The Banana Split Affair (7 page)

Oh, no! she thought, suddenly understanding what was going on. I know what the problem is. I’m falling in love with Keith West!

“We made it!”

Susan and Chris stood at their lockers, grinning from ear to eat

“I know!” agreed Susan. “I never thought we’d be able to pull it off. But we did! For a whole day we managed to convince everyone at school that I was Chris and you were Susan!”

“It wasn’t easy, though. There were a couple of times there when I thought I was going to give the whole thing away. Like when your art teacher, Mr. Smith, stopped me on my way out of his class and asked me how I was enjoying the book he’d lent me.” Chris rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“What did you say?”

“Oh, I raved about it. I went on and on about how much I was getting out of it. I said I’d started reading it Saturday night and I just couldn’t put it down. Hey, Sooz, what book was he talking about, anyway?”

Her twin started to giggle.
“Basic Color Theory.
Hardly the kind of thing you’d curl up with in front of a fireplace on a Saturday night!”

“Oh, no! Now Mr.
Smith must think I’m really weird!”

“You mean he thinks that
I’m
really weird!” Susan laughed. “Well, I have to admit that I also had a couple of instances when things were touch and go. Would you please tell me who Carla is?”

“Carla Truscott, of course. She was the captain of the varsity cheerleading team last year. Why?”

“Some girl passed me a note in English class about her. And I didn’t know who she was talking about.”

“Really? What did the note say?”

“I don’t remember. Something about some guy who had finally asked her out.”

“You’re kidding! You mean Jim finally got up the nerve? I don’t believe it! I never thought I’d see it happen. When did he ask her? Where are they going? What did Amy say?”

“Christine,”
Susan groaned. “I have no idea! I don’t even know who these people are, remember?”

“Oh, yeah. Sorry. I forgot for a minute. I’ll just have to ask around and find out for myself.”

“But you’re already supposed to know about it. After all, that friend of yours wrote you a note about it.”

“You’re right. Oh, dear. Now I’ll never find out. I won’t be able to ask anybody about it for two whole weeks. I’ll
die
of curiosity.”

“Look, I’ll do what I can to find out all about it. In the meantime, why don’t we walk home together? I want to hear every single detail about your day. I can’t wait to find out what Susan Pratt did today.” While she was too shy to mention it, what she was most anxious to hear about was how Chris had managed with Keith West. Had her more outgoing twin had any more success in catching his attention than she had?

“I want to hear about everything that happened to you today, too, Sooz. But I have some errands to do before I go home. So you’d better go along without me and we can talk later”

“Errands? What kind of errands?”

“Oh, nothing much.” Chris shrugged. “I just want to browse around at Mitch’s Art Supply Store. See what kind of things they have.”

“Okay.” Susan suppressed a smile. She could see that her twin was a little embarrassed by her newfound interest in art, so she was careful not to tease her or say anything to discourage her. “I’ll see you later on, then.”

The two girls sorted through their lockers until they had found the books they needed to do their homework, then traded them with brief explanations about the types of assignments that were usually given.

As Susan started down the sidewalk away from the red brick building, she was lost in thought. She was still trying to digest all the things that had happened to her that day. More important, she was sorting out the surprising facts she had learned about her sister’s life.

Gee, I always thought Chris had things so easy, she mused. All the girl friends and boyfriends she wanted, her easygoing personality, being in the center of everything. But there’s a price for that popularity. Having to put up with people like Richard Collier, for one thing. She shivered as she remembered how he had acted toward her, putting his arm around her and making disparaging remarks about Susan Pratt.

Then there’s the way the teachers treat her. I always assumed that teachers behaved the same way toward everyone. But I found out in English class that they can be as sarcastic and difficult to get along with as anybody else. Poor Chris! No wonder she hates schoolwork so much!

