came home from school.” Mrs. Marsh sighed heavily as she filled Betty’s glass with milk. “Fred, she didn’t come home from school until 5:30, and she charged another dress today. What are we going to do with that child? She comes and goes as she pleases, spends money faster than you can earn it, and neglects her homework.” “Now, Alice, you shouldn’t let her upset you. We're getting along just fine.” He reached for the light switch: and flipped it. The kitchen became brighter. “Betty is just going through a stage of growing up.” He calmed his wife's fidgeting fingers with his strong hand. Betty strolled into the kitchen and took her place at the table. : | “Are you leaving again Betty?” “Mother, you know | always go bowling on Wednesday. Please pass the potatoes,” she said. Betty scooped a fork full of warm mashed potatoes into her mouth, dissolved them with her tongue, and washed them down with a gulp of milk. A bite of roast beef and a spoonfull of green peas followed hurridly. She slipped out of her chair, got her mother’s purse from the cupboard and took two one dollar bills from it. “Bye,” she called as she closed the back door. Weeks passed and Betty's social life increased. She saw less and less of her parents until almost all she ever saw was a shaking, weary Dear | think so. My folks See ugly, ugly, Jane. DON'T kid and the rest twist, the smelly nail polish, | turned the Elvis album over. Sandra went right on with her book report, not paying a bit of attention to his singing. | can still remember how she looked sitting there, her long nose stuck in the notebook. “Oh, all that, but she wasn’t like of us were then. Like, for but not crooked page believe this, Sandra. boy. but she She You wore a may not didn’t even like Betty: new color, “Pixie Pink”, and “Let's “In the hospital?” Betty whispered. til | see Dad.” — ' iy i your do she’s a the cold wall, on my nose and hair.” | jumping and hair,” | repeated Leaning back on my bed, she stared back at me in disbelief for a long time, and then asked, “Why?” “Why! Oh, boy. are you a drip,” | thought. “I guess they’re right.’ Then | explained to her how nobody wore their hair that way now. “But, Marie,” she “Don't call me started. that,” | yelled. Then, controlling myself, | explained calmly that since all the kids at school called me Zsa Zsa, she shou!d too. “All right....Zsa Zsa. I'm letting my hair grow so | can wear it in a pony tail.” “Oh, boy, that’s even worse!” | thought, ready to hit her; but instead I turned the record over again said controlling my tone, “Then let me fix it in a French twist like mine.” “Oh, all right,” she smiled, and | noticed for the first time that she had one good feature, dimples. After she had seated herself in the pink bench in front of my vanity, | began brushing her shoulder-length hair. It snapped and flew against Sandra over the notebook, her drab my (5) (4) cut “how friend glasses. pageboy hanging in front of her face. The way the light fell on her made her long nose look even longer. She wore green courdroy pants. You know, the kind with the elastic in the back? To top it off, she had on a lacy white blouse that buttoned down the back and had short puffy sleeves. | had on some short levis and one of my dad's shirts like all of the kids were wearing then. After closing “She has been acting strangely lately.” Betty walked toward the stairs, books in one arm, the note in her other hand. “I'd better get my homework done,” she thought. “Joan will be here at seven. Maybe she can lend me enough money to bowl un- | wondered, looking across the room at her left eye through the white frames of my sat cross-legged on the floor under my lamp doing a book report, of all things. And on a Friday night! She hunched boy,” you tell your best creep?” | leaned back on pushed my glasses up said, “Let's cut your “Huh?” she said, looking at me. Elvis Presley records, | had been around Sandra since the fifth grade, mostly because my father and Mr. Gorden belonged to the same club. | guess | was just used to her. So you can imagine how it surprized me when my other friends told me she would have to either shape up or ship out. The night after they told me was Friday, but | sacrificed going to the show with the kids and asked Sandra to spend the night with me. | thought it would give me a chance to break the news to her. We were sitting on my bedroom floor listening to the newest Presley album. | was doing my nails with a Dad have MARIE instance, everyone was wearing her hair in either a shag or a French Love, been acting funny lately, though. They keep asking me to stay home ME I guess | was half way through the eighth grade before | realized my best friend was a creep. Now don’t get me wrong. Sandra was a nice you know, your mother has not felt well for some time. This morning, just after you left for school, her nerves gave way. She is quite ill. | am staying at the hospital with her now. Be a good girl and don’t worry. She'll be well soon. hand CALL DIANNE BARRETT As give her the money she demanded daily. The less she stayed at home, the better. Her mother constantly moped around the house, and her father constantly consoled her mother. They bored Betty. Cool wind blew through Betty’s dark hair as she and Joan drove along the broad, tree-lined street in the red convertible. “Still going bowling tonight, Betts?’ Joan shouted above the noise of the wind. “Yes, once in a while.” The car slowed down and swerved into Betty's driveway. She talked quieter now. “I wonder where our car is? Dad must not be home yet, but it’s almost dark. Oh, well, see you about seven. Thanks,” Joan nodded. Betty opened the car door, stepped out, and gathered her books off the seat. She pushec the car door shut with her hip and walked across the half-dead spring grass toward the house. When she reached the front door and tried to open it, she found it locked. “That's funny,” she said. Leaving her books on the steps, she climbed on the window planter and reached the key from the top, of the door frame. She jumped down, unlocked the door, replaced the key and went into the house. “Mom? Dad? Anybody home?” She went back out to get her books off the steps. When she came back in, Betty noticed a piece of paper taped to the face of the grandfather clock. “Probably my bowling money,” she thought as she pulled the paper off the clock. She opened the note. No money. Then she read: hand with electricity, so | knew