The Opposite Of Tidy (2 page)

What was—and always had been—normal was that Junie sucked at math, even though her own father was a very skilled accountant. What was worse was that her teacher, Mr. Benson, always made a great big show of handing back tests. His thought was that if everyone knew how you did, you would either be proud of yourself, or motivated by shame to do better the next time. Junie wouldn’t have minded this so much if it had been English. Or Art. Or Social Studies. Or Biology, even . . . she was holding steady at a solid C+. But this was Math class. And she sucked at math.

Mr. Benson strode down the aisles, calling out the mark as he dealt each test paper off his pile, letting it drift onto the desk as if it were light and pleasant, which for some it was.

“One hundred percent.” That would be for Ollie, behind Junie. She would’ve hated him for it but he tutored
her every Thursday and was the only reason why she wasn’t down the hall repeating grade nine Math. “Good job, Ollie.”

Ollie coughed, which was what he did whenever he was embarrassed by how smart he was. He coughed often.

“Forty-one, Juniper.”

Junie closed her eyes. She’d been hoping for a pass, at least. Just a lousy sixty percent or so.

“Forty . . .”—Mr. Benson tapped the paper—“one.” The test was covered in red, and had an unhappy face up in the corner beside her name and another beside the mark. It was one miserable exam. Even the pencilled-in numbers in their erroneous foxholes under the problems looked sad. They all drooped now, exhausted from enduring so much erasing and rewriting and scratching out. The math problems remained just that. Problems.

Mr. Benson moved on while a neon-lit marquee of failure buzzed over Junie’s head. “A healthy—if somewhat anemic—eighty-six.” This was for Tabitha, in front of her.

Tabitha didn’t even glance at her own paper. Instead, she twisted around in her seat and whispered, “It’s okay.” She plucked Junie’s test up, turned around and wrote on it, as Mr. Benson carried on up the aisle to the front.

“Ninety. Well done.”

“Seventy-four.”

“Eighty-three.”

Tabitha slid the test back. She’d added
Fantastic!!!
in teacherly printing, plus a halo and wings to the unhappy faces, along with an edit of the mouths, turning them into fat, kissy lips. All this, and a one in front of Junie’s score: 141%.

Junie loved Tabitha. She was the consummate best friend.

“It’s just a number.” Tabitha grinned at her and winked. “Forget about it.”

When the bell sounded, Ollie patted Junie on the back.

“We’ll get you through this,” he said, as if they were talking about cancer. “Everything will be okay.” He coughed. “See you Thursday?”

“Sure, Ollie. Thanks.”

The room emptied until it was just Tabitha and Junie and the test.

Tabitha grabbed it and shoved it into her binder. “Never mind that. Come on.” She led the way to Junie’s locker, where she undid the lock and took out Junie’s backpack. “You’ll be okay. Right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’ll skip my thing if you need me to.”

“No way. I’ll be fine.” Tabitha’s “thing” was a very important piano adjudication for the Royal Conservatory of Music. It was certainly no small
thing
.

“Just say you need me and I’ll book it for next time.”

“No way. I’m not going to be the excuse for your stage fright.”

“You’ll be sorry when I come back minus a leg or an arm because the judges gnawed it off with their bare teeth.”

“You’ll do great. Like always.”

“But I’ll puke, too, like always.”

“And then you’ll get a ginger ale from the pop
machine, take a few sips, get up on that stage and knock their socks off. Like always.”

Tabitha fixed her with a sympathetic smile. “But you know I wouldn’t go if you needed me, right?”

“I’ll be fine. It’s just another mathematical disaster in a long, drawn-out history of mathematical disasters. I’ll be okay.”

“Ollie will think of something. You’ll see.”

Usually Junie used the walk home to clear her head of all things school so that she could focus on all things home. After all, there wasn’t much point in dwelling on her abysmal math results. She’d always been terrible at math. Her mother had kept her report cards from elementary school, and every single one of them had a comment about her struggles with math. Politely worded, but essentially saying the same thing: Juniper was a mathematical retard. A numerical dunce.
Is working to grasp her numbers. Struggles with addition. More work needed to apply fractions.

Junie had tried to throw out her report cards once, but her mother had had a conniption fit. She’d also tried to throw out the Mathematic Marvel Flashcard and Workbook System (Success Guaranteed!!!), which her mother bought when Junie was seven. But when it arrived, it just went into a pile of other stuff she’d bought off the Shopping Channel, most of which she never bothered to open. Back then it wasn’t as bad, but you could see where things were going.

About halfway home, Junie heard an engine gear down behind her. She turned to look. There was no mistaking who
it was. There was only one student at school who drove an old orange Volkswagen van. Wade Jaffre. He’d transferred to Junie’s school only the week before from Tupper, and Junie had noticed him right away. He was tall, with long, brown, sinewy arms, and closely cropped black hair that he angled up a bit in the front. He wore a black leather cuff on one wrist, and jeans that slouched just enough to look exceptionally good on him. And he had a video camera with him almost all the time, although she’d only seen him use it once or twice so far.

He pulled up alongside Junie, going slowly enough to catch her eye. Junie didn’t know where to look, or what to do. This was Wade Jaffre! About three minutes after he’d arrived at school she’d developed a full-blown crush on him. And this was a big deal. Junie didn’t crush easily. She could count all the crushes she’d ever had on one hand. And still have a finger left over. Until now. The first time she’d laid eyes on him her head and heart and gut had all sent her a very clear message: this guy was optimal crushable material. Her palms went damp, butterflies flitted in her tummy and she was at a loss for words.

