“I’m surprised you guys even came,” Addison said. “Are your boyfriends from the courtyard here?”
“Who are you talking about?” I asked at the exact same time Sarah said, “They aren’t our boyfriends.”
Addison smirked.
“Augusta, you look different,” Marcy said. “Did you get contacts?”
“Nah,” I said, trying to act like it wasn’t a big deal and the entire gym wasn’t a big blur to me. “I don’t always need to wear my glasses.”
“Why didn’t you wear them tonight?” Addison asked. “Trying to look different for someone?”
When I shrugged and said I just forgot them, Addison looked at Marcy and said, “You were friends with Augusta in elementary school. Didn’t she always have to wear glasses then?”
Marcy looked at the floor. “I don’t really remember.”
“Hmm.” Addison moved on. “What about Sarah in elementary school, Heidi? Were you guys friends?”
It was easy to see what Addison was doing. She wanted to make sure Marcy and Heidi knew it was lame that they used to hang out with us (and of course that they’d understand how lucky they were to be friends with her now). Heidi bought into it more than Marcy did.
“No,” Heidi said, as though Addison had suggested that she’d eaten a bug. “My mom just made me do ballet carpool with her when we were little.”
“True story!” Sarah said. This was different from what Sarah had told me before, which was that she and Heidi had actually been friends for a while. But I wasn’t going to bring that up now. “Looks like you guys are up,” Sarah said, nodding toward the photographer. It was their turn to get their “pitcher” taken.
“Okay, losers,” Addison said to Marcy and Heidi, putting her arms around them and shuffling them toward the photographer. “HEY! LOSERS!” she yelled at Amber and a handful of other girls who were standing nearby, scrolling through their phones. “It’s time for our picture!”
They rushed over to join them on a hay bale. How did they know, I wondered, that they were “allowed” to be in the picture with her? As they zipped past me, I noticed they all had matching silver cowgirl boots on; I guess that was the mark of the chosen ones.
“I can’t believe she calls her friends losers,” I said.
“It’s charming, isn’t it?” Sarah said. “Let’s find a place to sit.”
We grabbed cups of lemonade from the refreshment table (where Ms. Lewis still looked anxious about spills) and wandered along the wall until we found an empty hay bale in front of the bleachers.
“So, what’s up with you and Marcy?” Sarah asked when we sat down. “Did you guys really used to be friends?”
It was hard to describe what had happened with Marcy; I wasn’t sure I understood it myself. But I couldn’t blame Sarah for asking. I’d be curious too.
“If I tell you, will you tell me what happened with you and Heidi?” I asked.
Sarah was quiet for a second. “Okay, sure,” she said.
“Sooo…Marcy and I were friends, but not like best best friends,” I said.
“Right,” Sarah said. “Layla is your best friend.”
I hesitated for a second before repeating, “Right.” I hadn’t told Sarah that I wasn’t really sure where I stood with Layla anymore, now that she was so tight with Jocelyn. One thing at a time.
“Anyway, I was friends with Marcy, but she was kind of annoying. Like, she always had to sit beside me in class and at lunch and on field trips, and sometimes I felt like I couldn’t get any space from her.”
“Wow, that’s hard to imagine now,” Sarah said. “No offense.”
I laughed a little. “No, I know what you mean. She definitely has gone in a whole other direction this year. She totally changed over the summer, and now she won’t even acknowledge that we used to be friends. It’s weird.” I took a sip of my lemonade. “So…what about you and Heidi?”
Sarah sighed. “Well, it was nothing like that. Our moms got to be friends because they’d chat every week in the dance-studio dressing room while Heidi and I were putting our tights and leotards on. Then we started carpooling, and sometimes we’d go to each other’s houses after ballet. Heidi was actually kind of nice back then. We used to do art projects and play with her dog. I mean, she definitely always worried about having perfect hair and spotless ballet shoes and being the best dancer and the best artist…but I think that was mostly because of her mom. She always put a lot of pressure on Heidi. And she probably still does, which might be why Heidi freaks out about breaking the rules and gets so into stuff like dance decorations, but still wants Addison to think she’s cool.”
