Starring Sally J. Freedman as Herself by Judy Blume
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OTHER YEARLING FAVORITES
BY JUDY BLUME YOU WILL ENJOY
ARE YOU THERE GOD? IT’S ME, MARGARET.
BLUBBER
FRECKLE JUICE
HERE’S TO YOU, RACHEL ROBINSON
IGGIE’S HOUSE
JUST AS LONG AS WE’RE TOGETHER
THE ONE IN THE MIDDLE
IS THE GREEN KANGAROO
Published by Yearling, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books a division of Random House, Inc., New York
Text copyright © 1977 by Judy Blume
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eISBN: 978-0-307-81770-9
v3.1
For my favorite aunt, Frances Goldstein …
who is also my friend
Contents
Cover
Other Books by This Author
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue: August 1945—Bradley Beach, New Jersey
May 1947–Elizabeth, New Jersey
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Author’s Note
Prologue
August 1945—Bradley Beach,
New Jersey
“Can I have another jelly sandwich?” Sally asked her grandmother, Ma Fanny. They were in the kitchen of the rooming house, sitting on opposite sides of the big wooden table.
“Such big eyes!” Ma Fanny said, laughing. “You still have half a sandwich left.”
“I know, but it’s so good!” Sally licked the jelly from the corners of her mouth. “I could eat twenty sandwiches, at least.”
“Only twenty?”
“Maybe twenty-one,” Sally said. “Why don’t you make yourself a jelly sandwich, too … and if you can’t finish it, I will.”
“I should eat jelly and have heartburn all night?” Ma Fanny asked.
“Jelly gives you heartburn?”
“I’m sorry to say …” Ma Fanny turned on the radio. Bing Crosby was singing.
Sally hummed along with him, every now and then singing a line out loud. “Or would you rather be a horse? A horse is an animal …” She wiggled around in her chair. The sand in the bottom of her bathing suit made her itch. Soon she would go upstairs for her bath. Everyone had to sign up for a bath here, because all the guests in the rooming house shared the bathrooms. It was the same with the kitchen. Each family had a shelf in the pantry and space in the icebox, but no one had to sign up to cook.
Upstairs, Sally’s family had rented two bedrooms for ten days. One was for Daddy and Mom and the other was for Sally, her brother Douglas, and Ma Fanny. Sally was the youngest so she got to sleep on the cot under the window. From it she could see the organ grinder and his monkey when they were still a block away. She didn’t tell this to Douglas because if he had known he would have wanted to sleep on the cot for the rest of their vacation.
“Drink all your milk,” Ma Fanny said, “and you’ll grow up to be a big, strong girl.”
“I already am big and strong,” Sally answered, making a muscle with her arm.
Ma Fanny reached across the table and squeezed Sally’s arm. “Hoo hoo … that’s some muscle!”
“So can I have another jelly sandwich?”
“Such a one-track mind,” Ma Fanny said, laughing again. She tapped her fingers on the table, keeping time to the tune on the radio.
Mrs. Sternberger, another guest in the rooming house, swept into the kitchen. She took a dish of rice pudding from the icebox and joined Sally and Ma Fanny at the table. As soon as she sat down she noticed the jar of grape jelly with the cap off. “What are you doing with my grape jelly?” she asked, picking up the jar.
“It’s not yours,” Ma Fanny told her. “It’s mine.”
“I just bought this yesterday,” Mrs. Sternberger said, replacing the cap. She stood up, holding onto the jar, and pointed at Ma Fanny. “I knew I couldn’t trust you the minute I met you.”
“What are you, crazy?” Ma Fanny asked, raising her voice. “I should use your grape jelly when I have my own? I wouldn’t touch yours with a ten-foot pole!”
“And I wouldn’t believe you for all the tea in China!” Mrs. Sternberger answered, angrily.
“So, who asked you?” Ma Fanny turned to Sally. “Would you like another jelly sandwich, sweetie pie?”
“Sure.” Sally was surprised that Ma Fanny had changed her mind.
Ma Fanny reached for the jelly jar but Mrs. Sternberger said, “Not with my grape jelly!” She held it to her chest.
“Oh … go soak your head!” Ma Fanny said.
“Go soak your own!”
Sally wanted to laugh but knew that she shouldn’t. “Can I please have my sandwich?” She shouted to make sure she was heard.
Suddenly, Bing Crosby stopped singing. “We interrupt this program to bring you a bulletin from our newsroom,” the announcer said. “The war is over!”
Ma Fanny and Mrs. Sternberger grew quiet. “Did I hear what I think I heard?” Mrs. Sternberger asked.
“Sha …” Ma Fanny said, turning up the volume on the radio. Both women listened carefully.
The announcer repeated the news. “The war is over!” His voice broke on the last word.