Thinking back, Susan could remember a time when Chris had refused to go to school. Every morning she would cry and fight with her mother and then be dragged off, kicking and screaming, to the school bus. At the time Susan had thought she was merely being childish, acting like a spoiled little kid. But now she understood how hard it must have been for her. She made a vow to start offering her twin help with her homework and to put in a good word for her with her teachers every chance she got.

And then there were the things she had learned about herself that day, about how Susan Pratt was perceived at school. Most of the students seemed to think she was nice enough but that she was so quiet and timid that no one ever got the chance to know her. Why had she never made an attempt to get to know Chris’s friends? Whenever they came over to the house, Susan always hid in her room behind closed doors. She told herself she wanted nothing to do with them. But maybe the truth was that she was afraid they wanted nothing to do with her. It was certainly something to think about!

As Susan rounded a corner clutching her schoolbooks to her chest, her mind still a million miles away, she suddenly jumped back in horror. She heard the shrieking of two sets of brakes, then froze as she realized what was about to happen. She braced herself, then watched two cars collide, one running into the front of the other with full force. It was a terrifying sight, and the noise of the brakes, the tires skidding, and the crash of heavy metal against metal hurt her ears.

Then, for a few seconds, there was a dead silence, broken only by the tinkling sound of shattering glass. Susan immediately sprang into action. She ran over to see if anyone was hurt, her heart pounding so hard she could scarcely breathe.

“Are you all right?” she called as she neared the wreckage. “Is anyone badly hurt?”

The doors of both cars opened, and a man climbed out of each car. One of them was very young, probably a teenager. The other one—the one who had run the stop sign and caused the accident—was an older man, in his fifties or sixties.

“What’s the matter with you, boy?” The older man
scowled. “What are you trying to do, kill an innocent
passenger?”

“Me?”
cried the young man.
“You’re
the one who ran the stop sign on the corner!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the first man insisted. “Here you are, a wild kid, driving around town like some kind of maniac.... You ought to have your driver’s license taken away. That is, if you even
have
a license! And good luck to you if you don’t have the registration for that vehicle. Hey, that’s not a
stolen
car, by any chance, is it?”

It didn’t take Susan long to realize that neither of the drivers had noticed her. The older one was so involved in yelling his false accusations that he never bothered to look around. And the younger one was so distressed that he didn’t know what to do.

“Gee, now my neck is starting to hurt,” the older man went on as Susan drew closet; “I’ve probably got whiplash. You’ll pay for this, young man!”

“Excuse me,” Susan said softly, walking up behind them and tapping the boy on the shoulder. “I just saw this whole accident happen. Maybe I can be of some help.”

“What?” The older man glared at hen “Who are you? You his girl friend or something?”

“No, sir,” Susan replied. “I never met either of you before. But as I said, I saw the accident. I was walking home from school, and just as I turned the corner, the collision took place.” She hesitated, watching the older man grow even more angry. “I believe you’re mistaken, sir,
about the cause of the accident. I saw very distinctly that it was you who ran the stop sign, right over there, on the comer of Juniper and Elm.”

A look of relief spread across the boy’s face.

“I don’t know too much about what you’re supposed to do when you have an accident,” Susan went on, “but I remember hearing my father say once that the first thing to do is call the police.”

“That’s right,” the boy agreed. “Is there a phone around here? I don’t live in this town, so I don’t know my way around very well.”

“I’ll say,” the older man mumbled. “Reckless driving ... kids like you should be put in jail!”

Susan ignored him. “There’s a little grocery store right down that side street over there. If you want, I’ll run over there and call the police.’’

“Would you really do that?” The boy looked so grateful that Susan felt like taking his hand and telling him that everything was going to be all right.

“Of course. No trouble at all. I’ll just leave my books in your car, if you don’t mind.” She dropped them onto the backseat through an open window. “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

Susan trotted down the street toward Gray’s Grocery. Meanwhile the two drivers exchanged insurance and registration information. When she returned with the report that the police would be arriving as soon as they could, the two men were standing as far apart as possible, each leaning against his own car and avoiding the other.

