“So do I still get extra credit?”
“Absolutely,” he says.
“Can you add the extra credit right away, so it’s available on the parent portal? Please.”
He narrows his eyes. “Are you up to something?”
I clasp my hands together. “I just want my parents to see.”
He caps the dry-erase marker. “Okay, you got it.” He cups his mouth. “But don’t let the word out that I’d putting my grades up right away. Heh, heh. You people might get used to it.”
I laugh, sort of. According to Katie, teachers should put up grades right away. Sometimes putting up grades is your benefit, though, and sometimes it’s definitely not.
Chapter Nineteen:
GOOD NEWS
“Good news,” I say on Friday morning. I’m standing in front of Jana’s locker. She’s neatening her stack of books on her top shelf. “My parents said since I raised my grades, I’m no longer grounded, and I can go to the party!”
“What?” Jana’s whirls around and hugs me. We’re jumping up and down together. “That’s incredible!” We stop jumping to catch our breath. “So, the extra credit worked.”
“Yes, Torielle’s a genius. Somehow I convinced both Mr. Gibson and Ms. Yoon to put my extra credit up on the parent portal right away. My parents said as long as I do well in school today and don’t do anything stupid—like refuse to do my chores—I’m going to your party!” I dance in place. I’m that happy.
Jana dances with me. Then she pauses and wags a finger at me. “Okay, just whatever you do, don’t mess up between now and tomorrow night. You’re not allowed to do anything wrong.”
I laugh. “I promise,” I say. “I’ll be a model student. A perfect human being. Nothing is going to mess this up!”
I’m so excited that I don’t even care that much that it’s almost debate day. I know this weekend will go by super fast because of Jana’s party. And then before I know it, it’ll be Monday—debate time. But I don’t worry about it right now because good news flows through me and around me and surrounds me in a protective bubble of happiness.
When I arrive at my advisory, a small bakery box sits on my desk. It’s white, and there’s a sticker on it that says The Friendly Bean. There’s also a sticky note that says Maddie.
I turn to the kids who sit around me. “Did you see who put this here?”
Nobody has any clue.
I sit and just stare at the box. Why? What? Who?
With my fingernail I cut the Scotch tape and open up the box. A pumpkin spice muffin is nestled inside.
It has to be from Jacob! Last night we had been texting. I had been telling him how nervous I was getting about the debate. And he was trying to get me to relax. He admitted that last year he had gotten nervous too, and the big trick was just to imagine the audience in their underwear. Then he sent me this really funny song parody on YouTube.
And while we were texting, I got the news about being ungrounded and told him. This muffin is probably to celebrate that.
I squeal and then immediately clap my hand over my mouth. Everyone turns to stare at me.
“Is it your birthday?” someone asks.
I shake my head no. It’s just probably the best day of my life. I can’t believe it. Jacob bought me a muffin, my very favorite—the one I had when we first met. And he somehow snuck into my advisory unseen and placed it here for me to find.
But why?
Because he likes you, says a little voice in my head.
It could be to just pump you up, counters another voice. He knew how upset you had been about being grounded and worried about the debate.
Either way, it means he’s thinking about me. Either he’s the best debate partner in the entire world, or he likes me, or both.
My stomach flutters, like some invisible force is stirring up my insides.
I close the bakery box and carry it with me to my next class.
Pretty much through the rest of the morning, I just stare at the muffin. I can’t eat it because it’s so perfect looking—puffed-out deliciousness topped with swirly cream cheese icing and orange sprinkles. At least three guys ask me for a bite of whatever is in the box.
Ha! There’s just no way.
Carrying the box toward the caf, I realize I should pack it away. I definitely don’t want Jana to see it.
But on the other hand, I want to ask Jacob about it so, so, so badly.
Reluctantly, I put the box inside my backpack and join everyone at the lunch table over by the Fixings Bar.
“Feeling better about the debate?” asks Jacob.
I give him a thumbs-up and an extra wide smile, so he’ll know just how happy I am.