I thought about that for a minute. I almost had to feel bad for Heidi; her mom didn’t sound like much fun. And what Sarah told me about her next was even worse.
“Anyway, after a while Heidi’s mom started asking me a lot of questions when it was her turn to drive the dance carpool. Mostly about my parents and their divorce, and if they dated other people, and what my grandparents thought, and if it was upsetting for me and Josh. It was weird.
“Then I told my mom about all the questions and she got really annoyed and asked Heidi’s mom about it, and it turned into this super-awkward scene in the ballet dressing room one day before a dress rehearsal, about how my mom thought Heidi’s mom should mind her own business, and she thought my mom should be more sensitive to how I felt about our ‘broken home,’ and that was pretty much the end of it.”
“Wait—she actually said ‘broken home’?” I asked.
Sarah laughed. “Yeah. Isn’t that crazy? My mom was livid.”
I felt like this was as good a time as any to ask my next question. “So, not to be nosy like Heidi’s mom, but what did you say when she asked if your parents were dating other people? I mean, were they?”
“I think my dad probably was, but Josh and I didn’t know it yet at the time. He has a girlfriend now, but usually he doesn’t introduce us to anyone until they’ve been dating for a long time.”
“How many has he introduced you to?”
“This one was the second.”
“What about your mom? Does she have a boyfriend?”
“I don’t think so.” Sarah shook her head. “When me and Josh have our nights with my dad, she usually just hangs out with her sister, my aunt Dina. I don’t think she wants a boyfriend.”
I wondered if that was true. Why couldn’t my mom be more like Sarah’s mom, and just be happy to hang out with her sister instead of going on dates with Mr. Singer? (Mom’s sister lives in Canada. But still.)
“What’s with all the parents-dating questions?” Sarah asked. “What about your mom and dad?”
Now it was my turn to take a deep breath. Just an hour ago, I couldn’t have imagined ever telling anyone about Mom and Mr. Singer. Not even Layla. But Sarah talking about her parents and her dad’s girlfriends and everything that had gone down with Heidi’s mom made me feel better. Safe.
“Well, I don’t think my dad has dated anyone,” I said. “When it’s not our weekend with him, I’m pretty sure he visits my uncle Keith or goes fishing or to concerts with his friends.” As the words were coming out of my mouth, though, I wondered. I’d been sure Mom was spending all her free time with her friends Deb and Bonnie, and look how wrong I was about that.
“And your mom?” Sarah asked.
I said it as fast as I could to get it over with. “She’s dating my fifth-grade teacher. I just found out tonight. I’m not supposed to tell anyone, so you have to keep it a secret.”
“Whoa,” Sarah said. “That’s some news.”
“Tell me about it.”
“Did you like your fifth-grade teacher?”
“Yeah,” I admitted. “He was my favorite ever. Until now.”
“That’s a big thing to keep secret,” Sarah said. “Why aren�
�t you allowed to tell?”
“I guess she doesn’t want my dad to know yet.”
“Ugh, I hate that crap,” Sarah said. “My parents did the same thing for a long time. ‘Don’t tell your mother how much these golf clubs cost’ or ‘Don’t tell Dad I let you watch this movie.’ Like now that they had us in separate houses, they were allowed to live these crazy secret lives and make us their little spies. It was the worst.”
“Do they still do it?”
“Nah. My grandma caught on and told them to cut it out. Also Josh was so stressed he was pulling out his eyebrows, so that made them feel guilty and they eased up.”
“Wow.” I wondered how I’d look with no eyebrows, and if Mom would break up with Mr. Singer if I pulled them out.
“Good evening, ladies,” a voice from above us on the bleachers said. I looked up expecting to see a teacher, but instead it was Syd the tomato kid, calling us “ladies” like someone’s dad would do. I should have known it was him.
