Free Blubber by Judy Blume Page A

book,
Poems for the John
and he had trouble with every word over two syllables, and that was in English!
    When my father walked into the sanctuary a few minutes later, Warren stopped again. This time when everyone turned around there was a lot of whispering. Dad sat down next to me and I could tell he was embarrassed because the back of his neck turned red. That’s when Kenny started to sneeze. He never sneezes once like a normal person—it’s always twenty or thirty times in a row.
    I knew that I shouldn’t laugh. I also knew that if I looked at Kenny I would. So I stared straight ahead, right at the back of some girl’s head. It reminded me of Linda Fischer’s. It was the same potato shape and the hair was the same too—reddish-brown and curled up at the edges.
    At least that gave me something to think about so I didn’t have to listen to Warren’s stupidspeech which was something about being grateful to everyone he knew.
    After the service we went to a party at Mr. Winkler’s country club. As soon as we walked into the lobby this woman asked us our names.
    “Brenner,” Dad told her.
    “Oh yes,” she said, fishing some little white cards out of a pile. She handed them to my father. He passed one to me and one to Kenny.
    “What’s this?” Kenny asked.
    “It tells you what table to sit at for lunch,” Mom said.
    “You mean me and Kenny can’t sit with you?” I asked.
    “We’re at Table Nineteen,” Dad told me.
    “I’m at Table One,” Kenny said.
    I looked at my card. “I’m at Table One, too.”
    “All the young people are probably sitting together,” Mom said.
    “But I’d rather sit with you,” I said. “Suppose I don’t like what they have to eat?”
    “Just say
no
,
thank you
,” Dad told me. “Nobody’s going to force you to eat anything.”
    “You should have brought your peanut butter!” Kenny laughed. “Then you wouldn’t have to worry.”
    “Shut up, you little brat!”
    “It won’t hurt you to try something new,” my father said.
    “Look, Jill …” Mom told me, “you don’t have to eat a thing. If you’re hungry, that’s your problem. Now, I’m going to the Ladies’ Room … do you want to come?”
    “All right.” I didn’t want to stand around talking about food anymore. I was glad I’d brought a secret sandwich with me.
    On the way to the Ladies’ Room we passed a big room filled with round tables. In the center of each one was a bunch of blue and white flowers.
    “Look at that!” I said. “Blue daisies … I didn’t know there was such a thing.”
    “They’re dyed,” Mom said.
    “They are?”
    “To match the tablecloths.”
    “This is some party,” I said. “I’ll bet Warren will get a ton of presents.”
    “I suppose so …”
    “Hundreds, I’ll bet.”
    “Probably.”
    “He’s lucky. I wish I could get bar mitzvahed.”
    “That doesn’t necessarily mean big parties and lots of presents, Jill.”
    “It doesn’t?”
    “No … it’s the ceremony that counts, the tradition of reading from the Torah.”
    “Oh.”
    We went into the Ladies’ Room and took booths next to each other. I watched my mother’s feet. It looked like she was dancing.
    When we came out there was a woman standing in front of the mirror, putting on lipstick. And next to her was the girl with the potato-shaped head. Only this time I didn’t see
just
the back of her head—I saw her whole face in the mirror, including her gray tooth, which is why I suddenly sucked in my breath.
    “What’s the matter?” Mom asked.
    I shook my head a little and whispered, “Nothing.” I should have known there couldn’t be two heads exactly alike. I should have known it was Blubber.
    “I have to fix my hair,” Mom said. She stood next to the other woman, who must have been Mrs. Fischer.
    Linda turned around and faced me then. We stared at each other. I could tell that she was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her. Neither one of us spoke.
    Mrs. Fischer