Read Online Burning Questions of Bingo Brown by Betsy Byars - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Betsy Byars
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did a good job too.”
Melissa sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed again. Bingo got to his feet in alarm. Was it something he had said? Was it something he had not said? He would say anything she wanted him to, didn’t she know that?
“Well, remember I said Mr. Mark went in the store and she stayed outside?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Remember I said I went over and said, ‘Hi’?”
“Yes, yes.”
“I just did it to be friendly. She said, ‘Hi,’ back to me. Then she said, ‘What’s your name?’ I said, ‘Melissa.’ She said, ‘Mine’s Dawn.’”
There was a long pause. Bingo wondered if that was the end of the conversation. He didn’t want to say, “Well, I’m glad we had this talk,” in case there was more. On the other hand, he was glad to have had this talk. It was the best mixed-sex conversation he had ever had in his life.
“That’s not all,” Melissa said as if she had read his mind. Bingo sank slowly back into the chair.
“I said, ‘Are you and Mr. Mark going somewhere special? I’m in his room at school.’ I said that because I didn’t want her to think I was just being nosy.”
“Oh.”
“She said, ‘We’re going on a picnic.’ I said, ‘Oh, neat. I love picnics.’ She said, ‘Well, I don’t. He came by the spa where I work and offered me a ride home. At first I said no, but then he promised to take me straight home so I got on. Right away he U-turned and brought me here. I can’t go on a picnic. I told him that but he won’t listen. Now he’s gone in the store to get hotdogs.’”
Bingo had never realized before what a good conversationalist Melissa was. He had known she was beautiful and intelligent and sensitive, but she was so good at imitating people that he knew exactly how Dawn sounded.
“So I said, ‘Are you his girlfriend?’ She was so nice I felt like I could ask her anything. And she said, ‘No, I could never be his girlfriend because he’s too erratic, like this picnic that I don’t want to go on. I’ve got a date tonight and he probably won’t take me home in time to get ready.’ Then she looked around and said, ‘I wish I could see somebody I knew,’ and then she looked at me and said, ‘Oh, could I get a ride home with you? Where’s your car—quick?’ Before I could answer, Mr. Mark came out of the store. She said, ‘Oh, there he is. I could just cry.’”
There was a long pause, and then Melissa said, “That’s all.”
“Oh?”
“That was all the conversation. They got on the bike and drove off.”
“Oh.” Bingo was trying to put a lot of variety in his Oh’s, making each one different.
“I wanted to tell somebody about it because it made me feel terrible the other day when he said she was his girlfriend. She’s not his girlfriend. I don’t even think she likes him.”
“Oh.”
“I wish I had her last name so I could call her up.”
“Me too.”
“Anyway, you know something?”
“What?”
“Just telling you about it has made me feel better.”
“Oh.”
“Thanks for listening.”
“I was glad to.”
“Bye.”
He went slowly back to the window. “You missed the bunk beds, two La-Z-Boy recliners and a beanbag chair,” his mom said.
“Oh.”
“Here they come! The Wentworths and the kids.”
Bingo watched as the car drove up and stopped in front of the house. Billy got out of the car, then his sister—they were having an argument. The sister was saying, “I got the big bedroom because I take care of things. You are a slob.” There was a bumper sticker on the car that said I’D RATHER BE BOWLING.
Also, Bingo had sort of lost interest. A good mixed-sex conversation made bunk beds and beanbag chairs unimportant. Plus he had gotten a mental picture of how he might look to Billy Wentworth.
And then Bingo stepped up to the window. He gasped with surprise. He threw open the curtain.
For at that moment, getting out of the car along with the family, was the most unbelievable sight Bingo had ever
Melissa sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
She sighed again. Bingo got to his feet in alarm. Was it something he had said? Was it something he had not said? He would say anything she wanted him to, didn’t she know that?
“Well, remember I said Mr. Mark went in the store and she stayed outside?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Remember I said I went over and said, ‘Hi’?”
“Yes, yes.”
“I just did it to be friendly. She said, ‘Hi,’ back to me. Then she said, ‘What’s your name?’ I said, ‘Melissa.’ She said, ‘Mine’s Dawn.’”
There was a long pause. Bingo wondered if that was the end of the conversation. He didn’t want to say, “Well, I’m glad we had this talk,” in case there was more. On the other hand, he was glad to have had this talk. It was the best mixed-sex conversation he had ever had in his life.
“That’s not all,” Melissa said as if she had read his mind. Bingo sank slowly back into the chair.
“I said, ‘Are you and Mr. Mark going somewhere special? I’m in his room at school.’ I said that because I didn’t want her to think I was just being nosy.”
“Oh.”
“She said, ‘We’re going on a picnic.’ I said, ‘Oh, neat. I love picnics.’ She said, ‘Well, I don’t. He came by the spa where I work and offered me a ride home. At first I said no, but then he promised to take me straight home so I got on. Right away he U-turned and brought me here. I can’t go on a picnic. I told him that but he won’t listen. Now he’s gone in the store to get hotdogs.’”
Bingo had never realized before what a good conversationalist Melissa was. He had known she was beautiful and intelligent and sensitive, but she was so good at imitating people that he knew exactly how Dawn sounded.
“So I said, ‘Are you his girlfriend?’ She was so nice I felt like I could ask her anything. And she said, ‘No, I could never be his girlfriend because he’s too erratic, like this picnic that I don’t want to go on. I’ve got a date tonight and he probably won’t take me home in time to get ready.’ Then she looked around and said, ‘I wish I could see somebody I knew,’ and then she looked at me and said, ‘Oh, could I get a ride home with you? Where’s your car—quick?’ Before I could answer, Mr. Mark came out of the store. She said, ‘Oh, there he is. I could just cry.’”
There was a long pause, and then Melissa said, “That’s all.”
“Oh?”
“That was all the conversation. They got on the bike and drove off.”
“Oh.” Bingo was trying to put a lot of variety in his Oh’s, making each one different.
“I wanted to tell somebody about it because it made me feel terrible the other day when he said she was his girlfriend. She’s not his girlfriend. I don’t even think she likes him.”
“Oh.”
“I wish I had her last name so I could call her up.”
“Me too.”
“Anyway, you know something?”
“What?”
“Just telling you about it has made me feel better.”
“Oh.”
“Thanks for listening.”
“I was glad to.”
“Bye.”
He went slowly back to the window. “You missed the bunk beds, two La-Z-Boy recliners and a beanbag chair,” his mom said.
“Oh.”
“Here they come! The Wentworths and the kids.”
Bingo watched as the car drove up and stopped in front of the house. Billy got out of the car, then his sister—they were having an argument. The sister was saying, “I got the big bedroom because I take care of things. You are a slob.” There was a bumper sticker on the car that said I’D RATHER BE BOWLING.
Also, Bingo had sort of lost interest. A good mixed-sex conversation made bunk beds and beanbag chairs unimportant. Plus he had gotten a mental picture of how he might look to Billy Wentworth.
And then Bingo stepped up to the window. He gasped with surprise. He threw open the curtain.
For at that moment, getting out of the car along with the family, was the most unbelievable sight Bingo had ever
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