BFF* by Judy Blume Page B

keep you company while you get dressed,” Carla said.
    â€œWill you watch the turkey, Steve?” Mom asked. “It needs basting every fifteen minutes.”
    â€œNo problem,” Dad said.
    â€œCome on,” Bruce said, grabbing Dad’s hand and dragging him toward the den. “The game’s on …”
    Katie stood watching as everyone went off in different directions. She’s small for eight, with chubby pink cheeks. She reminds me of a Cabbage Patch Kid. “You want to see my room?” I asked her.
    â€œSure.”
    We went upstairs. “This is nice,” Katie said, looking around. “I like your posters. How come that one’s on the ceiling?”
    â€œThat’s my boyfriend,” I told her.
    â€œWhat’s his name?”
    â€œBenjamin.”
    â€œThat’s a nice name. How old is he?”
    â€œSeventeen.”
    â€œThat’s really old. Are you going steady?”
    â€œYes, but my family doesn’t know so don’t say anything, okay?”
    â€œOkay.”
    I took a deck of cards out of my desk drawer. “I’ll teach you to play Spit.”
    â€œI already know how.”
    â€œYou do?” That surprised me because I had never heard of the game until Alison taught me. “You want to play?” I asked her.
    â€œSure,” she said.
    Katie was really fast. She beat me twice before the rest of our guests arrived. They all came at once.
    Aunt Robin and her live-in, Scott, brought their poodle, Enchilada. Gran Lola calls Enchilada her granddog. Aunt Robin and Scott are investment bankers. Their hobby is money. That’s all they ever talk about. So they were extremely interested when I told Gran Lola and Papa Jack about my three stocks and how I came to choose them. “I picked Jiffy Lube because I liked the name, Revlon because Mom uses their makeup and Reebok because everybody wants to wear their shoes. So far I’m doing all right.”
    Uncle Richard, who is married to Aunt Denise, said that from his experience with the stock market, my reasons for choosing Revlon, Jiffy Lube and Reebok seemed as good as any.
    At four we sat down to dinner. Everyone oohed and aahed as Mom carried in the turkey and set it in front of Dad. Then she took her seat at the opposite end of the table.
    â€œBreast or leg?” Dad asked each of us as he carved the turkey.
    â€œBreast!” Bruce called out and he and Katie started laughing.
    â€œOh, to be ten again,” Cousin Stanley said, sighing, as if he were ninety years old instead of nineteen.
    Papa Jack took his ulcer medicine before he ate anything.
    After the main course Howard burped three times. “An excellent meal,” he said, patting his middle.
    During dessert a piece of pumpkin pie fell to the floor. Enchilada gobbled it up. I don’t know if anyone besides me noticed. But a few minutes later Enchilada threw up on Bruce’s shoe. Bruce took it personally. “These are my only shoes,” he said. “What am I supposed to wear to school on Monday? If I wear these all the kids will hold their noses and say,
Yuck … barf!”
    â€œTake them off and put them in the laundry room,” Mom said. When Bruce didn’t move she added, “Hurry up!”
    Aunt Robin took Enchilada outside, just in case, while Scott cleaned up under the table. “You’d be better off with a baby,” Gran Lola said, when Aunt Robin came back. “A baby isn’t any more trouble than that dog.”
    â€œBabies grow up,” Aunt Robin said, looking at Howard.
    Howard burped.
    Papa Jack took some more ulcer medicine.
    By eight, our company had left, including Carla and Katie, who drove back to the city with Aunt Robin and Scott. Suddenly the house seemed very quiet. The four of us cleared the table. Then Mom loaded the dishwasher and Dad scrubbed the pots and pans, while I wrapped the leftovers. I guess Mom and Dad were too tired to