Were they telling me what I thought they were telling me? Shandi and Shauna exchanged not-so-secret twin smiles that said yes.
“Did Coach Fleet tell you?” I asked.
Coach Fleet had nursed my injuries after the goose and the bear and two football teams had chased me beak-first into the goalpost.
“Nope,” Shandi said. “Shauna and I figured it out when we saw you run for the first time at practice.”
“You did?” I asked in disbelief.
“We pointed it out to Paddy and Mols when we told them we were splitting the prize and they were like…”
“NO DUH!” shouted Padma and Molly.
“Really?” I still couldn’t quite believe it. “How?”
“When you run,” Shauna explained, “you flail your arms across your body in the same exact way the seagull flapped its wings.”
“I do?” I asked, incredulous that they had noticed such a thing and never mentioned it before. “I did?”
My teammates nodded vigorously.
“You’re wasting a lot of energy that way,” Shauna added. “You could take a few more seconds off your time if you corrected your body mechanics.”
“Too bad the season’s almost over,” said Molly.
“Wickywickywhoopwhoopwickywicky,” beatboxed Padma before launching into a spontaneous verse.
“Shauna, Shandi, Padma, Molly, and JD. Friends like family, Pineville Girls’ X-C!”
And as corny as it was, we all joined in on the chant. I swear our five voices shouted louder than the CHEER TEAM!!! and Spirit Squad combined.
“Shauna, Shandi, Padma, Molly, and JD. Friends like family, Pineville Girls’ X-C!”
There’s only another week left before the Sampson twins move on to the basketball team. Padma is trying out for the school musical. Molly hopes to be the first girl to qualify for the micro weight class on the wrestling team. I don’t know what I’m going to do this winter. We all promise to run track in the spring, but that team draws a much larger turnout than cross-country. We’ll be five of many.
I’ll miss just the five of us.
I’ll miss the sound of the beads in the Sampson twins’ braids click-clacking with every bounce in their step. I’ll miss the determined bulldog face Molly wears whenever she sprints up Killer Hill. I’ll even miss Padma’s terrible rhymes.
I’ll miss seeing these girls at practice after school every day.
I’m so glad I came to appreciate them before I missed out on their friendships altogether. If only the Chibi Girls would come to a similar epiphany about me.
Chapter Twenty-One
I arrived home in a mixed-up mood.
On the upside: I was happy with my X-C friends.
On the downside: I didn’t have much time left to spend with them.
On the way downside: I wasn’t happy with my G&T friends.
On the waaaaaay downside: I had too much time left to spend with them.
Okay. So I was definitely more down than up. I wanted someone to sort it out for me. And that person just happened to be at the house looking for the finishing touches on her own Halloween costume.
“I need to find my black leather motorcycle jacket,” Bethany said. “Rodger and I are going as Danny and Sandy from Grease.”
“You’re still seeing Rodney?” I asked.
“Rodger,” she corrected. “And yes!” She triumphantly pulled a hanger out of her massive closet. “We’re seeing each other.”
“You and the neighborhood nerd?”
“Jessie!” Bethany snapped. “That isn’t very nice!”
Bridget and Burke. Dori and Scotty. Manda and Mouth. And now Bethany and Rodger-not-Rodney. None of them makes any sense to me. Will I ever get how boyfriend/girlfriend stuff happens?
“He’s not your type at all.”
“Shhh! He’ll hear you! He’s just down the hall in the office!”
“Managing Mom and Dad’s flow of communication?” I asked pointedly. “You can’t keep your expulsion a secret forever.”
“I don’t have to keep it a secret forever! Just until I’ve worked everything out. But enough about me!” Bethany said, slipping into the leather jacket and admiring its perfect fit in the full-length mirror. “Let’s talk about you! What’s going on with your friends from the PARTY!!!?”
“Oh, everything’s perfect,” I said, taking a seat on the floor. “They’re all besties, and I’m on the outside looking in.”
My sister, still looking at herself in the mirror, pursed her lips and sighed. “Did you follow the IT List?”
