Everybody Bugs Out

by Leslie Margolis

  Of course, my friends and I didn’t act innocent, either. We were all kind of catty. That’s how the tension grew and grew until it exploded, like some evil, out-of-control blob in a scary movie.

  I couldn’t repeat the drama this term, hence my most important New Year’s resolution. No, not the one about flossing. It’s this: don’t act catty.

  I repeated it to myself and tried to avoid looking at Taylor.

  And I could tell that Yumi and Rachel noticed her, too, because we all got really quiet. Yumi stared straight ahead, and Rachel kicked a small rock on the ground. Not like they didn’t notice—but like they were deliberately trying to not make a big deal out of seeing Taylor.

  Two weeks is not a lot of time in real life, but when you’re in middle school, it’s a lifetime. That no one said anything about Taylor confirmed this.

  As soon as we got to our lockers, Rachel let out a yell—alarming until I realized she was just excited about seeing Claire and Emma, our other best friends.

  Claire is easy to spot because she’s got bright red hair and she’s one of the tallest girls in the sixth grade. She’s probably one of the prettiest, and I don’t mean that in a shallow way, just a factual one. She always stands out, too, because her clothes are so bright and colorful. Distinctive, or as Claire calls her look, “fashion forward.” She’s a super-talented designer—the girl can make an entire outfit out of duct tape. And that’s including accessories and shoes.

  Emma doesn’t stand out so much, physically. She’s regular height with big brown eyes and brown hair that she parts in the middle. She’s more into books than clothes, and she’s usually pretty quiet, too, unless you know her really well.

  Yet the two of them are essential to our group. They balance each other out, I guess.

  “Hey, you guys!” Emma said as she struggled to fit a bulky dictionary into her locker.

  “Can’t you just use the one at the library?” Rachel asked her.

  “This one’s more up-to-date,” Emma replied.

  “So great to see everyone!” Claire said, giving us all quick hugs.

  “You chopped off all your hair!” said Rachel.

  “Not all of it.” Claire ran her fingers through her hair, now layered and shoulder length and bouncy instead of super-long. “I got bangs, too.”

  “So cute!” said Yumi.

  “Très chic!” said Emma.

  “Glad you approve!”

  After everyone hugged like we hadn’t seen each other in a year (see above for two weeks seeming like a lifetime), we compared Christmas presents. Which was Hanukkah for Claire and both Hanukkah and Christmas for Emma. Lucky her!

  Everyone agreed that Yumi’s gift was the best. Not only did her parents take her to Hawaii for ten days, they also bought her a cute new cell phone—flat and silver with a pink and green striped case. “So pretty!” said Claire.

  “Do you have unlimited minutes?” asked Rachel.

  “I don’t know.” Yumi frowned at her phone. “Probably not because my parents said not to use it too much. Of course, they never said how much too much is. And I’m afraid to ask, because I might not like their answer. So I figured I’d just use it whenever and wait and see what happens when the first bill comes next month. That way, they can’t really complain.”

  “Good thinking,” said Emma.

  “But be careful using it at school,” Rachel warned. “If you get caught talking on the phone in class, your teacher is allowed to confiscate it.”

  “I know,” said Yumi. “But does that count for texting, too?”

  “I think so,” said Claire.

  “I’ve seen lots of kids use their phones at lunch,” said Yumi.

  “Lunch is fair game,” Rachel said.

  “What about in between classes?” Yumi wondered.

  “Frowned upon but not forbidden,” said Rachel. “That’s the official word, anyway.”

  “Who are you texting, anyway?” asked Claire. “None of us have cell phones.”

  “I do,” said Rachel. “Except I can only use it in emergencies.”

  “We know,” said Yumi, Claire, and Emma at the same time.

  “But why are you so worried?” I asked.

  Everyone looked at Yumi, who seemed squirmier than usual.

  “No reason,” she said quickly. “I was just wondering, is all.” She was quiet for a moment and then said, “I can’t believe they could just take it, though. What if they scratched it? Or left it on and the battery ran out? Do you still get texts if they come when your phone is out of batteries?”

