by Annie Bryant
When I beat everyone in our school arm wrestling contest last year, she said, “You’ll never get the boys to like you that way.”
Like I’m supposed to lose to boys to make them like me!
“Avery! It’s time to stop wiggling and start writing,” said Ms. Rodriguez.
Boy, I hated being in the front row. I decided to reread my first journal entry—First Impressions—before I started today’s assignment. I figured it would make me look busy and give me some time to think about what I was going to write next. And I wondered if I had already changed my mind about what I wrote yesterday. I’m like that sometimes.
Avery Madden—First Impressions
Maeve
Why does she keep smiling at Nick? I’m positive he doesn’t know her. She wasn’t in our school or on any of our teams last year. Too girly-girl. She walks like she’s putting on a show and talks like the weird people my mother goes to the opera with. Why does she get to use a computer and the rest of us have to write in these crummy blue notebooks?
Katani
I stink at names, but I know she’s Patrice Summers’s younger sister so she must be an incredible athlete. Patrice is my varsity soccer role model. She coached me for the city championship. (I did great until the sudden-death shoot-out). I remember seeing this girl cheering for her at the high school night games. She’s even taller than Patrice. Excellent basketball player? #1 pick for my team.
Charlotte
The new girl—major entertainment. Her cafeteria disaster was awesome—definitely the best thing that’s happened so far in Jr. High. Kind of embarrassing for her, though. I bet she’s no good at sports.
Ms. Rodriguez walked by my desk and told me that I better start writing or I would run out of time. School is way too much work.
Avery Madden
My Most Embarrassing Moment
I only got embarrassed once. The time Sally Dennehy asked me in front of a whole bunch of kids at a sleepover if I knew where babies came from. “Duh,” I said. “I’ve seen the video of it a hundred times.”
“You have?” They all rushed over. “What was it like?”
“No big deal,” I said. “The plane landed. Some lady brought me and the other babies out. Everyone hugged and cried. Then we went home.”
Those kids laughed me out of town. How was I supposed to know? I was only six and I’m adopted. I thought all babies came from airplanes.
Good, that’s done. I looked around and saw that my other lunch partners were still writing. I hope that doesn’t mean that we are going to be late for lunch.
Charlotte Ramsey
My Most Embarrassing Moment
Well, before yesterday’s lunch, this might have required some thought. But today it doesn’t: Soaking my lunch group, getting the tablecloth caught in my zipper and humiliating myself in front of the whole cafeteria plus lunchroom staff is my most embarrassing moment ever. I hope. Another disaster could ruin any chances for any future happiness.
Maeve Kaplan-Taylor
My Most Embarrassing Moment
My most embarrassing moment? You are obviously kidding, Ms. Rodriguez. Every time I—and no one else in this class has to use a laptop computer in class—it screams “learning issues.” Some kid always says some totally snotty thing when I take my laptop out. I’m really tired of that, and it makes me feel dumb.
Katani Summers
My Most Embarrassing Moment
I still don’t believe that this really is a private journal. I will just say that yesterday’s lunch was the most embarrassing and trying moment of my life, and that I should be released from the “nightmare” of my assigned lunch group. This is a very sensitive time in our lives. How do you think it felt to have my new clothes splattered with milk, maple syrup, and bits of French toast sticks? How gross! And how about having the entire seventh grade staring at our table? I’ll tell you how it felt: HUMILIATING.
CHAPTER 7
KATANI
Desperate Measures
This lunch seating plan had to go. I couldn’t take another minute with Maeve, the spoiled, rich airhead with the laptop, or Avery, the human jumping bean. And no way was I going to let Charlotte—wrecker of wardrobes, stealer of grandmothers—anywhere near me. I raised my hand.
“Yes, Katani.”
“I need to speak with you in private, Ms. Rodriguez.”
“Can’t it wait ’til lunch?”
“No, I don’t think so. This is an emergency.”
Ms. Rodriguez motioned me out to the hall. I closed the door and moved away from the window where I could see a curious Avery stretching out of her chair trying to see what was going on.