“I sure did!” I replied with fake cheer. “Total fails on numbers one through three! But that’s okay, right? ‘When all else fails: CANDY.’ Right? Wrong! Are you kidding? When I offered them candy, they all freaked out, but they’re totally fine with trick-or-treating as the Chibi Girls, which doesn’t make any sense—”
“Wait.” My sister interrupted my rant. “You offered them what?”
“Candy,” I said. “Like number four on the IT List said to. So Gladdie and I made chocolates that I brought to school and a bunch of sweets for the sleepover and…”
Bethany sighed and shook her head like, “Nonononono.”
“They thought you were trying to make them fat, didn’t they?”
I nodded.
“And pimply?”
I nodded.
“I would’ve thought the same thing,” Bethany said. “Like you were trying to sabotage me.…”
Now I was totally, totally confused.
“But what about ‘When all else fails: CANDY’?”
“Candy is a person,” Bethany said.
“What?”
“An old lady in the neighborhood who babysat me sometimes,” Bethany said. “Back in the sixties she had an advice column in Ladies First magazine. She’d seen and heard it all. Nothing shocked her. And she was totally objective. She’d tell it to you straight because she had nothing to win or lose.”
I remembered what Sara had said: Everything is always a competition.
“That’s exactly what I need! An objective opinion from someone who has nothing at stake! Can I talk to her?”
“No,” Bethany said.
“No?”
“No,” Bethany repeated. “Because she’s dead.”
“Jeez! That’s depressing!”
“Not really,” said Bethany. “She was waaaaay old. She lived a full life.”
So. Let’s summarize. When all else failed—which it HAD—my sister had encouraged me to seek advice from someone who is very inconveniently DEAD. Bethany isn’t known for being practical, but COME ON.
“Thanks for the totally worthless advice,” I said, standing up to leave.
Bethany sighed and patted me on the head. She does this whenever she wants to remind me that she’s the big sister here, even if we’re the same height.
“She’s not the only wise old lady around here, you know,” Bethany said.
And then she made her grand exit, as she has a knack for doing.
Duh.
DUH. DUH. DUH.
My sister was right. I didn’t have Candy. But I did have another wise old lady I could turn to for guidance. And it seemed like she was already waiting for me in the kitchen when I arrived.
“How’s it going, gorgeous?” asked Gladdie as she stirred a pot on the stove.
I remembered Gladdie’s advice: Be direct! Say what you need to say!
“All my friends are friends with each other,” I said. “But I don’t feel like I fit in with any of them anymore. Or maybe I do. I don’t know.”
I’m not sure what Bethany meant by IT List #5: There is no I in CLIQUE. But I’m pretty sure it wasn’t a command to exclude myself from all my friends, even though that’s exactly what seems to be happening.
“How long has this been going on?” Gladdie asked.
“Since the sleepover.”
“That’s not very long,” she said.
“It feels like forever.”
“That’s because you’re young.”
She stopped stirring and looked me right in the eyes.
“Friendships change because people change. Stop trying to make them into something they’re not.”
“Friendships? Or people?”
“Both.” She broke into a bright-red-lipsticked smile. “Let people—and friendships—be what they’re meant to be.”
I nodded. I think I understood what she was getting at, but I wanted to make sure.
“Even if I realize that a friendship isn’t meant to be at all?” I asked.
My grandmother was still smiling at me, but her gaze softened, shifting her expression into something slightly sadder than before.
“Especially then,” she said. “No friend is perfect. Even the tightest of bonds are tested now and again. But a true friend makes you feel more good than bad.”
I let these words sink in. There really wasn’t anything I could add to improve upon what she’d just said. I sniffed the air.
“Tomato-basil soup?” I asked hopefully.
“What else with my three-cheese panini!”
