by Denise Vega
When I got back from Jilly’s, Chris was lounging on the couch, flip-ping through the channels. I dropped into a chair next to him.
“Mom said you would take me to the library before it closed.” Chris ignored me, clicked again, and came to rest on ESPN.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’ve got forty-five minutes. They’re holding the book at the counter so I’ll be fast.”
He blinked and folded his arms over his chest, the clicker peeking out from under one elbow. I leaned over and pressed the MUTE button.
“I thought by the time you were sixteen you didn’t do stuff like the ST.” Neither of us had used the Silent Treatment on each other in years.
Chris clicked the MUTE off and the room filled with the roar of an engine from the next commercial. He watched the rest of the commercial, then groaned and turned it off.
“Let’s go.” He strode across the room, grabbed the car keys off the hook, and stalked out the door without his jacket.
“Wait up!” I called, hurrying after him. “Mom, Chris is taking me to the library!”
“Okay, honey.”
I hoped he was. I was afraid he might leave me, even though the whole point of him driving was to take me to the library. I made sure my library card was in my pocket and scurried out to the garage.
Chris pulled into a parking space that faced the street. Turning off the ignition, he tapped his fingers impatiently on the wheel. “Hurry up.”
“You’re not coming in?”
He shook his head.
I ran inside and was back in a few minutes, my book clutched in my hand. When I opened the door, I noticed the car’s dome light didn’t go on. “Hey, I think the light’s —”
Chris grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside. “Close the door! Quick!”
I ducked, barely missing the door frame as I fell into my seat and slammed the door. I stared at him in the darkness.
“What’s up?”
“Get down.” Chris was slumped way down in his seat. I looked through the windows, trying to figure out what we were hiding from. “Stop looking around and get down,” he hissed, grabbing my arm again. I slid down in the seat, having a strange sense of déjà vu. I rearranged my knees under the dash and held my breath, even though I didn’t need to. No one could possibly hear me breathing through a closed door. Chris was staring out the window, his hands gripping the steering wheel. Between two of his fingers dangled the basketball key chain I had given him when he was eleven and I was seven. He usually wore it in a belt loop with no keys on it and had it with him for every basketball game he played. He said it was good luck.
“There she is,” Chris whispered to himself, jolting my eyes from the silver basketball to his face. I dared raise my head two inches so I could see out. A girl stood under the streetlight at the corner. She was magazine-cover beautiful, with long blond hair that curled softly at the ends. Her sweater showed off a very nice set of boobolas and she wore tight black jeans and stylish boots.
Amanda Worthington. It had to be. I shook my head slightly, wondering how I was once again spying on someone’s love interest. I sighed. Always the spy, never the spy-ee.
Letting out my breath, I glanced over at Chris. Even in the dim light, I could see his longing. Is that how I looked when I looked at Mark? Suddenly I felt guilty, as if I was reading Chris’s journal or listening in on a private conversation. I turned my eyes back to Amanda. She was looking over her shoulder, smiling and tapping her foot. Seconds later a boy appeared at her side, throwing his arm casually across her shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk. I sucked in my breath and sank way down in my seat, counting to five before looking over the dashboard. They were just past our car. Amanda leaned toward the boy and kissed him right on the mouth. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi, six Mississippi. She pulled back slowly. Wow. That was one long kiss. The boy brushed her hair away from her face, and they continued down the sidewalk before turning the corner and disappearing.
I didn’t dare look at Chris. I slouched there, clutching my book in my lap, trying not to breathe.
“Crap,” Chris swore under his breath. He tossed the key chain over his shoulder and I heard it hit the backseat. Jamming the keys in the ignition, he started the car and backed quickly out of the parking space. I sat up and clicked my seat belt into place, gripping the door handle as Chris drove madly down the street, his jaw clenched as he stared out the windshield.
But I knew he wasn’t seeing the road. I knew he was seeing that kiss, playing it over and over in his mind. And I knew that no matter how fast he drove, he couldn’t get away from it.
