner. He has pale blond hair and eyebrows and lashes to match. Also, his ears stick out. I think it must run in the family because his mother and sister have the same kind of ears. You could see the red creeping up Peter's neck to his face. And you could see him gulping hard, as if he couldn't get enough air to breathe. He's so shy! But he managed to answer Mrs. Remo's question. He said, "Yes."
"Fine," Mrs. Remo said, "then it's all settled."
As Alison and I walked through the hall on
our way to first period class she began to sing a song she'd made up about a boy with remarkable eyes. "Well?" she said, when she'd finished.
I pretended to stick my finger down my throat.
"That bad?"
"No . . ." I said. "Worse!"
She bumped hips with me and we both laughed. But the next time she sang her song I found myself humming along.
14.
Debate.
Rachel says she has more important things on her mind than baking. She's trying out for the school debating team. Only two seventh graders will make it. She has to prepare a five-minute speech and present it at assembly on the afternoon of the bake sale.
"What's the subject of your speech?" I asked.
"Should wearing a seat belt be law or should it be up to the individual to decide?"
"That's easy," I said. "It should be law."
"I have to be able to argue both sides of the issue," Rachel explained, "even if I disagree with it.,'
"That's stupid."
"No . . . that's what debating is all about."
A few days later I went to Rachel's house after school. I couldn't stay long because I had an appointment at the orthodontist at four-thirty. Alison couldn't come over at all because she's got a rash on her foot and Leon took her to see Dr. Klaff.
Rachel was a wreck over her speech.
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