Page 8

I started up the stairs. Harley and I hadn't grown up exactly like a brother and a sister, but we had spent so many of our young years together. I sometimes thought of him that way. Lately, if suggested it, it seemed to bother him. so I stopped.

"Are you decent?" I called from the top of the stairway. There was just a short hallway to the right that passed his bedroom and what had been Latishas nursery; there was an equally short hallway to the left that led to Uncle Roy and Aunt Glenda's bedroom and a bathroom across from that. The windows on both, ends were small, and the wood paneling was dark. Even with the bright day, it looked like a tunnel.

"Am I decent? Depends who you ask." Harley replied.

I laughed and stepped up to his bedroom doorway. He was still in bed, lying on his stomach, the pillow over his head to block out the sunshine, the blanket down to his waist. I knew from other times that he liked to sleep in his underwear.

Harley's room was half the size of mine. He had a very nice dark maple-wood bed, matching dressers and a desk Uncle Roy had actually built himself that was set to the right of his two bedroom windows. There were papers scattered in a disorganized fashion over it, two books opened and face down and a small pile of notebooks beside that. I could see his line drawings in one of the notebooks. Beside it was a book entitled. American Houses. As usual, his socks were on the floor beside the bed where he had thrown them and where he had dropped his shoes. His jeans were draped over his desk chair and the dark blue shirt he had worn yesterday was crumpled on the top of his dresser.

Unlike my room and the rooms of most of the young people our age, Harley's had no posters on its walls. He favored some rock bands, but interestingly enough he really enjoyed softer music. even Barry Manilow, although he never let anyone but me know. It was as if he believed that the moment some of his friends found out he was sensitive, he would lose face or worse yet, be challenged and teased and more vulnerable.

"I was hoping you would be up and out by now, or at least at breakfast," I told him.

He didn't turn. but I could see his eves close as if he had a terrible headache. When he sighed, his entire body lifted and fell. Finally, he turned, dropped his head back to his pillow, put his hands behind his head and looked at me.

"Roy," he began. "came in here and laid down the law last night. The bottom line was that I should be sure to make myself invisible, not annoy anyone and not embarrass him or you or the family. He makes it sound as if a wild animal like me doesn't belong in the company of you civilized folks. It doesn't exactly fill me with enthusiasm. Believe me, he'd much rather I didn't come out."

"That's not true and anyway. I would much rather you did," I tossed back at him. "This is my special day. Harley Arnold, and you had better come out. You put on your nicest clothes. too," I ordered.

He laughed.

"My nicest clothes are what your mushy kid friends knock around in."

"That's not so either. I know what you have and what you don't," I told him and went right to his closet. "You should learn how to hang up your pants and your shirts properly. Look at this mess."

"Yes, Mother."

"Never mind being a smarty pants," I said plucking the light blue shirt I liked to see him wear and a pair of slacks. "After we go swimming, come home and put this on,," I instructed. "Wear those loafers with it and a pair of blue socks. And shave! And don't tell me you don't have any aftershave." I quickly inserted. "I bought it for you on your birthday. and I know you still have plenty."

"Why do you want me there anyway? You have your friends," he said sullenly. "You've got your Chase Taylor and his mushy buddies."

"You can call Chase a lot of things. Harley, but really. I don't think he's mushy."

Harley turned a dark shade of crimson. "Yeah. I guess you would know." he muttered.

"Besides," I said ignoring his remark. "you know you're my most important friend. Harley. My birthday party wouldn't be a birthday party without you. So stop it!"

He looked instantly remorseful, turned and gazed out the window.

"From all that noise, it sounds like two birthdays are being set up out there."

"Wait until you see all that Daddy has done," I told him. "The trees have growing balloons."

He laughed.

"And Mrs. Geary has made a birthday cake to die for."

He nodded, looked down for a moment and then let his lips fold into a soft smile.

"What?" I asked expecting something that would most likely put me in a pout.

"Remember that time when-- before the guests arrived-- I put my fingers in your birthday cake and pretended they were your candles and Roy nearly exploded? I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head on little springs," He laughed.

"Sometimes I think you do bad things just to get him angry. Harley."

"No. Me?"

"You know you're hurting your mother too when you get him upset."