Mmmmmmm. Comfort food. In every sense of the word. My grandmother was ready to provide me with just what I needed—and I hadn’t even asked for it. Right then, I realized that kind of intuitive being-there-ness was missing in all my friendships. My attempts at making those connections are hit-or-miss. I used to have a bond like that with Bridget. At times I think I could have it with Hope or the girls on the cross-country team. And yes, when Manda entrusts me with her Saturday night, or Sara confides in me, I feel like there’s potential there, too. I guess only time will tell which bonds will stick.
One thing I know for sure: The connection between Gladdie and me is unbreakable and unfakeable. I just wish I felt the same way about my friends.
I rushed over to hug her. My show of gratitude must have caught Gladdie by surprise because she almost fumbled her ladle into the pot.
“Thank you!” I said. “For everything.”
“You are always welcome, Jessie.” She gripped me tighter. “For everything.”
I inhaled deeply once more. The soup smelled soooooo gooooood. My mouth was watering.
And yes, maybe my eyes were a little bit, too.
Chapter Twenty-Two
On Monday we all went back to school in our normal clothes, and Manda/Sara and Dori/Bridget acted all normal around me as if it were a totally normal day and they hadn’t, like, totally excluded me on Halloween.
“You didn’t want to be a Chibi,” Manda said.
“Omigod! It’s so true,” Sara added. “When I told you to go with nerdium, you were totally okay with it.”
“If anything,” Manda said, “you rejected us.”
I thought about what Gladdie had said: Friendships change because people change. No friend is perfect. Even the tightest of bonds are tested now and again. But a true friend makes you feel more good than bad.
After a few breaths, I was able to see how Manda and Sara might have a point: I had not wanted to be a Chibi. I had rejected them. Still, they purposely tricked me into thinking we were in on the periodic table together. I had no idea that my decision to “go with nerdium” meant I’d be going it ALONE.
“It’s not like it matters, because we lost,” Dori said sourly.
“To that crazy chicken,” Bridget said with a quick wink for just me that said “Don’t worry; I won’t tell.”
“Seagull,” mouthed Hope, also for my benefit.
“Yeah, well, maybe if your false eyelashes hadn’t fallen off, we would’ve won!” Manda griped to Dori.
“Omigod!” Sara groaned. “They were like giant tarantulas crawling across your cheeks!”
“Really?” Dori shot back. “You didn’t even try to apply Bouncy’s face tattoo!”
The days of the Cafeteria Table Truce were numbered. And judging from the mix of annoyance and amusement on Hope’s face as she watched the girls bicker, I wasn’t the only one who knew it.
“I told you this wouldn’t end well.”
Part of me wanted to congratulate Hope on her all-knowingness. But the other part of me was still sort of annoyed at her for whatever role she played in the Chibi Girl deception. Plus, it wasn’t a prediction worthy of celebration, because neither one of us had wanted it to come true. So I just sort of nodded, which seemed to disappoint her, but I didn’t give it much thought because the eighth-period bell finally rang and the whole squabbling lunch bunch headed for Home Ec with Hope trailing behind. Their departure brought my reluctant participation in the friendship drama to an end for the day. That—HOORAY!!!—was something worth cheering about.
How could I have known a whole new dimension of drama was about to begin?
Chapter Twenty-Three
With time running out and my stellar academic record in jeopardy, Aleck and I had finally settled on a much simpler idea for our Cooperative Woodshop Project, one that seemed sort of doable when compared with impossible projects that defied the laws of physics and sensible thinking:
A footstool.
Unfortunately, not doable enough. Considering our last project was a birdhouse, making a piece of furniture meant to be used by actual human beings was pretty ambitious. And no matter how hard we tried or how much research we did on the making of footstools, our construction was wobblier than a bad game of Jenga. Aleck and I were down to eleven M3s before our project was due. That’s one class and one day, if you aren’t keeping track. It wasn’t looking very good.
“Our footstool is going to fall apart!” I said, pointing out the obvious. “It’s due tomorrow! We’ll fail!”
“We won’t fail,” Aleck insisted.
“So says the boy who got an F plus on his epic toothpick.”
Aleck took a step back and looked at the wiggly wooden thing that was supposed to be our project.
“Maybe we’re approaching this the wrong way.”
