The Luckiest Girl by Beverly Cleary Page B

was standing on the doorstep.
    â€œHello, Shelley,” he said.
    â€œHello, Philip,” answered Shelley. “Won’t you come in?”
    As Philip stepped through the door, Shelley saw that Luke had disappeared with his magazines. Uncertainly she asked Philip to sit down. She sat down on the opposite end of the couch. She found she could not look directly at him and so, instead, she stared at the toe of her shoe as if it were some strange new object she had never seen before. It was ridiculous to feel so embarrassed, she knew, and for a moment she could not understand why she felt that way. A first date was usually a little awkward but not this awkward, although, of course, none of her other first dates had been with Philip Blanton. Then Shelley realized she felt awkward because she was alone with him. Always before, the first moments had been spent introducing the new boy to her mother and father. She had never enjoyed the introductions, but at least introducing a boy had given her something definite to do for those first few moments. Now she was face-to-face with Philip, alone and on her own. She almost wished Tom would appear and say it was a good night to iron and why didn’t they all pitch in and help?
    Bravely Shelley looked at Philip and wasrewarded by the lopsided grin. Encouraged, she said, “I was certainly surprised to see you up in that tree when Katie asked me to go bicycling this morning.” That would show him that she had not intended to track him down.
    â€œYou saw the firm of Blanton and Gerard, Contractors, at work,” said Philip. “We were cutting some of the branches before they got big enough to overhang the house. Eucalyptus is brittle in hot weather and sometimes the branches fall.”
    â€œAren’t you scared to climb such a high tree?” asked Shelley.
    â€œNo,” said Philip. “I like it. I feel so sort of—well, I don’t know—free, I guess, when I am up there.”
    â€œDo you get many jobs cutting branches?” asked Shelley, who until now had known only boys who earned money mowing lawns or washing cars.
    â€œSome,” answered Philip. “Friz and I cut trees, too, if they aren’t too big. His dad lets us use his chain saw and we cut them up into fireplace lengths and then split them. You have to split eucalyptus wood as soon as it is cut or it gets too hard.”
    â€œYou do?” said Shelley, admiring Philip andthinking that the sunburn on his nose the first day of school must have come from splitting wood under the California sun.
    Conversation died. Philip and Shelley both looked down, looked at each other, and looked away, embarrassed that their eyes had met. For the first time Shelley noticed that the old clock on the mantel had an unusually loud tick.
    Shelley could think of no way to revive the conversation. She had to do something, but what? The television set was not working and the Michies had not bothered to have it repaired. They did not have a record collection. Feeding a boy was always acceptable, but it was too early in the evening. Maybe she should suggest making fudge, the way teen pages in magazines recommended girls should entertain boys. They would have to wait for the fudge to cool and that would take time. But somehow Shelley did not feel she could ask a star basketball player to step into the kitchen to whip up a batch of fudge the minute he entered the house. Lots of boys she had known at home would make fun of a girl if she made such a suggestion. They would laugh about it by the lockers in the halls at school. Shelley did not really think that Philip, who was so reserved and had such nicemanners, was that unkind, but she did not want to suggest something he would merely be polite about. She wanted him to enjoy himself because she wanted him to come back. Why, why hadn’t she thought of this problem before he came? Tick, tick, tick went the clock relentlessly. She had wasted the