"It's Grace Houston. yes," I said.
This is Phoebe Tremont. My stepmother wanted me to call you to see how you are doing and if you would like to get together with me and some of my friends." she recited as if she was reading it from a cue card.
"Oh."
"You're going to attend my school. I
understand. I feel sorry for you," she added, and laughed. Someone, a male, laughed behind her. "Anyway, can you go to the beach with me and a few of my friends tomorrow?"
"The beach?"
"Yes, that's a place with a lot of sand near the water." she said, and the boy behind her laughed again. "We'll pick you up about one. No one gets up too early these days. Bring a towel and a change of clothes. We'll probably go out later. Bring some money." she added.
"Oh, well..."
"Don't worry. I know where you live. My stepmother has it tattooed to the inside of my eyelids."
There was more laughter, and then the phone went dead,
"Who was it. honey?" Mommy asked. I told her. "Oh, that's nice. You should be meeting young people, normal young people," she added with wide eyes. I had told her about Augustus and his
grandmother.
"Phoebe sounds weirder than Augustus," I muttered. but I couldn't help being somewhat excited about meeting girls and boys about my age who were what everyone would consider normal, Like Mommy, I needed some diversion, too.
I waited near the front door at one o'clock the next day. They didn't show up until nearly one-thirty. Mommy had gone to lunch with Dallas. She was doing better than I was, actually, and was thinking she would begin working this corning weekend.
She wished me a good time, and I promised to call her later to let her know what we were doing.
I was beginning to think Phoebe wasn't going to show up at all when suddenly I heard a horn blaring and saw a classic old Cadillac convertible whip around the turn to our condo. It was as long as a boat and bright red with high rear fins. A boy with blond hair cropped short on the sides was driving. He wore a white athletic shirt and looked lean and sinewy like a tennis player. I really didn't know what Phoebe looked like, but I imagined she was the dark-haired girl in the front seat, practically sitting on the driver's lap. Another boy sat beside her. He, too, had a short haircut but darker brown hair with a blond streak running through the middle.
Phoebe was in her bathing suit, a rather abbreviated two-piece. I had my bathing suit under a pair of dark blue shorts and a white halter. I wasn't sure what clothes to bring. so I had put a pair of jeans and a blouse in my bag along with my towel.
There were two other girls and another, younger-looking boy in the rear of the convertible. He had curly black hair. I noticed that while the others were laughing he looked very uncomfortable. One of the two girls in the rear looked much younger as well.
The driver pressed on his horn before I could open the door and step out.
"Come on Phoebe cried the moment I appeared. "We're wasting precious time."
I hurried to the car.
"Hey," the boy on her right said as I stepped up. "I thought you said she was a kid. She looks older than you. Phoebe."
"She is a kid," Phoebe declared. "But you wouldn't know the difference. Wally."
"Hey. Randy, you lucked out," Wally told the younger boy in the rear seat.
He gazed at me with interest but dropped his eyes quickly when I looked at him. He had small facial features and a slim body, almost birdlike with thin wrists,
-"All right. idiots," Phoebe said. "Grassy, this is Roger Winston," she said, tapping the driver on the top of his head. ''He thinks he's my boyfriend, and for my own amusement I let him think it."
They all laughed. even Roger.
"You just met Wally Peters, who's never met a girl he didn't like.
"Ha, ha, very funny," Wally said.
"That's Ashley Morris." she continued, gesturing at the taller, alder-looking girl in the rear seat.