Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages)

by Denise Vega

  “Hey, if you’d rather I didn’t.” She had an edge to her voice.

  “It’s, well—” Speak up, Erin. “My parents always seem to sniff things out, if you know what I mean. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

  “You mean you don’t want to get in trouble,” she said. “For having a smoker for a friend. Bad influence and all that.” She slipped her jacket back on.

  “You’re leaving?”

  “I’ll walk down the block,” she said. “That way no one gets in trouble.” She paused, holding up the cigarette. “Want to share one?”

  “No, thanks.”

  She looked at me for a second, then turned and headed out the front door. I’d spoken up. So why did I feel stupid? Like I was some wimp who couldn’t even let someone smoke in the backyard when no one was around. Too scared of what my parents might say.

  I sighed, getting out paper, rulers, and several pens and sharpened pencils. I brought out water and juice and some donuts, then wondered if I would look like some old lady serving tea or something. I took them back to the counter, then walked to the living room window where I could see the street. Reede was just a few houses down, sucking on her cigarette.

  “Who’s that?”

  I started at Chris’s voice, turning to look at him. He had on a ratty pair of sweats with rips in the knees, and a T-shirt with a huge hole in the back of the neck where he grabbed it to pull it over his head. His hair flew out to one side, like a diving platform.

  “A girl from school,” I said. “We’re working on the new website together.”

  “She smokes.”

  “Duh.” I looked back at Reede. She dropped her cigarette on the sidewalk, crushing it with the toe of her boot. I tugged at Chris’s arm. “Get away from the window.”

  Chris followed me back into the kitchen. “I’d never go out with a girl who smokes.” He hacked and spit into the sink.

  “Gross,” I said automatically. “I’d never go out with a guy who hacks loogies.”

  Chris snorted. “All guys hack loogies.”

  An image of Blake—then Mark—bringing up some big ol’ booger spit flashed through my mind and I cringed. “Rinse it down,” I said, pointing to the disgusting blob in the sink. Chris ignored me and pulled out a box of Cheerios from the cupboard. I turned on the sprayer at the sink and used about five gallons of water getting his loogie to finally slide down the drain.

  A few seconds later the front door opened and Reede stepped in. “Should I have rung the doorbell again?” she called. “I never know about all that etiquette stuff.” She stepped into the kitchen. “It’s kind of chilly out. Do you have any—” She stopped talking when she saw Chris. “Crap.” She ran her hand over her hair. “Hi.”

  “We actually do have crap but I’m not sure you’d be interested in it,” Chris said.

  Reede laughed. “I’m Reede.”

  “I’m Chris, the evil older brother.”

  She giggled, flipping her hair over her shoulder. I’d never heard Reede giggle before. It made her seem different, younger. “I don’t always look like this. Saturday morning, you know.”

  I laughed. She must have spent at least two hours getting ready.

  “He always looks like that,” I said, pointing to Chris’s hair.

  Chris patted his hair down, but it sprang right back up. “And proud of it.” He grabbed the milk from the fridge and carried everything into the family room.

  Reede stared after him. Then she turned back to me. “God, he’s hot.”

  I burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? He’s a total slob. He’s disgusting, trust me.”

  “He’s your brother,” Reede said. “He’s supposed to be disgusting to you.” She glanced around the kitchen. “Got any coffee?”

  “Not made,” I said. “And I don’t know how to make it.” I pulled a basket down from the top of the fridge. “How about hot chocolate?” I held up a packet.

  “With or without marshmallows?”

  I grimaced. Why didn’t I just wear a sign that said, Totally uncool?

  “I’m kidding, Erin,” Reede said. “I like hot chocolate. I can get my big caffeine fix later.”

  We settled down at the kitchen table, mugs of hot chocolate in one hand, pencils in the other. I showed her my ideas and she liked them all.

  “What were some of your ideas?” I asked. “Did you bring some stuff on a flash drive?”

  Reede shook her head. “I feel like it’s your show,” she said. “I don’t want to butt in.”

