Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages) (9 page)

“Hey,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

Kara stood at the door with Cindy, one of her friends. “Tyler invited us.”

“You’re just in time to watch us cream them,” Tyler said. “Unless you want to play? You could be on my team.”

Kara hesitated, then looked at Cindy, who shook her head. “We’ll just watch.” They sat down next to our duffel bags.

“Hey, guys.” I waved to them as I took my position in front of Rosie to defend the basket. I suddenly felt nervous around
the girl who might be jealous of me. Mark seemed uncomfortable, too. He missed an easy lay-up and later passed the ball to
Rosie instead of me.

“In case you didn’t realize,” I said, punching him in the arm as he ran by, “Rosie’s on the other team.”

“Sorry,” he muttered, not returning the punch like he usually did.

When I made a sweet swish from the right side, he seemed to loosen up, giving me a high five, before positioning himself in
front of Tyler.

The game ended fifteen minutes later, with Tyler and Rosie beating us by six.

“You should come more often,” Tyler said to Kara as the girls joined us on the court. “You’re good luck.”

Kara smiled but her eyes were on Mark. She started to put her arm around his waist.

“I’m all sweaty,” he said, pulling away.

“I don’t mind.” She held on, shifting so she stood between Mark and me. “Cindy and I were going to grab a sandwich at Subway.
Want to come?”

“All of us?” Tyler asked.

Kara glanced at me, then back at Tyler. “Sure.”

“I only have a dollar,” I said.

“I’ll pay for you,” Mark said. Kara frowned but he didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve got you,” Rosie said. “I did a bunch of babysitting last week so I’m loaded.”

“I’ll pay you back.” I walked over to pick up my duffel bag. I wanted to make sure Kara knew I wasn’t interested in Mark.
See? I’m just hanging out with Rosie and Tyler. I won’t take Mark’s money and I don’t need to stand right next to him.

At Subway, there wasn’t a big enough booth for all of us so Rosie and I sat in one booth while Kara, Mark, Tyler, and Cindy
sat in the one next to us. I even sat on the side farthest away from them. There was no way she could think I liked Mark after
all that effort.

When we were finished, Kara, Cindy, and Rosie got picked up first. Kara squeezed Mark’s arm. “Call me,” she said. She glanced
at me before hurrying to the car.

The rest of us sat on the brick wall outside the Y, waiting for our rides.

“So that was cool that Kara and Cindy came,” Tyler said.

“Yeah,” Mark said. But he didn’t sound like he thought it was very cool.

Tyler tossed a pinecone into the street. “Why haven’t you invited her before?”

“I have,” Mark said, picking up three pinecones. “Every time—except for today because she always says no and I decided to
stop asking.” Mark tossed one cone toward the V in a nearby tree. It hit the trunk and dropped to the ground.

“I guess she changed her mind,” Tyler said.

We threw pinecones at the tree until our parents came to pick us up.

I made eight out of ten through the V.

Mark only made two.

Our whole family went over to Mr. and Mrs. F’s house for dinner that night and afterward we set up Family Cranium, a game
Mrs. F had bought to play with the grandkids when they came to visit. It was me, Mr. F, and my mom against my dad, Mrs. F,
and Chris. At one point Mr. F had to hum a song and my mom and I were supposed to guess it.

“Is that supposed to be a song we know?” I asked him. “It sounds like the garbage disposal.”

Everyone cracked up and Mr. F gave me a mock glare. “I was going for vacuum cleaner.”

That made us laugh all over again.

We ended up losing the game by just a few spaces on the board but we had a lot of fun.

“You all go out on the back patio and I’ll bring the dessert,” Mrs. F said, shooing us toward the door. My parents sat down
with Chris at the table, but Mr. F wanted to show me his vegetable garden.

“Look at those tomatoes, Erin,” he said, pointing to a fat red one that seemed to groan under its own weight, nearly touching
the ground. He proceeded to give me the entire tour before pulling a few choice tomatoes and green peppers off for us to take
home. I lifted them up to my face and breathed in deeply, enjoying the rich dirt smell mixed with green pepper.

“How are things with Reede and the gang?” Mr. F asked, pinching off some dead leaves from the plants.

“Pretty good,” I said. “I guess Reede’s this big computer expert and Ms. Moreno thinks she’ll add a lot to the website.”

“What do
you
think?”

I shrugged. “She was kind of bragging about stuff but I guess if she has good ideas, we should use them.”

Mr. F continued his plucking, his eyes on the dead leaves. “I think it’s good that you have an open mind about her, Erin.”

I smiled. “I don’t know how open it is, but I’m trying.” I kneeled next to him and picked a dead leaf off a tomato plant.
“It’s kind of hard.”

Mr. F dropped another dead leaf on the pile between us, nodding. “Even with everything that happened last year, you were still
the go-to girl for the Intranet Club. It’s hard to think that someone who’s just shown up, who hasn’t been around and worked
hard to get there, might know more or do more than you.”

“Exactly,” I said, marveling once again at Mr. F’s ability to get it. I glanced over at my family, who was helping Mrs. F
set out plates for dessert. “Mr. F?”

“Um hm?”

“Why do you think it’s easier to talk to some people than to other people?”

Mr. F leaned back, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, pieces of dirt dropping from his fingers. “Well, now, that’s
a good question. What do you think?”

“I think some people understand better than other people.”

Mr. F nodded. “Could be. Could also be that we don’t give people a chance.”

“What if they’ve used up all their chances?”

Mr. F looked at me, a slight smile on his face. “I sure hope there aren’t a limited amount of chances when it comes to people
we love.”

“The whipped cream is melting, you two!” Mrs. F shouted from the patio. “Come and get it.”

“How about some strawberry shortcake?” Mr. F asked, groaning as he pushed himself up and onto his feet.

“As long as you’re not humming it,” I said.

“For you, I’ll remain silent.” Mr. F put his arm around my shoulder and squeezed. I wrapped my arm around his waist and squeezed
back.