Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages)

by Denise Vega

  After we’d made a plan, I leaned heavily against the wall.

  “You okay?” Reede’s voice was quiet next to my ear.

  I shook my head and rolled my eyes. “You’re lucky you don’t have a mom freaking out about everything you do.”

  Reede glanced at me, then turned away. “Yeah, I’m lucky,” she said. “My mom doesn’t care what I do.”

  Something in her voice made me look at her. Her shoulders were hunched up and she didn’t look at all like the confident, I’m-better-than-all-of-you girl who’d been strutting around school and the mall today.

  But when she turned to me, she flashed her usual smile and I thought maybe I’d imagined what I’d heard in her voice or seen in the way she was standing.

  Wednesday, October 1

  I sent Jilly an e-mail 2 see if she was mad & she wrote back almost right away. I cut & pasted her answer here 2 remind myself that she can be a real brat sometimes:

  As your friend I think I can be honest & tell u I think u r making a mistake. Maybe u feel cool hanging out w/ Reede but I hope u don’t think she’s your friend. I don’t think she could be anybody’s friend.

  HOT— —METER

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

  #2 Greg @ mall—h.s. soccer player—yum

  #3 Dylan Beaumont—taken, but cute

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

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

  #6 Mr. Perkins

  She doesn’t even KNOW Reede. I’m wondering if she even knows ME.

  I can’t reply. I’m 2 mad.

  THINGS JILLIAN GAIL HENNESSEY IS MISSING THAT SHE WOULD BE TOTALLY BUMMED ABOUT MISSING IF SHE KNEW SHE WAS MISSING THEM

  A sophomore actually asked 4 my # & I got his & it wasn’t a fake #.

  I didn’t have instacrush on Mr. H.S… was this cuz of BT? Or just a sign of maturity… or insanity? Not sure.

  GOOD STUFF TO BALANCE JILLY BEING ANNOYING

  Reede e-mailed & said she had the best time w/ me.

  My mom seems 2 be over being mad @ me abt going w/o permission.

  Check out that Hot-o-Meter! Can’t quite bring myself 2 take Mark off, even tho he called me Miss Sensitive 2day.

  My life feels a little less boring. I like it.

  CHAPTER 20

  BEST FRIENDLESS

  I STOOD BY MYSELF AT the bus stop on Thursday morning, my arms crossed over my chest as I stared down the road. When I heard Jilly come up beside me, I waited for her to say something but she didn’t. Was she waiting for me to say something after she’d totally reamed me in that e-mail?

  Before I could decide what to do, Jilly’s cell phone chimed a text. She glanced down and groaned loudly.

  “Will you please tell your boyfriend to stop texting you on my phone?” She held the phone out to me, then pulled it back before I could take it. “Never mind. I’ll do it.” Her fingers flew over the buttons, eyes narrow, face pinched. I could only imagine what she was telling Blake. “There,” she said, stuffing the phone in her pocket.

  “Please don’t be like this, Jilly,” I said. “Come on. You’re still my best friend.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “What? You think I’m jealous?”

  “Well, why else would you be mad?”

  Jilly snorted. “Give me a break. I’m not jealous of Reede Harper. I just don’t know why you’d want to be friends with her.” She shook her head. “You know she smokes.” Her expression said she didn’t think I knew and was hoping to shock me.

  “I know,” I said, and her face showed surprise. I shrugged like it didn’t bother me, even though I’d freaked out about her wanting to smoke at my house. “So what?”

  “So what?” Jilly said. “What’s wrong with you?” She shook her head in disbelief. “And I can’t believe you’d go to the mall with her and I have to practically drag you to go with me.”

  I bit my lip. “It was just—” I couldn’t tell Jilly that it was partly because she didn’t think I would go, that she assumed I’d come with her and not go off without talking to my parents first.

  “Well,” Jilly said, “I hope you had fun.”

  “I did,” I said. “A lot more than I ever had with you.”