  “Ms. Moreno said you probably had some good ideas,” I said. “I’m open.”

  “That’s okay.” Reede flipped through my pages. “I really like what you’ve got.” We headed down to my mom’s office and I got her laughing when I showed her how to throw virtual darts at Serena on the computer before bringing up some sample pages for the website.

  “These are great, Swift. You really know what you’re doing.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Do you think once we get going you could show some pages to your dad? I’m sure he’s really busy and everything but it would be great to get his advice.”

  Reede’s eyes shifted away from mine. “He doesn’t really do web design,” she said. “You know. Too busy with some of the bigger stuff.” She stepped out of my mom’s office.

  “Right.” Disappointed, I followed her. “So do you think we should do any animation on the home page? Or other fancy stuff? Do you know JavaScript?”

  Reede didn’t answer, just walked up the stairs. I followed her as she headed through the kitchen and stood near the entry to the family room. The TV blared as Chris sat on the couch, shoveling mounds of Cheerios into his mouth.

  Reede turned around and walked back to the island where I was standing. “So, how serious are he and his little girlfriend?”

  “They’ve been going out for a while,” I said. “And no offense, but there’s no way he’d go out with an eighth grader. He’s a junior.”

  “Well, I’m not really—” She stopped and smiled. “A girl can dream, can’t she?”

  I frowned. Chris would totally dis her if she flirted with him. “So do you want to go over some color schemes?”

  “Nah, I trust whatever you decide,” she said. Huh. This wasn’t how I had expected this to go at all. I thought I’d have to defend my lame ideas against her brilliant ones. But she either didn’t have any or was being nice.

  While she was using the guest bathroom, I helped my parents, who had stumbled in the back door with several bags.

  “New doorknob and finally a lightbulb for the closet downstairs,” my dad said.

  Reede came in just then and I introduced her to my parents.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” my mom said, her eyes taking in everything from Reede’s bottled blond hair to the heavy eyeliner, to the tight shirt, to the belly ring.

  “Erin said your dad has been a big force in the Internet,” my dad said. “That’s exciting.”

  “Yeah, it’s pretty cool.” Reede looked back down the hall. She seemed nervous and I wondered if she was worried about my parents smelling cigarette smoke on her. She turned to me. “Come on, Erin. We’d better get back to work before I have to go.”

  “Nice to meet you, Reede,” my parents said at the same time. I saw them exchange a look before I turned to follow Reede back to my mom’s basement office.

  When it was time for her to leave, Reede wandered back toward the family room. “See you, Chris, the evil older brother.”

  Chris waved. “See you, Reede, Erin’s interesting friend.”

  Reede grinned as we headed for the front door. “He thinks I’m interesting.” She sighed. “Didn’t I tell you high school boys are where it’s at? The guys in middle school are so lame.”

  I wasn’t sure how Chris calling her interesting and looking like a slob was proof that high school guys were a big thumbs up, but whatever. I did have some proof in Blake.

  “Next time we can work at your house,” I said.
<
br />   “I don’t mind coming here,” Reede said, raising her eyebrows. “He’s got a—”

  “—girlfriend,” Reede finished. “I know.”

  My mom met us at the front door, holding Reede’s jacket.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Swift.” Reede shrugged it on and was out the door before either of us could say anything else.

  “Her jacket smells like smoke.” My mom stared out the window toward the place where Reede had been smoking on the sidewalk.

  “Maybe her parents smoke,” I said. “Thanks for letting us use your computer. We got a lot done.”

  “Good,” my mom said. She touched me lightly on the arm. “You know where we stand on smoking.”

  “Mom, I’m not smoking. God.” I could hear Reede’s voice:… having a smoker for a friend. Bad influence and all that.

  “Watch your language.” Mom’s voice was sharp, then her face softened as she looked at me. “But I’m glad you’re not.”

  “She’s new this year,” I said, reminding her of my Good Samaritan– like ways. “And she’s nice.”

  “I’m sure she is,” my mom said. “But that doesn’t mean she isn’t doing things she shouldn’t be doing.”

