“Two to zero, the Rattlers.” The dad says this in a mopey way, which lets me know he’s a Lightning Bolts dad.
Suddenly someone from the Lightning Bolts’ midfield breaks free of the Rattlers’ defense and drills the ball within shooting distance of the net. The forward shoots, and the ball flies up high toward the far left of the net.
Jacob makes a diving save.
The Lightning Bolts’ supporters groan.
“Their goalie is crazy good,” says a woman in a plaid sweater. She’s talking about Jacob! Both Jana and I nod in agreement, and my chest swells with pride. It’s ridiculous, I know. Still, I feel like shouting, He’s my debate partner and we’ve been texting and we’re meeting at the library tomorrow on his birthday! but I don’t. I take a bite of the PowerBar. It’s really good—chocolaty and marshmallowy.
Jana nudges me. “See, I told you Jacob’s a wall.”
“Yeah.” I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.
Jana and I cheer like crazy. “Way to go, Jacob!”
In the net, Jacob kind of nods at us.
Our cheering section also catches the eye of a pretty woman with bright blue eyes and short, darkish, reddish hair. She’s sitting in a chair just a few feet away. I recognize her from the Friendly Bean—she’s Mrs. Matthews, Jacob’s mom! She smiles at me and does a little wave.
Oh no. She’s walking over to talk to me.
“It’s so nice to see you here,” she says, suddenly standing right next to me and Jana.
“We know Jacob from school.” I emphasize the school part.
“So we’re his cheering section,” explains Jana.
“That’s great,” Mrs. Matthews says with a smile. She nods at our cleats and uniform. “So I see you both play soccer too. Did you just finish up a game?”
“Yes,” says Jana. “We play for the Cheetahs. Girls thirteen and under.”
“We won,” I explain, “mostly because of her.” I tap Jana’s sleeve. “So we’re just taking a break. And”—I hold up the PowerBar—“rewarding ourselves.”
Mrs. Matthews studies me. She has a wry smile on her face. “You girls should reward yourself with something special at the Friendly Bean afterward. It’s so close by. Just make sure that you don’t spill on anyone.”
“Uh, okay,” says Jana, raising her eyebrows in confusion. “We’ll be careful.”
“Yeah,” I say, tugging Jana’s arm, before Mrs. Matthews says something that will really get me in trouble. “Oh, shoot. We’ve got to go.” I point my thumb to the other field. “Her dad said we needed to go back.”
“But—” protests Jana.
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Matthews,” I say.
“’See you girls later. Come by to cheer for the Rattlers any time.”
Jana shoots me a look. “What was that about? Am I crazy or was that just plain weird?” She covers her mouth to stifle a laugh.
“It was,” I admit. But not for the reason Jana thinks.
“I mean. Sure. Who wouldn’t want something at the Friendly Bean? But why does she think we’ll spill on somebody? It’s not like we have giant stains on our uniforms.” Jana studies my face. “Actually, come to think of it, Maddie, you do have a little bit of chocolate on your chin.” She brushes it off with her thumb.
“Thanks,” I say, as we head toward Mr. and Mrs. Patel.
“But why did you want to leave so badly?”
“Well,” I say, shrugging. “I just wanted to save us from any more weirdness.”
“Jacob’s mom could be an alien with green skin from the planet Zebok and I wouldn’t care,” says Jana.
“That would make Jacob an alien,” I say.
“But a very cute one.”
True, I think.
“Really, though. Why the hurry?” Jana presses.
“Just trying to be time conscious. Your dad said fifteen minutes,” I protest. “I just want to make it easier on him.”
Jana shakes her head. “I don’t know, Maddie. I think maybe you’re afraid of boys or something. We’re going to have to work on this. I think we’re going to have to find you a crush of your very own.”
“That’d be a good idea,” I say. And then inwardly sigh.
Chapter Fifteen:
A BOY AND BOOKS
I drag Mr. Mouse, my stuffed animal who used to be pinker than Torielle’s lip gloss but is the color of old bubble gum, to look out the window. This morning the clouds lie low and heavy, and there’s a chill in the air. But I feel so excited. This afternoon, I’m meeting Jacob in the library! There’s no way I can sleep in.