  Jilly’s eyes flashed hurt but before either one of us could say more, the bus lurched to a stop and the door squeaked open. Jilly climbed on and slid into an empty seat, pressing up against the window. She stuck her earbuds in her ears, then cranked the volume on her Nano.

  I flopped down in a seat in the last row. I felt bad about saying what I’d said but if she hadn’t been so snotty, I wouldn’t have said it.

  “What’s up with you and Hennessey?” Rosie asked when she got on, sitting down in the spot that would have been Jilly’s if she wasn’t being a turd.

  “She’s mad because I went to the mall with Reede.”

  “Oh.”

  I couldn’t tell if that was an “Oh, that explains it” kind of oh, or an “Oh, so you went to the mall with Reede?” oh.

  “We invited her but she didn’t want to go.”

  “She’ll come around,” Rosie said. She held out her vocab book. “Quiz me?”

  I nodded as I took the book. Why couldn’t Jilly be as cool as Rosie about things?

  * * *

  After school, on my way to I-Club, I told Mr. F about Jilly being mad at me. I didn’t mention what I’d said to her about having more fun with Reede at the mall.

  “You and Jilly…” He couldn’t finish. He gripped the broom handle, knuckles white. He sucked in a raspy breath as he clutched his chest.

  I reached out to him. “Are you okay?”

  He waved me away, taking in a few more breaths before the color returned to his face. “I’m fine, fine,” he said. “Old age can really slow you down.” He smiled weakly and I felt my return smile falter. “Don’t you worry about me, Erin Swift,” he said, jabbing a finger at me. “You’ve got enough to deal with.” He nodded his head and pushed the broom again. “You and Jilly will work it out,” he said. “Remember the wisdom of the Pop.”

  I nodded uncertainly. Last year he’d said good friends were like Tootsie Pops because they lasted a long time—unless you bit them.

  I looked at him carefully. His cheeks seemed slightly pinker. “Things will be fine,” he said, patting my arm.

  “I hope you’re right.” I wasn’t just talking about Jilly.

  “Of course I’m right.” He pushed the trash can into the gym as the first bell rang. “You’d better get going, young lady.”

  “Right.” We knocked fists and I took a few steps before looking back. Mr. F’s movements were slow and measured as he lifted the large dust mop. Like he was afraid the mop might break.

  Or he would.

  When I got home after I-Club, I couldn’t get Mr. F out of my head. I called his house and talked to Mrs. F.

  “Sometimes he overdoes it, Erin,” she said, sighing. “I tell him he needs to slow down but you know how he is.”

  “So it’s nothing serious?”

  “Stubbornness can be pretty serious,” she said, chuckling. “But I don’t think you have to worry. You’re sweet to call, Erin.”

  I felt better after we hung up and started thinking about what Mr. F had said about Jilly. It was stupid to be mad. This was Jilly, my best friend since kindergarten. I had to talk to her.

  “I’m sorry, Erin,” Mrs. Hennessey said when I called. “She’s in the middle of something right now.”

  Yeah. In the middle of still being mad at me.

  “Will you tell her I called?”

  “Of course.”

  The doorbell rang a few minutes after I hung up.

  “Erin!” my mom called up the stairs.

  “Blake’s here.”

  Blake? What was he doing here?

  “I hope it’s okay that I came over,” he was saying to my mo
m as I jogged down the stairs.

  “Of course, Blake,” my mom answered. “You’re always welcome.”

  She walked back to the kitchen and I stood awkwardly in front of him.

  “Jilly sent me a crazy text this morning and then I didn’t hear from you,” he said.

  “She’s mad at me,” I said, “so you’d better not send any more texts.”

  “I wish you had your own cell phone,” he said.

  “I know,” I said, but just as I said it, I had this random thought that maybe I was glad for once because I wasn’t sure I wanted to be sending texts back and forth with Blake.

  Where did that come from?

  I looked at him. He was still cute but not as. I’d never noticed that one eye seemed a little higher than the other, and his eyebrows were kind of bushy. He stepped toward me.

  “Hey,” he said.

  He had bad breath. Ugh.

  “Hey,” I replied, trying not to breathe through my nose.

