My Year of Epic Rock (7 page)

Shane's dad had also told us if we needed to do a second song, we should pick one from his new band, The Flax Seeds, which he said were about to “blow up.”

Somehow I didn't think the audience would be begging for more.

T
oday's the field trip!
I thought to myself the second I opened my eyes. I didn't even need the alarm to wake up.

Our class was going to visit a small dairy farm two towns over. The farm kept winning awards for “freshest tasting milk” while trying to build their business against mega-farms that have tons of cows and way more money.

It's kind of embarrassing to admit, but I spent a lot of time getting dressed and doing my hair that morning, which makes me sound totally pathetic and not the sort of person who cares about the right things, like cows. But field trips are
exciting
. It's like a party but during the school day. A dairy farm might not have been my top choice for a group outing, but it still sounded cool. One year for our class trip, we went to a Broadway show in the city, and another time, to a museum about an hour away to draw still lifes. I was really proud of the fruit picture I made, but I guess my parents didn't think it was so great because they took it down off the refrigerator after only having it up for about three days. The photo of Jackson getting his yellow belt in karate stayed up for almost a year. Go figure.

I'd decided to wear my favorite black skinny jeans and my new gray sweater with a black peace sign on it. I'd actually been saving that sweater for the occasion, not wearing it even once since I found out about our trip, so it would seem special. And sneakers since Mrs. Cook said we'd be doing a lot of walking and would have to “watch where we stepped.” I even shampooed twice and used a deep conditioner sample I'd gotten from a magazine, then blew dry my hair, which unfortunately made me all sweaty and hot before I'd even left the house.

“Where's your coat?” Mom asked as I was walking out the door with Jackson to school. “What if it's cold at the farm?”

“Nah, I don't need it,” I said. “It's super nice out today.”

“Don't you want to bring one just in case? I can run up and get it.”

“Mom, the farm isn't any colder than our street. I'll be fine.”

She gave me her “I'm not saying anything else but if you come home frozen I'll say ‘I told you so' a million times” look.

“I made you cookies to bring along.” She handed me a brown paper bag, neatly folded closed. Amazingly, she hadn't written my name on it. It took about three years of reminding her before she stopped putting my name with a heart around it in big, blocky letters on all my stuff.

I peered inside suspiciously.

“Good Day, Sunshine Cookies. And Pumpkin Snickerdoodles,” she said.

“Whoa, Mom, there are a lot here.” How totally dorky does it sound to say “Snickerdoodle” out loud?

“You can share them. I made extra.”

“I'll take one!” Jackson grabbed for my bag and accidentally smacked me in the arm with his elbow.

I yanked away from him, and gave him a shove. “LET GO!”

Brothers are so annoying!

“Jackson, I sent you some with your lunch too,” Mom said to him.

“Thanks, Mom,” I said, putting the cookies in my backpack.

“You have your EpiPen, right?” she asked me.

“MOM!!!”

I knew it! She can never stop herself from reminding me.

“Honey, I'm just double checking.” She gave me a look again, like she was the mad one. Why was she mad? I was the one who was being treated like an idiot.

“You don't have to ask if I packed it. I don't forget. I
never
forget.”

Mom sighed. I sighed. Then I gave her a hug. Even if secretly I wanted something store-bought and artificially neon pink sometimes, it was nice of her to make me cookies. And her desserts were guaranteed to be yummy.

She kissed Jackson on the cheek and headed back in to the kitchen. “Have a fun time! Call anytime if you need me.”

Need
her
for
what? Milking a cow on the fly?
Sometimes Mom acts like she's the expert on everything, but I know for sure she's clueless about farm animals.

In Mrs. Cook's classroom, everyone was freaking out and giggling and being all excited. No one was sitting down or putting away their homework or anything. I couldn't help but get excited too.

Field
trip!

Josh was at his seat and Shelley and Brianna were sitting on the table on either side of him. I saw Josh out of the corner of my eye. He was looking all sneaky about something.

“Are you
sure
you can come with us today, Nina?” Josh said, when I walked past. “I mean, what if you touch the cows and get sick?”

“‘Eek, help me, a cow! I'm dying!!'” He yelled in a fake squeaky voice.

