Different

by Janet McLaughlin

  I swallow, take a deep breath, and blow it out slowly. “Sure, I’ll help,” I finally manage to get out.

  Abbie acts as if nothing weird just happened. “Great. I’ve already made a list of girls to invite. I know we pretty much agree on them. It’s the guys I need help with.” She turns to Hannah. “I don’t mean to leave you out of this conversation. If there’s someone you want to invite, just tell me.”

  Hannah laughs. “Thanks, Abbie. I’m happy just to be going. You two make the list. I have to go to the girls’ room.”

  Hannah leaves. Abbie doodles a heart on the paper with the list of names then scratches it out. “Now for the boys. Who should we start with?”

  “How about Mike? I think he has a crush on you.”

  Abbie shakes her head. “I don’t know. It has been days since the dance and he hasn’t even talked to me.”

  “I see how he stares at you in English. And he came to our practice the other day. I wouldn’t be surprised if he asks me to ask you if you like him.”

  “He really is cute. And nice.” Her face turns red. “Okay, Mike is on the list. Do you want me to ask Jamie? I can’t tell how you really feel about him.”

  I grunt. Tap, tap, tap her arm. “Neither can I. It’s not a crush. Well, maybe it is, but it’s more than that. I’ve kind of liked him for a while, but when I saw him steal those posters—it got stuck in my head. I know that sounds silly, but—”

  “No. I get it,” Abbie says. “I’ve known you a long time, Izzy. You don’t have to explain.”

  I bend, touch the ground, sit up, and sigh. “I want to explain. It’s not just the posters. I might have gotten over that. But a few days later he came to school with a bad bruise on his side. A week or so later, he had a black eye. Then he acted so weird at the restaurant. They’re all questions jumbled up in my mind and they keep replaying and replaying, like a song I can’t get out of my head. I have to get to the bottom of it all or it will drive me crazy.”

  “Is it a part of your—what is it called again?”

  “Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. It started out that way. But when you put it all together, it’s more. It’s like a mystery. And”—heat tickles my cheeks—“he really is cute.”

  I scrunch down in my seat and hear the crackle of Mom’s note in my pocket. I clamp my teeth together so I won’t say, “I love you”, and pull out the note and stick it in my lunch bag with my crumpled napkin and empty sandwich bag. Maybe if I throw it away I’ll throw away the thought, too.

  “If he comes to the party, I can talk to him there. Maybe then I can let it all go.”

  “Okay, I’ll invite him to the party,” Abbie says. “Now who else?”

  We spend the rest of lunch figuring out the list of boys and other details of the party. Hannah helps us decide what music we want the DJ to play. My mind keeps going back to Jamie. Now that I’ve got a good chance of talking to him I’m wondering if I’ll have enough nerve to actually do it.

  Chapter 34

  It’s the middle of a blazing hot, sunny day in late February, but inside the Stardust Skate Center it’s like a cool, starry night. One with disco lights flashing and music blaring.

  “Some of the girls said having a roller skating party was for babies,” Abbie says.

  It’s Abbie’s birthday. She should have whatever kind of party makes her happy. Why do people have to be so mean?

  “Who said that?” I ask.

  Abbie points to Meghan and Ashley. The two of them are skating with Dan, the tall, cute, and very popular center for the basketball team. They’re on either side of him, holding onto his arms, laughing.

  Meghan leans into Dan, grabbing his shoulder with her free hand like she’s going to fall. Dan lets go of Ashley and grabs Meghan around the waist, steadying her. Ashley glares at Meghan, her face pinched with anger. Next thing you know, she’s on the floor, her legs splayed out in front of her. I’m not sure if she fell on purpose or not, but Dan is right there helping her up.

  “I guess they’re right ‘cause they’re sure acting like babies,” I say.

  Abbie bursts out laughing. “You are so right!”

  I look around. The party started about 30 minutes ago and Jamie hasn’t showed up yet. I don’t know if I’m glad or not. I’ve been rehearsing what I’ll say to him. It comes out different every time. And it always sounds stupid, no matter how I say it.

