by Mere Joyce
Copyright © Mere Joyce 2020
Published in Canada and the United States in 2020 by Orca Book Publishers.
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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Title: Jelly roll / Mere Joyce.
Names: Joyce, Mere, 1988– author.
Series: Orca currents.
Description: Series statement: Orca currents
Identifiers: Canadiana (print) 20200176072 | Canadiana (ebook) 20200176080 |
ISBN 9781459826298 (softcover) | ISBN 9781459826304 (PDF) |
ISBN 9781459826311 (EPUB)
Classification: LCC PS8619.O975 J45 2020 | DDC jC813/.6—dc23
Library of Congress Control Number: 2020900530
Summary: In this high-interest accessible novel for middle readers, fourteen-year-old Jenny is looking forward to her March break retreat. But then she finds out that the boy who bullies her at school is going too.
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Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada, the Canada Council for the Arts and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Edited by Tanya Trafford
Design by Ella Collier
Cover artwork by gettyimages.ca/sodesignby
Author photo by Jay Parson
Printed and bound in Canada.
23 22 21 20 • 1 2 3 4
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ivaluecanadianstories.ca
For some amazing kids—Marcus, Victoria,
Mitchell, Elizabeth and Mackenzie
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter One
I peel back the lunch container’s lid and admire the sandwich inside. Chicken salad with lettuce and tomato on a soft, buttery bun. I’m so glad Dad reminded me to add dill to the mayonnaise. I can smell the herb as soon as the lid is off. The sharp scent makes my taste buds tingle.
I pick up the sandwich. The ice packs in my bag have kept it chilled. Cool chicken salad is the perfect lunch for a surprisingly warm March day. I’ve been waiting all morning for a taste of this one. It’s my last meal before I’m stuck eating camp food for the next nine days. I spent a long time making sure the sandwich would be perfect.
I lay the container next to me on the fountain’s stone ledge. I hold the sandwich with two hands so I can take the biggest bite possible.
“Is that your lunch?”
I pause with the sandwich halfway to my mouth. My shoulders tense as I raise my eyes. I see a girl walking toward me. She’s short and has a pixie haircut. She’s also got purple braces on teeth too large for her otherwise small face. I lower the still-whole sandwich back to its container and give the girl a cautious smile.
“Yeah, it is,” I say, nodding. I don’t usually eat out in the open where everyone can see me. It’s too easy for people like Austin Parks and his friends to make mean comments with every bite I take. But for the entire week of March break, I’ll be part of the Granite County Young Leaders Retreat. Which means I’ve got no choice but to eat with others nearby.
I thought I could enjoy one final meal in peace though. The other kids are waiting across the park at the spot where the bus will pick us up. I thought I would be safe eating my sandwich in private before joining them.
I study the girl as she approaches. It doesn’t seem as if she’s about to call me names.
“That looks like a good sandwich,” she says, plopping herself down on the ledge beside me. “My sister drove me out here. She wanted coffee, which meant my lunch consisted of hot chocolate and a stale muffin.” She laughs.
“That sucks,” I say, picking up the sandwich again. “I never eat fast food unless it comes from a truck.”
“Those don’t sound like very high standards,” she says.
I smile. “A food truck, I mean. You know those trucks that have full kitchens installed in them? My dad’s the chef of one called The Hungry Pup.”
“I’m jealous,” the girl says. “My dad can’t cook anything if it doesn’t come from the freezer. My mom’s not much better. Did he make that for you?”
I can feel my cheeks warming. “No,” I say, staring down at the bun. “He taught me the recipe, but I made this myself.”
The girl laughs again. When I look up, she’s leaning as far back as she can without falling into the fountain. She closes her eyes and turns her face toward the bright sun. “Now I’m even more jealous. I’d love to be able to cook,” she says.
“Cooking’s not hard,” I say. I wonder how old the girl is. This retreat is for eighth and ninth graders from around the region. I wonder if she is fourteen like me or younger. I wonder if this is her first time too.
“I guess I wouldn’t know,” she says. “I’ve never bothered to try.” She opens her eyes again and gives me a smile. “I’m Sarah, by the way.”
“I’m Jenny,” I tell her. It feels almost like a lie. I’m so used to my nickname, it’s weird to hear my real name spoken aloud. Even if I’m the one saying it.
Sarah eyes my chicken salad again and then goes back to sunbathing.
“I hope you enjoy your sandwich,” she says. “One of us should get a good meal today.”
While Sarah’s distracted by the sun, I bring the sandwich to my mouth. My teeth bite through the soft bun and the still-crunchy lettuce. When I taste the dilly chicken, my eyes flutter closed with delight.
Even with my eyes closed, I notice the shadow cutting across the sun as someone walks around the fountain.