“You don’t seem nervous,” says Jana, taking a bite of her salad.
I shake my head. “Well, I wouldn’t say that. Let’s just say I’m feeling very positive today. I’m so happy to be un-grounded.”
“I’m glad,” says Jana.
Katie and Torielle discuss this TV show on Netflix that they’re watching, and Jana and Lukas build a wall between them made entirely of balled-up napkins and salt shakers because, apparently, Jana thinks that Lukas’ sloppy joe looks like barf. “I’m seriously going to be sick,” Jana says.
“Well, you can’t see the sloppy joe anymore,” says Lukas.
Jana plugs her nose and waves her hand in front of her face. “But I can still smell it.” She suddenly pops out of her chair. “I need a good smell.” She’s giggling now.
“What are you talking about?” says Lukas, shaking his head.
“When Maddie and I went to the mall, I put a couple of perfume samplers in her backpack.” Jana unzips my front pocket and pokes around. “I could swear I put them in here.”
Before I can move, she unzips the main compartment. “What’s this?” Her eyes widen in surprise. “A bakery box?” She grabs the box and plops it on the table. “Hiding something?” she asks.
Jacob looks at me and I look at him. I can feel my face flush.
“Um, no. It just appeared,” I manage.
“Magically appeared in your backpack?” says Torielle, turning to study me.
“No, in advisory.” I shrug. “I have no idea who it’s from.”
Katie strokes her chin thoughtfully. “None? Really?”
“Well, maybe—I don’t know,” I say.
A smile appears on Jacob’s face. He leans across the table waving his fork. “I have an idea who—”
“Ow!” I yell, holding my stomach. “It really hurts.” I jump up, groaning.
“What?” says Jana.
“My stomach,” I moan. “It’s all cramped up.” And that part’s not exactly a lie. It’s more like an exaggeration. I clap my hand on my forehead. “Maybe I’m a little hot too.” I grab my lunch sack and sling my backpack over my shoulder. “I think I should go visit the nurse,” I say.
“It’s probably just nerves because of your debate coming up,” says Katie. “Just a few more days.”
“Maybe,” I say, relieved that nobody is discussing the pumpkin spice muffin any more.
Jana jumps up. “I’m going with you to see the nurse. You shouldn’t be alone.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Jacob’s forehead wrinkles in concern. “Your face is all red. Do you need some ice?”
Yes, my face is red, but not because of a stomach virus or a fever. Red because of embarrassment.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I say.
In the nurse’s office, I hop up on the patient table. The paper crinkles underneath me as I shift around to get comfortable.
Jana sits upright on the edge of a nearby chair. “We’ve been waiting forever.”
“Um, no. More like three minutes.”
We both laugh. Jana is not known for her patience.
“Are you any better?” Jana asks.
“A little, actually.” I push my hair behind my ears.
“You’re a lot less red.” Because Jacob isn’t around
, I think.
We share earbuds and listen to this new song from our favorite group, and we’re swinging our legs and snapping our fingers when Mrs. Krauss, the school nurse, sweeps into the room. She’s wearing a stretchy pair of blue pants and a t-shirt with ladybugs. Her eyeliner is so thick it looks like war paint. Her hair is dyed so white-blond it glows. But the scary thing is you can see her roots, which are chocolate brown.
“Girls, put that phone away,” Mrs. Krauss says as she grabs a clipboard and adjusts the stethoscope around her neck. “Just because this is the nurse’s office doesn’t mean it’s not school. The next time I see your phone out I’m going to put it in my box.” She points to a box covered in smiley-face wrapping paper. “I’d hate to do that.” She takes my temperature even though it’s my stomach that hurts, which I told her right when I came in.
Mrs. Krauss glances at both of us. “Are you both sick?”
“No, just me,” I say.
Jana stares at up at Mrs. Krauss and says in concern, “Maddie’s stomach is really hurting. A really bad cramp.”