Saturday, October 26
So, things have been weird and I haven’t felt like writing for a while. I’ve never, ever felt sorry for my brother in my entire life. He’s always been better, smarter, and funnier than me. But Thurs. night outside the library, I felt so sorry for him I thought I would cry. And I might have, except I was so afraid we were going to crash on the way home that I couldn’t. He was SO mad. He really likes Amanda Worthington and he saw her kissing this boy. What if I saw Mark kissing someone? I would DIE…absolutely DIE.
So, I’m bumming about him but then I had this great day with Rosie and Mark. We went with Ms. Moreno to the university to hook up with some Intranet people…got some ideas for our own Intranet. Way fun…met 2 of the people who will be leading a web camp this summer, so that was really cool. At lunch we laughed so hard that Rosie’s pop sprayed out her nose. It went all over her fries, so I shared mine with her. Hilarious…but then I kind of felt guilty cuz I was having so much fun without Jilly…as if she’s never done stuff without me. Geez.
Mark looked unbelievably cute today (when does he not?). The bangs over the eye are to die for…we teased each other about basketball. He told Rosie I was “really good for a girl.” We both smacked him. He laughed…said Rosie hates when he says that…she said that’s why he says it, then she hits him. The coolest thing of all was she said I was now part of the routine. I couldn’t believe it. I’m PART OF THE ROUTINE. Is that great or what???
I tried really hard not to stare at Mark. I couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to kiss him for 6 Mississippis.
Wonder if my pillow-kissing practice will pay off in a real kissing situation…wonder if I’ll ever know.
chapter 13
Howlingween
Now that we’re in seventh grade, Halloween is about parties, not trick-or-treating. Jilly and I went to an after-school costume party at the rec center on Halloween day. Whoever was in charge of decorating must have had kids under the age of five because they’d hung lame orange and black paper streamers across the ceiling, tacked cardboard witches and pumpkins to the walls, and left a cauldron of wispy dry ice in the corner.
But Jilly didn’t seem to mind. She waved to Frankenstein’s monster across the floor, then started dancing with some of her C Track friends when a good song came on. The DJ was dressed like a pirate, looking extra scruffy in the flash of strobe lights. He shouted encouragement whenever someone ventured onto the dance floor, dissing the boys who stood in clumps of two or three on the other side of the room.
“Come on, Erin!” Jilly tugged at my arm but I shook my head. These peds weren’t made for dancing and there was no way I was going out there. Jilly waved at me and joined her friends, shimmying and shaking to the beat.
I glanced around, trying to spot someone, anyone, I might know. I knew there were a lot of kids from MBMS, but they were hard to recognize in their costumes.
Jilly finally came off the dance floor and joined me. We stood off to the side as she caught her breath.
“Boo!” said a voice behind me, and I turned to see an ugly beast, its mouth dripping with blood pumped through a thin tube.
“Gross,” Jilly said, shaking her head. She’d dressed up as a pop star, complete with diamond-studded belly button, fake boobs, and tons of makeup. She looked about eighteen and boys w
ere definitely giving her the eye.
“I’m Mark,” said the Beast, holding out a furry paw.
“Sacks?” I asked, grabbing his arm. “Sack o’ Potatoes, is that you in there?” I turned my head, nearly slicing Jilly’s cheek with one of my Pippy Longstocking hair wires.
“Erin! Watch it!” Jilly ducked and brushed a hand across her Pop Star Blush #3.
“It’s me,” Mark answered, but his head was turned toward Jilly. Why, oh why didn’t I dress up like a sexy rock star? Well, maybe because I’d rather have a virus attack my hard drive than have people staring at various parts of my body the way they were staring at Jilly. Besides, how many sexy rock stars have feet the size of a small guitar? Answer: none. So I stood there all stiff and awkward, looking at Mark looking at Jilly.
“Pippi!” Rosie pounced at me, baring her vampire fangs as she flung back her high-collared cape. She had painted her face white, with black circles around her eyes. “Watch,” she said, leaning toward me. She clenched her teeth. Blood oozed over her fangs and down her chin.
“Gross!” Jilly scrunched up her nose.