“Thank God … thank God …” Ma Fanny cried.
Mrs. Sternberger plunked the jar of grape jelly on the table and whooped for joy. She and Ma Fanny hugged and kissed. They began to laugh and cry at the same time. “It’s over … it’s over … it’s over!” They danced around the kitchen.
Sally felt alone. She wanted to dance with them. She pushed her chair back and ran to Ma Fanny’s side. Ma Fanny and Mrs. Sternberger dropped hands to make a circle with Sally, and the three of them danced. “The war is over … over … over …” Sally sang.
The other guests in the rooming house joined them. Daddy and Mom and Douglas were there. It was like a party. A very tall man named Ben held Sally up in the air and twirled around and around with her until she felt dizzy and begged him to put her down.
That night they all marched on the b
Douglas said, “Hey, Dad … when we get home can I have your air raid helmet?”
“I don’t see why not, son,” Daddy said.
“Won’t there be any more blackouts?” Sally asked.
“No, dummy,” Douglas said, “the war is over!”
“I know that!” But Sally didn’t know that meant the end of blackouts. So now Daddy wouldn’t patrol the streets anymore, wearing his white air raid helmet. And she and Douglas wouldn’t get into bed with Mom, waiting for Daddy to come home, telling them it had just been practice, that the war was far, far away and nothing bad was ever going to happen to them.
“I’d like your helmet, too,” Sally said. How was she supposed to know that Daddy would be giving it away now?
“No fair!” Douglas said. “I’m older.”
“Tell you what …” Daddy said, “you can share it.”
“Her head’s so little it’ll cover her whole face,” Douglas said.
“Little heads are better than big ones,” Sally told him.
“Children … please …” Mom said.
Daddy put Sally down and went off to sing with a group of men. Sally took Mom aside and said, “I don’t feel so good.”
“What is it?” Mom asked, looking concerned.
“My throat hurts … and my stomach feels funny.”
Mom touched Sally’s forehead. “You don’t feel warm … it’s probably just all the excitement.”
“I don’t think so,” Sally said, “I feel sick.”
“Let’s stay out just a little while longer … it’s warm enough … I’m sure you won’t get a chill …” Mom took Sally’s hand.
“But Mom …”
“Try not to think about it,” Mom said. “Tonight is special.”
“I know, but …”
“Think about peace instead … think about Uncle Jack coming home … think about Tante Rose and Lila …”
“Who are they?”
“You know … Ma Fanny’s sister and her daughter … my Aunt Rose and my cousin, Lila …”
“Oh, them … the ones Hitler sent away …”
“Yes. Maybe now we can find out where they are.”
“Do you think they’re in New Jersey?” Sally asked.
“No, honey … they’re far away … they’re somewhere in Europe.”
“Oh … my throat still hurts bad.”
“Please, Sally,” Mom said, “try for me …”
Sally tried to think of other things, as her mother said. She kept marching even though she felt worse and worse. Finally, she couldn’t wait anymore. “Mom … I think I’m going to …” She ran to the side of the boardwalk, leaned over the rail and threw up onto the beach.
“Oh, honey … I’m sorry,” Mom said. “I should have listened.” She wiped Sally’s mouth with a Kleenex. “Don’t cry.… it’s all right …”
“I didn’t mess myself up,” Sally said, sniffling. “See … I was really careful, wasn’t I?”
“Yes, you were.”
“I knew you wouldn’t want me to get it on my dress.”
“That’s right … it’s just as easy to be careful …”
They went back to the rooming house and Mom took Sally’s temperature. It was 103°. She put Sally to bed, gave her some ginger ale to sip and lay a cold, wet washcloth on her forehead. “If only I had listened when you first told me you weren’t feeling well … I was so excited myself … I …” She kissed Sally’s cheek. “Try and get to sleep … tomorrow we’ll go to the doctor …” Mom pulled a chair up to Sally’s cot and sat beside her. Sally closed her eyes and listened to the sounds outside. Cheering, horns tooting, singing … laughter … sounds of the celebration. Slowly, she drifted off to sleep.
May 1947—Elizabeth, New Jersey
Sally had a scab on her knee from falling off her bicycle last week. It itched. She scratched the area around it, knowing that the scab wasn’t ready to come off yet. She was sitting on the high-backed chair near the fireplace and her feet didn’t quite reach the floor. She wished they would.
“Little pitchers have big ears,” Uncle Jack said, with a nod in her direction. On the far side of the livingroom Mom, Ma Fanny, Aunt Bette and Uncle Jack were huddled together. They spoke in hushed voices so that Sally could make out only a few words.
“God forbid … keep your fingers crossed … never should have gone there …”
They were talking about Douglas. Something had happened to him. Sally wasn’t exactly sure what, but Daddy was at the hospital now, with Douglas, and Mom was waiting impatiently for the phone to ring, with news about him.
