I step back a little and look around the room to see if there are any clues. I have no idea what she’s talking about.
I go back to my seat and Lee has her laptop open and turned to me so I can see it. “You’ve seen this, right?” she asks me.
I look over at the screen. And I see myself. Falling. The toilet paper. All over again.
And the comments.
Weirdo
HAHAHAHA
What’s wrong with her?
OMG. LOSER.
FUNNIEST THING EVER
That was the funniest thing that person has ever seen? Wow. There are so many things funnier than falling in a classroom doorway—like the time this girl, Phoebe Bonden, accidentally called me when her cell phone was in her pocket and I heard five minutes of this conversation she was having with her dad about toothpaste brands, or the time when my cousin was looking at the Pizzeria Uno menu upside down for like five minutes without realizing it, or the time Ali said, “How’s guidance-counseloring?” to Mr. Rosenberg, our guidance counselor.
For some reason, even though I feel like crying, I laugh. I just completely crack up. And everyone in homeroom turns to look at me. Then they notice what I’m looking at, and they start laughing. Laughing at me? With me? Both, I guess.
“You have to laugh at yourself,” I say. “Right, guys? Right?”
Then they stop laughing and give me that pointy-eyed, you’re-very-strange look.
“What’s gotten into you all?” Mrs. Welsh calls from her desk. “This is way, way too loud.”
Lee shakes her head. “They’ll forget about it soon. Just scroll down, you can see the other terrible things that have been posted on the page.”
The thing is, I appreciate a good joke. And it was just a video of me falling, not throwing up on someone or losing bladder control or something. But what bothers me is who posted it.
Three names: Kendall, Molly, and Chelsea.
Obviously, only one of them actually posted it, most definitely Kendall, the first one listed. But the two others totally went along with it. And that’s the worst part. One person could have said, “Oh, don’t do that.”
But she didn’t. That’s the problem.
As I’m walking to science, clutching my backpack and trying to avoid being chipped again, I see Ross and his whole group of boys outside the gym.
Ross sees me and then shushes all the boys, and then they all look up and stare at me.
Is this video really so scandalous? I don’t get it. Is it so interesting that everyone has to talk about it and then stare at me as I walk by?
I put my head down and keep walking, around the corner, past the locker rooms.
And then I hear my name.
“Dina Gross?” one of the boys asks.
“Dude,” another one says. “That video …”
“Oh, come on, that was so stupid. Kendall trying to keep her reign over everyone.” Silence. “Dina’s chill.”
A voice mumbles, “Grunny …”
“Whatever. You guys are just jealous you didn’t notice her first,” I hear that same someone say. It’s Ross. He has the deepest voice out of all of them. “She’s cute, and totally, like, normal.”
Ross is talking about me. And saying good things.
Anywhere but here “normal” would be a synonym for boring. But in Rockwood Hills, normal’s actually kind of unusual. Unique, even. We’re living in some alternate universe.
I keep walking.
Ross Grunner likes me.
Ross Grunner: a popular, cute boy who wears real shoes to school instead of sneakers, and whose jeans always look ironed.
That Ross Grunner. Likes me.
They were talking about the video, but they were talking about more than that, too. Ross was saying that he likes me.
I say that over and over in my head a billion times, and then I remember that I have to find Chelsea so we can work on the project. Because who knows what will happen with the Ross Grunner thing. His friends will probably convince him I’m lame and not cool … But I still can’t help being excited.
And besides, none of that matters, because Chelsea and I still have to finish this project.
I have just enough time to find Chelsea before the bell rings. We’ll talk about the project, and then I’ll just come out and ask her why she did what she did.
I’ll put her on the spot, get it out in the open.
My mind snaps back and forth between Ross and finding Chelsea, and it feels like I’m in a cartoon where the character falls and hits his head and all those spirals are circling around.
Except I haven’t fallen. Not since the time when it was videoed.
I can’t find Chelsea, and the bell rings. I have to go to science.