“What can I do for you?” Ms. Rodriguez asked.
“Ms. Rodriguez, I have a major problem,” I said.
“What is it?” she asked, looking concerned.
“I can’t possibly eat with my group today.”
She raised her eyebrows. “And why would that be, Katani?”
“No offense, Ms. Rodriguez. I know you have a lot on your mind. But you made a mistake putting us together. You want us to learn from each other’s differences, but all we’re learning is to hate each other. I think you should move us before it’s too late.”
“Aren’t you rushing it a bit, Katani?” she asked. “This is only the second day of school.”
“Ms. Rodriguez,” I wailed, “yesterday was positively traumatizing for me, and my new top is completely ruined.”
I didn’t want to tell her about Charlotte coming to our house. It still made me furious. Besides, it was too personal. I didn’t like how Ms. Rodriguez already seemed to have me figured out.
She thought for a second. “Katani, I’m very sorry for what happened to you yesterday. I truly am. But how must Charlotte feel? Give it a little time, Katani. We can talk about this tomorrow, if you still feel the need.”
“But, Ms. Rodriguez, you have no idea how much damage that girl can do in a day!”
“That’s enough, Katani. I want you to give it your best effort today and maybe we can talk about it with the whole lunch group tomorrow.”
It wasn’t a “Yes.” But it wasn’t a “No.” All I had to do was survive lunch and we could all be done with it tomorrow. Maybe I should wear a raincoat.
CHAPTER 8
CHARLOTTE
Sneak Attack
I started in the hot lunch line but turned around as soon as I saw what a “Sloppy Joe” was. How could anyone eat chili in a bun? Definitely too high risk for me. I checked out the salad bar area. Whew! No sign of Anna and Joline. Robert, who everyone in the class calls “Mr. Healthfood,” was drowning a miniature piece of lettuce in ranch dressing.
“Hi Charlotte. Don’t get too close, this is a clean shirt—just kidding. Boy, yesterday must have been terrible for you.”
“I’ve been through worse,” I said, trying to get him to drop the subject.
“Like what?” he asked, really interested. So I changed the subject.
“Why don’t you eat something you like?” I asked.
“Mrs. Fields just caught me trying to get ice cream,” he grumbled. “My mother had a conference with her in August and told her I’m not allowed to eat anything from school but salad. It’s great to be me.”
“That’s not all you’re eating, is it?”
“Nah. I’ve got two tofu sandwiches on rye, and I paid Josh a dollar to sneak me a cupcake.”
“That sounds good,” I said.
“Yeah.” He paused. “Oh, and Charlotte…”
“Yes, Robert.”
“Watch your back,” he mumbled. “I heard Anna and Joline daring each other to trip you.”
“After seeing what I can do all by myself with a tablecloth, you’d think they’d know better. But, thanks for the warning,” I said.
“No problem,” he said, walking away. “They stuck a ‘Kick Me’ sign on my shirt in science lab last year.”
I picked up the salad tongs and aimed at a hard-boiled egg. My gla
sses bonked the plastic hood as I flailed the tongs and knocked the egg off the salad bar. It rolled right under Henry Yurt’s shoe. I walked the other way pretending I’d never seen that egg before in my life. I looked over my shoulder in time to catch Henry stepping squarely on the egg, squishing it, and walking on without ever looking down. Henry, who acts really spacey in class, is the only person I know who wouldn’t have noticed he’d stepped on an egg.
I was really getting hungry. Maybe a tuna sandwich and soup from the deli line?
I took the longest way possible to our spot. By sticking to the walls, I could avoid passing the tables in the middle of the room. Just Joline’s table left to go. And sure enough, she and Anna ducked toward each other, eyes rolling. They both flipped their hair back at the exact same minute and sighed, as if to say, “What a dork!” in perfect, nasty harmony. I couldn’t help but marvel at them as I tried to wriggle my way through the packed tables. How could they say so much without saying a single thing?