It’s only seven in the morning, and I’m supposed to meet Jacob at 1:00 p.m., so that means I’ve got to wait six entire hours. I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with myself. Well, actually I do have some idea. I listen to “Lemon Ginger Afternoon” a few times. For about an hour, I make Jacob a birthday card. On the cover I draw a bunch of soccer balls. On the inside, I write Happy Birthday, Jacob! From Maddie. Then I change my outfit about five times. Not something I normally do. That’s more like a Torielle or a Jana thing.
I try on a knit dress with galaxies on it, but decide it looks too geeky. I put on a romper, but just no. Then I put on a soccer shirt and warm-up pants, and I realize I look like I just walked off the playing field. I finally settle on an open-shoulder long-sleeve light denim t-shirt, leggings, and white tennis shoes.
After I decide on my Jacob outfit, Mom keeps me plenty busy. Laundry. Then I have to tidy up the family room and kitchen while Elvie vacuums. And Morty sniffs around, hoping to get a treat. My sister actually cleans without claiming she has some important AP project to do. I’m pretty surprised.
We catch up for a moment, and I ask her what’s happening with the electric bass stuff. “It’s going great,” she tells me. Her voice sounds excited. “Since I play upright, there’s a lot of stuff I already know. I’m progressing fast.”
“But you don’t even have an electric,” I say, confused.
“That doesn’t mean I can’t practice the fingerings. Correct technique’s so important. It minimizes fatigue and injury.”
“Are you afraid that when you get an actual bass, you’ll mess up?”
“Do you mean am I afraid I’ll embarrass myself?” She shrugs. “Sure. I probably will. But it’s not about mistakes. It’s what you learn from them.”
“Wow,” I say. “You sound like one of Mom’s self-help books.”
Elvie pokes me. “How would you know? Have you been reading them?”
I can feel my face warm. “Maybe.”
“Me too,” she says. “Sometimes when I get stuck, I’ll just randomly open one of Mom’s books and see if there’s some good advice there for me. And guess what? Sometimes it helps.”
Later, I grin thinking about Elvie thumbing through Mom’s books, just like me. I guess I always thought she had everything together. That she didn’t need any extra help.
The rest of the morning crawls, but soon enough it’s lunchtime and then at twelve forty-five I’m actually riding my bike to the public library.
I’m locking up my bike when I see Jacob on the other side of the parking lot. He’s on foot and waves to me.
“Hi there,” I say, as he comes over to the bike rack. Today, he’s wearing a gray-and-blue striped long-sleeved t-shirt, jeans, and gray Chuck Taylors. Like me, he’s wearing a backpack. I’m glad I occasionally forget how cute he is. Otherwise, I probably couldn’t speak to him at all.
I turn my combination so the lock will be secure. “Oh, and happy birthday!” I pull the card I made out of my backpack and hand it to him. “This is for you.”
“Thanks,” he says. He studies the mini Snickers taped to the front of the card. “These are my favorite.”
“I know. They’re really good. Plus, I’ve seen you eating them at lunch.”
“You’re an awesome artist,” he says, reading the inside of the card, where I drew a close-up of a foot kicking a ball.
My face gets
hot. We walk up the steps of the library together, and our hands brush so close they almost touch.
Jacob pauses to hold the door open for a woman with a stroller. “Why, thank you,” says the woman, smiling at Jacob.
We walk past the circulation desk, where there’s a line of people waiting to check out books.
“So where should we go?” I say.
“I guess where there’s lot of books.”
“Ha, ha.” A little boy races past while his father, laden with an armful of picture books, pursues him.
“We can sit over near the newspaper area,” says Jacob, nodding toward the center of the library. “There are lots of tables over there.”
We find an empty table near the racks of newspapers from around New England and even the rest of the world. Behind the newspapers, reference books fill the shelves.
“I think we’re in the right place,” I say, pointing to the nearby reference desk. Two librarians stand behind the desk, helping patrons with questions. There’s a stack of little pieces of paper and small yellow pencils by them and by the computers around the room.
