Love, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli Read Free Book Online

glared at him with a hatred I’ve never seen on a human face before, not even at Mica High last year. Then she made a fist and held it out to the boy and said in a soft snarl, almost a smile, teeth bared: “Taste this, punk.” But something just before that had caught my eye. It must be new, because I’m sure I would have noticed it before. It was the nail on her little finger. It was different—not plain, not short, not kid-scruffy like the others. It was long. And pink. And glittery. It was elegant. And then it disappeared into the balled fist.
    The men were pulling them off in opposite directions when Alvina screamed, “Wait!” She wrenched away from the man (mostly—he kept hold of her by one wrist) and went crabbing around on the ground until she found something. She picked it up, spat on it, cleaned it with her shirt-tail, and put it in her pocket. It was her yellow grinning Pooh Bear necklace.
    In the next instant, one horror replaced another. I suddenly became aware of Dootsie’s hand in mine. I looked down. She was looking up at me. Her lip was quivering. Tears streamed down her face. “Oh, Dootsie,” I said. “I’m sorry.” I snatched her up and ran.
    I didn’t slow down till I was out of Bemus Park. She was sobbing now, her little body heaving against mine. I tried to put her down, but she wouldn’t let go of me. I walked some more, talking to her. “This was all my fault, Dootsie. Stargirl is bad. I never should have let you see that. I was only thinking of myself and I forgot all about my best friend Dootsie. I’ll never forget about you again.”
    Her squeaky little voice came through the sobs. “Promise?”
    I kissed her salty tears. “Triple promise.”
    Soon we were sitting side by side on the steps of the library.
    “Alvina is mean,” she said.
    “She’s a pip all right,” I said.
    “What’s a pip?”
    “Well, a pip is a feisty person. Someone who’s maybe a little out of control.”
    “I hate Alvina.”
    I pulled her onto my lap. “No, don’t hate Alvina.”
    “I
do.
I hate your boyfriend too. Because he
dumped
you.”
    I laughed. “Don’t hate him either. You shouldn’t hate anybody.”
    “I can’t help it. I
have
to.”
    “No,” I told her, “you don’t have to. If you start by hating one or two people, you won’t be able to stop. Pretty soon you’ll hate a hundred people.”
    “A
zillion
?”
    “Even a zillion. A little hatred goes a long, long way. It grows and grows. And it’s hungry.”
    “Like Cimmamum?”
    “Even hungrier. You keep feeding it more and more people, and the more it gets, the more it wants. It’s never satisfied. And pretty soon it squeezes all the love out of your heart”—I pointed to her heart; she looked down at her chest—“and all you’ll have left is a hateful heart.”
    She gave me a serious look and shook her head. “
I’m
not gonna get hungry.
I’m
just gonna hate Alvina.”
    So much for my lesson.
    “Tell you what,” I said. “Before you start hating Alvina, let’s give her another chance.”
    “What for?”
    “Because I think she’s got a problem.”
    “What kind of problem?”
    “I think she’s angry.”
    Her eyes rode up to mine. “What’s she angry at? The boy?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe the boy. Maybe something else. Maybe she’s just having growing pains.”
    “Growing pains? What’s that?”
    “It’s when a little kid is becoming a big kid. Sometimes it hurts.”
    “Will I have growing pains?”
    “Maybe just a teeny one.”
    “Am I gonna beat up a boy?”
    I lifted her down to the sidewalk. We headed for home. “I certainly hope not,” I said.
             
    May 21
    I invited myself and Dootsie to dinner at Betty Lou’s today. We got there mid-afternoon so we could help her make her famous cheese-and-garlic smashed potatoes—more specifically, so Dootsie could smash the potatoes.
    As soon as Betty Lou and I settled into peeling the spuds, Betty Lou said, “So. How