When I get to class and I’m waiting for it to start, I start to wonder: Did I just imagine that Ross Grunner thing? Is this a dream? Am I still asleep in my bed?
It’s all so crazy—good crazy and bad crazy at the same time.
Sasha Preston piece of advice: if you’re feeling
nervous, make eye contact. it makes things easier.
“So?”
I’m at Dina’s lunch table. I said I’d come here to discuss the project, but she’s looking at me like she doesn’t know why I’m even here. Even though the cute kid who helps in the library sits a table away, I don’t really want to be here, either, taking my precious lunchtime to work on the project. I should be back at my own lunch table, making my friends realize that I’m still cool, still the old Chelsea.
No one at this table is really talking; they’re all just sitting there studying with books on their laps. They don’t even take a break to eat lunch.
“So what are your ideas?” I ask Dina. “We really have to get this done, you know.”
I don’t mean to sound rude, but I feel awkward standing here. And we’ve been going around and around in circles about this for weeks.
Dina takes her last bite of peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Katherine, Maura, Trisha, and the other girls at the table barely look at her; that’s how hard they’re studying. Then her chair makes an awful squeaking sound against the hideous linoleum floor, and everyone looks up, staring at me. I smile but don’t say anything. I wonder if Trisha’s thinking what I’m thinking, remembering the time I went into the city with her family when we were in third grade. Her dad even paid for us to go on a horse and buggy ride. It was pretty awesome.
I start to wonder what life would be like if I had stayed friends with Trisha, if Trisha was a part of our group. In third grade, you can be friends with anyone. It’s just not like that now, even though I’m sure everyone wishes it was.
As we leave, Dina doesn’t say good-bye to the table, which is weird. This whole thing is weird. Who even knew this awkwardness took place on the other side of the cafeteria?
“Come with me,” Dina says. I follow her. I’d follow her anywhere if she’d make this stupid project go away.
We stop in the hall outside the cafeteria. The juice and water machine is buzzing softly next to us. I lean up against it because I feel too tired to stand up at the moment, and the coolness feels good against my cheek. My dad has no job; Ross likes Dina. How did this become my life?
“You have the camera, right?” I ask.
She nods.
Every time I look at Dina, all I think about is the Ross thing. I try to put it out of my head, but I can’t. If I just pretend the situation doesn’t exist, maybe it will actually go away. I don’t care what I promised Ross. She has no idea he likes her, and I plan on keeping it that way. I doubt he’ll ever really do anything about it on his own.
She’s wearing her usual not-baggy-but-not-tight-either jeans and a red zip-up sweater. And I look at her closely because I’m trying to tell if she’s pretty. I mean, I know she’s not hideously ugly, but I’m not sure I’d describe her as pretty.
I try to figure out what Ross sees in her. I don’t know why him liking her bothers me, since I didn’t even like him in t
he first place, but it does.
“Can I just talk to you for a sec?” she asks. “About something that’s not the project.”
The way she asks I can tell it’s something she’s been thinking about saying, and that makes me nervous.
“I’m just gonna come out and say this,” she starts.
That’s never a good sign.
“The other day,” she goes on, “Kendall was talking about Gatsby’s and the plans for your birthday dinner. And, um, am I invited?”
Did she just ask what I thought she asked? I don’t understand how she can just ask to be invited to something. That’s, like, a universal rule, something you just don’t do. Plus it’s a little ridiculous that it’s the first thing on her mind at the moment.
And then I remember the video Kendall posted. Has she seen it yet? Should I tell her about it before she sees it?
But the truth is, Dina being invited to my party doesn’t even matter because I have to tell Kendall to cancel it anyway. My parents can’t afford to pay for a big, fancy birthday dinner, and I don’t want to make them feel bad about that.
“Um, well, see, Kendall made the plans,” I say. I don’t want to hurt her feelings, but what can I say? I see Dina’s face sinking. “And so I didn’t plan it at all, and I didn’t make the guest list. And I’m on thin ice with them, actually. Things are weird with us.” I pause and wait for her to tell me she understands, but she doesn’t. “The party probably won’t even happen, anyway, though.”