“Sydney, we’re having a conversation,” Sarah said.
“I can see that,” Syd answered. “What’s it about?”
“It’s so none of your business,” Sarah said, giving me a wide-eyed Can you believe this guy? look.
Syd was used to this treatment from Sarah. He was undeterred.
“Okay, well, let’s talk about something else, then,” he said. “Like whether you’re going to dance at this dance.”
I looked toward the dance floor. It was still blurry, of course, but I could tell that it was definitely more crowded than when we’d first arrived. I suddenly felt nervous: Was Syd actually asking Sarah to dance? Or did he mean both of us? Did he want all of us to dance? Either option seemed too weird to imagine.
“Not likely,” Sarah said. She was keeping up the usual cool tone she had with Syd, but I thought her cheeks looked a little pink.
Syd didn’t seem to know what to say next either. “Yeah, well, the music sucks anyway,” he finally muttered.
He was right about that. It was obvious Heidi was on the dance committee, what with the number of bubble-gummy pop songs and the amount of Spoiler Alert being played. Blech.
I wondered if Nick was there. He would really hate this music. Without thinking I wondered it out loud. “Is Nick here?”
Syd’s eyes got wide. “Why do you want to know, Gus?” Oh geez. He thought I wanted to dance with Nick. Or something.
“It just made me think of him when you mentioned the music, Sydney,” I said, giving him my best eye roll.
“Oh, so you were thinking of him, huh?” Syd said.
“Geez, cut it out, Sydney,” Sarah said, giving his leg a little nudge.
“I’m just messing with you, Gus,” Syd said.
I’d noticed that friends of Nick’s called me Gus because that was what he called me, even if I hadn’t known them before this year. Somehow I didn’t really mind it.
“I don’t know if he’s here. He said he might check the dance out, but I haven’t seen him. He also said he expected it to be stupid, and it looks like he wasn’t wrong about that.”
Why did I feel a little disappointed to hear that Nick wasn’t there? Until now, I hadn’t given a single thought to whether he would be at the dance or not. I also felt dumb…Nick was right: this dance was stupid. And I’d known it all along, from the moment Ms. Barakat told us who Sadie Hawkins was, and when I saw how excited people like Heidi were about it. Why had I come?
“What time are you getting picked up?” I asked Sarah.
“Ten.”
“What time is it now?”
“Eight-thirty,” Syd answered.
Sarah and I groaned at the same time.
“Want to text our parents and see if they can get us sooner?” I asked.
“Let’s give it a few more minutes,” she said. “Maybe it’ll get better.” Was it my imagination or did she glance at Syd when she said that?
“Okay, this one’s for all you sweethearts out there!” DJ Dave put on Spoiler Alert’s cheesiest ballad, and the dance floor cleared in seconds. But a few couples came together like magnets and hugged each other while they swayed to the music.
“Do you guys want to go to the courtyard?” Syd asked.
“Why?” Sarah said. “Are we even allowed?”
Syd shrugged. “It’s worth a try. Beats staying here and listening to this awful music.”
Sarah looked at me and said, “What do you think?” in a funny way out of the side of her mouth, and I knew she wanted to go. She was a pretty straight shooter when it came to Syd; if she didn’t want to go to the courtyard with him, she would have just said so.
“Okay,” I said. There was really no reason not to; a few more couples were heading out to the dance floor, and just sitting and watching them felt creepy.
We got as far as the gym doors when we were stopped by Mr. Smeed, who was on chaperone duty and was clearly unhappy about it.
“Halt!” he said, holding his hand out to stop us as we approached the door. “What business do you have in the hallway?”
“Personal business?” Syd said.
It was obvious Syd didn’t have Mr. Smeed as a teacher, or he would have known that vague excuses don’t fly.
“We’re going to the bathroom, Mr. Smeed,” I said.
“All three of you?” Mr. Smeed asked, grimacing like he’d caught us in an elaborate lie. “To the same bathroom?”
“No,” Syd said, playing along with my lie. “I’m going to a different one.”
