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Mary Jane(46)

Author:Jessica Anya Blau

I pushed some books aside and kneeled on the floor. “Ah, like the doctor put a tongue depressor in your mouth and said, Say ah.”

“Ah,” Izzy said.

“I’ve got an idea.” Jimmy nudged away a few hardcovers with the side of his bare foot and then sat on the ground beside me. “For each letter, we take turns coming up with a song that starts with that letter. And if you can’t think of a song, you get a point. The person who has the most points loses.”

“A, B, C, D,” Izzy sang. “I won.”

“Not yet,” Jimmy said. “Wait till we start working. When we played this as kids, we couldn’t begin until the car was moving.”

“Did your mom and grandma play too?” I asked.

“Yeah. Granny only sang church songs. She just loved when it was her turn on the letter J.”

I worried Jimmy would see me as out of touch like his granny. The only songs I knew were from church, Camp Fire Girls, the twins’ house, or the Broadway soundtracks in my house. Of course, I knew some of Jimmy’s songs now that Izzy and I had played his records so many times. But I figured he wouldn’t want to hear me sing Running Water songs in this game.

“Okay. Let’s start NOW!” Izzy held a book above her head like a trophy.

“Hold on!” I raised my hand like I was in school. Jimmy winked and pointed at me.

“Mary Jane?”

“Before we put the books on the shelves, we need to put them in alphabetical piles on the floor. All the A authors, all the Bs, etc. Then we’ll alphabetize each pile. After that, we’ll shelve them.”

Izzy lowered the book and held it before her face. She squinted as she examined the cover “S. Right?” It was by Saul Bellow.

“That book’s great,” Jimmy said. “But Augie March is even better.”

“S was a good try,” I said. “But you have to look at the first letter of the last name. I put my pointer finger on the last name.

“B?”

“Excellent! Now put all the B books”—I wrote a giant B on a piece of paper, then stood and cleared a spot on the far wall—“here.” I laid the B down on the ground.

Izzy stepped over the books and placed Henderson the Rain King in front of the paper with the B, and then she started singing “A, B, Cs” again to get Jimmy’s game going. Jimmy sang along, poking through books and making a separate pile of his favorites that he said I should try to read. I promised I would, but didn’t look through any of them just then as I was busy writing out the alphabet and finding space for the lettered papers around the room.

When it was Jimmy’s turn, he sang “Bye Bye Blackbird.” I harmonized and Izzy just bopped her head as she didn’t know the words.

I paused nervously at my turn. Then I remembered “Chantilly Lace,” a song from the ’50s that I knew from an album the twins had. If Jimmy could sing “Bye Bye Blackbird,” then “Chantilly Lace” wasn’t so bad. Izzy didn’t know this one either, but she continued to bounce her head to the beat. Jimmy sang with me, in a cartoony, low voice, just like the Big Bopper—the guy who sings it on the album.

We were at songs that started with the letter R when Mrs. Cone and Sheba came into the living room.

“I want to help,” Sheba said.

“Look at the last name,” Izzy said. “When you find the last name, you read the letter, okay? And then you look for the EXACT same letter on the paper and you put the book there. We’re alphabetting. Get it?”

“I think so,” Sheba said.

“Me too.” Mrs. Cone rubbed Izzy’s head and then started picking through the books.

Jimmy explained the song game and Sheba immediately said “Rhinestone Cowboy.”

“Ah, c’mon! No Glen,” Jimmy said.

“He was before your time, baby. You know I don’t love him anymore.” Sheba was staring Jimmy down. They both looked very serious. Had Sheba been a couple with Glen Campbell and did Jimmy hate him because of that? I was scared for a second that they were going to fight again, but soon enough, Jimmy smiled and crossed the room so he was standing right in front of Sheba. And then they locked their faces together, like they had noses made of magnets, and they kissed, deep and wet.

I turned my head and looked away. Izzy didn’t seem to notice. Mrs. Cone watched them with a yearning but slightly anxious look in her eyes. I wondered if she wanted to be Sheba kissing Jimmy. Or maybe she wanted Dr. Cone to kiss her that way. Kissing like that seemed so advanced. Maybe one day I’d just stand lip to lip with someone. For starters.

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