  We all looked at each other blankly, no one knowing the answer.

  As Yumi put her phone in its matching pink case, the first bell rang, so we headed to class.

  When I got to English I said hi to Tobias, who sits behind me. I also smiled at our teacher, Mr. Beller.

  Here’s the deal with Mr. Beller: he seems like a tough-as-nails grouch, but if you stay quiet and don’t cause any trouble, he’s really not so bad. In fact, today he smiled back at me and asked, “How was your winter vacation, Annabelle?”

  “Fun,” I replied. “And yours?”

  “Very nice, but too short,” he said gruffly, and then sat down at his desk and began shuffling around some papers. “I barely had time to catch up on my grading, and now I’ve got to start all over again.”

  “Or you could just not give us any homework,” I suggested with a sly grin and a one-shouldered shrug.

  Mr. Beller glared at me, which is when I remembered that he’s got no sense of humor.

  “Kidding!” I added, holding up my hands.

  I decided to stay quiet for the rest of the period. Sometimes it’s just safer that way.

  Class ended before I knew it. In fact, I made it through the entire morning without one snafu. Pretty amazing considering that back in September, I was brand new and intimidated—no, totally scared—about what I’d find in middle school.

  I got lost. I got humiliated. And since I went to an all-girls school up until the fifth grade, I was totally inexperienced when it came to dealing with boys.

  But today my whole morning flew by. I had social studies in an entirely different building—one I’d never been to all the way on the other side of campus, but I found it easily. In fact, I even helped one of my classmates, Justin Johnson, find his way there.

  I didn’t get lost.

  I didn’t get tripped.

  Didn’t get laughed at.

  Nor did I use the broken drinking fountain—the one so clogged with gum that it only squirts a small, hard stream of water straight up. (Something I fell victim to three times last term.)

  I knew which bathrooms were too gross to enter (all but the one near the music room).

  And I knew which eighth graders to avoid. (Most of them.)

  In short, I’d figured everything out. School was old hat, but not boring. I was comfortable. Happy. It was like I finally belonged.

  At least that’s what I thought before I got to lunch. That’s when I approached our regular table and noticed all my friends huddled close and whispering to one another with urgency.

  My stomach twinged with nervousness. Clearly my friends all knew something I didn’t—never a good thing. “What’s going on?” I asked, half fearing the answer.

  “Valentine’s Day,” Rachel informed me.

  “Um, isn’t that in February?” I unpacked my lunch, still feeling uneasy but trying not to make a big deal out of it. Mom had made me a meatloaf sandwich—yum! And she’d packed pretzel sticks, carrots, celery, and two of Ted’s homemade oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies. He’d just taught me how to make them and there are few things more delicious.

  Not that I could appreciate them at the moment, what with the thick cloud of silence enveloping our table. All my friends stared at me with shocked expressions, like I’d said something crazy. Or had decided to wear that vest made out of Brussels sprouts again.

  “What?” I asked.

  “February is next mon
th,” said Emma. “And the fourteenth is only six weeks and four days away! Or forty-six days. And that’s merely one thousand, one hundred and four hours from now. Which is—”

  “Okay, I get it.” I held up my hands, interrupting before she got carried away. Well, even more carried away. “We know you’re a brainiac—you don’t have to prove it all the time.”

  “What’d I do?” asked Emma, all innocent.

  “Nothing.” Rachel put her arm around Emma. “It totally makes sense that you’d be so excited about Valentine’s Day. You’re the only one of us who has a boyfriend.”

  “Shh!” said Emma. In two seconds flat, her cheeks matched her strawberry yogurt.

  We all cracked up. “I didn’t know it was a secret,” Claire said.

  “It’s not,” said Emma. “But that doesn’t mean we have to talk about it all the time.”