“Well, look who it is,” a familiar, awful voice says. I swallow quickly. My delicious bite of sandwich slides down my throat like a stone.
I open my eyes to see the person I like least in the world standing before me. Austin Parks. He smirks, his cold blue eyes staring out from under his messy brown hair. I notice he’s wearing a yellow Young Leaders T-shirt. My stomach churns.
“Enjoying your food, J.R.?” he asks.
I swallow again. This time I don’t enjoy the lingering dilly taste of my sandwich at all.
Chapter Two
Hardly anyone calls me Jenny. Not since I got my nickname when I was eleven. And all because of that jerk Austin Parks.
We were in the same science class, and we got put together f
or a project. I was wearing a new sweater. It had brown, red and white stripes.
Austin had looked me up and down. Then he’d grinned and pointed at my stomach. “I think your parents gave you the wrong name. Jenny Royce? You look more like a Jelly Roll to me.”
His friends had thought it was hilarious. I never wore that sweater again. But the new nickname stuck. Before that moment, Austin had never paid me much attention. After he’d invented the name, he made sure he used it more than anyone else.
“Aren’t you going to say hello, J.R.?” Austin asks now. If teachers or people he doesn’t know are nearby, Austin never says my nickname outright. It’s always J.R. The rest of the time, Austin never calls me anything but Jelly Roll.
I put the rest of my sandwich back in the container and keep my head lowered as I blink back tears. I was really looking forward to this week. But now I wish I was already on my way home.
Of all the kids from school who could have shown up for this retreat, why does it have to be Austin standing here? He’s the worst kind of person to be given a leadership role. He’s mean and rude. He’s useless.
Okay, that’s not totally true. Austin’s smart when he wants to be. He gets good grades, and last year he was on the school’s math team. And I suppose he is a leader of sorts at school. He got a bunch of our classmates to start teasing me, didn’t he? Even the ones who were supposed to be my friends.
I guess Austin has many talents. Above everything else, his greatest skill is making me miserable.
I wipe a tear away with the back of my hand. I have two rules when it comes to Austin Parks. One is that I never let him see me cry. I stare at my lap, hoping he will give up on teasing me. I never respond to Austin’s taunts either. That’s rule number two.
He stands in front of me. He is so close I can see his black sneakers even though I’m staring hard at my faded blue jeans. He wants me to say something. But I stay silent like always, waiting for him to get bored. Today it doesn’t take long. Ten seconds pass before he kicks the duffel bag that’s on the ground next to my feet.
“Mouth must be too full to speak,” he mumbles. I raise my head and he’s still looking at me even as he turns to leave. “See you around, J.R.,” he says. “I thought this retreat was going to suck. Now I think I might have some fun here after all.”
He smiles as he walks away. I do my best not to let on how much his smug expression bothers me.
“Do you know that kid?” Sarah asks when Austin is out of earshot. She’s been so quiet I almost forgot she was beside me.
“He goes to my school.” I sigh. “I never would have come if I’d thought there was even a chance he’d be here.”
“Yeah, he seems like a real loser.” Sarah stands. She looks across the park to where several kids in yellow shirts are lining up. “Hey, come on. That’s our ride,” she says, pointing to the school bus pulling up against the curb.
“You go ahead. I’m going to finish my lunch,” I say.
“Okay!” Sarah gives me a little wave and bounds off to join the group. She’s quick. I’m glad I didn’t go with her. She’d have left me behind in a few steps.
I wait for Sarah to reach the other kids, and then I walk over to the nearest trash can. Tears sting my eyes again. I wipe them away and dump the sandwich, only a single bite taken out of it, into the bin. I don’t feel like eating anymore. My appetite vanished the moment I realized Austin would be tormenting me the entire time we’re at this retreat.
I shove the empty sandwich container into my backpack and grab my duffel bag. As I cross the park, I count the kids lining up by the curb. If I’m the last one to arrive, it means there must be twenty of us in total.
One of the counselors is already talking when I sneak into the group. She uses a water bottle to point at the bus as she tells us it’s time to board. I step next to Sarah.
“It’ll take about half an hour to reach the camp,” she says, filling me in on what I missed. “When we get there, we’ll get our cabin, dump our bags and then have orientation.” She grabs my arm and turns toward the bus. “Come on, let’s board first so we can sit near the back.”
I have to jog to keep up with her but manage to get ahead of everyone else. We give another counselor our names as we step onto the bus. Then we sit together in one of the back rows. When Austin gets on, I turn my whole body toward Sarah so I can look at her instead of him.
“Ignore him,” Sarah says. “Otherwise it’s going to be a long week.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I say. I face forward again and try to look cheerful.
