Nancy 's rule was, we all had to wear bras. I felt my cheeks turn red. I wondered if the others wore them already. I didn't think Janie did because she looked down at the floor after Nancy said it.
Gretchen's rule was, the first one to get her period had to tell the others all about it. Especially how it feels. Janie's rule was, we all had to keep a Boy Book, which was a notebook with a list of boys' names in order of how we liked them. Each week we had to change our lists and pass the Boy Books around.
Finally Nancy asked me what my rule was. I couldn't think of one to equal the others so I said, "We meet on a certain day each week."
"Naturally!" Nancy said. "But what day?"
"Well, I don't know," I told her.
"Okay, let's think up a good day," Gretchen said. "Tuesday and Thursday are out. I have to go to Hebrew school."
"Oh Gretchen!" Janie said. "You and that Hebrew school business. Can't you get out of it?"
"I'd love to," Gretchen explained. "But I've got to go one more year and then I'm through."
"What about you, Margaret? Do you go?" Janie asked me.
"You mean to Hebrew school?"
"Yes."
"No, I don't go," I said.
"Margaret doesn't even go to Sunday school. Isn't that right?" Nancy asked.
"Yes," I answered.
"How'd you arrange that?" Gretchen asked.
"I'm not any religion," I said.
"You're not!" Gretchen's mouth fell open.
"What are your parents?" Janie asked.
"Nothing," I said.
"How positively neat!" Gretchen said.
Then they all just looked at me and nobody said anything and I felt pretty silly. So I tried to explain. "See uh… my father was Jewish and uh… my mother was Christian and… "
Nancy 's face lit up. "Go on," she said.
This was the first time they were interested in anything I had to say. "Well, my mother's parents, who live in Ohio, told her they didn't want a Jewish son-in-law. If she wanted to ruin her life that was her business. But they would never accept my father for her husband."
"No kidding!" Gretchen said. "How about your father's family?"
"Well, my grandmother wasn't happy about getting a Christian daughter-in-law, but she at least accepted the situation."
"So what happened?" Janie asked.
"They eloped."
"How romantic!" Nancy sighed.
"So that's why they're not anything."
"I don't blame them," Gretchen said. "I wouldn't be either."
"But if you aren't any religion, how are you going to know if you should join the Y or the Jewish Community Center?" Janie asked.
"I don't know," I said. "I never thought about it. Maybe we won't join either one."
"But everybody belongs to one or the other," Nancy said.
"Well, I guess that will be up to my parents," I said, ready to change the subject. I never meant to tell them my story in the first place. "So uh… what day should we meet?"
Nancy announced that Friday was no good for a meeting day because she had piano lessons. Janie said she had ballet on Wednesday so I said that only left Mondays and we agreed that Monday would be our meeting day. Next week we had to bring our Boy Books and get checked to make sure we were all wearing bras.
When the meeting was over Nancy raised her arms high above her head. She closed her eyes and whispered, "Here's to the Four PTS's. Hurray!"
"Long live the PTS's," we chanted.
All through supper 1 thought about how I was going to tell my mother I wanted to wear a bra. I wondered why she hadn't ever asked me if I wanted one, since she knew so much about being a girl.
When she came in to kiss me goodnight I said it. "I want to wear a bra." Just like that-no beating around the bush.
My mother turned the bedroom light back on. "Margaret… how come?"
"I just do is all." I hid under the covers so she couldn't see my face.
My mother took a deep breath. "Well, if you really want to we'll have to go shopping on Saturday. Okay?"
"Okay." I smiled. My mother wasn't bad. She turned out the light and closed my door halfway. Was I glad that was over!
Are you there God? It's me, Margaret. I just told my mother I want a bra. Please help me grow God. You know where. I want to be like everyone else. You know God, my new friends all belong to the Y or the Jewish Community Center. Which way am I supposed to go? I don't know what you want me to do about that.
6
The next day after school Mr. Benedict called me up to his desk. "Margaret," he said. "I'd like to discuss your getting-to-know-you paper. For instance, why do you hate religious holidays?"
Was I sorry I wrote that! How positively stupid of me. If it was true that he was trying to find out if we were normal, I guess he thought I wasn't.
I half laughed. "Oh, I just wrote that," I said. "I really don't hate them at all."
"You must have had a reason. You can tell me. It's confidential."
I raised my right eyebrow at Mr. Benedict. I can do that really good. Raise one without the other. I do it whenever I can't think of anything to say. People notice it right away. Some people actually ask me how I do it. They forget what we were talking about and concentrate on my right eyebrow. I don't know exactly how I do it. What I do is think about it and the eyebrow goes up. I can't do it with my left. Only my right.
Mr. Benedict noticed. But he didn't ask me anything about how I do it. He just said, "I'm sure you have a perfectly good reason for hating religious holidays."
I knew he was waiting for me to say something. He wasn't going to just forget about it. So I decided to get it over with in a hurry. "None of those holidays are special to me. I don't belong to any religion," I said.
Mr. Benedict seemed pleased. Like he had uncovered some deep, dark mystery. "I see. And your parents?"
"They aren't any religion. I'm supposed to choose my own when I grow up. If I want to, that is."
Mr. Benedict folded his hands and looked at me for a while. Then he said, "Okay, Margaret. You can go now."
I hoped he decided I was normal, after all. I lived in New York for eleven and a half years and I don't think anybody ever asked me about my religion. I never even thought about it. Now, all of a sudden, it was the big thing in my life.
That night when Grandma called she told me she'd gotten a subscription to Lincoln Center for the two of us. We'd meet one Saturday a month, have lunch and then go to a concert. Grandma really is clever. She knew my parents would never say no to one Saturday a month at Lincoln Center. That was culture. And they thought culture was very important. And now Grandma and I would have a chance to spend some time alone. But I was glad that Lincoln Center didn't start right away because I didn't want anything to interfere with Bra Day.
First thing on Saturday morning Moose Freed arrived to cut our lawn. My father sulked behind a sports magazine. His finger was a lot better but it was still bandaged.
I sat around outside while Moose cut the grass. I liked the way he sang as he worked. I also liked his teeth. I saw them when he smiled at me. They were very clean and white and one in the front was a little crooked. I pretended to be really busy reading a book but the truth is-I was watching Moose. If he looked toward me I put my nose back in the book in a hurry. Moose would be number one in my Boy Book if only I was brave enough, but what would Nancy think? She hated him.