Click Here (to find out how i survived seventh grade) (28 page)

BOOK: Click Here (to find out how i survived seventh grade)
10.65Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

Finally, to Jillian Gail Hennessey, who has been my best friend since kindergarten. I’m jealous of you. There, I said it. People always love you, even though you can be a little bossy. You always seem to get what you want and sometimes I feel like nobody next to you. But that’s my problem, not yours. We definitely have a lot to talk about and I hope we get a chance to do it. I’m really, REALLY, REALLY sorry, Jilly. I know I took a pretty big bite out of the Tootsie Pop, but I think there might be something left inside. I hope you do, 2.

I also want to thank Rosie Velarde, who has stood beside me when nobody else did. She really knows what it means to be a friend. That’s one special Tootsie Pop.

If I had a do over and could change things…honestly, I’m not sure I would. I know that sounds crazy but it’s true. I learned a lot about myself, a lot about friendship, and a lot about going to the bathroom wearing a sandwich board. :-)

I hope some of you will stop me in the hall and say hi. I’ll be the 1 wearing the sandwich board until the Senior Prom and beyond.

Thanks for listening.

Sincerely,

Erin Penelope Swift

P.S. Cherry Tootsies are my favorite.

chapter 29

TSR (Terminate and Stay Resident)

There were exactly ten cherry Tootsie Pops stuck in my locker when I came to it at the end of the day. Well, it wasn’t a zillion like Jilly would have gotten, but it was a start. Lots of people stopped me to say hi, most of them asking if any of the four had forgiven me yet.

“Two so far,” I told the last person who had asked. One of the Tootsie Pops was from Mark, who had attached a note saying, “Cherry’s my favorite, too.” Tyler had come up to me after class, blushed, and thanked me for what I said in the online letter. His hair was spiky again.

“I like it,” I had said, pointing to his head. “It’s you.”

“Yeah,” he said, grinning. “It is.”

I pulled the sandwich board over my head and walked down the hall. “Well, well, well,” Mr. Foslowski said. “Things are going to seem mighty quiet around here if you stop making so many mistakes.”

“Quiet is good,” I said. “Really good.” I held out the boards. “Can you take these?”

“Sure. But I don’t think you’ll have to wear them much longer.” “Only two down,” I said. “The boys. Two to go.”
And they won’t be easy
, I thought.

“Oh, I have a feeling they’ll come around. Especially Jilly.” “That still leaves Serena.”

“The one involved in the Puppet Caper?”

I nodded.

“Her, too.”

I snorted. “You don’t know Serena Worthington.”

It turned out, neither did I. While I was heading to the custodian’s closet to store the sandwich board on Thursday, she came up to me and said, “Oh, all right. Enough already. Take that stupid thing off before I die of embarrassment.”

“You?”

“Yes,” Serena said, wrinkling her nose as if she really couldn’t believe she was saying it. “I’m the holdout. People know that everyone has forgiven you except me so they’ll know you’re still wearing it because of me. I’m getting all these looks like I’m some kind of torture lady or something. So just take it off, will you?”

“Jilly hasn’t forgiven me either,” I said.

“She hasn’t?” I could see Serena’s mind working with this information. After she processed it, she smiled. “Good. Then I’m not last. Take it off. And don’t leave it out where people can see it.” She waved it away like an annoying fly.

“But I need to wear it for Jilly tomorrow.”

Serena frowned. “Well, then put something on it that says I told you to take it off. People need to know that.”

I knew this was as good as I was going to get with Serena.

“Okay,” I said. “I will.”

“I hope Jilly hurries up. The sooner people forget about it, the better.”

“Definitely,” I said. I pulled out a permanent marker and wrote “Serena told me to take this off” next to her name. Then I slipped it into the janitor’s closet before turning back toward my locker.

“So, I’ll see you at the Intranet Club, right?” Serena crossed her arms and tapped her foot.

I stared at her.

“Right?” she said again.

“Right,” I said, barely able to get the word out. Disbelief can, indeed, render one speechless.

chapter 30

Home Page Advantage

When I got home from school that afternoon, there was a message from Mark asking me to meet him at the Y to shoot baskets.

I was surprised my heart didn’t do any fancy gymnastics when I heard his voice. I guessed all the excitement had cleared all of my emotions out of me.

The gym was pretty packed when I arrived. Mark stood at a far basket, shooting free throws. I walked around the perimeter of the court, dodging wayward balls along the way. He passed the ball to me when I got close and we played a couple of games of one-on-one. I won both this time.

“Meet me on the soccer field,” I said, leaning over and putting my hands on my knees to catch my breath. “The torture will continue.”