“We’re obviously approaching this the wrong way. Our footstool is on the verge of collapsing, and that’s why we are going to f—”
Aleck let out a little whoop.
“THAT’S THE ANSWER,” Aleck cried out, snapping his fingers. His fingernails, I might add, were still coated in red polish from my PARTY!!!
“What’s the answer?”
“It’s a collapsible footstool.” He paused. “Get it?”
I definitely did not get it.
“We have to stop trying to make it into something it’s not!” Aleck was getting excited now. “Let it be what it’s supposed to be!”
This sounded familiar. But I couldn’t place where I’d heard it before—or from whom—because I was too irritated by the sight of Aleck literally patting himself on the back.
“That’s deep,” he said, marveling at his own wisdom.
“That’s dumb,” I said.
“I’m deep,” he said.
“You’re demented.”
“I am,” Aleck said, unbowed by my lack of enthusiasm, “a misunderstood philosopher genius.”
“Who is failing Woodshop and taking me down with him!” I shouted.
I was so frustrated that I had to leave the room. I found refuge in the girls’ bathroom, which is the cleanest girls’ bathroom in the entire school because no girls ever use it because NO GIRLS TAKE WOODSHOP. The downside to the cleanliness is that there isn’t any interesting graffiti to decipher. I hadn’t thought to bring along any reading material, so after roughly five minutes of examining the pores in my nose, I was pretty bored and decided to return to class to face off with my demented partner. The hall outside Woodshop is generally pretty deserted, so I wasn’t looking out for oncoming foot traffic when—CRASH!
“Hey, now! I’m the defensive tackle, not you!”
It was Scotty, of all people. I’d rammed my head right into his shoulder.
“Oops! Sorry!” I said, rubbing my forehead. “I obviously wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s cool,” Scotty said.
&
nbsp; To tell the truth, I’d been going out of my way to avoid him. Dori seemed more secure in their relationship since the Near-Death Experience at my PARTY!!! but I didn’t want to take any chances.
So I said, “Um, okay. Cool.” Pause. “See ya.”
When I took a step toward the Woodshop classroom, he blocked my path.
Then he put on a frowny face.
“I should be mad at you.”
I knew he wasn’t referring to causing injury to his shoulder. Oh no! Did he still think I had something to do with spreading the old rumors about us? I was about to tell him how I thought he and Dori were a great couple and that I’d never stand in the way of their relationship and how I was as annoyed by all the gossip as he was—if not more—when he stunned me into silence.
“I can’t break up with Dori,” Scotty said, “and it’s all your fault.”
“WHAT?”
My shout echoed in the empty hallway. I dropped my voice to a whisper. “You’re breaking up with Dori?”
He sighed and stuffed his hands deep into the pockets of his cargo pants.
“I want to, but I can’t because of her near-death experience at your party,” he said. “Only a jerk would break up with a girl right after a near-death experience, right?”
He was right. That would be a pretty jerky thing to do. And Scotty isn’t a jerk. He’s sweet. A little bit boring, maybe, but sweet. And when she isn’t hating me, that describes Dori pretty well, too.
“You two really seem like a good match,” I said. “Why do you want to break up with her, anyway?”
“Well,” he said, looking down at his sneakers. “It’s not fair to keep it going with Dori when I have feelings for another girl.”
He lifted his head and looked me right in the eyes. And even though I’m totally clueless about boyfriend/girlfriend business, there was suddenly no question in my mind what girl he was referring to.
ME. HE WAS REFERRING TO ME. THE GIRL HE HAD FEELINGS FOR WAS ME ME ME—HOLY COW—ME.
And then, maybe sensing my usual cluelessness about boyfriend/girlfriend business, Scotty felt the need to be specific even though I really, really would have preferred if he hadn’t.
“I mean, Dori’s fine.” He meant it in the same “okay, I guess” way I did when I used that word to describe him. “But you’re legendary. You’re Mighty the Seagull!”
The (Totally Not) Guaranteed Guide to Friends, Foes & Faux Friends Page 11
