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Authors: Frieda Wishinsky

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BOOK: Dimples Delight

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Chapter Ten
Eloise

“What are you doing, Lawrence?” asked Eloise.

I didn't know what to say. I couldn't tell Eloise my plan. I stopped smiling into the mirror.

“Why don't you smile anymore?” asked Eloise. “You're always so grumpy now.”

“I'm not grumpy,” I told her. “ See.” I smiled a big smile right at her.

“Hey, Lawrence,” she said. “I think your dimples are bigger. They look like caves. You could put peanuts in there. Can I see if a peanut fits?”

“No,” I said.

“How about a raisin? I bet a raisin would fit.”

“No,” I said. I went to the kitchen to get a snack.

Eloise followed me.

“How about a chocolate chip? You could eat it when you got hungry.”

“Go away, Eloise,” I shouted.

“You said you weren't going to be grumpy any more. You lied. You're still grumpy.”

Eloise stormed out of the kitchen.

The doorbell rang. It was Aunt Molly. Now I'd really get to test my dimple plan.

“Hi, Aunt Molly,” I said, giving her a big smile.

“Well hello, darling,” she said. She pinched my cheek. “You're much more cheerful today.”

Her pinch stung like a needle. I kept smiling.

“Yes, I'm in a much better mood today,” I told her.

“Well, Lawrence,” she cooed, pinching my cheeks again, “I love your dimples. I always say to your mother, âNo one has dimples like Lawrence.'”

“I know,” I said.

I winced again. My cheeks burned from Aunt Molly's nails. Why did she have to have such long, sharp nails? Maybe my face was bleeding.

My face was aching from all the smiling and pinching, so I stopped smiling. I thought I should save all my smiles for Joe anyway.

They had to be special smiles for Joe. I had to smile as if I loved my dimples. I had to smile as if I wished everyone in the world had dimples. I had to smile as if, no matter what Joe said about me or my dimples, I didn't care.

Would it work? Maybe Joe would find something else to tease me about. Maybe he'd tease me about being short. Maybe he'd tease me about how my hair got curly when it rained. Maybe he'd tease me about the small space between my two front teeth.

Maybe nothing I'd do would work.

Tomorrow I would know.

Chapter Eleven
Dumb Holes

The next morning, Joe poked me in the stomach.

“We're measuring your holes today,” he said in his gangster voice, waving his ruler.

“Wait!” I said.

I reached into my cubby and pulled out my ruler. I pulled out a washable red pen and made a dot in each of my dimples.

“Voila!” I said. I smiled my widest smile.

I placed my ruler on my face. I felt where my dimple began and where it ended.

“Perfect! A matching pair,” I said.

Joe stared at me. His tongue hung in his mouth as if he had lost the power to speak.

The bell rang.

We sat down.

My heart pounded.

I'd won round one. Round two was coming.

It came at recess.

“Let's play catch,” said Stewart.

Stewart and I threw the ball back and forth. I felt a hard jab in my ribs. It was Joe.

“People with dumb holes are dumb people,” he said.

“Dimples are not dumb holes. They're wonderful holes,” I told him. “They're perfect for...for... storing peanuts.”

“What are you talking about?” Joe said.

“Or storing raisins and chocolate chips. I can store them in my dimples and have them later for snack. Want me to store some for you?”

“That is gross,” said Joe. “I wouldn't touch a chocolate chip you'd stored in your sweaty cheek.”

“The sweat gives them extra flavor,” I said.

“Everyone knows the best-tasting peanuts and chips have a little sweat on them,” said Stewart.

“You two are crazy,” Joe said.

“You don't have to believe me or Stewart,” I said, smiling again. “But it's a known fact.”

Stewart threw me a ball, and I caught it.

“Didn't you hear me?” Joe's voice rose higher and higher. “You're dumb. Stupid. Crazy. An idiot with two holes.”

“Sure, I heard you,” I said. I laughed. “You're loud.”

“You're nuts,” said Joe. “You should get your head examined.”

“I've had my head examined. It's in great shape,” I said.

“Let's get away from these two crazy dumb-heads,” Joe said to Andrew.

And then, like a bad smell, they were gone.

Billy and Howie ran over.

“That was great, Lawrence,” they said. “You really got Joe.”

I smiled. “Want to play catch?” I asked them.

“Sure.”

We played. And it was amazing. The balls sank into my hand as if a magnet pulled them there. I could catch anything: fly balls, grounders, curve balls, balls shot from a rocket!

With each catch, my smile grew wider.

“You're good, Dimple Boy,” said Stewart, patting me on the back.

“You too, Toothpick!”