Bingo Brown's Guide to Romance by Betsy Byars Page B

wanted glasses for years—not because he couldn’t see well, but because he liked the idea of himself in glasses. He was the type for glasses.
    Finally he had convinced his parents of his need, and now—the very moment when he really needed glasses to see into the depths of Winn Dixie—they were still at the eye doctor’s, being ground to prescription.
    Even without his glasses, he could see that Melissa was not in sight.
    Bingo was tempted to turn around immediately, retrieve the family’s laundry, and mark the whole thing up to a cruel trick of Wentworth’s. Certainly Wentworth was capable of that sort of cruelty, but Wentworth wasn’t sensitive enough to sense the depth of Bingo’s longing for Melissa and take advantage of it.
    Bingo cracked his knuckles in a manly fashion. He would have spit on his hands but they were already wet with sweat. Bingo prided himself on his manly gestures and hoped, sometime in the future, to get the mature feelings that went along with them.
    â€œYou going in, Worm Brain, you gotta open the doors, like this.”
    Wentworth stepped around Bingo onto the mat, and the doors opened. Without looking at Wentworth, Bingo entered.
    He took a cart—he hadn’t intended to do that, and behind him Wentworth gave a snort of disgust. Bingo put his box of Rinso in the baby’s seat and set off. The cart wanted to turn immediately into a display of paper towels, but Bingo wrestled it to Produce.
    Bingo moved slowly through Produce. He watched the mirrors at the end of the fruit-and-vegetable aisle to see if Billy Wentworth had followed him into the store.
    Bingo seemed to be in everyone’s way, so he muttered beneath his breath, “Grapefruit … lettuce … kumquats … we have those … celery … parsnips … not quite fresh enough …”
    This took him to the bakery department.
    He went quickly past the loaves of bread and brought his cart to an abrupt stop. He peered around a pyramid of macaroni-and-cheese dinners. Billy Wentworth was still outside the store. Now he could devote his full attention to finding Melissa.
    He proceeded more slowly now, giving each aisle the caution a hunter would give the jungle. He did not think Melissa would be in Baby Supplies and, of course, she wasn’t, but he paused there to put a box of disposable diapers in his cart. That, he thought, gave him the look of a serious shopper. If he did run into Melissa, that would make a good impression.
    He continued. Of course she would not be in Pet Products, but he gave that aisle the same caution as the others.
    He was gaining in confidence now. There were only two aisles left—Soft Drinks and Health Supplies.
    By now, Bingo thought he knew what had happened. Wentworth had seen someone who looked like Melissa—after all, there were other girls with incredibly beautiful, beribboned hair and jazzy lips, girls whose eyes had a little squint that would make a man’s heart beat faster.
    Wentworth might even have said, “Hi, Melissa,” and the girl hadn’t bothered to say, “I’m not Melissa,” and this had reinforced the mistaken identification. Therefore Wentworth genuinely believed he had seen the real Melissa and reported it as the truth.
    This explanation made Bingo feel better. Melissa was still safely in Bixby, Oklahoma.
    And, Bingo went on as his spirits began to lift, this would give him an excuse to write an amusing letter. “Today, I almost saw you in the grocery store. Billy Wentworth thought he saw you, and I, of course, rushed into the store and …”
    And he definitely would not Xerox the letter when he finished—no matter how perfect it was!
    The soft drink aisle was empty, and Bingo pushed his cart directly into Health Supplies. One of the cart wheels stuck, and Bingo came to an abrupt halt. He glanced down and saw the trouble. A leaf of lettuce was jammed into the wheel.
    He knelt,