Crushes, Codas, and Corsages #4

by Michelle Schusterman

  Mom snorted. “Poor Chad, nothing. He’s been dating that girl since February! It’s about time we all got to know her.”

  “And show her embarrassing videos,” I agreed. “That’ll be fun. I like Amy.”

  “Me too,” Mom agreed. She paused, eyeing me over her mug. “So will we be inviting Owen over for a family dinner anytime soon?”

  I choked on my cereal. “What? Why? I mean sure, I don’t . . .” My face got all hot again. “That’s different! You and Dad have met Owen tons of times. And he’s not my . . . we’re not . . .”

  Mom gave me a look that was half-sympathetic, half-teasing. “You’re not . . . ?”

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I said, fiddling with my spoon. “Although, um . . . I do like him.” Saying it out loud again made me smile, despite my embarrassment. I glanced up to see Mom wearing a very phony expression of surprise.

  “That is brand-new information!” she exclaimed, eyes wide. “I had no idea! I can’t—”

  “Okay, okay!” I said, giggling. “How did you know?”

  Mom laughed. “Oh jeez, Holly, let’s see. Well, it certainly wasn’t that you’ve been going over to his house every week since September. And it wasn’t that time we made fortune cookies so you could slip that little note about the spring dance into one just for him, or the fact that you went to most of his baseball games even though you said it’s the most boring game on earth, or that you spent half our vacation at the lake talking about the art contest he’d won, or framed that lovely picture he—”

  She stopped, batting away the napkin I’d thrown at her. “Fine,” I said, still smiling. “But I really haven’t had a crush on him the whole year. He’s my friend, and . . .” I paused, staring at my cereal. “I guess that’s why I’m kind of nervous about telling him.”

  Standing, Mom headed over to the coffee pot. “So you are going to tell him?”

  “I think so, yeah.”

  She smiled, pouring another cup. “Good.”

  I waited for her to say something else. “That’s it? No advice? What if everything changes and gets all weird? What if—”

  Mom waved her hand dismissively. “Holly, let me ask you this,” she said, sitting down again. “Let’s say you’d gone with Owen to that dance right before Christmas. Would it have been the same as last night?”

  I started to say yes, then stopped. Because I remembered the winter dance, how I’d still had a crush on Aaron. Owen and I definitely would’ve had fun together, but we wouldn’t have walked around holding hands or anything. We didn’t like each other then. The dance yesterday, on the other hand . . .

  “See what I mean?” Mom said. “You’re worried about things changing, but they’ve already changed without you even noticing. You’d be surprised how often that happens,” she added, glancing at the clock. “Doesn’t Chad’s shift start at noon? That boy really needs to learn how to set an alarm.”

  While Mom rinsed out her coffee mug, I thought about what she’d said. It was funny—I really couldn’t figure out exactly when I’d started liking Owen. But in a weird way, that made the idea of telling him seem a little easier. I wouldn’t be changing our friendship, because it had been changing for a while.

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said. She ruffled my hair as she headed to the door.

  “Anytime.”

  Ridgewood’s gym seemed brighter than normal, especially compared to Millican’s gym at the dance last night. Mom and Dad helped me carry the display board and my notes inside, where we found a long line behind a booth with a sign that said REGISTRATION. Standing on my toes, I peered around the gym. Long rows of tables stretched all the way to the other wall, most of which were already covered in display boards.

  I’d known from the beginning that the science fair was open to all the middle schools in the district, but somehow I hadn’t thought about just how many projects that would mean. The gym was swarming with kids, teachers, and parents. Suddenly, I felt a little silly for being so sure Owen and I would win. Alien Park was awesome, but there were bound to be a lot of really good projects here.

  When we reached the booth, a woman with a long dark braid and glasses smiled up at us. “Name and school?”

  “Holly Mead, Millican,” I replied, watching as she ran her finger down a list.

  “Mead, Mead . . .” She stopped, grabbing a pencil and Post-It note. “Here we are! Auxiliary gym, row E, table seven.” She scribbled it down, then glanced back at her list. “Your partner’s already there,” she added cheerfully, handing me the note. “Sounds like you guys have a pretty cool project. Good luck!”

  I grinned. “Thanks!” Feeling slightly more confident, I followed my parents across the hall. The smaller gym felt even more crowded. I craned my neck around, trying to get a good look at as many projects as possible as we headed down row E. Most just looked okay, although I thought I saw an actual robot arm on one table, which was pretty awesome.

  “Holly, over here!”