  Sometimes my mom was fine and sometimes she seemed like one big lecture.

  “I’m not going to do anything bad, Mom, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  My mom stepped back and squeezed the back of my head. “I’m not worried,” she said. “But it doesn’t hurt to be aware.”

  “I’m aware, I’m aware,” I said, ducking out from under her grasp. I hurried up to my room before she could say anything else.

  Sunday, September 28

  THINGS THAT ARE KIND OF ANNOYING

  My mom is on my case abt Reede.

  Reede smokes. If she didn’t smoke, Mom would not be on my case abt her.

  Chris teased Reede so now she thinks she has a chance.

  HOT— —METER

  #1 Blake Thornton—totally gorgeous 9th grade mountain surfer

  #2 Dylan Beaumont—taken, but cute

  #3 Mark Sacks—the hair, the butt in shorts—need I say more?

  #4 Tyler Galleon—well, not exactly hot but definitely on the Cute-o-Meter, mostly cuz of that dimple I never saw before

  #5 Mr. Perkins

  QUESTIONS TO PONDER

  Why didn’t Reede bring any ideas 2 our meeting?

  Why didn’t she answer my questions abt what she knew abt web stuff?

  Why was she so uncomfortable around my parents?

  RANDOM STUFF

  Reede can switch from nice 2 kinda mean & back pretty fast. Makes me want 2 make sure I stay on her nice side.

  Blake, Mark, & Jilly IMed 2 find out how it went w/ Reede.

  Rosie called 2 find out.

  I wonder if anyone IMed or called Reede 2 find out how it went.

  CHAPTER 17

  IT HAPPENS

  I CAME DOWNSTAIRS MONDAY MORNING just as my mom stepped out of the guest bathroom.

  “Erin, have you seen my silver Celtic knot earrings?” My dad had given her the earrings for their tenth anniversary. They were her favorites. “I could have sworn I took them off in this bathroom on Saturday because I wanted to polish them. But they’re not anywhere in there.” She frowned. “I hope they didn’t slip into the toilet and get flushed away.”

  “I’m sure they just fell behind something,” I said. “Or maybe they’re upstairs.”

  “I’ve checked everywhere.” She rubbed her lips together. “Did Reede use that bathroom when she was here?”

  I narrowed my eyes. “What? You think she took them?”

  “Erin!” My mom’s voice rose. “I just thought maybe she’d seen them.”

  “Well, I’m not going to ask her,” I said.

  “Why not?”

  Was my mom really this dense? “Because she’d think we thought she took them.”

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake, Erin.” My mom shook her head and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the hall.

  * * *

  When we got to school, Jilly went to talk to a teacher and I headed for my locker. As I reached for my backpack, I felt something funny. Not funny, actually. Damp. In my underwear. Was I peeing my pants without even knowing it?

  Oh. My. God.

  Unzipping my backpack, I reached into the secret pocket where I had stashed my PEK.

  It was empty.

  Then I remembered I had taken everything out of my backpack when I was cleaning it. I must not have put the PEK back in.

  I glanced around but didn’t see anybody I really knew.

  Bathroom. Fast.

  I walked as quickly as you can when you are squeezing your thighs together and trying to squeeze other things together so nothing else comes out, even if you’re not sure it will help because if they covered that in health class you sure don’t remember it.

  “You got something stuck up your butt?” Tyler asked as I passed him.

  “Shut up,” I said, and kept going. I pushed into the girls’ bathroom and glanced at the machine—OUT OF ORDER. Surprise. I hurried to a stall, just as Serena came out of another one. She smiled at me and stepped to the sink.

  I closed the stall door and sat on the toilet. My white underwear was stained a brownish-red. I checked the crotch of my jeans. There was a small stain on them. I looked at the outside of the jeans and breathed a sigh of relief. It hadn’t leaked through.

  Okay, now what? I knew the main office kept supplies but I couldn’t risk going all the way down there without some kind of protection.