  Blake glanced over my shoulder toward the kitchen, then took my hand and led me into the living room. He kissed me and I kissed him back, trying to ignore the fact that bad breath meant a bad taste in my mouth. No way was I feeling the tingle. He put his arms around me and tried for some tongue action but all I could think about was that if I had to keep smelling his bad breath I might gag or worse.

  I pulled away and smiled apologetically. “There are spies everywhere in this house.”

  Blake gave me a slight smile. “I should get back anyway—I’ve got a ton of homework.” He turned back toward the door. “But let’s plan something for this weekend. Tell your parents you’re going over to Jilly’s and we’ll meet on our own.”

  He wiggled his eyebrows. Geez, this guy liked me. Me, Erin Penelope Swift. I had to like him back. I just had to.

  “Sure,” I said. “We could go back to DQ or maybe the Y.”

  “Too many people,” he said, reaching out to squeeze my arm. “How about the park? Our tree spot?”

  I gave him my biggest smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

  After he left, I went back upstairs and unloaded my backpack onto my desk—was there a teacher who hadn’t given out homework? I was picturing myself alone with Blake at “our tree spot,” trying to sort out my feelings, when the phone rang.

  “Erin?” Mark’s voice sounded weird.

  “Are you okay?”

  He sucked in a breath. “Can I come over?”

  I guess he was talking to Miss Sensitivity again. I glanced at the stack of books on my desk, then at my assignment notebook.

  “Sure,” I said. “Come on over.”

  Thursday, October 2

  Mark broke up w/ Kara. Said he didn’t LIKE-like her anymore & things felt weird.

  My hands r shaking as I type this—what’s up w/ that?

  Kara’s totally bummed, even tho he said she said “I knew it” about 50,000 times. He wanted 2 know why she was upset if she already knew he was going 2 break up w/ her. Hello? Sometimes Mark is completely dense… don’t think u r ever prepared… not that I know 1sthand—yet—but I definitely know what it’s like 2 like someone & not have them like u back… doesn’t matter if u r starting 2 feel like they don’t like u anymore or u r starting 2 not like them… would still hurt 2 have them break up w/ u… just seems logical.

  HOT— —METER

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

  #2 Greg @ mall—h.s. soccer player—yum

  #3 Dylan Beaumont—taken, but cute

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

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

  #6 Mr. Perkins

  I could tell Mark felt bad cuz his voice was funny. But when we switched 2 talking abt I-Club & other stuff, he sounded happy. Guys r definitely different than girls. Jilly talked abt her breakups 4 days, b4 & after they happened. Mark was done in 5 minutes.

  I hope Kara is okay.

  CHAPTER 21

  RELATION SHIPWRECKED

  KARA WAS NOT OKAY. IN fact, she was standing at my locker when I got to school Friday morning. She hadn’t been on the bus so I figured maybe she was sick or pretending to be, after the breakup. But there she was at my locker, lips tight, eyes boring into me.

  My heart sped up, and I almost turned around and ran the other way. But I needed to get stuff out of my locker, and I didn’t want to be a wimp, so I kept walking. She usually didn’t wear a lot of makeup but she had on a lot today. It wasn’t really hiding her puffy eyes.

  “Hey, Kara,” I said, but I couldn’t look at her. I focused on my combination, fumbling twice so I had to start over.

  “You know, don’t you?”

  “Know what?” I said, but I sounded fake, even to me.

  “He called you last night afterward, didn’t he? God, I can’t believe he called you.” Her voice cracked on “you” and I bit my lip. How would she feel if she knew he’d not only called, but come over to my house? Sucking in my breath, I turned to face her. Her eyes were bright but she wasn’t crying—yet. Good for her.

  “I’m really sorry, Kara.”

  “I bet you are,” she said, crossing her arms. “Now you can have him all to yourself.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, quit acting so innocent, Erin,” Kara said. “You’ve liked him for forever. Mark ‘Cute Boy’ Sacks.” She wiggled her hips, her voice mimicking. “Oh he’s a Hot tamale, oh, I wish I could kiss him instead of my pillow.”

