“That’s crazy! Our school is awesome!” I felt myself getting all worked up. “And did you see this place? It’s incredible! It’s got everything you could possibly want! It’s like a college! Come on!”
“Listen, Charlie Joe, you don’t have to convince me.” Katie started walking to the bus, and I followed.
“So that’s it, then? You’re going off to private school, and we’ll never see you again?”
“Don’t be overdramatic. Of course we’ll see each other. It’s not as if I’m moving to another town, like Zoe did.”
We both glanced back at Mrs. Massey, who was happily chatting with one of the art teachers from the high school.
“It won’t be the same,” I said. “It just won’t.”
And we walked the rest of the way to the bus in silence.
Hannah Spivero’s Guide to Romance
BRAINS ARE BEAUTIFUL.
Everyone is so concerned about looks all the time. I think that’s really obnoxious. Looks are superficial. I like my boyfriend Jake not because he’s cute, even though he totally, totally is—in a different kind of way—but because he’s a really smart, interesting person. He knows a ton about a lot of things and teaches me stuff every day. And he says I teach him stuff, too. So, yeah, it’s what’s underneath that counts!
Although I am trying to get Jake to wear his contact lenses more. His eyes are like this really beautiful blue.
33
That day after school, Timmy, Jake, and I all went over to Pete’s house. The original plan was to hang out and play video games, but I had something I needed to discuss first.
“Katie Friedman is going to private school next year,” I announced.
They all looked up from their controllers.
“No way!” said Pete.
“Whoa,” said Timmy.
“Sorry, Charlie Joe,” said Jake.
Pete looked at Jake. “What do you mean, ‘sorry Charlie Joe’?”
Jake looked at me, waiting. He was right—it was my question to answer.
“Listen, you guys,” I said. “I suppose it’s possible that I’ve been a little jealous that you guys all have girlfriends, and I don’t. And I know it’s also not exactly a shock that I like Katie.”
They all gasped sarcastically.
“But the problem is, I’ve been having trouble figuring out how to tell her I like her,” I went on. “I figured it was no big deal since there was no rush. But then today she told me she might go to private school.” I sighed like a lovesick puppy. “So if you guys have any ideas about how to get her to not go, I’d really appreciate it.”
“You mean, like a plan?” Pete said.
“Yeah. Like a plan.”
Timmy snorted. “Wait a second. What happened to the new Charlie Joe, who’s all nice and polite and wants totally to stay out of trouble?”
“Mr. Twipple told me that he didn’t have charisma,” I said.
“He didn’t,” Jake agreed.
Pete said, “I’m Googling ‘how to get a girl to not go to private school.’”
“I don’t think you can Google that,” Timmy said.
Pete kept typing. “You can Google anything.”
While we waited for Pete’s phone to work its magic, Jake said, “And to think, I spent all that time worrying about you liking Hannah.”
“I guess that’s what’s weird about girls,” I said. “I did have the biggest crush on Hannah for like, forever. But I’m not sure I ever really liked her liked her. You know what I mean?”
“Not really,” Jake said. And why would he? He liked liked liked Hannah.
“Hold on,” Pete said. “I got something.” He stood up for the big announcement.
“‘Many private schools have strict codes of conduct. They expect all applicants to have exceptional strength of character. Schools tend to look less favorably on applicants who have problems of discipline on their records.’”
We all sat there in silence for a minute, absorbing this information.
“So let me get this straight,” Timmy said. “The best way to get Katie to not go to private school is to get her in trouble?”
“You’d have to do more than just get her in trouble,” Jake said. “It has to be something that goes on her permanent record. Like, suspended.”
“Whoa,” I said. “Nice try. No way.”
Timmy frowned. “So you’re just going to let her go?”
“She’ll be around for summers and stuff,” I said, trying to look on the bright side. But I felt miserable just thinking about it.
“Hey!” said Pete. “The old Charlie Joe wouldn’t accept that. The old Charlie Joe would have found a way to make it happen.”
“To make what happen?” I said. “To get Katie suspended from school? Are you nuts?”
“Look, Charlie Joe, it’s cool,” Timmy said. “I get it. You like Katie. You don’t want to do anything that might make her look bad.”
“Guys, like I said, forget it,” I told them. “She would, like, hate me for life. And for good reason. We need another plan.”
We all stared into space for a few seconds, thinking.
“Hey, here’s an idea,” Jake said. “What if we fake the whole thing?”
We all said various versions of “Huh?”
Jake stood up and started pacing around the room, getting excited by his own idea. “It’s simple. We do something to get Katie in a tiny bit of trouble, and then right when she gets caught, Charlie Joe immediately steps up and confesses to the whole thing, and he tells her that the whole reason he did it is because he likes her so much he wanted to get her in trouble so she wouldn’t go to private school.”
The rest of us scratched our heads like our hair hurt.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.
Pete smacked his forehead. “Wait, I get it! Jake’s saying we just get her in a tiny bit of trouble, but then you can say it was all to make sure she won’t leave you by going to private school.”