“What’s with the two of you and dripping blood?” I asked, laughing.
“Isn’t it great?” Rosie said. “You just bite into these things and it looks like blood.” She held out a handful of dark capsules.
“Don’t get too close,” Jilly said. “They’ll stain my costume.” She hitched up her breasts, and Mark the Beast was mesmerized.
“Quit drooling and get us a drink.” Rosie smacked Mark’s arm. “In a minute,” Mark said, still staring at Jilly. He pretended to adjust his mask, but I could see his eyes riveted through the eyeholes.
Time to take action.
“So, great costume,” I said, tugging his furry arm. “Let me see that blood thing.” I moved my hand in front of his eyes, pretending I couldn’t find the tube. This seemed to break his trance.
“Huh?” Mark asked. “Uh, yeah. Pretty cool, huh?”
“Hey, Erin. Great costume.”
I cocked my head at an alien who had appeared before us.
“It’s me, Tyler.”
“Tyler? Wow. It’s cool how that lights up.” I pointed to his mask, but I was watching Mark out of the corner of my eye. He was back to watching Jilly, who was watching some people dancing.
“Yeah,” Tyler said. “But the batteries keep bumping against my head. The thing holding them up broke off.” There was a shout and he looked over his shoulder. “Oops. It’s my turn at the race car game. See you later.”
An elbow dug into my ribs. Rosie’s lips brushed my ear. “He likes you,” she whispered.
“What?” I said, practically choking on my gum. “No way.”
“He does,” Rosie said. “Can’t you tell?”
“No,” I said. No boy had ever liked me. How in the world was I supposed to “tell”?
“What are you two talking about?” Jilly asked.
“Computer stuff,” I said. Jilly rolled her eyes. Then she looked at Tyler, who was huddled over a video game.
“He’s a little goofy,” Mark said to Jilly. There was a howl across the room and Mark lifted his head. “Gotta run, girls. The brothers are calling.” With a loud howl back, Mark was gone.
“And he’s not?” Jilly asked no one in particular. She shook her head. “We need high school boys, Erin.” I noticed she wasn’t including Rosie in the conversation.
“High school boys?” I said. “Don’t they shave and have underarm hair?” I looked at Rosie, but she had already backed away into the crowd.
“Well, at least they aren’t howling at their friends like they’re in some sort of wolf clan.”
My heart soared. “I think it’s called a pack,” I said to distract her even further.
“What?”
“A group of wolves,” I said. “It’s called a pack.”
“Oh, Erin. Who cares? The point is seventh-grade boys are immature. Come on, let’s go over by the punch bowl. Elvis has been staring at me all afternoon. I think he’s an eighth grader.”
I answered the door for trick-or-treaters that night while Mom and Dad ate Chinese food in the kitchen. Chris had gone out with some of his friends to a party. I fell asleep in front of the TV at nine and my dad got me off to bed. I woke up suddenly at 12:14, just as a car door slammed outside. Slipping out of bed, I tiptoed across my room and peered out the window.
Chris was standing next to his friend’s car, talking to two boys who sat on the hood. Slowly I cracked my window and pressed my ear against the screen.
“She’s not worth all this, Swift,” said one boy. “You’re a mess.” “No, I’m not,” Chris said.
“You made a fool of yourself, man,” said the other boy. “She’s got a boyfriend. Just forget about her.”
Chris waved them away and headed up the walk. He stumbled and my hand flew to my mouth, knocking over the lamp on my desk. Chris’s head whipped up and I stepped back from the window. Shoot. Had he seen me in the dark? I didn’t dare look out again, so I hurried to my bed and got under the covers, rolling over so my back was to my door. A few seconds later I heard the front door open and close, then heavy footsteps on the stairs. They clumped down the hall, then stopped. I held my breath and squeezed my eyes closed. The door squeaked opened.