“Thanks for calling the police,” the boy said when she joined him. “Boy, my father’s going to be furious! This is his car. He lent it to me so I could get to basketball practice.”

“Where do you live?”

“Over in Pointersville. But our school gym is being renovated, so we’ve been using the junior high school gym in Whittington. How about you?”

“I live here in Whittington.” She paused, not sure whether this was the time and place for making polite small talk. But before she had time to decide, the boy started talking.

“By the way, my name is Jason. Jason Simms. I’m a senior over at Pointersville High. How about you? Are you a senior, too?”

“No, I ...”

Before she had a chance to answer, a police car rolled up.

“It’s about time,” the older man grumbled to no one in particular. “I don’t have all day to stand around here.”

“Okay, what seems to be the problem here?” the policeman asked as he got out of the car, holding a pad and pen. “Why don’t you start by each giving me your own version of what happened?”

While the two drivers talked to the police officer and argued between themselves, Susan stepped back, out of the way. She wasn’t sure if as a witness it was her duty to stay or if she was just in the way, hanging around while the policeman tried to straighten everything out. Then she saw Jason point in her direction and the officer glance over at her. She stood up straighter as he approached her.

“Are you the witness?” he asked.

“Yes, sir, I’m the only witness, as far as I know.”

“What’s your name?” the policeman asked, taking out the pad of paper and clicking his ball-point pen.

“Uh—my name?”

“Yes,” he said impatiently. “I’ll need your name and address.”

Her name. The policeman wanted to know who she was. Susan thought of the Banana Split Affair and the contract she and Chris had drawn up.

No matter what, she had pledged, I’ll keep the identity of Christine Pratt.

This was serious business, she knew, but she
was
committed to trading identities with her twin. What should she say? She couldn’t think straight. The policeman was watching her with a frown, his pen poised over the accident report form.

“Your name, please, miss?” he repeated.

“Christine Pratt,” she blurted out.

Susan immediately regretted having lied. She could feel herself turning red. But she hadn’t
meant
to lie; it had just slipped out. And she couldn’t very well change her answer now. How would it look if she suddenly said, “No, my name isn’t Christine. It’s Susan” to the policeman? How would she ever be able to explain that she had lied when she told him her name?

No, she decided, she had better stick to her story. Perhaps she would never be called to testify as a witness. And if she were, maybe she could get Chris—the
real
Chris—to fill in for her.

It was so hard to think straight.  Her heart was pounding again, so hard that she thought she might faint. Besides, it was already too late. The police officer was getting ready to leave. What’s done is done, she told herself, wishing she had been able to think more clearly before answering.

The police car finally drove away. Then the older driver left, still scowling and mumbling under his breath. Once she and Jason were left alone, he turned to her and shook her hand.

“Thanks a lot. You really helped me out. With you as a witness, I’ll have no trouble proving the accident was the other guy’s fault. All that nonsense about whiplash and teenage drivers! I’ll be grateful forever.”

He smiled then, and Susan noticed for the first time what a good-looking fellow he was. Reddish hair, blue eyes, a friendly, sincere smile that lit up his face. He had an easygoing manner that she was immediately drawn to. “Listen, Chris, I think I should get your phone number “

Susan was tempted to ask, “What for?” But then she remembered that she was playing the role of her sister “My goodness,” she teased, talking in Chris’s flirtatious manner “are you planning to ask me out for a date?”

A look of confusion crossed Jason’s face. “Uh, well, I, uh, just figured that if you’re the only witness to my car accident and I might need you to testify at a hearing, I should at least know how to contact you.”

Susan could feel herself turning as red as the stop sign that the other driver had ignored. “Oh, of course,” she stammered, feeling very foolish. Her real self took over then, and all she wanted to do was run away. But she jotted down the name Christine Pratt, along with her address and telephone number, on the piece of paper that Jason handed her.