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When we were having dinner that night, I got an idea. I was thinking about the girl who brought a note to school last year because she had a heart condition and could't take gym. What if I carried a card with me at all times, signed by Dad, saying that I'm allergic to chlorine and can't ever get water up my nose?
"How do you know when you're allergic to something?" I asked.
"You break out in hives, your eyes roll back, and your body goes into spasms," said Lester.
Dad gave him a took. "You usually break out in a rash, Al. Why? What do you think you're allergic to?"
"Chlorine."
"How so?"
"Oh, I sort of itch after I've been in Mark's swimming
pool," I said.
"Sounds more like a sun sensitivity to me," said Dad. "Maybe we ought to have the doctor look you over."
"Not!" I said. "Why can't you just give me a note saying I can't get water up my nose?"
"Why should I give you a note?" said Dad. "If you don't want water up your nose, don't put it there."
"Al, if you were allergic to chlorine, you'd start itching every time you took a drink of water," said Lester.
They had me there.
Monday I stayed home from the pool, but the day wasn't a total loss because that night Dad took me to Sears after we ate, and I picked out a bedroom set. My first thought was that since I was probably soon to be an ex-member of the Pool Group, plus I probably wouldn't have another friend for the rest of my natural life, all I needed was a hammock suspended from the ceiling and wicker baskets for clothes. I could fill the rest of the space with plants, so that when I went to my room it would be like going on safari. No one would be able to find me, and I'd never have to clean anything— just water it.
Dad suggested I choose a double bed, so if we ever had a houseful of company there would be more sleeping space. I got a double bed with a long low dresser and chest of drawers, and drapes and a bedspread with a jungle motif-lions and leopards mingled with exotic plants. And because I'd chosen one of the least expensive sets, Dad said I really could have a large rubber plant in one corner. He even bought me a pillow shaped like a koala for the bed. The stuff was delivered two days later, and when everything was set up, it looked like the kind of exotic bedroom where Scheherazade would have entertained her sultan.
I had to invite Elizabeth and Pamela for a sleep-over, of course, and they loved the room. They said I had good taste, but you know what's weird? When you're worried about the one big thing that's wrong with you, nothing else seems to matter. I wasn't Alice of the Good Taste or Alice with a Good Sense of Rhythm, but Alice the Girl Who Can't Go in Water Over Her Head. Only nobody knew it, which made it even worse.
