Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. Quotes

Now some kids might think, who cares about seeing a grandmother? But Sylvia Simon is a lot of fun, considering her age, which I happen to know is sixty. The only problem is she’s always asking me if I have boyfriends and if they’re Jewish. Now that is ridiculous because number one I don’t have boyfriends. And number two what would I care if they’re Jewish or not?

“Oh, you’re still flat.” Nancy laughed.

“Not exactly,” I said, pretending to be very cool. “I’m small boned, is all.”

“I’m growing already,” Nancy said, sticking her chest way out. “In a few years I’m going to look like one of those girls in Playboy.”

Well, I didn’t think so, but I didn’t say anything. My father gets Playboy and I’ve seen those girls in the middle. Nancy looks like she has a long way to go. Almost as far as me.

My parents don’t know I actually talk to God. I mean, if I told them they’d think I was some kind of religious fanatic or something. So I keep it very private. I can talk to him without moving my lips if I have to. My mother says God is a nice idea. He belongs to everybody.

The teacher wasn’t in the room when we got there. That is, the real teacher. There was this girl, who I thought was the teacher, but she turned out to be a kid in our class. She was very tall (that’s why I thought she was the teacher) with eyes shaped like a cat’s. You could see the outline of her bra through her blouse and you could also tell from the front that it wasn’t the smallest size. She sat down alone and didn’t talk to anyone. I wondered if maybe she was new too, because everybody else was busy talking and laughing about summer vacations and new hair styles and all that.

The others were already there. Janie Loomis, Gretchen Potter, and Nancy. That was it. We sat around on the porch and Nancy brought us cokes and cookies. When Gretchen helped herself to six Oreos at once Nancy asked her how much weight she’d gained over the summer. Gretchen put back four cookies and said, “Not much.”

“But if you aren’t any religion, how are you going to know if you should join the Y or the Jewish Community Center?” Janie asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “I never thought about it. Maybe we won’t join either one.”

“But everybody belongs to one or the other,” Nancy said.

She got me out of the first bra and into the next one. I wondered how I’d ever learn to do it by myself. Maybe my mother would have to dress me every day.

“Not me,” Nancy said, proudly. “Mine’s a thirty-two double A.”

We were all impressed.

“If you ever want to get out of those baby bras you have to exercise,” she told us.

But on the other side of me things were even worse. I was next to Laura Danker! I was afraid to even look her way. Nancy warned me that reputations were catching. Well, I didn’t have to worry because Laura didn’t look my way either. She looked straight ahead.

At first I tried very hard to understand what he was talking about. But after a while I gave up and started counting different colored hats. I counted eight brown, six black, three red, a yellow and a leopard before the rabbi finished. Then we all stood up again and everyone sang a song in Hebrew that I didn’t know. And that was it! I expected something else. I don’t know what exactly. A feeling, maybe. But I suppose you have to go more than once to know what it's all about.

The funniest thing was it was just like temple. Except it was all in English. But we read from a prayer book that didn’t make sense and the minister gave a sermon I couldn’t follow and I counted eight black hats, four red ones, six blue and two fur. At the end of the service everyone sang a hymn. Then we stood on line to shake hands with the minister. By then I was a pro at it.

Also, we just about gave up on our Boy Books. For one thing the names never changed. Nancy managed to shift hers around. It was easy for her—with eighteen boys. But Janie and Gretchen and I always listed Philip Leroy number one. There was no suspense about the whole thing. And I wondered, did they list Philip Leroy because they really liked him or were they doing what I did—making him number one because he was so good-looking. Maybe they were ashamed to write who they really liked too.

I tiptoed back to my room and closed the door. I stepped into my closet and stood in one corner. I shoved three cotton balls into each side of my bra. Well, so what if it was cheating! Probably other girls did it too. I’d look a lot better, wouldn’t I? So why not!

Are you there, God? It’s me, Margaret. I just came home from church. I loved the choir—the songs were so beautiful. Still, I didn’t really feel you God. I’m more confused than ever. I’m trying hard to understand but I wish you’d help me a little. If only you could give me a hint God. Which religion should I be? Sometimes I wish I’d been born one way or the other.

The film told us about the ovaries and explained why girls menstroo-ate. But it didn’t tell us how it feels, except to say that it is not painful, which we knew anyway. Also, it didn’t really show a girl getting it. It just said how wonderful nature was and how we would soon become women and all that.

“Does it make you feel older?” I asked.

“Naturally,” Gretchen answered. “My mother said now I’ll really have to watch what I eat because I’ve gained too much weight this year. And she said to wash my face well from now on—with soap.”

“And that’s it?” Nancy said. “The whole story?”

“I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, Nancy. But really, that’s all there is to tell. Oh, one thing I forgot. My mother said I may not get it every month yet. Sometimes it takes a while to get regular.”

Are you there God? It’s me, Margaret. Gretchen, my friend, got her period. I’m so jealous God. I hate myself for being so jealous, but I am. I wish you’d help me just a little. Nancy’s sure she’s going to get it soon, too. And if I’m last I don’t know what I’ll do. Oh please God. I just want to be normal.

“Does she always act like that?”

“It’s her first time,” Mrs. Wheeler explained. “She’s frightened.” Nancy was still crying and there was a lot of whispering going on.

I couldn’t believe it! Nancy, who knew everything! She’d lied to me about her period. She’d never had it before!

To make matters worse I had to sit facing Laura Danker. I hated her. I hated her for being so big and beautiful and having all the boys stare at her, including Mr. Benedict. Also, I hated her because she knew she was normal and I didn’t know a thing about me!

Now that really started me thinking. For one thing, I never knew she was Catholic. For another, I wondered what she said in Confession. I mean, did she talk about what she did with boys? And if she did, what did the priest say to her? Did she go to Confession every time she did something bad? Or did she save it all up and go once a month?

“Don’t you think I know all about you and your friends? Do you think it’s any fun to be the biggest kid in the class?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I never thought about it.”

“Well, try thinking about it. Think about how you’d feel if you had to wear a bra in fourth grade and how everybody laughed and how you always had to cross your arms in front of you. And about how the boys called you dirty names just because of how you looked.”

I thought about it. “I’m sorry, Laura,” I said.

“I’ll bet!”

“I really am. If you want to know the truth…well, I wish I looked more like you than like me.”

I really hurt Laura’s feelings. Why did you let me do that? I’ve been looking for you God. I looked in temple. I looked in church. And today, I looked for you when I wanted to confess. But you weren’t there. I didn’t feel you at all. Not the way I do when I talk to you at night. Why God? Why do I only feel you when I’m alone?

“Who needs religion? Who! Not me…I don’t need it. I don’t even need God!” I ran out of the den and up to my room.

[…]

I was never going to talk to God again. What did he want from me anyway? I was through with him and his religions! And I was never going to set foot in the Y or the Jewish Community Center—never.

So I grabbed her box and headed for Max and the cash register. I plopped everything down in front of him and just stood there not looking at his face and not saying anything either. He added it all up and I motioned to Janie to give me her money. Then I said, “Two bags, please.” Max took my money, gave me some change, which I didn’t bother to count, and presented me with two brown bags. That was all there was to it! You’d think he sold that kind of stuff every day of the week.

“Just remember, Margaret…no matter what they said…you’re a Jewish girl.”

“No I’m not!” I argued. “I’m nothing, and you know it! I don’t even believe in God!”

“Margaret!” Grandma said, “Don’t ever talk like that about God.”

“Why not?” I asked. “It’s true!” I wanted to ask God did he hear that! But I wasn’t speaking to him and I guess he knew it!