Jake looked at Pete. “You basically just repeated what I said.”
“Cool,” answered Pete.
“But I don’t get it,” I said. “If she doesn’t actually get in trouble, then she’ll still go to private school.”
“So you want her to get in real trouble?” Jake asked.
“Of course not,” I answered.
“Charlie Joe, think of it this way,” Timmy said. “If you do this, you’ll be her hero. She’ll think it’s like superromantic, and maybe she’ll decide she can’t go away because she won’t want to leave you.”
Pete made gross kissing noises. “Oh, Charlie Joe, my hero! I love you so much!”
“Ew,” Jake said, but he was smiling, proud that he had come up with a plan that Pete and Timmy actually liked. Then he turned to me. “So what do you say?”
I thought about what they said. Things between Katie and I were okay, I guess. We were definitely friends again, but like I said before, something wasn’t quite right. It wasn’t like it was before all this stuff happened, that’s for sure. Talking to her had become kind of stressful. I was a little hung up on the private school thing. And it was entirely possible she was still hung up on the kissing-Hannah thing.
So overall, we were at like a B-minus. Which is a grade I would have been perfectly satisfied with if we were talking about, say, Social Studies.
But we’re talking about Katie Friedman. And I wanted an A.
“You really think she would think that me getting her in trouble would be romantic?” I asked.
Jake shrugged, then nodded. “After getting over the initial shock? Probably.”
Huh. Well, if Jake thought so …
“What did you guys have in mind exactly?” I asked.
They all looked at each other.
“That’s where you come in,” Jake said.
We sat there and thought for another minute.
“It has to be something funny,” I said. “Something that gets her in a little bit of t
rouble, maybe not enough to actually get her rejected from private school, but something that all the kids would think was awesome. And then I could immediately confess and say I only did it because I like her, and I don’t want her to go to private school.”
“Why does everyone just keep repeating exactly what I said?” asked Jake.
I thought for another minute.
“Okay, let’s do it,” I said.
“Sweet!” Pete hollered. Then, a minute later, he added, “Do what?”
“I have no idea,” I said.
Which is when Pete’s mom stuck her head in and said, “Pete, don’t forget to restock the henhouse.”
Which is when I remember that Pete’s family raised chickens.
Which is when a lightbulb went off in my head.
Call it fate, call it good timing, call it bad timing, call it whatever you want—but as Pete groaned and headed outside, I called to him, “Hey, Pete? Can I ask you something?”
He turned back. “What?”
I hesitated, then decided to go for it.
“Have any of your chickens ever been on a road trip?”
34
For the next three weeks, it was business as usual. People started getting more and more excited as the school year started winding down. Then, on the first day of the last week of school, we had an awards ceremony. Jake got a Math award for figuring out some equation that hadn’t been solved since 1794 (okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but it was a really hard equation). Pete Milano got an Art award for an incredible drawing of two basset hounds. And Katie got a special award from the English department for being the best writer in the grade. Her acceptance speech was an amazing poem that rhymed munificence with benevolence—two words I had never heard before and haven’t heard since. They probably don’t even know those words at private school.
I didn’t get an award, by the way. Can you believe it?
The day after the awards ceremony, I texted Pete.
What’s up? Dance is in three days. Are we all set?
He texted back a picture of a chicken and these words: Meet Cletus.
Game on.
That day at lunch, all anybody wanted to talk about was the year-end dance.
“Charlie Joe, still not going with anybody?” Eliza asked me.
“Nope,” I said.
Eliza smiled. After all these years, she still enjoyed knowing I was girlfriendless.
“Erica’s dad is driving us to the dance in his cool Alfa Romeo convertible,” Timmy bragged. I had no idea what an Alfa Romeo was—I don’t know anything about cars—but it was still annoying.
Then Katie came running up, beaming. “Hey, guess what you guys? I just found out we can play at the dance!” No wonder she was so excited. Her band, CHICKMATE, was pretty much the most important thing in her life. Earlier in the year, she’d even gotten Jane Plantero from Plain Jane to sing one of her songs at the talent show. But Katie had always wanted to play at a school dance, and she was finally going to get her chance.
As everyone congratulated Katie and said things like “That’s awesome!” and “So cool!” and “You rock!” it dawned on me that there was one small problem with this wonderful news.
Cletus.
I immediately texted Pete, who was sitting two tables away.
Hold on. Maybe we should forget plan
He texted back.
Why?
I texted back.
Katie’s band is playing
He texted back.
That’s okay. Chickens love music, trust me!
I got a slightly sickening feeling in my stomach, but I ignored it. I texted back.
Okay
Moral of the story: Never trust your friends.
35
The last day of school is more like a party than a school day. All the books have been put away for the year, and everybody is excited about the dance, and signing each other’s yearbooks, and talking about the summer. If every day were like the last day of the year, school would be the most awesome place on earth.
As usual, I made sure a bunch of teachers signed my yearbook. They wrote some awesome things.