  “He’ll come. Don’t worry,” Abbie says. “He said he would.”

  The music stops and the DJ announces that he’s going to play a game called Red Light, Green Light.

  “Do you know what that is?” I ask Abbie.

  “It’s like Simon Says. When he says ‘Green Light Go’, you can skate. If he just says ‘Go’ and you move, you have to start back at the beginning.”

  “That I can do.” I grab Abbie’s hand and pull her onto the floor where we join up with Hannah.

  In the middle of the game, I spot Jamie standing behind the half wall looking up at the disco ball. Since I’m watching Jamie and not where I’m going, I skate right into Abbie. She starts waving her arms, trying to get her balance. I try to help, but instead I end up pushing her into Meghan. The three of us fall down in a heap. The other skaters go around us while we untangle ourselves. Finally the DJ calls, “Red Light Stop.”

  I help Meghan up and tap, tap, tap her on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry,” I say. “I got distracted and—”

  She pushes my hand away. “You always get distracted, Izzy. Even on the ball field.”

  Abbie hooks her arm through mine and grabs Meghan’s hand. “Hey you two, the DJ just said, ‘Green Light Go’. Come on. I want to win.”

  Meghan drops Abbie’s hand. “I’m going to skate with Ashley. She hardly ever falls.”

  “Except when Dan’s around,” I say to her disappearing back.

  Abbie laughs so hard I’m afraid she might fall without any help from me. Hannah, who’s been hovering around waiting for us, asks, “What’s so funny?”

  “You had to be there,” Abbie says.

  I bite back a grunt, bend over, touch the ground. Stand and tap, tap, tap Abbie on the shoulder. “I think I’ll sit the rest of this game out.”

  Abbie tilts her head. “Hey, it was no big deal. Everyone falls down once in a while.”

  “It’s not that. Meghan doesn’t bother me. She might be a great ballplayer, but she’s such a drama queen. I’m not into her drama.”

  “Then why?”

  “I think I saw Jamie. That’s why I got distracted.”

  The game ends, and the DJ announces the start of another one.

  “You two skate this one,” I say. “I expect you to win.”

  “Okay. We’ll catch up with you later when we have pizza and cake.” Abbie and Hannah start to skate away. Abbie stops and turns toward me. “Good luck with your talk.”

  I give her a thumbs up, like I know it will go well. Truth is I’m scared. I still don’t know how to say what I need to say to Jamie. Will he think I’m weird? Will he get mad?

  Sighing, I start skating toward the closest exit. That’s where I see Jamie. Standing behind the wall.

  And he’s not looking at the disco ball anymore. He’s staring straight at me.

  Chapter 35

  I zigzag my way through the skaters, making sure to pay attention and not knock anyone down. By the time I get to the exit, Jamie’s not there anymore. I spot him standing by a pinball machine, digging in his pocket for some change.

  Now’s my chance to talk to him. He’s standing there. All by himself.

  But I can’t get my legs to move.

  I watch as he drops the coins in the slot and starts to play.

  Now what do I do? What if I’m making a big deal out of nothing? What if he stole those posters because he’s just a thief? What if all those bruises are just because he’s clumsy? What if I’m just being stupid?

  I don’t want to do this. But if I don’t, I’ll keep thinking about the stolen posters and the way he
acted at the dinner. I want to get to the bottom of it so I can think of Jamie as being cute, not as being a jerk.

  I make my way over to him. My skates don’t make any sound on the carpet so he doesn’t hear me coming. When I poke, poke, poke him on the shoulder he jumps and turns.

  “Jeez! Did you have to sneak up on me like that?” he asks when he sees it’s me.

  “I didn’t sneak up,” I say. “Your back was turned. How else was I supposed to get your attention?”

  “How about ‘Hey, Jamie’?”

  I shrug. And—because I have even less control of my tics when I’m nervous—I reach out to touch his shoulder.

  Jamie narrows his eyes. I pull my hand back. Hold it against my mouth and swallow the grunt that’s begging to come out.

