Bingo Brown and the Language of Love Read Online Free Page B

was just leaving,” Bingo stammered. “She was holding the dog so I could cook, and then I was trying to get the dog, and she was, well, she was just getting ready to leave, weren’t you?”
    “Mrs. Brown?” Cici said in a cool, woman-to-woman way.
    His mom responded with equal coolness. “Yes?”
    “My name is Cici, with two i’ s, you know, and I probably ought to explain to you why I’m standing here in your kitchen.”
    “Probably.”
    Bingo said, “Just go home, please,” to Cici.
    He turned to his mother with bright desperation. “Mom, I made chicken in tarragon sauce, well, actually it’s oregano sauce because we didn’t have any tarragon, but since we didn’t have the tarragon, I won’t count this as one of my meals. I’ll just throw it in for—”
    His mom said, “Be quiet, Bingo. That can wait. Go on, Cici. I really would like to know what you’re doing in my kitchen, if it’s not too much trouble.”
    “It’s no trouble at all, Mrs. Brown. You’re probably going to think this is silly, but I have this real good friend named Melissa. She moved to Bixby, Oklahoma, last spring. Did you know that?”
    “It’s come to my attention.”
    Bingo’s mom had gotten new clothes for her real estate career, and when she had them on, she acted—Bingo thought—very, very businesslike, too businesslike.
    “Well, Melissa wrote and asked me to take a picture of Bingo, and so I came over with my camera, and after I took his picture—actually, I took two pictures—no, three, but one was of my thumb.”
    She held up her thumb as if she were bumming a ride. “You know how sometimes you put your thumb on the lens when you’re nervous?” She flexed her thumb twice. “I wouldn’t have been so nervous if it hadn’t been for this nerd looking over the fence. So then …”
    Bingo closed his eyes as the miserable tale droned on. He leaned back and let the refrigerator keep him from falling to the floor.
    Mentally he began going over the multiple listings he would put under “Trials of Today,” starting with:
1. A mixed-sex photography session.
    Under “Triumphs” he would once again have only the one word: none.

The Pronoun Explosion
    B INGO LAY ON HIS Smurf sheets. Misty lay on her blanket beside Bingo’s bed. Misty was snoring softly. Bingo was awake.
    There was a knock at the window.
    “I’m not here,” Bingo called.
    “It’s me, Worm Brain.”
    “I know.”
    “And it’s important.”
    “Wentworth …” It was a plea.
    The knocks got louder. Slowly Bingo pulled himself up and went to the window.
    Wentworth said, “Hey, you know that blond girl that was taking your picture this afternoon, the one who sort of liked me?”
    “Yes.”
    “What was her name?”
    “Cici.”
    “Cici.” Wentworth spoke it like an agreeable Spaniard. Then he said, “How come I never saw her before?”
    “She’s not in our grade.”
    “She’s older?”
    Bingo shook his head.
    “Younger?”
    Bingo nodded.
    “She can’t be younger. She’s built like a twin-engine—”
    “Good night.”
    Bingo didn’t wait to hear what twin-engine vehicle Cici was built like. He collapsed on his bed.
    “Knock, knock,” his mom said. “Can I come in?”
    “Apparently you already are,” Bingo said coolly.
    “Oh, Bingo, maybe I did misinterpret the scene in the kitchen this afternoon, but when I came in the front door I heard scuffling sounds in the kitchen, and then when I came into the kitchen, there you were with this—this woman!”
    Bingo maintained a dignified silence.
    “You were against the refrigerator, gasping for breath. Your face was red as a beet. Bingo, you did look guilty. And she was against the sink, also out of breath, also looking guilty. What was I supposed to think?”
    Bingo shrugged. “Nothing … anything.”
    For the first time in his life, Bingo was grateful for pronouns. Words that were used as substitutes were especially handy when you didn’t know exactly what words they were