“I always wondered about those pencils,” I say. “Why are they are always yellow? And so little? And how are they always sharp, and why don’t they have erasers? And why don’t you see those pencils anywhere else in the universe?”
“You ask very bold, life-shattering questions, my Padawan,” jokes Jacob. “I think it’s the way of the Force.”
“Or maybe there’s some invisible librarian whose job is just to sharpen little yellow pencils!”
“Maybe. Or maybe they get a good deal on little pencils?” suggests Jacob. He squints like he’s thinking hard. “You know, I think they get the same deal at miniature golf places. They have small pencils there too.”
“I think it’s a conspiracy. Librarians and miniature golf places are all working together.”
“Definitely.”
“So, I feel like I should sing you ‘Happy Birthday’ or something,” I say. “But you don’t want me to—I can’t carry a tune.” I laugh.
Jacob laughs too, and says, “I mostly celebrated my birthday yesterday. You saw my friends and me at the mall yesterday before soccer, and then my friends spent the night last night.”
“Oh yeah,” I say casually, like I barely remember. Ha! I pull my binder out of my backpack. “Sorry I couldn’t talk yesterday at the mall. I had this thing with a friend.”
“It’s all okay. I get it.” He pauses. “Thank you for coming to watch me play goalie.”
“Oh, sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice breezy. “It was right after our soccer game. So, should we start some actual work?”
“I don’t know … maybe we can debate the miniature pencil conspiracy theory instead.” We both laugh.
Over the next couple of hours, we fill out our opening statement and rebuttal sheets. And find a lot more sources. In the opening statement, we remember to use persuasive language, and for the rebuttal section, we brainstorm what Jana’s and Fiona’s arguments might be, so we can come up with good counterarguments.
I glance at my phone and realize I have to be home in forty minutes. How did time evaporate like that?
I tap the chart with my pencil. “So, take a look at this sentence in the rebuttal section. Ms. Yoon wants us to use a transition word. Do you think this works? I used ‘however’ instead of ‘but.’”
“I can’t read it upside down,” says Jacob. “I really think I need to sit right next to you.”
I don’t object. Jacob scootches his chair over by me.
Then, together, side by side, we finish up the rest of the rebuttal section.
I thought sitting across from Jacob was a big deal.
Sitting side by side is a bigger deal.
I’m sort of having a little bit of trouble concentrating. But it’s a good kind of trouble.
Chapter Sixteen:
OPERATION DECORATION
It’s Monday morning, and Jana is taping wrapping paper to Jacob’s locker.
“It definitely needs a ribbon,” I say. “That way the locker will look like a giant present.”
“You expect me to get a ribbon straight?” asks Jana.
“I’ll do it,” I say cheerfully. The hallways are still quiet since we arrived at school early, but an occasional teacher passes by, slowing down to smile and watch our progress.
I use a ruler to keep the ribbon straight, tape it, and then put a giant bow where the lines of ribbon intersect.
“That looks really good,” says Jana. “I’m glad I’ve got you as my secret weapon.”
“You’re welcome.”
After I peel off the letters to spell Happy Birthday Jacob, I press the soccer ball foam stickers to the front of his locker. Meanwhile, Jana tapes up the mini Snickers bars we bought at the mall.
“We better hurry,” she says, nodding at some kids drifting into school. “What if he catches us?”
“Don’t worry, I’m done.” I stand back and admire my work.
“Oh, we almost forgot the balloons.” Jana attaches the three silvery-blue helium ones that all say Happy Birthday. She claps her hands. “It looks soooooo good.”
“It does!” I say.
“Now the final touch.” Jana pulls a neatly folded-up piece of paper out of her backpack. It’s a note that says Enjoy! Xx Your Secret Crush. She drew a little soccer ball underneath. “I think he’ll figure out that this”—she waggles her fingers over the locker like she’s a magician—“is all from me.” Then she slips the note into the locker through one of the vents.
“Yes,” I say. “I’m sure he will.” Jana grins from ear to ear. She looks so happy. And I want her to be happy. But I can’t help but feel jealous. After all, the locker decorations weren’t all Jana. Not at all. So I also kind of hope her secret stays that way—a secret.