  “What exactly is your problem, anyway?” he asks.

  “Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  I can’t believe I just said that. I bite my lower lip. Wait for him to yell at me. Tell me I’m weird.

  He drops his eyes. Looks away.

  I hug my waist with my arms, grab onto my shirt with my hands and hold on tight. Maybe that will keep them from reaching out to touch him. Or worse, from touching the ground and turning it into a cartwheel! Not only would that look totally stupid but it would be pretty darn hard to do in skates.

  After what seems like forever, he looks back at me. He takes a deep breath and blows it out. Shakes his head, looks down. Eyes focused on the floor, he asks, “You saw me take those posters, didn’t you?”

  I’m so surprised that anything I might have said gets stuck in my throat.

  He lifts his head. “Well, did you or didn’t you?”

  “Just the one from Mrs. Morgan’s class,” I finally get out. “But I figured it was you who took the others.”

  Jamie folds his arms in front of him, narrows his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell on me?”

  I shrug.

  “That’s not an answer.”

  “I didn’t think it was that big a deal.”

  Jamie’s eyes widen. “You sure act like it was.”

  Now I’m surprised. “How do you mean?”

  “Why are you always staring at me in class and when I run by the softball field?”

  He noticed me staring at softball practice! Embarrassed, I roll my skates back and forth on the rug, my lips clamped shut. I’m not sure what to say. Tell him that I can’t let anything go until I have an answer? I don’t think so. Then he’d want to know why. I don’t want to tell him. I don’t want him to think of me as that crazy girl with Tourette’s.

  I want to walk away. But if I leave, I’m just going to have to face him later. The questions won’t go away until I have answers.

  “So how’d you get that bruise on your side? And the black eye?” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them.

  Jamie’s face turns a bright red. “That’s none of your business.” He starts to walk away.

  “Wait!” I call after him. But he keeps walking. I skate up to him, grab his arm. “Stop. Please. Can we just talk?”

  He looks down at my hand, which is still holding onto him. I pull it away. Fist my hands at my side.

  “So talk,” he says.

  I look around. We’re standing close to the rink with its flashing lights and loud music. And people. Lots of people going round and round.

  “Not here,” I say. “There are benches outside. How about there?”

  He doesn’t answer. Just turns and heads for the door.

  I follow him, still not at all sure what I’m going to say.

  Chapter 36

  We find a bench that’s sitting in the shadow of the building, out of the hot sun. I sit on one end. Jamie sits on the other—and looks everywhere but at me. I roll my feet back and forth on the hard pavement. I like the sound it makes. Besides, the noise helps fill the silence.

  I suppose I should start talking, since it was my idea to come out here. But I have no idea what to say or where to begin.

  Uh. Oh.

  I swallow hard, but I can’t stop it. A grunt tickles deep in my throat and explodes out of my mouth.

  Jamie jerks his head toward me. “What are you so mad about?”

  “I’m not mad!” Grunt. Tap, tap, tap.

  “Yeah. Right. You just make those weird sounds all the time for nothing.”

  Oh my god. Is that what he thinks? That I’m angry all the time?

  I hold my body tight and rock back and forth. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as Jamie stares at me, looks away, turns back, and stares again. My stomach tightens, and I feel like I’m going to throw up.

  After a very long minute he stands. “If you’re not going to talk, I’m leaving.” He starts to walk away.

  “Wait!”

  Jamie stops. Turns toward me, hands on hips. “Now what?”

  “I—I have something to tell you.” Better he knows about the Tourette’s then think I’m some kind of weird, angry person. I bend down and touch the ground. This time I don’t hide it by messing with my laces. When I sit back up, I let out the grunt that’s built up. I don’t try and stop that either.

  Jamie stands there, eyes narrowed, watching me.

  I touch the ground. Tap, tap, tap on the bench. “It gets worse when I’m nervous.” Grunt. I fight back tears. This is so hard.

  “What gets worse? And what are you doing?”