  My cheeks burned. The things I wrote in my blog last year would haunt me forever.

  Her eyes narrowed. “And I bet you made up this high school boyfriend just to make me think you didn’t like him.”

  “I did not make up Blake Thornton and I don’t like Mark, okay?”

  She straightened up as if she hadn’t even heard. “Well, I’ve kissed Mark and you haven’t.” Then her face seemed to sink into itself. “Have you?”

  “WHAT?” Now I was mad. “I have not kissed him, Kara.” That stupid kiss we had last year totally didn’t count. Besides, that was before they started going out. “We’re just friends.” I turned back to my locker, pulling out the books I needed for first period.

  “Yeah, right,” Kara said. “Every time I’m looking for him, he’s with you. When I called him, he was always talking to you. Erin, Erin, Erin. It’s all about Erin.”

  I slammed the locker. “Mark and I are just friends,” I said. “I’m really sorry he doesn’t like you anymore, but it’s not my fault.”

  Kara looked down. “Yes, it is,” she said, her voice quiet. “You stole him away from me.”

  “I didn’t,” I said. “I don’t like him like that.”

  “But,” Kara said, the tears coming now, spilling softly down her cheeks. “He likes you like that.”

  When I got to history later, Reede stopped me at the door. “Told you.”

  I narrowed my eyes, still reeling from Kara’s words. “Did you say something to them?”

  “What?” Reede snorted. “Why would I?”

  “You were so sure and now they’re broken up.”

  “You thought I’d do something to make them break up?” Reede laughed. “They didn’t need any help.”

  “So you didn’t say anything to either one of them?”

  Reede shook her head. “Promise.” She held up two fingers, her face solemn. “I would never lie to a girl who is lusted after by high school guys.”

  I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help a small smile. I believed her. She hadn’t done anything to split them up.

  “So you know that if you want him,” she said, “Hot Hair is all yours. He likes you like that.”

  “Enough, Reede,” I said. “I have Blake, remember?”

  She eyed me carefully. “Not for long, though, right?”

  “What?” I turned so she couldn’t see my face. I would not let her predict this relationship like she was
predicting everyone else’s. “Blake is awesome. We’re going out on Saturday.”

  “So you still like him?”

  I groaned. “Of course I like him,” I said. “I wouldn’t be going out with him if I didn’t, would I?”

  “You would if you weren’t sure how not to go out with him.”

  “You’re crazy,” I said, trying to ignore the way her words settled under my skin, pricking at me. “I feel bad about Kara,” I said, switching the subject back. “She’s really upset.”

  “I know,” Reede said. “But she’ll get over it.”

  I shook my head. Sometimes I just didn’t get Reede. Didn’t she care about anyone else’s feelings? As I headed down the aisle, Mark smiled at me. I gave him a weak smile back and slid into my seat. He tapped me on the back with his pen, but I didn’t turn around. I was all mixed up inside. Mark wasn’t acting any different toward me. He was always tapping me on the back or throwing things in my hair. But now that he had broken up with Kara, and I was confused about Blake, it felt different and I didn’t know how to act.

  I kept my eyes on Mr. Perkins, but I didn’t hear a word he said.

  Mr. F was sweeping outside the office when I showed up during lunch.

  “Well, if it isn’t Erin P. Swift.” He held out his fist and I knocked it with mine. “Mrs. Foslowski said you were checking up on me the other day.”

  I shrugged. “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me, young lady.” He smiled, handing me a dust rag. He wasn’t moving as slowly today, which made me feel better. I dusted the wood around the receptionist’s window, paying special attention to the corners. I could feel Mr. F watching me. After a minute or so, his broom brushed the wall near my feet.

  “I don’t suppose you came here to dust,” he said.

  “Not really,” I said. “But I don’t mind.” I used a broken pen to dig some gunk out of a corner. “It’s just that there’s this girl.”

  “Jilly?”

  I sighed. “No, she’s still mad at me. A different girl.”

  “Ah,” Mr. F said, brushing dirt into the dustpan.