As the bus doors shut and the driver switches on the engine, Austin looks over his shoulder. His eyes find mine, and his lips start to move. He’s mouthing a secret meant just for me. I stare ahead and pretend I don’t see what he’s saying. Even though I do.
Jelly Roll.
I can’t ignore Austin. I’ve spent years trying. It doesn’t work. Which means Sarah is right.
This is going to be a long week.
Chapter Three
There are four girls in my cabin. I’m nervous about being in such close quarters with girls I don’t know, but at least Sarah is rooming with me.
I meet the other two girls when we are given a few minutes to drop off our bags. Meera is tall and thin, with thick dark hair braided halfway down her back. Katrina is short with curly brown hair and splotchy skin. She’s plump too. Like me.
Katrina and Meera seem nice. It’s a relief to know they won’t be teasing me. When you’re used to being picked on, everyone you meet is a potential enemy.
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” Katrina says when we step inside the cabin. The room is a small square. Two sets of bunk beds stand against opposite walls. It could do with a paint job, but at least the mattresses look pretty new.
“The camp I went to over winter break was a disaster,” Meera says. “There was dirt everywhere, and the beds were like rocks.” She flips her braid over one shoulder. “Anyone mind if I sleep up top?” She glances at each of us before she nabs one of the upper bunks.
“I’ll take a bottom bunk,” Katrina says. “I hate bunk beds. I roll in my sleep.”
Sarah laughs. “Jenny, do you mind if I take the other upper bunk?” she asks. I’m glad she didn’t start calling me J.R. after hearing Austin use it. It’s nice to hear her saying my actual name.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I say with a nod. I walk over and sit down on the last available bed.
“So,” Sarah says after she’s thrown her bags on the bunk above mine, “what do you think our leadership project will be? Last year we had to volunteer at a daycare. It was horrible. Me and little kids don’t mix.” I guess Sarah has been here before. She must be the same age as me.
“I would have loved that,” Katrina says with a smile. “But the theme this year is ‘locally grown.’ I doubt that means locally grown humans.”
“I hope not.” Sarah’s laugh comes out as a snort. “Maybe we’ll help out on a farm or something. That’d be cool.”
“As long as you don’t mind getting dirty,” I say.
My dad’s the one who really wanted me to join this retreat. He thinks I have it in me to be a leader, if I can work on my confidence. He doesn’t know about Austin or my nickname. I don’t want to make him or my mom upset by telling them the truth. It wasn’t until I discovered what the theme for the retreat was that I decided to come though. My dad uses local ingredients in his food truck. I thought it would be neat to work on my leadership skills and learn more about local food sources at the same time. I don’t mind getting dirty. Going to a farm would be a lot of fun.
“As long as our project doesn’t involve lizards or snakes, I’m good,” Meera says.
“Do you think we’ll get to work with the boys?” Katrina asks. I can practically see her cheeks turning pink. “Some of them are really cute.”
“And at least one of them is a real loser,” Sarah says.
Katrina looks intrigued. “Who?”
“We should probably get going,” I blurt. Sarah gives me a confused glance, but I pretend not to notice. I don’t want her telling the others about Austin. I don’t want anyone else to know Austin and me are anything other than total strangers.
“Jenny’s right. We should get ready for the tour,” Sarah agrees at last.
Katrina walks to the door, and Meera follows behind her. I hang back so I can walk out with Sarah.
“Thank you,” I whisper when we’re the only ones left in the cabin. “I don’t want anyone to know Austin and I know each other.”
Sarah gives me a sideways stare. “You’re welcome,” she says. “But you shouldn’t let him bug you so much.”
“Yeah, I know,” I say.
Sarah claps me on the shoulder before she leaves the cabin. I act like I forgot something in my bag so I can be alone. Sarah means well, but she doesn’t understand what it’s like to have someone like Austin around. There’s no point in trying to explain it. It’s easier to let her believe I’ll take her advice. As if I could just stop feeling so embarrassed every time he’s nearby.
I take a moment to settle my nerves. Then I walk out to join her and the others waiting for me.
Chapter Four
Orientation takes about an hour. We get a tour of the grounds and meet the staff members who will be running the retreat. Then we get our schedule. Most of each day will be spent on our leadership project. We’ll also have themed activities and free time. Even though we’re only here for a week, there are a lot of activities to choose from. If I’m careful, I can make sure Austin doesn’t do any of the things I do. The less time we spend together, the better.
After our tour we go to the dining hall for dinner. We’re served stale sandwiches and lukewarm tomato soup. I seriously regret throwing away my chicken salad. I should have kept it in its container. I would have gladly eaten it instead of this bland ham-and-cheese sandwich.
“Did they stockpile bread from last summer or something?” Sarah asks. She pulls apart her sandwich and eats the slice of ham.