Dina’s head snaps back like she’s just heard the craziest thing ever. “You’re on thin ice with them? They’re your best friends. Why? And why isn’t it going to happen?”
“I can’t say. But I’m really sorry.”
Dina says, “I don’t understand: are we friends or not? Just tell me.”
“We’re not friends,” I say before I have a chance to think about it. I feel bad after I say it, but I’m so mad about everything that the feeling-bad thing just sort of fades into the background. “Okay? We’re just working on a project together, and we were forced to pair up. And I’m sorry you have no friends here, but that’s not my fault. And I just don’t have the time to deal with any of this.”
Dina walks away from me, which is not surprising. Then she turns around and says, “Well, I’m glad that I know the truth now. I feel better. I didn’t think we were friends, since you posted that video or let your stupid friends post that video. And you didn’t tell me about your dad getting fired, or that Ross Grunner likes me and not you. So I doubted it. But now I know for sure.”
She says it so loud that I immediately look around to make sure no one else is in the hallway. I’m relieved that it’s empty.
She knows about Ross.
She knows about about my dad. She’s a detective.
“Sorry if that’s too much for you to deal with now, too.” She runs down the stairs and leaves me standing alone by the vending machines.
It’s one of those things that replays over and over again in your head, but you don’t really believe that it happened. That’s kind of how it was when my dad first lost his job, too. It’s like my brain knew it happened, but I couldn’t believe it. I kept thinking it wasn’t true, that I had somehow made it up.
It isn’t made up, though. It’s all true.
I get home from school, and the first thing my mom says is, “I thought you were staying after school to work on the video.”
“Change of plans.” I end the conversation right there and go up to my room.
I may not be friends with Dina, and she may be a stalker, but I still don’t like the fact that the video is up on the Internet. I want to take it down and delete the comments.
But the video won’t let me. Kendall posted it, so she needs to delete it.
“Take down the video,” I tell her over the phone.
“Why?” She laughs. “Come on, it was funny. You said it yourself. You can’t seriously feel bad about it. No one’s, like, abusing the girl or anything.”
“Just take it down, Ken,” I snap. “There’s such a thing as cyber-bullying, you know. Remember the assembly?”
“Oh, come on, no one takes that seriously,” she huffs.
“Yes, they do,” I say. “Just take it down. Now.”
She’s eating something, and it sounds so loud over the phone. In between bites, she says, “If you want to be friends with new girl, then go ahead, but don’t be friends with us anymore.”
It sounds so unbelievably ridiculous that I can’t even take it seriously. It’s like saying if you eat sushi, you can’t eat pizza or something. “Are you serious?”
“Yup.”
I swivel around in my desk chair trying to think of what I can say to her to make her take the video down and to make her stop being so impossible. “You’re jealous, Ken. That’s it. You’re jealous that I’m hanging out with someone besides you.”
“What did you just say?” she asks.
“I said you’re jealous. You always want what everyone else has, and you’re always jealous. Just admit it. And stop being that way.”
Kendall laughs her obnoxious, annoying laugh. “Yeah. I’m really jealous of you, Chelsea. Because your life is just soooo awesome.” She snickers. “Your perfect little world isn’t so perfect anymore. You’re poor, and the boy you like likes someone else. And everyone knows.” She stops talking for a second. “Everyone knows everything.”
Video tip: Sometimes it helps to ask an interviewee
to restate the question in the answer.
“So, we’re not friends,” I tell Ali on the phone as I’m scrolling through all the extra footage I got after school. By myself. Chelsea and I are not at all close to finishing the project, but at least we’re taking baby steps. Well, I’m taking baby steps. I’m the one who’s doing all the work. “You would have been so proud of me. I just came out and asked her if I could go to her birthday dinner.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“Sorry, but that’s kind of nuts,” she says. “I mean, I know you’re gutsy and you’ll do anything, but that crosses a line.”
