BFF* by Judy Blume

that’s just him. He was wearinghis same old brown suede jacket. It felt soft and familiar against my cheek.
    When we were inside the house I noticed the bald spot on the back of his head had grown, or maybe it was just the way the wind had blown his hair. Also, he had no tan. I asked him about that right away.
    He said, “I’m working long hours. I don’t have time to sit in the sun.”
    He did look worn out. It’s not good for him to be away from us, I thought. He probably has no one to cheer him up after a hard day at work.
    â€œDidn’t anybody ever tell you it’s impolite to stare?” Dad said, laughing.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œYou were staring,” he said again.
    â€œI was?”
    â€œYes … so now it’s my turn.” He looked me over carefully. I don’t know why but I suddenly felt shy. I guess it’s because I’m a different person now, different than when Dad left. I hadn’t even started seventh grade then. Now, I’m almost a teenager. Dad ruffled my hair.
    â€œIt’s growing,” I said, self-consciously, as I touched it. “It should be long again by spring.”
    â€œIt looks fine the way it is,” Dad said.
    Bruce came racing down the stairs. Dad picked him up and swung him around. Then they kindof nuzzled and swatted each other’s arms the way they do to show affection. “You look so big,” Dad told Bruce.
    â€œI haven’t grown at all,” Bruce said. “Not an inch.”
    â€œWell, you could have fooled me.”
    Mom came downstairs right behind Bruce. She and Dad hugged, but just for a minute. “How are you, Row?” Dad asked.
    â€œI’m okay,” Mom said.
    You could tell they didn’t want to get started in front of us.
    I was right about the sweatshirts. Dad brought one for me that said
Los Angeles, City of Angels
and one for Bruce that said
Los Angeles Dodgers
. I don’t know what he brought for Mom.
    Dad had never even seen my new room so I grabbed him by the hand and led him upstairs.
    â€œLook at all these posters,” Dad said. “How come that one is on the ceiling?” He strained his neck to get a better view of Benjamin Moore.
    â€œThat one is special,” I said. “You have to lie on the bed to really see him.”
    â€œMaybe later,” Dad said.
    He didn’t seem surprised that just the three of us were going out to dinner. I guess he and Mom had worked out the details over the phone. We got to sit in a booth at Onion Alley. I ordereda calzone but I didn’t eat much because Bruce and I talked non-stop through dinner. I told Dad all about Alison and how she used to live in Malibu, which she says isn’t that far from Marina Del Rey, where Dad has his apartment. I told him about how she’s lost her skills in math but that Rachel is going to help her get them back. I told him how well Alison and I get along and how much fun she is.
    â€œIt sounds as if you and Alison are best friends,” Dad said, picking at his veal.
    â€œI’m best friends with Rachel
and
Alison,” I told him.
    â€œTwo best friends?” Dad asked.
    â€œTwo are better than one,” I told him.
    â€œTwo best friends means she’s never off the phone,” Bruce said. “She just about lives in the pantry.”
    â€œThe pantry?” Dad looked confused.
    â€œThat’s where she hides with the phone,” Bruce explained.
    â€œIf I had my
own
phone in my
own
room I wouldn’t have to lock myself up in the pantry for privacy. At Crazy Eddie’s you can get one for just $19.95. That’s what I’d really like for my birthday.”
    â€œI don’t think it’s a question of how much a phone costs,” Dad said. “I think it’s more the idea of it.”
    â€œBut you’ll think about it, won’t you?” I asked. “For my
thirteenth
birthday?”
    â€œI’ll discuss it