Wade rolled down his window. Patsy Cline crooned from his stereo. On many guys, this would seem odd. But it just made Wade Jaffre all that much more sexy.

“Need a ride?”

All thoughts of math and her mother evaporated from Junie’s mind. In fact, her brain had apparently shut down entirely, because she was at a loss for words again. Wade Jaffre was offering her a ride, and all Junie could think about was that he had remarkably handsome eyebrows.

“I . . . uh . . .”

And the next thing that occurred to her was that she wasn’t allowed to accept rides from strangers. But Wade wasn’t a stranger, was he? He wasn’t some creepy old man with a boner tenting his polyester pants. She wasn’t going to end up dead in a ditch somewhere. Wade was a student at her school. A classmate. So she could say yes. In fact, she should say yes. But she couldn’t make herself say anything at all.

“Junie?”

He knew her name. Junie hoped her surprise at this wasn’t written all over her face. She couldn’t wait to tell Tabitha. “A ride?” she finally managed to say.

“As in, do you need one?” He grinned at her.

“Sure.” Junie shifted her backpack from one shoulder to the other, not sure what to do next. “Please. Thanks.”

Wade pulled the van ahead and off the road. He cut the engine and leaned way across the gearshift to open the passenger door. “Get in.”

“This isn’t the first five minutes of the end of my life, is it?” Junie set her backpack on the floor and started to get in. “You’re not some serial killer disguised as a high school honour roll student, are you?”

“No.” He raised three fingers and laughed. “Scout’s honour.”

“Good.” Junie arranged herself on the seat, did up her seatbelt and stared at him. And then she realized what she was doing and looked away. She got the sense that he was staring at her, and when she glanced to check, sure enough his gaze was fixed on her. A nervous laugh escaped
against her better judgment. She wished she could slap herself across the face. Instead, she swallowed hard and said, “So.”

“So.” Wade merged carefully back into traffic. “Where do you live?”

“Lambert and Fourth Avenue.”

“Lambert and Fourth it is, then.”

What amazed Junie about this exchange so far . . . this whole
event
so far . . . was that she was actually kind of pulling it off. Yet. And it wasn’t like she had any experience in dealing with her crushables. She’d never had the guts to even approach any of her crushables outside of forced school interactions. And this was the first time one of her crushables had ever paid her any kind of attention whatsoever. What amazed her further was that she hadn’t made a complete ass of herself, and this was without Tabitha’s help. This was the kind of thing they fantasized about. The kind of thing they spent entire sleepovers rehearsing. Well, maybe not this scenario exactly, but Major Life Events just like this. All involving boys, naturally. And things one might hope of doing
with
boys at some point in one’s life. Preferably before the age of twenty, as that was the age she and Tabitha had decided was the Spinster Age of Doom. If you reached the Spinster Age of Doom without losing your virginity, it was not likely ever going to happen. Ever.

“So are you?” Wade asked.

Clearly Junie had missed something, because he couldn’t have possibly been inquiring about her virginity.

“Sure,” Junie said with as much dumb confidence as she could muster.

“Excellent.”

A couple of seconds passed, during which Junie prayed that Wade hadn’t asked her something horrible, like if she’d be a drug mule for him.

“I’m sorry.” She needed to know what she’d just agreed to. “What did you just ask me?”

Wade laughed. “I asked if you’d help with the Think Globally, Act Locally bottle drive next week.”

“Then for sure, for sure!” Again, Junie wanted to slap herself across the face. She sounded like a stupid valley girl. This was not what she and Tabitha strove for in their fabulous imaginary relationships with cool and excellent boys. Like Wade Jaffre. She tried again. “I mean, yeah, okay. I’m free that day.”

“I haven’t told you what day yet.”

“Hmm.” Junie glanced up to watch the idiot points accumulating above her head, like on the giant scoreboard in the gym. “Right.”

“Next Saturday. Does that work for you?”

“Absolutely.”

Wade signalled and steered off the main road.

“So . . . you think maybe Tabitha could come too?”

And all of a sudden, Junie was confused. He’d picked
her
up, was chatting
her
up, making
her
stomach churn with nerves, and now he wanted to talk about Tabitha?

Maybe he wanted Tabitha, and he was trying the classic Best Friend Bait and Switch move. It would make sense that he’d want the prettier one. The one with long, lovely auburn curls and long, lovely legs to match. The one who actually had tits, and the ass to back them up. Last
September, Tabitha had tried to convince Junie that she’d really blossomed over the summer, but Junie knew that Tabitha was just being nice. The fact was that her friend had blossomed even more over the summer, which was why they were at the mall buying Tabitha new bras when she made the empty compliment to Juniper. Yes, Junie had gotten taller, and yes, she’d recently gotten her braces taken off, and yes, she could finally actually justify a AA cup, but the truth remained that she was somewhat of an ugly duckling. She could only hope that someday she’d get to be the swan. For now, she was nothing but a go-between. Figures.

“I don’t know. I’ll check.” She was sure that her tone gave away her disappointment.

“It’s just, the more the merrier with this kind of thing. Ollie and Lulu are in. They’re the ones who said I should ask you. You’re friends with them, right? So they’re in.”

“Turn here,” Junie said. Thank God the ride was almost over, because she was feeling awash with petulance that she was not entitled to. She and Tabitha had a rule. If a guy liked one of them better than the other, that was just the way it was. The less-liked would bow gracefully out of the way, no questions asked. It had been all hypothetical until now, and therefore hypothetically easy until now. But put into practice, Junie wasn’t so sure.