“Well, aren’t you a good friend? If there’s a serious problem with Maddie here, she’ll need to go see her doctor.” She studies me. “How about I call your parents to get them to pick you up? You don’t have a temperature, but you’ll want to find out what is causing the cramps.” She pauses. “Is there anything going on at school or home? Unexpected stress?”
“We have a debate in Social Studies on Monday,” says Jana. “And Maddie’s afraid of public speaking.”
I can speak for myself, I want to say, but I don’t.
The expression on the nurse’s face changes. She pats my shoulder. “It could be a case of nerves, honey. You might try some deep breathing. And some creative visualizations. My daughter, who’s in graduate school, has been taking some mindfulness training and it’s really helping her.” She studies me again. “Still want me to call your parents?”
I shrug. “Um, you know, it’s weird, but since I came in here, I’m suddenly feeling much better. It’s like my stomach is pretty much all better.”
“Oh really! I’m so glad to hear that. Just keep on breathing, okay, pumpkin?”
I flush. Did she really just call me pumpkin?
When Jana and I stroll back into the hallway, we both admit that Mrs. Kraus is nicer than her reputation. Even if she’s a little odd.
“Please don’t let me think that bright peach lipsticks looks good when I get to be her age,” says Jana.
“I know, and those thick lines under her eyes.” I shake my head.
Pivoting around the corner, we start skipping. Jana loops her arm into mine and we’re laughing. I’ve got my earbuds in and I’m listening to a different song by the Ramon Project. After hearing “Lemon Ginger Afternoon” about a hundred times, I’ve started listening to some of their earlier songs. Suddenly, Jana is poking me. I take out my earbuds.
A familiar voice behind us says, “It’s a miracle! You’re now one hundred percent better.”
I whip around and almost have a heart attack. It’s Jacob.
He grabs my earbuds and puts the left one close to his ear. “Wow. You’re listening to some early Ramon Project. I knew you’d love them after I sent you ‘Lemon Ginger Afternoon.’ You’re hooked!” He grins, looking proud of himself.
But Jana isn’t grinning. She’s frowning. I had told Jana that I had just stumbled upon that song. Now she knows I lied.
“I came down to check on you,” says Jacob, smiling at me. He’s oblivious to Jana’s glares in my direction. “But I know you’re okay now.”
Jacob was coming down to check on me? Normally, I’d be thrilled, but right now I just feel like fainting. Suddenly I want to go straight back to the nurse’s office.
“Y-yeah, it’s a miracle,” I say, studying my hands.
“I hope it wasn’t the muffin I gave you that made you sick,” says Jacob.
“Er, no,” I squeak. I can feel my face turning red.
Jana’s face is red too. Mouth puckering, she glares at Jacob. “You gave that muffin to Maddie?”
“Um, yeah.” He shrugs, clearly baffled why Jana is so bewildered. “Pumpkin spice is her favorite, so, yeah. It was a combo ‘happy un-grounding’ and ‘thank you.’”
“For what?” asks Jana.
Jacob looks at me. “Well, Maddie wasn’t exactly subtle about decorating my locker. So that.”
“You think that Maddie decorated your—” Jana shudders.
Jacob turns to me, his brows lifted in confusion. “You did it, right?”
“Well, I did,” I admit. “But it was with Jana—” I pause midsentence. Jana has fled. She’s full-out running, like she’s a defender chasing after a breakaway forward during a high-stakes soccer game.
“Gotta go. I’ll explain later.” I race down the hall. My backpack thumps painfully against my spine, but I don’t care.
I catch up with Jana by the Student Council bulletin board. “Look,” I say, bending over, panting and out of breath. “I can explain everything.”
Jana backs away from me. “I don’t care what you have to say! You are a terrible friend! You lied! A lot! You’ve betrayed me! You’re officially uninvited to my slumber party! And P.S.—I’m inviting Fiona instead.” Then she walks away from me and disappears around the corner.
Chapter Twenty:
STEAMED UP
At home after school, I storm into the bathroom and slam the door. Then I jump into the shower, turn the water as hard as it will go, and shout out my frustration to the universe. Screaming in the shower is a great strategy, because nobody can really hear you. Steam wisps into the bathroom, and the jet of water pounds my head.