I was tempted to kind of trip and dump the contents of my tray right on Joline’s perfect hair.
When she stuck out her leg, just as Robert predicted, I hopped right over it. Then, I fumbled and pretended to almost drop my tray, which freaked her out and got a laugh from her whole group.
I had tried to keep my soup from sloshing, but spooking Joline had cost me. My sandwich was soaked.
“Pitiful,” muttered Katani.
The table was silent without Maeve. Avery stared, waiting for something exciting to happen. Katani wouldn’t even look at me. What had I ever done to her? On purpose, I mean.
Finally, Maeve swirled her way over to our table, but she spent most of lunch ogling the boys at the next table—Robert, Josh Trentini, Nick, and a short kid named Sammy Andropovitch—and ignoring the rest of us.
To: Charlotte
From: Sophie
Subject: this and that
ma cherie,
maybe this Nick guy is OK. A friend?…tell me more about him. He is the one who saw you play with your teeth, no? oh charlotte, you make me laugh always. I am not laughing so much this year that you are gone. I laugh only one time today when our class was helping serve the lunch and philippe and alain had to wear nets on their hair. Philippe looked exactly like his grandmere. I am sorry I never found orangina. It is too bad you are not permitted to have pets in your new home. I cry for you. the girls in your lunch group sound terrible. But there are très difficile girls here, too. Celeste and Chantal the “whisperers,” as you call them, are always whispering and pointing comme toujours. I don’t like them.
Bisous,
Sophie
CHAPTER 9
KATANI
Dropping the Ball
The first gym class could not have been worse. It was raining, so we had to play basketball inside. When Mr. McCarthy found out I was a Summers, he got a sharky grin on his face and threw me a basketball.
“Show me your moves, Summers,” he bellowed.
My first move was to drop the ball.
“I get it,” he said. “You’re a comedian.”
I cleared my throat.
“I’m saving my moves for the game,” I said, trying to act casual.
Mr. McCarthy whistled everyone to center court.
“Summers and Madden will be our captains. Flip for first choice on teams.”
He spun a quarter in the air and proudly caught it behind his back like he was a gold medalist in the Coin Tossers Olympics. He only made us captains because he thought I was going to be good, and Avery’s skills were famous. I hate it when gym teachers favor the jocks. How are the rest of us ever going to learn to like sports?
I crushed Mr. McCarthy’s hopes and dreams in the first five minutes by missing three easy shots and throwing the ball out of bounds. Good. Better to be branded quickly and quietly and get it over with. The only reason my team didn’t get completely killed was that once Anna and Joline realized how lousy I was, they hogged the ball and only passed to each other, Nick, and Josh Trentini. Fine with me. See if I care. But I did.
When Avery saw me play, her jaw nearly hit the floor.
When we were changing in the locker room, she asked, “Aren’t you Patrice’s sister?”
“Yes, Avery,” I said, knowing exactly what she was thinking and getting madder by the moment.
“Oh,” she said. “You were so bad, I thought you might be adopted.”
That did it. “Girl, do you ever think before you open your mouth?” I asked, slamming my locker.
When I stomped out the door, I heard her yell, “Hey! What’s wrong with being adopted?”
All I wanted to do was forget about gym class and those awful lunch partners. Maybe a smile from Kelley would help. I took the long way back to our classroom so I could pass the Resource Room. When I turned the corner, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Charlotte was standing outside Kelley’s door waving. This kid would do anything to get in good with the principal.
“Have a scrumptious day, Charlotte!” hollered Kelley.
I wasn’t sure I could make it twenty-four more hours ’til the weekend.
CHAPTER 10
MAEVE
The Invisible Girl
Maeve Montoya, Mrs. Maeve Montoya, Mrs. Nicolas R. Montoya. It had a real movie star ring to it. Just like in The Princess Bride. OMG, I love that movie.
Nick Montoya is totally my destiny. And just in case I had a single tiny doubt, I got proof last night at the Golden Pavillion. Listen to what my fortune cookie said: “Watch out…a special friend is waiting.” Could that be any clearer?