“Thanks.” I’m only half-listening to what Ali’s saying because it’s kind of hurting my feelings and because I’m working on the video at the same time. The beginning is going to be all the scenery shots of the school but played at ultra-fast speed, and then it will slow down when I introduce the individual shots of the kids.
“I’m just being honest. Aren’t we supposed to be honest with each other?” Ali asks.
“I guess.” I scroll through more footage. “And I didn’t tell you—one of her friends posted this video of me falling. It’s been an awesome week around here.”
She cracks up. “Oh, man. You are kind of a klutz. What about the video you’re making? Did you finish it?”
“Ha!” I yell. “Yeah, right. We barely even started it.” I move my phone away from my ear so I can see who is beeping on the other line. “Oh, can I call you back? I’m getting another call.”
“Who’s calling you? Your grandma? I thought you don’t have any friends there.”
“No idea, but I should get it.” That’s a lie; I know who it is. It’s Ross. But I can’t tell Ali that. She’d freak out. She’s never had a boy call her, or a boy like her, or anything. Neither have I, up until now, but I don’t want to make her feel bad. And if I can’t even tell her that he’s calling, how can I tell her that he likes me?
“Bye,” she says.
She sounds annoyed, but there’s nothing I can do about it. We haven’t been talking that much lately. I’ve been so preoccupied with Sasha Preston and Chelsea and all of that stuff, I haven’t really had time to miss her.
“Dina?” Ross says after I say hello. I pinch my arm to make sure this is actually happening. There’s a boy’s voice on the other end of the line. And it’s a boy who likes me. And a boy who’s actually cool, and cute, and easy to talk to.
I sit back in my bed, my pillows p
ropped up behind me. I feel like Sasha Preston on her show, because that’s how she ends every episode. The only thing that could ruin this is if my dad knocks on the door right now and asks me who I’m talking to.
“Hi,” I say. “Are you calling to tell me how hilarious that video of me falling was?”
He laughs. “No. I called to see what you thought of the English essay today,” he answers, like it was the only thing he could think to say.
“Easy,” I say. “I’m actually kind of good at English.”
“Well your comments about To Kill a Mockingbird were very astute.” He laughs. He’s fully quoting our English teacher Mrs. Einsel.
“Thank you. I’m often called astute.” I laugh and then he laughs again, and I’m not even totally sure what we’re laughing about. But it feels good to laugh. Especially after what happened with the video and then with Chelsea today.
“So, I never even got to ask you—how do you like Rockwood Hills so far?”
“Um, take a guess.” He doesn’t say anything so I blurt out, “I hate it. Sorry. No offense.”
I don’t feel bad that I said that, because I really do hate it. And I don’t think anyone’s given me any reason to like it really.
Well, up until now. Ross calling me is making me like it a tiny bit more. And the fact that he likes me enough to call—okay, that’s pretty great. But I can’t say that. I can’t say he’s the reason why I don’t want to put Rockwood Hills in the Guinness Book of World Records for the worst town ever.
“I’m not offended. I’m not the mayor or anything.”
“You seem to like it here, though,” I tell him. “So maybe you can give me some pointers.” I don’t even say this to be flirty, but after I say it, I realize that it sounds that way.
“Hang out with me,” he says. “If you want to.”
“That’s the secret to liking this town?” I ask. In my head, I’m making a list of all the things I will want to tell Ali about this conversation if I get up the courage to actually tell her about it.
“It’s a start,” he says. “We can study for the social studies test together if you want.”
That was one of the things Ali and I daydreamed would happen after I moved here. Me, studying with a boy. Such a teenager thing to do. And now it’s actually happening. Maybe it’s one of those things—like, I can’t have the friends and the boy at the same time. You can’t always have it all. Now that I know for sure I don’t have the friends, I guess I can have the boy.
Reel Life Starring Us Page 15