Sally ran her hands along the arms of the chair. It was covered in pink and green flowered material, shiny and almost new. The whole livingroom was pink and green although Mom didn’t say pink. She said rose-beige. It was a beautiful room, soft and peaceful. Sally loved it. She wished they used it every day and not just on special occasions.
One Sunday her father built a fire in the brick fireplace and he and Sally and Douglas sat around on the floor reading the funnies. But Mom said it made a mess. So they’d had no more log fires. On either side of the fireplace bookcases climbed to the ceiling and between them, and over the fireplace, was a large mirror, reflecting the rest of the room.
Something had to be very wrong with Douglas. Otherwise why were they sitting in the livingroom tonight?
“Stop picking, Sally …” Mom said. “You’ll only make it worse.”
Sally took her hand away from her knee. She twirled a strand of hair around her finger and yawned.
“Why don’t you go up to bed?” Mom asked. “Look how tired you are.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Don’t give me a hard time,” Mom snapped. “Just go on up …”
Aunt Bette touched Mom’s shoulder, then walked over to Sally. “Come on,” she said. “I’ll keep you company while you get ready.”
They went upstairs to Sally’s room. Aunt Bette flopped across the bed. She was Mom’s younger sister. She taught fourth grade and sometimes she brought marbles to Sally and Douglas, marbles that had wound up in her Treasure Chest because someone in her class had been fooling around with them instead of paying attention. And once a marble found its way into Aunt Bette’s Treasure Chest the owner could kiss it goodbye. That’s why Douglas and Sally had such great marble collections. Sally’s favorite was clear green all over.
“Mom’s mad at me,” Sally said, “and I didn’t do anything.”
“She’s not mad,” Aunt Bette said. “She’s worried about Douglas, that’s all.”
“She acted mad … she didn’t have to holler.”
“Try to understand.”
“What’s the matter with Douglas, anyway?”
“He’s had an accident.”
Sally knew that. She’d been outside tossing her pink Spalding ball against the side of the house when two boys carried Douglas to the back door. There’d been a big commotion then and Sally was sure of just one thing. Douglas was crying. She’d been surprised about that.
“They were playing in Union Woods,” Aunt Bette said, “and Douglas tried to jump across the brook but he lost his balance and fell and when he did he dislocated his elbow.”
“We’re not supposed to play in Union Woods,” Sally said. There was a strange man who hung out in there. Last month the principal of Sally’s school had sent a notice to each classroom, warning the kids not to go into Union Woods anymore. That afternoon Sally had asked Douglas, “Do you know about the strange man in Union Woods?” and Douglas had answered, “Sure.”
“What kind of strange man is he?” Sally said.
“What do you mean?” Douglas asked.
“Is he a murderer or a kidnapper or what?”
“He’s just strange,” Douglas told her.
?
“You know …”
“No, I don’t!”
“Well … he’s kind of crazy,” Douglas said.
“Oh, crazy.” Sally thought about that for a minute. “Crazy how?”
“In general,” Douglas said.
“What does that mean?”
“I don’t have time to explain now … I’m busy …” and before Sally could ask another question Douglas had run downstairs to his basement workshop and shut the door.
Sally supposed Douglas and his friends weren’t afraid to go into Union Woods because they were older. They were thirteen and went to junior high. “Is it bad to dislocate your elbow?” Sally asked Aunt Bette.
“It’s like breaking your arm … he’ll have a cast when he comes home from the hospital.”
“Like Suzanne Beardsley?”
“I don’t know her.”
“She’s in my class. She broke her wrist taking out the milk bottles and she had a cast for two months and we all signed our names on it.”
“I’m sure Douglas will let you sign your name on his cast too. Now brush your teeth and hop into bed. It’s past ten.”
“Can I listen to my radio?”
“Okay … but just for a little while.”
Sally got ready for bed. Her mother came up to kiss her goodnight. “I didn’t mean to scold you,” she said. “It’s just that …”
“I know,” Sally said, “you’re worried about Douglas.”
“Well, yes … waiting is very hard. I should have gone to the hospital too.”
“Will Douglas be home soon?”
“I hope so. Daddy’s going to call as soon as his arm is reset.”
“Reset?”
“Yes … to get the elbow back in place.”
“Oh.”
“Good night … sleep tight.” Mom bent over to kiss her cheek and Sally could smell the pot roast they’d had for dinner on her hands.
“Night, Mom.”
Sally closed her eyes but she couldn’t fall asleep. Even her radio didn’t help, so after a while she reached over and turned it off. Then she arranged her covers in just the right way, with both her hands tucked inside, and she closed her eyes again, but still, sleep wouldn’t come. So she made up a story inside her head.