Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar (17 page)

“She seems to think she’s somebody.” Mari frowned and folded her arms across her chest as she watched Missy pick over my family’s castoff items. I cringed. Missy was acting like she
was searching through a Dumpster in a sketchy neighborhood. All of a sudden, my old, well-loved games, books, and clothes looked like embarrassing trash to me. I wouldn’t have been surprised if Missy left and came back wearing a diamond-covered hazmat suit to look through everything else.

Don’t look at her
, I told myself. Fighting the blush I felt creeping up my neck, I turned to my friends. “Patti, Mari, and Nanci, this is Sam,” I said.

My bandmates said hi, and Sam said, “You guys were great.”

But Missy couldn’t just disappear, of course. She gasped. “Don’t tell me you’re selling this!” She mockingly held up an old, half-bald troll doll. “And
only
fifty cents?”

I wondered if there was room for me to hide in the file cabinet, now that Wilson had moved on.

“Why is Missy even here?” Sam wanted to know.

“To torture me,” I explained.

Rhonda turned her
back on Missy. “ANYONE WANT ORANGEADE?” My bandmates said yes.

“Rhonda’s got a lot of… energy,” Sam said as we watched her pass around the plate of cookies. She let Nanci take only two.

I wasn’t sure what Sam meant by that, so I just said, “She can’t help herself.” I glanced around the tables, where the items were thinning out. A lot of our stuff had already sold. Grandma Dotty was demonstrating how an exercise bike could also be used as a coatrack. Rafe was trying to convince an older couple that they needed an extra toilet.

“What’s up?” Sam asked as I bit my lip. “You look worried.”

“It’s just—well, I’m a little worried about… Mr. Bananas.” I could feel my face redden.

“Stuffed animal?” Sam guessed.

“Yeah. I just don’t want him to get sold.” I shrugged. “Life isn’t the same without a stuffed monkey on your bed, you know?”

Sam smiled. “Yeah.”

“Oh, that’s
soooo
sweet!” I heard a sugary voice behind me. “Little baby wants her toy monkey back!” Missy rolled her eyes.

I felt my head turn hot down to the tips of my hair. I glanced at Sam.
Does he think I’m an idiot?
I wondered. It was hard to tell. He was too nice to say so.

Missy looked over at the snack table. “Hey, Georgia, why don’t you get your
best friend, Rhonda
, to help you look for your dolly?”

“She’s not my best friend,” I muttered. I knew it
was awful. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that Rhonda was still blissfully handing out orangeade to thirsty bargain hunters. If she’d heard me, she wasn’t showing it.

But Missy had heard every word. She smirked.

And suddenly I wished I could smack that smirk right off her face. Who the heck does Missy think she is, anyway? Rhonda’s worth ten of her. No, a hundred.

I was starting to accept that I was going to lose my bet with Rafe. I’d never be popular at HVMS, because I’d never be friends with Missy. And that was just fine with me.

H
istory was made right here at Hills Village Middle School—right in front of my locker!

I got a Boy Gift. That’s right: A guy gave me a present.

First.

Time.

Ever!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Hands down, it was the best thing that had happened in the entire pitiful span of my middle school life. I’m bursting with enough happiness that I, Georgia Khatchadorian, could probably spontaneously turn into a cheerleader, right here and now.

The day after the garage sale, I spotted Sam hovering near my homeroom. I waved, and he smiled and said, “I’ve got something for you.” Then he pulled the most awesome present ever out of his backpack.

“Mr. Bananas!” I cried. “You found him!”

Sam grinned and said, “I spotted him as I was leaving. Your grandmother charged me three bucks for him.”

“But the tag says a dollar fifty,” I noticed.

Sam shrugged. “She could tell I really wanted it, so she jacked up the price.”

I hugged my stuffed monkey to my chest. With Mr. Bananas, my room would be mostly back to normal. I had all of the important stuff, anyway. I reached into my backpack. “Let me give you the three dollars.”

“Are you kidding? No
way
!” Sam’s eyebrows drew together. “I wanted to
surprise you.” He looked down at the floor and said, “I hope you like it.”

The walls of my throat swelled—I was so touched, I was practically choking on my own spit. I couldn’t talk, so I just smiled and tried to look grateful.

“So… uh….” Sam shuffled his feet and rattled the change in his right-hand pocket.

I managed to find my voice and said, “What is it?” I was sure he was going to say I had something on my face or I smelled weird.

“Well… there’s this dance coming up….” Sam looked at me.

“Yes?” My voice was a whisper.

“Um, would you like to—you know—dance? At the dance? Together?”

No, just kidding. Of course, I played it cool.

“Okay, then,” Sam said with a smile after I agreed. “Awesome. Well, see you later.”

I stood there for a minute.
Was that real?
I wondered.
Did that just happen?
It seemed highly unlikely, but I was still holding Mr. Bananas. That was evidence. I didn’t even care that kids in the hallway were starting to stare at the girl clutching a stuffed monkey. Mr. Bananas could take them any day.

Maybe middle school was starting to look up.