Smeed sniffed. He clearly was disappointed that there wasn’t really anywhere to go from there with his interrogation.
“Fine, but make it quick,” he said. “Straight to the lavatory and straight back.”
It’s amazing, the way Smeed still uses words like “halt” and “lavatory.” It’s like he arrived here in a time machine from…I don’t know when. Whenever it was that people actually said “halt” and “lavatory.”
“Yes, sir!” Syd said, giving Mr. Smeed a salute. Ooh boy, that would never fly in his class either.
“Go, Sydney,” Sarah murmured, beelining away from Smeed and around the corner to the bathrooms. Luckily, the door to the courtyard is just beyond them.
The air in the courtyard was so cool compared to the swelter of the gym. Walking through that door felt like brushing your teeth after eating a clove of garlic. Even the underlying scent of rotting crab apples was sweeter than the smell in the gym, which seemed to be a combination of sweat, deodorant, and fruity body spray.
“Wow, it seems so different out here at night,” Sarah said.
“Yeah,” Syd agreed. “Like, even more secret.”
There was a rustling sound at the far end of the courtyard, and as my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I saw that we weren’t alone. Elaine Farley was already there, kneeling on the grass and collecting crab apples in a plastic bag. I squinted and saw that she was dressed a little nicer than usual, in a gray sweater that was a bit too short for her and boots I’d never seen her wear before.
“What are you guys doing out here?” she asked when she saw us.
“Just wanted some fresh air,” Syd said. “Why are you out here?”
I wanted him to be careful about how he talked to Elaine. She never talked to me in social-studies class or in the courtyard, but she never talked to anyone. I think this was the most I’d ever heard her speak, and it was just one sentence. She was like a wild baby animal, out here alone in the courtyard at night, and I didn’t want Syd to scare her.
“No reason,” she said.
“Why are you collecting crab apples?” Syd kept pushing. “You know you can’t eat those.”
“I know. I just thought I’d clean up the courtyard. So we don’t have to smell them when we eat lunch.”
The way she said when we ea
t lunch made it sound like she actually ate with us every day, and not by herself with a book. I wondered if she noticed that too, because then she said, “I mean, I don’t like the smell when I eat anyway.”
“So you came here just to clean up crab apples?” Syd said. “Not for the dance?” Syd is a decent-enough guy, and I knew he was genuinely curious and didn’t mean to sound like he was grilling her. But that’s how it came across.
Elaine looked like she wanted to run away. “No…I…my parents said I had to…”
I tried to think of a way to help her. “You’re right,” I said. “The apples do smell weird. Do you want us to help you pick them up?”
“I’m not picking—” Syd started to say, but Sarah gave his sneaker a little kick.
Elaine didn’t look any less cornered. “I don’t have any other plastic bags,” she said, gazing down at the one hanging from her fingers.
I was about to say we could all share that one when the courtyard door squeaked open.
“Hey, I thought I might find you guys out here! Do you secretly live here or something?”
The face was blurry, but I’d know that voice anywhere. It was Quincy, flushed and sweaty from dancing in the gym. She let the heavy courtyard door close behind her.
“Why are you all sweaty?” Syd asked.
Quincy gave Syd a look of great pity. “I was dancing,” she said. “We’re at a dance.”
“The music sucks,” he said.
“Right—that’s why I brought headphones,” Quincy said, holding them up to show us. “When the DJ plays a sappy slow song, I put these on and dance to whatever I want. Mekhai was doing it too. It’s hilarious. And the dance-committee weirdos hate it.”
Quincy is something else. She literally dances to the beat of a different drummer.
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you Smeed is looking for you. He had kids check the bathrooms and he knows you aren’t there.”
Before that information could even sink in, the courtyard door opened again, this time with a bang against the brick wall. Of course it was Mr. Smeed.
“I might have known this group would be doing something illicit,” Smeed said, shining his phone flashlight in our faces.
The 47 People You'll Meet in Middle School Page 11