When I asked Mrs. Sleep to sign it, at first she shook her head. She said, “Mr. Jackson, if I signed your yearbook, I might write something I would later regret.” Then she winked at me, grabbed my pen and wrote, You have a lot to offer the world. I just hope the world is ready for it. Good luck. Mrs. Sleep.
You know something? Mrs. Sleep is a pretty cool lady after all.
36
That night, I picked at my food.
“Are you nervous about the dance, honey?” my mom asked at dinner.
“Of course not!” I said, but she knew I was lying. It was a well-known fact in my family that I always got nervous before these kinds of things, because I was a lousy dancer.
I ate quietly and looked down at my two dogs. Moose, my hero, was watching me patiently. He knew his turn would come, and I’d give him my plate to lick. Coco was napping right next to him. She always let Moose take lookout. But when the time came, she’d be right there with him, fighting over every scrap.
I noticed Moose was getting a gray beard. It was really cute, but it made me sad, too. I didn’t like being reminded that he was getting older. I wish dogs never got older.
Megan wasn’t home, so it was just my mom and me at first. Halfway through dinner, my dad came home. As soon as he walked through the door, I saw my mom’s eyes change. It was like a light went on inside them. It may have happened every night when Dad came home, but that night, I really noticed it. She jumped up and walked to the door. And my dad’s eyes, when he saw my mom, lit up the same way.
My dad kissed my mom, and they hugged.
“How was work?” my mom asked.
“Gripping,” my dad said. Mom laughed, because he was kidding.
“How was school?” my dad asked. My mom was taking some classes at the local university.
“Excellent, actually,” she said. “I’m really impressed with one of my professors.”
“Good news,” said my dad. “He’s probably impressed with you, too. You’re going to make a terrific therapist.”
As he sat down and started eating, I noticed something I’d never noticed before. He held his fork with his left hand and my mom’s hand with his right hand. And the amazing thing was, it seemed like he didn’t even know he was doing it. Every once in a while, he would let go of my mom’s hand to pick up the knife and cut something. But as soon as he was done, he’d grab her hand again.
It reminded me of how when they watched TV together, they sat really close to each other, always touching just a little bit, even though the couch was big.
And it also reminded me of how my mom twirled her hair sometimes when she was talking to my dad on the phone, almost like she was back in high school or something.
“Charlie Joe?” I suddenly heard my dad say. “Everything okay there, buddy?”
I snapped back to reality and looked at my parents. They’d known each other forever, probably like twenty years or something. They really, really loved each other. And the most amazing thing about it was that they didn’t have to shout about it. They didn’t have to brag about it. And they definitely didn’t have to bring chickens to school dances to prove it.
They just did.
Which made me suddenly realize what I had to do.
I jumped out of my chair. “Um, yeah, I’m good, Dad,” I said. “Can I be excused?”
My mom looked confused, but she nodded. “Sure, honey.”
I ran up the stairs two at a time and texted Pete and Timmy.
Dudes! Cancel plan! Cancel chicken! Cancel everything!
Timmy texted back.
Why?
I answered.
Because I have a new plan. It’s called just being myself.
Timmy texted.
Well that sounds like a lame plan. Plus, Pete got his phone taken away by his mom for using his bedspread as a napkin.
>
Uh-oh.
I’m leaving now to find Pete! But if this doesn’t go well, forward my mail to Timbuktu.
Jim Jackson’s Guide to Romance
MAKE ’EM LAUGH.
A couple of weeks ago, I forgot to take out the garbage, and in the middle of the night, the dogs decided to distribute it throughout most of the house. The next morning, my wife, Claire, was so mad. So I did the only thing I could think of. I made a joke. It wasn’t the best joke in the world—to tell you the truth, I can’t even remember what it was. But Claire laughed, a little. Don’t get me wrong, she was still mad. But she was mad while smiling.
It’s true, funny guys get away with murder. So do funny girls. So sharpen that sense of humor. Trust me, you’re gonna need it.
And if you’re anything like me, you’re gonna need it A LOT.
37
“Mom! We gotta go! Now!”
“Coming, honey,” she said, way too casually, as I dragged her out the door. On the way to the car, I picked a few flowers from the garden and wrapped them up in a rubber band. Just in case.
I hid them from my mom, of course—she probably would have been mad. She loved her flowers.
I managed to get there just as the dance was starting. The theme was “Friendship Is the Best Ship,” and there were posters all over the walls of kids from the class, but we were Photoshopped as if we were standing on different kinds of boats—sailboats, motorboats, battleships, etc. There was a picture of Katie and me, and they made it look as if we were standing on a canoe. The caption underneath said CAREFUL, DON’T TIP OVER!
Katie was already on stage with her band, CHICKMATE. Did I mention that they are really good? They are. I was pretty positive she was going to be famous one day.
But enough about Katie Friedman, rock star. I had to find Pete and Timmy. I looked all over the entire school and finally found them behind the stage. Pete was carrying what looked like a giant Easter basket. And sure enough, the basket was moving.
“Is that Cletus in there?” I whispered.
Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Planet Girl Page 10