“Erin.” His harsh whisper sent a shiver down my back. “Erin. I know you’re awake. I saw you.” Shuffling feet crossed the carpet. “Just stay out of my damn business.” His finger jabbed my shoulder, then his breath warmed my ear. “Got it?” The smell of beer wafted in front of me, and I tried hard not to wrinkle my nose. His mouth stayed close to my ear for, like, fifty years, then he finally straightened up. Giving me a shove, he clumped back across the room and closed the door tightly behind him.
My breath escaped. “Got it,” I whispered.
Friday, November 1
Things That Are Not Good
• I think Chris was drunk last night…must still be bummed out about Amanda…guess I’m lucky…at least I haven’t seen Mark kissing anyone and I don’t think he has a girlfriend.
• Mark was staring at Jilly at the Halloween party.
• I don’t think Mark realizes Jilly doesn’t look like that normally. She does not have boobs yet; well just the beginnings of some. Ok, they have gone from nipples poking out (that’s about where mine are) to little tiny mounds. But I mean little…check out a Mounds bar and you’ll get the idea.
• She also doesn’t wear all that makeup. Her mom lets her wear a little eyeshadow and mascara and some blush but that’s it. I can’t wear any until I’m in 8th grade, which is fine with me. 1 time I tried some and got an ugly rash on my face…SO glad it was in the summer so I could hide out until it was gone. And those were fake eyelashes…she doesn’t have platinum blond hair…duh…that was a wig.
Luckily I’m good at hiding my real feelings from Mark….if he knew he’d run howling from the room. If Jilly had seen him without his beast costume, when he wasn’t howling at the moon, she might not think he was so immature. They might fall madly in love and I’d never have a chance. I’m, like, dying about Mark staring at Jilly. It’s killing me.
Things To Think About
• Mark hasn’t asked 1 thing about Jilly and I’m SO glad…but kind of surprised. Maybe he heard what Jilly said about 7th grade boys being immature. Maybe it was just 1 look at the Halloween party and he’s forgotten all about her. Whatever the reason, I’m all for it.
• Rosie thinks Tyler Galleon likes me…crazy. No 1 ever likes me. I always like someone and then they like Jilly…the story of my life. Besides, Tyler’s a little dorky. Even if he did like me, I don’t think I could ever like him back…but he’s pretty nice…didn’t like him at 1st cuz of his Big Foot comment but he’s ok…think he’d look good in a regular old T-shirt and jeans…not those pants that are so big they look like 2 people could fit inside them…. And stop with the spikes already…probably has really great hair but u’d never know it under all that gel.
>
Things That Make Me Happy Right Now
• Omigosh! I just realized something. Mark won’t recognize Jilly any more than she would recognize him. I’m saved!
• I can stop stressing about this. Quick! Where’s my pillow?
chapter 14
Erin Swift, aka Idiot
Just when I thought it was safe to go to the bathroom again, Serena showed up. I was standing at the sink, checking out a small pimple on the left side of my nose. I was asking myself the Big Question — To pop or not to pop — when Serena walked in. She stopped and glared at me, crossing her arms over her chest.
“How long are you going to be?”
“This is a public bathroom, Serena.”
“I want some privacy.”
I raised my eyebrow at her, pimple forgotten. “What for?” Was she afraid to let me hear her pee? Or do the other thing?
“None of your business, Swiftless.” She glared even harder and tapped her foot. Please. She didn’t own this bathroom. I could stay in here as long as I wanted to. I returned to the mirror, running my fingers through my hair, wishing I had the comb that Jilly had given me.
“It won’t help,” Serena said.
I’d learned my lesson in Round One. I ignored her.
“He likes Jilly. Accept it.”
My heart did a funny little twist inside my chest, but I forced myself to continue looking in the mirror, to act as if I hadn’t heard or if I had, that I had no idea what she was talking about.
“I saw him staring at her when she went to practice the other day.” She was close to me now, our arms practically touching. “She didn’t see him but when she does — wham!” She slapped the sink for emphasis and I jumped. “It’s all over.”
She was lying. He didn’t know who Jilly was. He couldn’t under all the makeup and that wig. My legs quivered. I didn’t want my lips to do the same. “Here’s your privacy,” I said, making for the door.