“Guess what?” calls out Jacob. He’s approaching our lunch table. Everyone else is already sitting down. We’re at our usual space near the Fixings Bar. “Someone decorated my locker!” says Jacob. “That’s why I’m late.”
Jana and I both try to look innocent.
“Oh really?” Jana opens her thermos of soup, and the scent of lentils wafts into the air.
“Yup.” He digs into his pockets and throws a bunch of mini Snickers bars onto the table. “They gave me all of these. And left me a mysterious note.”
Katie and Torielle give Jana and me conspiratorial looks. They know all about Operation Decorate Jacob’s Locker.
Lukas reaches across the table and grabs all of the Snickers.
“You better share, Mr. Greedy,” says Jacob.
“I am sharing,” says Lukas. He unwraps a bar and pops it into his mouth, swallows, then adds, “With myself.”
Jana giggles. “You’re crazy, Lukas.”
Jacob lunges and swipes a bunch away from Lukas. “Here,” he says, dropping one beside Torielle’s lunch bag. “One for you.”
Stalking up behind Jana, he tosses a Snickers into her lap. “Thanks!” she squeals, like somehow this particular bar is extra special and was selected just for her.
Then he tosses two more. One lands by my lunch sack and one by Katie’s.
“Are you going to keep any for yourself?” I ask.
“Don’t worry.” Jacob rubs his belly. “I’ve already had plenty.”
“So who decorated your locker?” Lukas takes a bite into another bar and chews thoughtfully. “’Cause I can tell you it wasn’t me.”
“I don’t know for sure,” says Jacob. He plops down across from me and next to Jana. “But I have a good idea who it could be. It’s someone who plays soccer.”
Jana’s eyes glimmer.
“And someone who’s good at art,” continues Jacob.
Jana bites her lip. She’s definitely not good at art.
I am, though.
“And someone who knows I like mini Snickers.” He pulls out his lunch and then stuffs his backpack under his chair. Then he taps his chin. “Hmmm, to
the mysterious person who wants to keep themselves a secret: thank you.” He gives a thumbs-up. “Mysterious person, you did an awesome job.”
I so badly want to say You’re welcome. Instead I just gaze down at my Snickers and try not to smile.
On our way to Social Studies, Jana is not happy. Kids mob the hallways and elbows and backpacks bang into our sides.
“I can’t believe he couldn’t figure out that note was from me,” she moans. “It was in my handwriting.”
“Maybe you should have signed it with a J or something? Well, next time.”
“Next time?” Jana stops to drink from the water fountain. The fountain doesn’t work. She kicks it. “Next time is a whole year from now! I can’t wait for that!”
Especially since you will have changed crushes two dozen times by then, I want to say. But I don’t. I know she’s feeling awful. And I feel bad that she’s feeling bad. However, I also feel happy inside. Jacob thought the locker decoration was from me!
In Social Studies, Jacob and I work together on a debate vocabulary sheet. Basically, Ms. Yoon has us look up the terms, like resolution and assertion, and write them out on a worksheet that she passed out. Jacob is pretty flirty the whole time, kicking my foot under the desk. The task of looking up words flies by.
Afterwards, I have Science with Torielle. She sits across from me.
“I don’t see Mr. Gibson,” Torielle says. The bell has rung, but a bunch of kids are out of their seats chatting. Some are even sitting on top of the back counter.
“He’s not here. Maybe he’s out sick,” I say hopefully. “Maybe we have a sub.”
“I think he had to visit the men’s ‘facilities.’” Torielle lowers her voice and makes quotes in the air with her fingers.
“How do you know? Did you see him take a bathroom pass?” I joke.
“I can sense things,” Torielle smiles mysteriously.
“So you’re psychic?”
She pinches her fingers. “Just a little,” she jokes.
Soon enough, Mr. Gibson waltzes back into the room and says, “Sorry, folks. I had an emergency call.” He fingers his mustache, and as he walks he’s saying, “Just because I was not here doesn’t mean you’re free to be out of your seats.”
Pumpkin Spice Secrets Page 9