He laughed and faked like he was throwing the ball at my face. I ducked. We shot a bunch of free throws, then headed for the vending machines in the hall. After snagging some Gatorades, we sat on the floor near the gym, gulping quickly as athletic footwear shuffled by.

“So, things seem to be turning out okay.” Mark didn’t look at me when he said it, just took another long drink.

“Yeah. I got lucky I guess.” I didn’t say I still had another semester to go. I might jinx it.

“You said some nice stuff. And you meant it.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks for the letter. You know. The one you mailed to me. And the stuff you said on the Intranet.”

“The letter to the student body?”

“Yeah. That stuff.”

My stomach clutched. I hoped he wasn’t going to bring up the stuff I wrote about him in my blog.

“So, that other stuff you wrote in that thing. Your online journal or whatever.”

Shoot. He was.

“What about it?” I took a drink, hoping he didn’t notice how shaky my hand was.

“Did you mean it all?”

“What?”

“The stuff you said.”

“About what?”

“Gee, Erin. Do I have to just say it?” His face was bright red and he wiped his sweaty forehead with the bottom of his T-shirt.

“Yes, because I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I knew exactly what he was talking about, but I was enjoying his discomfort. I had had way more pain about this than he did.

“That stuff about you liking me. You know. More than a friend.” He let out a big breath, as if he’d just told a secret he’d been holding inside for years.

“Did I mean it?” I asked. He nodded. “Yeah. I did. When I wrote it.” His face fell a little. “You mean you don’t anymore.”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh.” Boy, were we master conversationalists or what? Actually we were. As long as the topic didn’t involve anything deep like. I decided to take the plunge into enemy territory. “I’m sorry about Jilly.”

Mark shrugged. “I think we both stopped liking each other at the same time. It’s just weird being around her now.” He glanced at me and took another swig of Gatorade. “You were kind of right about her, Erin. She does talk a lot about herself.”

I smiled. “She’s got a good heart underneath all that gabbing.”

“I guess.” Mark turned to look down the hall. “I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Me, too.”

We were quiet for several moments, the only sound the
squeak-squeak
of shoes and the echoing
smack-smack
of basketballs on the court down the hall.

“And I’m glad you decided to come back to I-Club,” Mark said. “It wasn’t the same without you.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Mark said. “I had no one to tease, no puppet strings to pull.”

I smacked him and we both laughed.

“You still owe me a soccer goal contest,” I said. “I get to pick the field.”

“Right,” Mark said, and we knocked fists to seal the deal. “Thanks for coming down.”

“Anytime,” I said.

“You mean it?”

“Definitely.” He’d cut his bangs so both eyes stared back at me, his lips curled up in a nice smile. He definitely wanted to see more of me. Funny, but I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see more of him. Or more precisely,
how
I wanted to see him.

Wow. Miracles do happen. Right in the YMCA.

chapter 31

Defrosts and Hot Tamales

If only miracles could happen at the bus stop, too. I stood there Friday morning, wondering how I would look going to the Senior Prom wearing a sandwich board. Why had I come up with this stupid idea anyway? Sure, three of the four had accepted my apology, but the one that mattered most, the one I really wanted to forgive me, hardly even glanced my way.

The kids at the bus stop didn’t even blink when I came up — I guess I was looking normal in this thing. I adjusted the straps and bounced from foot to foot to keep warm, waiting for the bus.

“I hear you’re having trouble picking out what to wear.”

I knew that voice. I’d been longing to hear that voice for weeks.

I sneaked a peek. Jilly wasn’t looking at me. She was looking down the street, in the direction the bus came from. I saw her breath curl out of her mouth in the frosty air.

“Pardon me?” I asked politely. Perhaps I had imagined it. Perhaps I wanted so desperately for her to talk to me that I had made up her voice inside my head.

“The all-black underneath is very goth and rather chic, but the sandwich board has got to go,” Jilly said, still looking down the street. “It clashes with the ensemble.”

“You think so?”

Jilly turned to look at me. “I think you should take it off,” she said. “It’s just a suggestion, though. You can decide for yourself what you want to do.”

I smiled. “Thanks.”

I pulled the sandwich board over my head, setting it up between us. We stood looking at each other, an awkward silence wrapping around us. We’d never had a fight like this before. We weren’t sure what to do.

Finally, Jilly took something out of her pocket. “Look how much is left inside.” Jilly was holding a half-bitten cherry Tootsie Pop. The entire Tootsie was still there, a round brown dome rising out of the red candy crater.

Other books

The Matchmaker by Sarah Price
Terror in D.C. by Randy Wayne White
Eden's Eyes by Sean Costello
The Phobos Maneuver by Felix R. Savage
Winter's Bees by E. E. Ottoman
Strange Neighbors by Ashlyn Chase
By the Book by Pamela Paul