Spaghetti Rain

Dear RR:
I thought the best thing that happened to me recently was being invited to Poppy’s party until I found most of the kids boring and silly! And Poppy didn’t invite me – her parents made her. Karen’s right when she said: “What a bunch of jerks!”

POPPY’S PARTY
December 31, 1949 - January 1, 1950

Karen has also received an invitation to Poppy’s party. So have Gaby, Nicole and Anna. In fact, everyone in our eighth grade class has. That’s probably because Poppy’s mother made her invite everyone. So what! I get to wear my new clothes. If I don’t smile, maybe no one will notice my silver cap that is protecting a tooth I chipped when I fell off my bike.
“Karen,” I say as we’re tossing snowballs at each other in the park, “I wanted the invitation, and now I’m scared to go.”
“Don’t be silly. The food will be good. They’re all a bunch of jerks anyways. Who cares?”
“What about Harold Meister? I know you’ve got a crush on Harold,” I tease her. She throws a snowball in my face.
My father walks Karen and me to the party. Our parents make us wear galoshes to Poppy’s building. “I’ll pick you girls up at 12:30,” my father reminds us as he stashes our ugly boots in a paper bag. I remind him Karen is sleeping over.
As we ring the doorbell, my heart is pounding, my palms are sweaty under my wool gloves and I remind myself not to smile. “Karen, I’ll never survive this party,” I whisper. Poppy answers the door shouting to the crowd, “THE TOMBOYS ARE HERE!” She doesn’t say hello. We‘re escorted into Poppy’s bedroom and add our coats to the pile on her canopied bed.
Karen heads right to the food. I’m too uncomfortable to be hungry, and besides I don’t want any food to attach itself to my silver tooth. There’s a bunch of kids clustered in the kitchen listening to “Our Miss Brooks” on the radio along with Poppy’s parents. Larry comes over to me and explains that poor Miss Brooks is waiting for Mr. Boynton to ask her to a New Year’s Eve party given by his Biology Department, but it turns out he can’t afford the $5.00 ticket for her. Instead, he leaves her a noisemaker and promises that he will think of her when she twirls his noisemaker at midnight. I think Miss Brooks should give up on Mr. Boynton by now. I would never hang around so long waiting for someone to marry me.
I return to the living room. Poppy is annoyed at the kids listening to the radio. Anna is flirting with some older boy who doesn’t go to our school. Gaby is in the kitchen and Nicole and a bunch of girls are sitting on the couch looking at magazines. Most of the boys are hanging in a corner cracking jokes, laughing and punching each other.
Poppy places a 45 on her RCA phonograph. She and Harold begin to slow dance to the Orioles singing, “What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve?” Anna and the boy I don’t know dance too. Karen comes over to me. “What a bunch of jerks – let’s call your father early to pick us up,” she whispers. I’m about to say “yes”, but then Larry asks me to dance. His hands are as sweaty as mine.
“You look nice,” he says. I’m wearing my new nylon blouse and black taffeta skirt.
“Christmas presents from my aunt and uncle,” I tell him smiling my silver tooth smile, then quickly closing my mouth. Poppy brings out an empty Coca Cola bottle. She calls out, “Let’s play ‘Spin the bottle!’ Come on – everybody in a circle on the floor.”
When we’re all sitting on the floor she invites, “Who’ll start the spin?”
“I will,” pipes up Anna.
If the bottle points to a boy you have to kiss him on the cheek; if it points to a girl she has to spin again until it lands on a boy. Anna’s spin points to Nicole, so she spins again and it points to one of the boys in our class. She struts over and gives him a long kiss on the cheek and saunters away. Karen spins the bottle so hard it flies across the room and lands at Bernard’s foot. “Oh, rats,” I hear her mutter under her breath as she walks over and gives Bernard a peck on the cheek. I can’t blame her. He’s the most disgusting boy in our class. Spittle always forms in the corners of his mouth.
Then it’s my turn to spin. The bottle turns to Larry, and I walk over and give him a kiss on the cheek. He turns as red as a ripe strawberry. After a few spins it’s Harold’s turn. All the girls ogle him, hoping the bottle will spin towards them.
Oddly enough, I’m not thinking of Harold. I’m looking around the room: the boys are such babies. The girls mainly think of boys and clothes. The best part of the evening so far has been listening to “Our Miss Brooks” on the radio and getting dressed up in my new clothes.
Do I want to be like most of my classmates at Poppy’s party? Am I just feeling this way because I’m shy? I doubt if that’s all Grandma Rachael thought about when she was my age. I wonder how the tabby cat is doing in the woods. I had forgotten all about him. I wonder if Mother is still sad that she never had another child. I wonder what would have happened if my father did go to war. I wonder...