That stung, I admit it, but what felt the worst was Brianna didn't say anything to defend me. She giggled instead.

Had
she
been
the
one
to
get
him
to
make
that
joke? Don't cry. Don't cry,
I told myself, giving my hand a pinch. I just stood there until Tiernan, who must have overheard them, jumped in.

“She's not allergic to dairy, genius. It's eggs. Since when do cows lay eggs? Or are you really that stupid?”

“I don't know what she can't eat,” Josh said, shrugging. “Whatever. It's
all
freaky to—”

Tiernan didn't even let Josh finish talking. “You're such an idiot, Josh. I hope you're ready to repeat seventh grade.”

Tiernan turned his back on them and started talking to me. I couldn't quite understand what he was saying because my face was hot and the noise in my ears was so loud—like the rushing of water—but I pretended to nod along and even managed to say “Uh-huh” a few times, swallowing hard over the lump in my throat, then blinking fast and hoping no tears would come out.

“Line up, everyone.” Mrs. Cook clapped her hands together quickly. Everyone in the room picked up their bags and walked over, moving around to stand near the person they wanted to walk downstairs with.

“I'll catch up with you,” I said to Tiernan, backing up over to the corner of the room. “I forgot one thing.”

Actually, I wanted to grab a tissue from the box Mrs. Cook keeps in the corner near her other supplies. I hoped that no one would see that my eyes were kind of wet and wonder why.

“Line up! Now!” Mrs. Cook repeated, even though everyone was already doing it.

She walked by us. “Tiernan, you're in the front. Hold this.” She handed Tiernan a clipboard and pencil.

“Everyone get behind Tiernan to walk downstairs and wait in the lobby. QUIET!” Mrs. Cook yelled as everyone started getting loud. The room got silent and people began filing out. I kept my back to everyone until I heard the door shut.

I bent over to toss my wadded up tissue in the trash, and I heard a voice behind me say, “Where are you?” It was Mrs. Cook, who was noisily opening and shutting some drawers in her desk, her silver bracelet jangling loudly.

“Um, what?” I asked.

“Oh, Nina, excuse me. I wasn't talking to you. I can't find my apple. And I'm starving. If I don't eat every two hours or so, I start to feel woozy.”

I looked at her, confused. That seemed like a lot of food breaks for a grown-up.

“I'm pregnant,” she said, seeing my expression. She pointed at her stomach, which now that she mentioned it, did look like there was a tiny lump thing underneath her flower-print blouse. I had no idea. Whoops.

“I am always hungry these days, and when I don't eat, watch out.”

I wasn't quite sure if she was joking but I took her warning seriously.

“I have all these snacks in my bag.” I felt a little shy offering my food to her, but she seemed pretty focused on finding that apple. And Mom did send a lot. Also I did not want to see Mrs. Cook lose it right before our trip.

Mrs. Cook perked up and stopped searching through her desk. “What sort of snacks?”

I handed her the brown bag. “Snickerdoodles. Pumpkin, I mean. No, I mean Pumpkin Snickerdoodles. And Good Day, Sunshine Cookies. My mom calls them that because they have a lot of stuff that's healthy for breakfast but in a cookie, so it's really not a cookie so much as a breakfast. I mean…”

By then Mrs. Cook was eating a Good Day, Sunshine cookie.

“Thank you,” she said.

The door to the classroom banged open, and I jumped. It was Ethan. Mrs. Cook just kept eating.

“I'm late; did I miss the bus? Sorry!” Ethan looked all rumpled and cute, like maybe he'd overslept. He had a faded light blue button down shirt on, untucked, and jeans that had holes in the knees, but definitely because he wore them a lot, not because he bought them that way. His hair seemed a bit wavier and longer than even when I'd stared at him the day before.

“Normally I would be displeased at your late arrival, Mr. Chan, but I am far too busy enjoying this delicious cookie.” She pointed to the bag on her desk. “Would you like one?”

Mrs. Cook gave him the “come here” sign with her hand. “Nina, you don't mind if Ethan has one, do you?”

“No, totally, I mean, my mom sent a ton, I could never eat all of these, and…” I stopped talking. Nothing I was saying was even a little bit interesting.

