Love, Stargirl by Jerry Spinelli Page A

and stood there, listening to the insects. I walked around back. When I saw the ladder I gasped. The roof was only one story high, but it seemed to scrape the moon and felt as forbidding as Babel. I took a deep breath and started climbing.
    He was in the middle of the roof, spread-eagled on a blanket, bare-skinned except for the ragged cutoffs he had worn at the pool, sheeted in moonlight. I thought of you, Leo, keeping the shade of your bedroom window up so the moonlight could fall on you. I sat on the raised edge of the roof, watching, listening to his breathing. I think I would have been comfortable staying like that all night—watching, silent—but this was a person, not a backyard flower. At last I called from the edge: “Hi, Perry.”
    He didn’t move.
    I tried again, a little louder. “Hi, Perry.”
    His eyes opened to the sky above. Then they began to move, though the rest of him still did not. They finally landed on me. His head came up several inches from the blanket. His voice was croaky: “Who’s that?”
    I realized that the moon was behind me now; my face was in shadow. His simple question stumped me. As far as I knew, he didn’t even know my name. So how should I identify myself? I thought over several possibilities and finally said, “I’m the girl you spat at.”
    He laughed, or at least something that resembled laughter came out of his mouth. His head flopped back down. His eyes closed. I was afraid that was all, but in time he spoke again: “What do you want?”
    The questions weren’t getting any easier. “Dootsie said you sleep on your roof on hot nights.”
    “Didn’t answer the question.” He was right. His voice was straining, its tone saying,
Leave me alone so I can go back to sleep.
    “I guess I don’t know what I want,” I said. “I woke up. It was hot. I couldn’t sleep. I remembered what Dootsie said. And here I am.”
    “You don’t have your own roof?”
    “Well, sure, but it’s not flat like this. Besides, you’re not on my roof. You’re on this one.”
    “You want to sleep
here
?”
    “No, no, I don’t mean that.”
    “What do you mean?”
    I was very uncomfortable. Whatever had compelled me to come here was gone. “I don’t know,” I said. “I do things without thinking.” I stood. “I’ll go. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
    His hand flapped in the air. “It’s okay. I’m awake now.” I sat back down. “You got a name?”
    “Stargirl,” I said. For the first time ever, I felt self-conscious saying it out loud.
    His eyes opened. “What?”
    “Stargirl.”
    “What?”
    I said it for the third time: “Stargirl.”
    I thought he was going to make a big deal out of it, but he just said, “Okay,” and closed his eyes again.
    This was such a new script to me. I had no idea what my lines were.
    I said, “How can you stand to suck on lemons?”
    “Juice is juice,” he said.
    “Are you going to the Blobfest?”
    “Don’t know.”
    “I’m going with Dootsie.”
    “Good for you.”
    “You sneak into the pool a lot?”
    “When I feel like it.”
    “You’re braver than me. I’ve never gone off a high dive.”
    “No big deal.”
    “It is if you’re afraid to do it.”
    “So you’re a coward.”
    I don’t know how I expected things to go, but it wasn’t like this. What had made me think I might be welcome? I stood again. “Perry, I really am sorry. I—”
    Suddenly he sat up. He snapped: “
You
came over to
my
house and climbed up here and woke
me
up. And now I’m wide awake. Is
that
what you wanted, to wake me up?”
    “No,” I peeped.
    “Well, what
do
you want? You just want to watch me sleep?”
    “No.”
    “You want to talk?”
    I was shaking. “I think so.”
    “So
talk.
You did enough talking before. You follow me home and call me a thief. You lecture me in the library. Who do you think you are, some chief nun or something?”
    “No.”
    “So open your big mouth and
talk.
”
    I don’t know how long I stood there, trying