I’m not going to the slumber party.
I’m probably not going to be Jana’s best friend anymore, either.
Is Jana now going to tell Fiona all her secrets instead? Was I going to be replaced, just like that? It was so ironic. I hadn’t told Jana my secret because I was trying to follow the BFF Code and be a good friend, and I didn’t want to be like Fiona the Betrayer. I kept my mouth shut for her. And look what that got me! Whereas look what being a betrayer got Fiona—apparently, new BFF status!
And what about Katie and Torielle? Were they going to stop being friends with me too?
Even though there’s steam everywhere, my throat feels completely dry.
“Maddie, can you please wrap up your shower?” says Mom through the door. “You’ve been in there forever.”
“I’m almost done.”
“Now,” says Mom.
Can’t I have even a few moments of hot water and steam and tears to myself? No. Apparently not.
I feel like I’m alone on a mountaintop and screaming my head off, but nobody can hear me. And Jana, Fiona, Torielle, and Katie are on another mountaintop, dancing around with lots of Cool Ranch Doritos, having a high-altitude party—one that I’m not invited to.
Tonight, the night of Jana’s slumber party, will be long and boring and dark and awful. It seems pretty obvious now that Jacob likes me, but I just feel way too embarrassed to talk to him about any of this. Plus, it doesn’t make up for losing my friends.
I don’t know what to do. I flip through Mom’s self-help books, and then Google some advice boards. I use a fake name and post my problems online to see what people suggest.
None of the advice is very helpful.
Don’t think of yourself. You’ll eventually get over it.
Start over and make new friends.
Instead start being extra helpful around the house. Really? How will that help?
Don’t wait to be asked, just do things.
I’m doing something, all right. I’m sitting on my bed doing nothing, while all of my friends are having fun.
Late Sunday morning, I reach for the iced tea on my nightstand. I try to take a sip, but I can barely swallow.
I’ve had my phone with me all morning, waiting for someone to check in. The truth is that Jacob did text me on Frid
ay and Saturday. We didn’t talk about what happened, though. We just chatted about soccer. Best family vacations. His was Costa Rica. Mine was going to Quebec City during Winter Carnival. It cheered me up to text with him.
But I really miss my friends, especially Jana.
I thought that at least Torielle might be in touch. Or maybe Katie. I hope for that ping, but nothing. Silence. My heart sinks.
Jana’s Snappypic feed is filled with photos of the party.
I know they couldn’t help posting photos of how much fun they were having at the party. But it’s even worse because I helped plan it. I helped shop for it. I made and designed the spinner for the nail polish game—which, in the photos, looks like it was so much fun.
I slump into the family room and flop down onto the sofa. I don’t pick up a magazine, turn on the TV, or even slide my phone out of my pocket. I can’t bear to look at any more photos of my besties having an awesome time without me.
I kick off my shoes, and they clunk down onto the floor.
Morty noses over and put his chin onto my lap. His brown eyes implore me to pet him. I scratch his head and then push him away.
“Sorry, Morty,” I say, immediately feeling like the worst pet owner in the world. “I just can’t right now.”
Morty stares at me, his pink tongue lolling.
To make things worse, I think about the debate. Tomorrow. As in the very next day. How can I possibly debate now? How can I have logical thoughts or present an organized argument when I’m such a mess?
And to make matters worse, I have to go head-to-head with Jana.
Can tomorrow get any worse?
I flip over and my face smushes into a cushion. It smells dusty, and I cough. I lay there for what could be seconds or minutes, and then someone is lightly shaking me.
“What’s wrong, Maddie?” I glance up. Elvie stands over me, a concerned look on her face.
“Nothing.”
She plops down at the end of the couch. “Really? C’mon. I know you better. What’s up?”
My voice catches but I manage to tell her everything that happened. She listens, petting Morty the whole time.
“Remember that time that Caroline and I had a fight?” she says.
Pumpkin Spice Secrets Page 11