Ethan took a Pumpkin Snickerdoodle. I just hoped he wouldn't ask me what they were called. The shame of saying Snickerdoodle to him would have been too much for me.

“Hey, this is good,” he said. “Thanks.”

Mrs. Cook stood up and brushed a few crumbs off her shirt. “All right, you two, let's get going.”

We got on the bus, and Mrs. Cook took her seat in the front row next to Mr. Spies, the science teacher. Ethan and I looked around. Every single seat was taken, except for the two seats directly across from the teachers. The bus driver hopped on and took her seat behind the wheel, loudly slamming the door shut behind her. Mrs. Cook gestured for us to sit down in the two free seats.

We looked at each other, shrugged, and sat. The bus smelled kind of weird, like from gas fumes or something. And the plastic seats were all cracked in spots and felt cold. It didn't matter to me though.

“Nina, hand that bag over here, please,” Mrs. Cook said, as the bus got going. She hadn't been exaggerating about how hungry she was.

“I don't think I've been to a farm since I was a kid,” I said to Ethan, trying to find something to talk about. I hadn't expected to sit with him—I'd been planning on sitting with some of The EpiPens, or maybe Jody. It was so surprising and exciting! I was still processing the fact that he was right up close next to me. I hoped he was psyched too, and not disappointed. I wished I'd practiced fascinating topics of conversation instead of worrying about blow-drying my hair.

“My grandparents own a farm in Vermont,” Ethan said. “They make maple syrup and sell it to local stores near them. I go every year during sugaring season to help.”

“Really? No way, that's so cool,” I said. “I love maple syrup. I guess everyone loves maple syrup, right?”

“Yeah, although sometimes when we're visiting them, I get kind of sick of it after a while.”

“I bet! Like, how many pancakes can you eat?” He didn't say anything, so I added, “I can eat a lot of pancakes.”

I imagined eating them with Ethan and laughing over each bite. Standing at the stove together, flipping them onto a plate like we were running a cute little café. Maybe when he and I got married, we'd go live on the maple tree farm and have pancakes every day for breakfast…

“Here you go, Nina,” Mr. Spies handed me back my bag. He was holding two cookies in his other hand, with a third hanging halfway out of his mouth. He had a crumb on his chin. The bag felt a lot lighter.

“Can I have another one?” Ethan said.

“Sure!” I said, too cheerfully.

“Ethan, what are you eating?” Josh called out from a few rows back.

“SIT DOWN, MR. RICCI!” Mrs. Cook boomed back, not even turning around to look at Josh. I wondered how she could tell Josh was the one who said that, or how she knew that he was standing up. I smiled to myself.
Ha! You can't have a cookie, tiny jerk.

“Remember how you used to scream ‘MONKEY!' all the time?” I said to Ethan, after we had been quiet for a few minutes.

“What? No, come on.” He started laughing. “I didn't do that.”

“Really, don't you remember, in, like, first grade, anytime we lined up or went anywhere, you were all ‘monkey, monkey, monkey.' And you'd get in trouble?”

Because I'm not totally crazy, I didn't admit to Ethan that I'd been thinking about him a lot lately, and I even went back to look at some class photos from past years that I'd shoved into a box on my bookshelf. When I saw our first grade picture, with him wearing his monkey T-shirt, a goofy grin on his face, it made me remember how when he'd see a photo of a monkey in a book, he'd get all excited and then he started making up words that had monkey in them. Like if we were reading about elephants, he'd yell, “Ele-monk,” or if we were doing math, and the answer was three, he'd scream, “THREE MONKEYS!” He got in trouble a lot. Ethan grew out of that phase a long time ago though.

“
Monkey!
” he whispered in my ear, and I cracked up. His arm kept brushing against mine, and every time the bus ran over a pothole, our knees or feet or legs would bump. I noticed that he didn't try to move away or act freaked out when we accidentally touched. The only bad thing about the whole ride was that it ended way too fast, and then everyone piled off the bus, and Shelley and Brianna and Josh caught up with Ethan, and he didn't look back once to find me after that. It made all the cool stuff we saw at the farm a little less cool, and I spent half the time trying to eavesdrop on what Ethan was talking about and missed the whole discussion about how cows give birth. I hoped that wouldn't be on the next science quiz.