  “Please sit down.” Grunt. “It’s not easy to have this conversation with you standing over me like that.”

  Jamie sits on the bench, leaning as far away from me as he can.

  I sigh. “I don’t bite or anything.” Tap. Tap. Tap.

  He shrugs but sits up just a little bit straighter. He folds his arms in front of him. “I’m listening,” he says.

  I turn away from him and face forward. I don’t want to look at him while I tell him my secret. I’m afraid of what I’ll see.

  Holding my hands tight in my lap, I take a breath and start talking. “I have a neurological disorder. It’s called Tourette Syndrome. The noises and touching and stuff—they’re all a part of it. I can’t stop them.” Grunt. “My brain misfires sometimes. Makes me feel like I have to do those things. If I don’t, well, it’s like telling yourself not to breathe. You can put it off for so long, but eventually you can’t not breathe.”

  I peek over at Jamie. He’s sitting up now, and he’s unfolded his arms. I take that as a good sign.

  “So when I saw you steal the poster I thought that maybe, like me, there was a reason. Like you couldn’t help yourself. Then I saw the bruise on your side and later you came to school with a black eye, and you acted so strange at the restaurant the other night, and I couldn’t get all those things out of my mind, and I just had to ask you what’s going on because—I just had to.”

  I’m out of breath and words by now. I sit there, staring ahead, waiting to see what Jamie will do. Does he think I’m weird? Will he walk away? I think I might explode if he doesn’t say something soon.

  But he just sits there, not moving or saying anything.

  I can’t help myself. I lean over and jab, jab, jab at his shoulder. He watches me, doesn’t pull away. I start rocking back and forth again. Waiting him out. Hoping he understands.

  “Okay,” he finally says, “I get that you can’t help the touching and grunting and all. But why do you have to know about the other stuff? I mean what’s it to you if I have a black eye?”

  I keep on rocking. This is so hard! People can see the tics. But they don’t know what’s going on in my head. Sometimes I don’t even know.

  “Izzy.” That’s the first time Jamie has called me by my name. He takes a deep breath. Looks up to the sky. “You—you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  Tears form in my eyes. I don’t want to cry, but I can’t stop them from falling. I wipe them away with my sleeve, but they keep coming.

  We sit there for a while, me sniffing back tears, Jamie looking out at the parking lot.
Anywhere but at me.

  “I think I know a little of what you’re going through,” he says at last. “I see the way people stare at my sister. It’s hard on her, too.”

  “Oh. Poor Katie.” I find a tissue in my pocket. Wipe my eyes and nose. “She seems so sweet.”

  “She is.” He turns to me. “So like I said, you don’t have to tell me anything more.”

  “No. I want to.” I swipe at my eyes again. Chew on my lip. Decide to just say it. “I have OCD, too.”

  Jamie tilts his head, squishes his eyebrows together. “OCD? What’s that?”

  “It’s short for Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.”

  Jamie looks totally confused. “I thought you said you had—what was it?”

  “Tourette Syndrome. And you can have both.”

  He doesn’t say anything, so I keep talking.

  “OCD is a kind of like a brain tic. Sometimes a thought sticks in my head, and I can’t get it out.”

  Jamie nods. “Okay. It kind of makes sense now. I wish you’d have said something sooner.”

  I stare down at the ground, stop myself from touching it. “It’s not something I like to talk about.”

  “Yeah. I get that.”

  “You do?” I stare at him. Does he really mean it? “So, you don’t think I’m weird or anything?”

  Jamie sighs. “No. I don’t think you’re weird. I know things aren’t always the way they look.” He bites his lip. Nods like he’s made up his mind. “Okay. I’ll tell you about the posters and stuff, but you’ve got to promise me something first.”

  “What kind of promise?”

  “That you’ll keep everything I tell you to yourself. No sharing with best friends or anything.”

  That’s more than fine with me. I put out my hand. “Deal.”

  We shake on it. Jamie sits there, not saying anything. I know exactly what he’s going through. I squeeze my body tight to keep it still, and wait until he finds the words he is looking for.