No one had ever called me "babe" before (of course), and I wasn't sure that I liked it. In fact, the whole phone call left me feeling uncomfortable, as much as I liked talking with Jerry.

When I called Jerry's house, Cassie answered the phone. "Hello, Miss Witness Protection!" she said.

"I'm not on witness protection," I replied.

"I figured that. Why does everybody think you are?"

I told her the story, and she laughed. "You know, some kids thought your dad was the FBI guy, come to relocate you."

"Yeah, I heard. Cassie, is Jerry there?"

She ignored my question. "They figured that when you walked out the door, we'd never see you or hear of you again. You'd be in some new suburb in a new school,with a new name. They couldn't believe it when you came back for lunch. Some people are so gullible!"

I like Cassie, and usually I don't mind her teasing, but right now she was proving to be quite the pain. For a moment I considered hanging up and calling back, but she'd just answer again. "Cassie, come on. Let me talk to Jerry."

"No, you come on," she said. "Nina gets Marcie time, Jerry gets Marcie time, how come I don't get any Marcie time?"

I sighed. Was she kidding? Did she really want some "Marcie time"? It didn't seem likely, but... I had nothing to lose. In fact, there was something I wanted to ask her. "Okay," I agreed. "It's *your* Marcie time."

"Oh, how nice!" she exclaimed. "But now I have to go! Thanks for calling!" and she hung up!

I stared at the phone for a moment, blinking, before I called back. This time Jerry answered.

There wasn't any point in telling him about Cassie. I'd already wasted enough time with her, so I skipped to the important stuff: I told him about my conversation with my mother: how Eden's mother told her we were dating, and how she'd threatened to send me to an all-girl school.

"Catholic girls school, huh?" Jerry said. His voice had a strange tone, as if he was... I don't know... savoring the idea.

"Jerry, it sounds like you'd like it if I went there."

"Marcie, do you think your mother could send you one of the uniforms? So you could, you know, model it for me?"

"Model it for you?" I repeated, incredulously. "Jerry! I am truly shocked!"

"Hey," he said. "You put the picture in my mind. Now I can't get it out. I have the feeling that tonight I'll dream of you dressed that way."

My cheeks were hot. He'd never talked like this to me before, and I didn't like it.

Partly to change the subject, I told him about the wall-climbing incident.

Again, he didn't seem to understand the trouble I was in. He was simply excited about what happened.

"Wow!" Jerry exclaimed. "I can't believe it! You climbed barefoot, to the third story!? You are amazing! Do you think you could do it again? Oh! Oh! I just thought of something! Oh, this is great!" He could hardly contain his excitement. I didn't think it was all that amazing, but I didn't know what he thinking until he asked, "That kid, the one on the ground, the one with the asthma — did you say his name is Cory?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Is he a little chubby, green backpack, hangs with a skinny kid who looks like a chicken?"

"Yeah." I squirmed a bit at the unflattering descriptions.

"Don't you know who he is? That's the guy who drew the cartoon of you and the Little Train. It's Cory something. Cory Fleet. Oh, babe — I think you might be featured in another cartoon this Thursday!"

I flashed to the way he was studying my legs, and it clicked. He was going to draw me.

"Oh, no!" I cried. "He can't!"

"What do you mean 'oh, no'? This is so sweet!"

"No, no, it isn't 'sweet' at all. It's bad! It's *very* bad!"

"No, no, no. This is good! How could it be bad? How could it possibly be bad, babe? Everybody loved the first cartoon! I have it hanging in my room."

"You do?"

"Of course I do! I fall asleep looking at it every night."

I was in stunned silence, until Jerry was struck with another idea: "I wonder if that Cory guy could draw you in one of those uniforms. Wouldn't that be wild? Then you wouldn't have to ask your mother to send one."

No one had ever called me "babe" before (of course), and I wasn't sure that I liked it. In fact, the whole conversation left me feeling extremely uncomfortable, as much as I liked Jerry.

I wanted to talk to my aunt and my mother about it. I didn't think Eden could help, and I was sure Carla couldn't. Carla was making out with Pat on their first date; she would just tell me to run with it.

Still, I was afraid that my mother might think that girls school was the best solution. Maybe I'd wait until my parents were gone, and talk to Aunt Jane.

In spite of my misgivings, I walked to the living room anyway. My mother and aunt were busy with towels and bottles and files and buckets and things, which made me remember that we were doing our nails tonight. "Just in time!" Mom said, when she saw me.

"Is Dad here?" I asked. If I was going to broach the subject (and I still wasn't sure I would), I wanted to make sure I didn't set off any volcanos.

"No," Mom replied. "He went out... to get some air. He'll probably be gone a while. Do you need to talk to him?"

"No, no," I replied hastily. He was the absolute last person I wanted to talk to at the moment. "I was just wondering."

They sat me in a chair and put my feet in a bucket of warm water and... bubble bath, I guess, and set each of my hands in a bowl. Well, my fingertips, anyway.

"Don't move, and be careful not to knock the bowls over!" Aunt Jane commanded.

I sat there, feeling a little like a prisoner, while the two women bustled around the room. There was nothing to do but wiggle my knees and scrunch my itchy nose.

After what seemed like ten minutes, they came back to me and set to work on my hands.

Aunt Jane saw me making faces, so she scratched my nose for me.

"You're awfully quiet," Mom observed. "What are you thinking about?"

"I bet I can guess," Aunt Jane said.

I took a deep breath. "If I tell you," I said, with much trepidation, "Do you promise that you won't pull me out of school?"

"Uh oh!" Jane laughed. "Maybe we ought to get a good stiff drink ready before we hear this one!"

My mother pursed her lips and frowned. "Oh, honey," she said. "Why don't you just tell us what's on your mind? We'll take it from there."

"Okay," I sighed.

I told them about my conversation with Jerry, and said, "I knew that he liked me, but I didn't think he really liked me. I mean in such a... physical way."

"You thought you were just friends?" Mom asked.

"Well, no."

"Friends who kiss?"

"I guess. Something like that. I figured that if I was with him, other boys wouldn't bother me."

"I don't think it works like that," Mom said. "You might just have to break up with him."

"Really?"

Mom shrugged. "I think you'll be better off and safer if you don't go out with boys. Your friend Eden doesn't date."

"She's new here," I countered.

"So are you," she replied.

I fell silent. Aunt Jane said, "Well, you could go the old-fashioned way. You know, there actually used to be rules about stuff like this."

"Really?"

"Yes, like 'Never be alone with a boy.' In fact, I wanted to tell you: never invite him over here unless I'm home and I know he's coming."

Mom chuckled. "I remember another one: 'Don't sit on a boy's lap unless there's a phone book between you.'" We all laughed.

Aunt Jane said, "You have to make it clear, more by what you do than what you say, that kissing is as far as you'll go."

"Okay," I said. I was starting to feel better.