Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret

to let her see I wasn't growing yet. That was my business.

'Oh, you're still flat.' Nancy laughed.

'Not exactly,' I said, pretending to be very cool. 'I'm small boned, is all.'

'I'm growing already,' Nancy said, sticking her chest way out. 'In a few years I'm going to look like one of those girls in Playboy.'

Well, I didn't think so, but I didn't say anything. My father gets Playboy and I've seen those girls in the middle. Nancy looked like she had a long way to go. Almost as far as me.

'Want me to do up your straps?' she asked.

'Okay.'

'I figured you'd be real grown up coming from New York. City girls are supposed to grow up a lot faster. Did you ever kiss a boy?'

'You mean really kiss? On the lips?' I asked.

'Yes,' Nancy said impatiently. 'Did you?'

'Not really,' I admitted.

Nancy breathed a sigh of relief. 'Neither did I.'

I was overjoyed. Before she said that I was beginning to feel like some kind of underdeveloped little kid.

'I practice a lot though,' Nancy said.

'Practice what?' I asked.

'Kissing! Isn't that what we were talking about? Kissing!'

'How can you practice that?' I asked.

'Watch this.' Nancy grabbed her bed pillow and embraced it. She gave it a long kiss. When she was done she threw the pillow back on the bed. 'It's important to experiment, so when the time comes you're all ready. I'm going to be a great kisser some day. Want to see something else?'

I just stood there with my mouth half open. Nancy sat down at her dressing table and opened a drawer. 'Look at this,' she said.

I looked. There were a million little bottles, jars and tubes. There were more cosmetics in that drawer than my mother had all together. I asked, 'What do you do with all that stuff?'

'It's another one of my experiments. To see how I look best. So when the time comes I'll be ready.' She opened a lipstick and painted on a bright pink mouth. 'Well, what do you think?'

'Umm… I don't know. It's kind of bright, isn't it?'

Nancy studied herself in the heartshaped mirror. She rubbed her lips together. 'Well, maybe you're right.' She wiped off the lipstick with a tissue. 'My mother would kill me if I came out like this anyway. I can't wait till eighth grade. That's when I'll be allowed to wear lipstick every day.'

Then she whipped out a hairbrush and started to brush her long, brown hair. She parted it in the middle and caught it at the back with a barrette. 'Do you always wear your hair like that?' she asked me.

My hand went up to the back of my neck. I felt all the bobby pins I'd used to pin my hair up so my neck wouldn't sweat. I knew it looked terrible. 'I'm letting it grow,' I said. 'It's at that in-between stage now. My mother thinks I should wear it over my ears though. My ears stick out a little.'

'I noticed,' Nancy said.

I got the feeling that Nancy noticed everything!

'Ready to go?' she asked.

'Sure.'

She opened a linen closet in the hall and handed me a purple towel. I followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she grabbed two peaches out of the refrigerator and handed one to me. 'Want to meet my mom?' she asked.

'Okay,' I said, taking a bite of my peach.

'She's thirty-eight, but tells us she's twenty-five. Isn't that a scream!' Nancy snorted.

Mrs. Wheeler was on the porch with her legs tucked under her and a book on her lap. I couldn't tell what book it was. She was suntanned and had the same nose as Nancy.

'Mom, this is Margaret Simon who just moved in down the street.'

Mrs. Wheeler took off her glasses and smiled at me.

'Hello,' I said.

'Hello, Margaret. I'm very glad to meet you. You're from New York, aren't you?'

'Yes, I am.'

'East side or West?'

'We lived on West Sixty-seventh. Near Lincoln Center.'

'How nice. Does your father still work in the city?'

'Yes.'

'And what does he do?'

'He's in insurance.' I sounded like a computer.

'How nice. Please tell your mother I'm looking forward to meeting her. We've got a Morningbird Lane bowling team on Mondays and a bridge game every other Thursday afternoon and a… '

'Oh, I don't think my mother knows how to bowl and she wouldn't be interested in bridge. She paints most of the day,' I explained.

'She paints?' Mrs. Wheeler asked.

'Yes.'

'How interesting. What does she paint?'

'Mostly pictures of fruits and vegetables. Sometimes flowers too.'

Mrs. Wheeler laughed. 'Oh, you mean pictures! I thought you meant walls! Tell your mother we're making our car pools early this year. We'd be happy to help her arrange hers… especially Sunday school. That's always the biggest problem.'

'I don't go to Sunday school.'

'You don't?'

'No.'

'Lucky!' Nancy shouted.

' Nancy, please!' Mrs. Wheeler said.

'Hey Mom… Margaret came to go under the sprinkler with me, not to go through the third degree.'

'All right. If you see Evan tell him I want to talk to him.'

Nancy grabbed me by the hand and pulled me outside. 'I'm sorry my mother's so nosey.'

'I didn't mind,' I said. 'Who's Evan?'

'He's my brother. He's disgusting!'

'Disgusting how?' I asked.

'Because he's fourteen. All boys of fourteen are disgusting. They're only interested in two things-pictures of naked girls and dirty books!'

Nancy really seemed to know a lot. Since I didn't know any boys of fourteen I took her word for it.

Nancy turned on the outside faucet and adjusted it so that the water sprayed lightly from the sprinkler. 'Follow the leader!' she called, running through the water. I guessed Nancy was the leader.

She jumped through the spray. I followed. She turned cartwheels. I tried but didn't make it. She did leaps through the air. I did too. She stood straight under the spray. I did the same. That's when the water came on full blast. We both got drenched, including our hair.

'Evan, you stinker!' Nancy shrieked. 'I'm telling!' She ran off to the house and left me alone with two boys.

'Who're you?' Evan asked.

'I'm Margaret. We just moved in.'

'Oh. This is Moose,' he said, pointing to the other boy.

I nodded.

'Hey,' Moose said. 'If you just moved in, ask your father if he's interested in having me cut his lawn. Five bucks a week and I trim too. What'd you say your last name was?'

'I didn't. But it's Simon.' I couldn't help thinking about what Nancy said-that all they were interested in was