  I glanced around, as if someone might have left an unused pad just for me. Nothing. My eyes fell to the toilet paper. Okay. I’d have to improvise. I pulled a bunch of toilet paper off the roll, folded it, and placed it in my underwear. As I pulled up my underwear, half the toilet paper unrolled and flopped out onto the floor. Great. I sat back down.

  “So, Swift. Are you taking the biggest dump in the world, or what?”

  I’d forgotten Serena was still out there.

  “No!” The thought made me momentarily forget why I was in the bathroom in the first place. I would NEVER do that at school. What could be more embarrassing than stinking up the bathroom and having other people know it was you?

  The door opened, but didn’t close; someone was holding it open.

  “Erin?” Rosie said. “I saw you rush down the hall. Are you okay?”

  “She’s taking the world’s biggest dump,” Serena said. “The Guinness Book people are on their way.”

  “I’m not taking a dump!” I said.

  “Thanks for the news flash,” some girl said, and my cheeks burned. I heard the stall on the far end open and close. She obviously wasn’t taking any chances.

  “I was just kidding, Erin,” Serena said before she left.

  Rosie laughed. “Well, if you’re okay, I’m going to get to class.”

  “Wait!”

  But she was already gone.

  I unrolled more toilet paper, folding it carefully this time. After laying the “pad” in my underwear, I took another long piece of toilet paper and wrapped it around the pad and the bottom of my underwear a few times, like I was wrapping my ankle before a game. Then I tucked the loose end under the pad to hold everything in place.

  Not bad. I pulled up my underwear and zipped and buttoned my jeans. It seemed to stay put. I turned and saw a few drops of blood in the toilet. I flushed, watching the brownish water disappear, feeling oddly sad that this was happening to me while I was alone, in a bathroom stall at school, with no one to tell.

  Stepping out, I washed my hands, turning around to make sure you couldn’t see any stains or bulges from the TP pad. Everything looked okay. It felt funny to have that bulk in my underwear but it was better than having leaks. I stared at myself in the mirror, trying to see if I looked any different. As I turned my face to one side, I wrinkled my nose.

  News flash girl was taking a dump.

  I decided to go to the off
ice for supplies after language arts so I wouldn’t have to explain a late arrival. But all during class I could feel things happening down there and I couldn’t concentrate. Was it leaking out? Was it staining my jeans? Would people see?

  “Erin? What do you think?”

  I glanced up. Ms. Fehrmann had her eyebrows raised in a question.

  I think I just had my first period and I’m freaking out a little bit.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not sure.”

  “Did you read the story?”

  What story? I knew I had read something last night but I couldn’t remember what it was.

  “You have absolutely no opinion on it?”

  Clearly I should have an opinion on it.

  “Lottery,” Jilly coughed.

  Lottery?

  Oh. Right. We’d read “The Lottery” by Shirley Jackson. I remembered now. Who wouldn’t? It was a weird, creepy story.

  “I thought it was weird that everyone would go along with something so random,” I said. “Maybe it was the law or tradition or whatever but when the winner of a lottery is stoned to death, it’s time to take another look, don’t you think?”

  “Nice recovery, Erin,” Ms. Fehrmann said. “With a little help from your friends.” She glanced at Jilly, who was busy turning pages in her book.

  After class, I stayed in my seat until everyone had left.

  “Come on, Erin,” Jilly said, heading for the door. “You’re going to be late.”

  “Jilly, I—”

  Jilly stopped and turned around. “What?” She tilted her head. “Are you okay?”

  I shook my head and Jilly hurried over. “What is it?”

  “I got it,” I whispered, even though there was no one in the room.

  “Got what?” Jilly asked.

  “IT,” I said. My period. I had my period. Me, Erin Penelope Swift. Finally.

  Jilly’s eyes grew wide. “Omigod! Are you serious? When? Where were you? Do you feel any different? Did it hurt? Are you using a tampon? Does anyone else know?”

  “Shhh,” I said, then explained what I’d done in the bathroom.

  “That’s pretty smart,” she said. “I’ll have to remember that.”