And can you believe it? The next day, fate put HIM in my homeroom. How totally romantic is that? We were absolutely meant to be…as soon as he has a clue who I am. No problem, whatsoever.
After the last bell, I gave Nick a two-minute head start. I didn’t want to look like I was stalking him. I even stalled at a few stores on the way, which is no problem, since I absolutely adore shopping. Irving’s Toy and Card Shop has every kind of candy you can imagine. My personal favorites are Necco wafers and Swedish Fish. I go there most days after school for a little pick-me-up and a chat with Ethel Weiss. Ethel wears a little badge that says, “I love my customers.” She’s owned Irving’s since forever, which is nearly true since she’s almost ninety.
“Hello, Maeve!” called Mrs. Weiss over the crowd of kids at the counter. “Would you like the regular?”
Mrs. Weiss is kind of my surrogate grandma. I try to come in every Tuesday before Hebrew School, and it’s not just because I have a complete and total Swedish Fish obsession, either. I like the stuff Mrs. Weiss says. If I’ve got things on my mind, I can tell her about them.
When I was in second grade, she caught me stealing a Mounds bar. She said she wouldn’t tell my parents if I sat down and wrote her a letter of apology right then and there. I struggled for ages. That was before anyone knew I was dyslexic. I spelled almost every word wrong. Totally embarrassing!
“Such beautiful thoughts,” she said when I finished. “Never forget what you wrote here, Maeve. You’re a very good girl.”
Der mrs. Wize,
thank you fer bieng so nice not too tell my parnts abuot the cadny i took. I new it wuz rong but I waz hungree…I promis nver to steel agen ever. I luv yer stor. It is my favrit. my mom onle give me munny on frida. Sumtime its hard to wate all week to by cadny. But from now on I am watin. Even if my tummy grols and I am drooling I will wate. even if all my frend hav treets besept me, I will wate til I hav munny. Even if I am staving I will wate. frum now on I will lisen to my hart not my tummy. but do not xpec me in yer stor any day but firday. My mom sez I shood save my munny but I can nevr leeve yer stor with out sending all my cash.
Luve and harts,
Maeve Kaplan-Taylor
She saved my letter in the scrapbook she keeps of our whole neighborhood’s history. Someday, when I’m a famous actress too old for the glamour roles, I plan to star in the movie of Ethel’s life and read from the scrapbook.
<
br /> Ethel waved me to the counter. “So, how’s school?”
“Okay, I guess. We have an absolutely gorgeous teacher. But she gave us some pretty strange homework for tonight.”
“Tell me.”
“Well,” I said, “she wants us to write her a letter about a school rule we’d like to change.”
“Sounds creative, just like you. Have fun with it!”
“I’ll try, Mrs. Weiss, but you know me and homework.”
“What I know is you always give it your best shot.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Weiss,” I said.
Nick should have had enough of a lead by now.
“Mrs. Weiss, I gotta go.”
“Remember, Maeve. Don’t sell yourself short. A girl such as you deserves nothing but the best.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Weiss.”
She waved me out the door.
I backtracked to Montoya’s and crossed the street so I could watch Nick without being seen. Through the window, I could see Nick clearing tables. I couldn’t stall too much longer. Mom was driving me to one of my five million lessons at four o’clock. My parents are absolutely obsessed with me “reaching my full potential.” Sometimes I wish they’d just let me veg on the couch. Was today Suzuki violin or my reading tutor? Whatever.
FINDING AN ACCOMPLICE…
My biggest worry was how to get the conversation thing going. I needed someone to drag into the bakery with me.
Luckily, I spotted the girl from my lunch group. She was the klutziest person I’ve ever met, but I figured that all I needed was a warm body who wouldn’t make me look bad. Curled up on the window seat of the bookstore with her nose buried in a book, she looked like the girl in The Princess Diaries. If she lost the glasses and found some clothes to match the coolness of her bag and bracelets, she actually had potential.