  Emma didn’t need to be so shy. Everyone knew that she and Phil Vandenheuver were going out. And everyone thought they made a great couple. Phil is in the physics club with Emma. He’s the second-smartest kid in the entire sixth grade. (Emma is the smartest.) He’s got sandy blond hair, a hamster named Einstein, and he’s lactose intolerant, which means he’ll never guzzle milk and then squirt it out of his nose—which was one of her ex-boyfriend’s favorite hobbies.

  It made complete and total sense that Emma would be excited about Valentine’s Day. For her, the holiday probably meant gifts of chocolate or flowers. Jewelry or a cute stuffed teddy bear, or maybe jewelry and a teddy bear. Something cool.

  But last time I checked, the rest of my friends were single. “So what’s the big deal?” I asked, taking a bite off my celery stick.

  I didn’t mean to sound like the scrooge of Valentine’s Day, but their excitement left me flummoxed. Bewildered. Completely confused. Absolutely— Okay, never mind. You get the picture.

  “It’s not merely Valentine’s Day,” Claire explained. “It’s also the weekend of the first school dance. It’s on Saturday, the fifteenth.”

  “Which is kind of anticlimactic,” Emma said with a frown. “They should have it on Friday, the actual holiday.”

  “Saturday is better because it’ll give us more time to get ready, and we won’t be all tired and weary from school,” Rachel said.

  I pointed my celery stick at Rachel. “So you’re going, too?”

  “We’re all going,” Rachel said, sitting up straighter and smiling brightly. “We just need to find dates.”

  I finished chewing and gulped down my food. “Dates?” I asked. “You guys are kidding, right?”

  Everyone just stared like I’d said something totally mixed nuts. And who knows? Maybe I had.

  The thing is, I’d only just recently figured out how to deal with Birchwood’s unruly boys. And now I’m supposed to find one to go to the dance with? Impossible!

  chapter three

  a date with mr. rainbow head

  Yumi had softball tryouts every day after school that week, so Rachel and I walked home without her.

  “It feels like we’ve been back forever!” Rachel complained on Wednesday.

  “No kidding,” I said. My back ached from carrying my heavy backpack and my mind ached just thinking about all the homework my teachers had already piled on. “So much for easing us back into the new semester! But it does seem rather extreme.”

  “Oh, I’d call it mean!” Rachel replied with a grin. “The pain in my back.”

  “It’s gonna give me a heart attack!” I finished.

  “At least it’s a sunny day.”

  “Not that we have time to play.”

  “Probably won’t until we’re old and gray.”

  As of yesterday, we’d been trying to have rhyming conversations to make the walk home more fun. It was Rachel’s idea—and a good one.

  “So, confession time,” said Rachel.

  “That’s easy to rhyme!”

  “You know Erik?”

  I thought for a moment. “Is he friends with Derrick?”

  “No, game over. This is a serious question,” Rachel said.

  “Oh, sorry. The only Erik I know is one of the Corn Dog Boys.”

  We called all the guys who shared our lunch table Corn Dog Boys due to a disgusting incident that took place last semester—and one that I’d rather forget.

  “That’s the one,” said Rachel. “He’s the guy who showed up at school today with purple streaks in his hair.”

  “Right, and last semester he had blue bangs and then they turned green.”

  “Exactly!” said Rachel.

  “Forget Corn Dog Boy. We should call him Rainbow Hair. I wonder what his natural color is. Think he even remembers?”

  “His mom is a hairdresser and she likes experimenting on him with new dyes,” Rachel explained.

  “So there’s a reason behind the weirdness.”

  “I think it’s cute,” said Rachel. “And guess what else? I like him.”

  “You didn’t even give me a chance to guess!”

  “Well, whatever. Not the point. So what do you think?”

  I considered this for a moment, then turned to Rachel. “Maybe you should dye your hair pink. Then you guys would kind of match.”

  Rachel slapped my arm with the back of her hand. “Don’t make fun of my new crush!”

  “Sorry. Kidding! You’re right—he’s cute. And you should totally go for it.”

  “I’m glad you think so,” Rachel said. “There’s just one tiny problem. Minuscule, really, and it’s something you could help me out with …”

  “Sure, anything.”

  “I was hoping you’d say that! The thing is, I hear he’s going out with Hannah and—”

  “Forget it!” I interrupted. We were still two blocks from our street, but I stopped in my tracks. “I’m not helping you break them up! Hannah’s my friend.”

  “She’s more Taylor’s friend than yours,” said Rachel. “I know you guys talk at school but you never hang out on weekends.”

  Rachel had a point. Hannah and I were total school friends. And I wanted to keep it that way. “We finally have a truce with Taylor’s crowd. So let’s not mess that up.”

  “Relax,” said Rachel. “I don’t want you to try and break them up. Believe me, I learned my lesson last term.”

  “Good.” I continued walking but remained skeptical. “So, um, how can I help?”

  “Well, like I said—I heard they’re a couple but I’m not positive it’s true. So I thought maybe you could just ask her. You know—if they’re going out. And if they’re going to the dance together.”

  “That’s all you want to know?”

  Rachel nodded. “That’s it.”

  It sounded simple enough, but I had to make sure. “And if they are a couple, you’ll back off? No trying to steal him away? No bad-mouthing Hannah? No asking me or anyone else to get involved?”

  Rachel gazed at me, surprised and hurt—like I’d really done damage to her feelings. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

  “The kind of person who hates Taylor and all of her friends.”

  Rachel laughed. “Okay, that’s probably true. But I won’t try and break them up. This is all about Erik. I’m really into him and all I want to know is if he and Hannah are actually together, and if they are, I’ll give up.”

  “Can I get that in writing?”

  “Isn’t my promise enough?” Rachel blinked at me like she couldn’t figure out if I was serious or not—and to be honest, I wasn’t sure, either.

  But I’d take a chance. “I’ll ask her tomorrow before French. Okay?”

  “Awesome with cheese! Thanks!” Rachel held out her fist for a bump.

  “No prob,” I said as our knuckles hit.

  When we finally turned onto our street, I waved. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Cool deal. And don’t worry. I’ll call Yumi first thing in the morning to make sure she’s not late, again.”

  “She’s been on time all week,” I pointed out.


  “That’s because I’ve been calling her every day.”

  I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” she asked. “Better safe than late.”

  “Said the sidewalk to the skate.”

  Rachel shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “It doesn’t have to,” I said, looking both ways before crossing the street. “It’s just gotta rhyme.”

  “Sure that’s not a crime?” Rachel called from the other side.

  Rather than answer her, I pretended to be a mime.

  But I’m not sure if she got it, and if I explained, it would’ve ruined the joke, so I just let it go.

  Once inside, I leashed up Pepper and took him to the park. After we played fetch for a while, I went home and started my homework, but I couldn’t focus because I was too busy trying to figure out what to say to Hannah. So I decided just to call and get the “weird Rachel favor” out of the way, so I wouldn’t have it hanging over my head all night.

  Of course, I couldn’t call Hannah only to ask about her supposed boyfriend. That seemed weird. So instead, I asked her if we had any French homework.

  “We need to translate three pages of The Little Prince and also write about what we did over winter vacation,” Hannah told me.

  “Oh, cool,” I said, pretending like I didn’t already know. “That’ll be easy for me because I hardly did anything.”

  “Really?” asked Hannah. “Nothing?”

  “Well, my mom got married, and we celebrated Christmas, and I played with my dog, but we didn’t go anywhere.”

  “Well, I went to San Francisco but didn’t really do anything—just visited my grandparents and played a lot of Scrabble.”

  “Scrabble can be fun,” I said.

  “Not for ten days straight. The problem was, it was too cold to go anywhere good.”

  “Did it snow?” I asked.

  “Nope. It just rained, as usual. I’ve never seen real snow before.”

  “Neither have I. Well, not more than a tiny dusting once, when we visited my uncle in Seattle, but I’m not sure that counts.”