  Owen’s little stepsister, Megan, waved frantically from where she sat perched on table seven. Mrs. Grady had her hand on Megan’s back, watching as her husband Steve adjusted a massive television on a stand next to the table. Owen was connecting cables from the television to a laptop on the table. He was wearing jeans and a Cyborgs versus Ninjas T-shirt, which made laughter bubble up in my throat for some reason.

  When he looked up and smiled at me, I felt a mini explosion of happiness and nervousness in the pit of my stomach.

  “Hi, Holly!”

  “Hi!” I said, and I probably would’ve stood there grinning at him for the rest of the afternoon if Megan hadn’t tugged my sleeve.

  “That’s for the cartoon!” she exclaimed, pointing at the television.

  “It’s enormous,” I said. “Where did you guys get it, anyway?”

  “It’s from the faculty room,” Owen told me. “I was just going to use the laptop, but the teacher helping us said we could borrow it. I figured it’ll look more impressive, right?”

  “For sure.” I took the display board from Dad, who went over to help Steve with the television. Megan scooted over as I set the board up on the table.

  “Did you know Owen made the cartoon?” she asked, eyes wide and serious.

  I grinned. “Yup.”

  “He can make cartoons, Holly,” she said reverently. “He is, like . . . the awesomest brother ever.”

  That made me laugh. “I’ll bet,” I said. Owen smiled, his face a little pink.

  We had everything set up and ready almost forty-five minutes before our presentation time. “Why don’t you two go check out the other projects?” Mrs. Grady said. “We’ll stay here and keep an eye on everything.”

  So Owen and I wandered around the gym, stopping to check out some of the cool projects. The robot arm was great, and the table right behind ours had a tub filled with homemade biodegradable plastic goo that was pretty neat. When we walked into the main gym, I spotted Julia in the registration line with her dad.

  “Hey!” She waved us over. “Did you guys do your presentation already?”

  “Not till two,” I said. “When’s your time?”

  “Two thirty, I think.” Julia set her display board down. “Natasha’s was so early. She texted before I even woke up.”

  I laughed. “Is she still here?”

  “No, I think she went home to take a nap,” Julia replied. “I told her I’d let her know when they pick the finalists at four o’clock, just in case she has to come back.” She grinned at us. “You guys are so going to be finalists.”

  “How many do they pick?” I asked.

  “I think the packet said twenty,” said Owen. “Then they present one more time, and the judges award first, second, and third places.”

  I made a face. “Yikes. There are, like, hundreds of projects here, and only twenty finalists?”

 
Julia started to say something, but the registration woman waved her forward.

  “We’ll come see your presentation!” I said, and she smiled.

  “Okay, see you!”

  We wandered up and down the rows for another fifteen minutes and found Trevor and Brent setting up Attack of the Carrot Clones. Mrs. Driscoll stopped at their table, sipping a to-go cup of coffee and consulting a sheet of paper.

  “Morning!” she said cheerfully. “Let’s see . . . carrot clones is at three o’clock, right?”

  “Yep,” said Trevor, unfolding their display board.

  “Excellent.” Mrs. Driscoll smiled at me and Owen. “And Alien Park is in about twenty minutes!”

  My stomach fluttered. “Yes. Are you coming to watch?”

  “Of course!”

  That made me feel slightly better. Maybe I could pretend I was just presenting to Mrs. Driscoll again, instead of the judges.

  When we got back to the auxiliary gym, I grabbed Owen’s arm and pointed to a group of adults standing in front of one of the tables. “Those must be the judges,” I said, and we hurried over to watch the presentation. Two girls stood in front of their display board, which said LITTLE SHOP OF HORRORS: CAN CARNIVOROUS PLANTS MAKE A MEAL OUT OF YOU? In the center of the table sat a fake, but very cool-looking, Venus flytrap.

  “This is going to be awesome,” I decided.

  Owen nodded in agreement. “Obviously.”

  It ended up being the best presentation we’d seen all afternoon. The girls talked about their research and experiments with real carnivorous plants that ate bugs, and whether some types of plants might eat small animals—or even people. While one girl explained that the plants typically wouldn’t be able to digest anything besides insects, the other girl casually stuck her arm in the “mouth” of the model Venus flytrap. When it snapped shut, everyone—including me—jumped. A few people even screamed, then started laughing when she pulled her arm out with a grin.

  “I can’t believe I fell for that,” I said, shaking my head.

  Owen snickered. “Me neither.”

  I swatted his arm as we headed back to our table. “Hey, it made you jump, too!”

  “Yeah, but you never jump at stuff like that in scary movies.”

  “Exactly.” I smiled, secretly pleased he’d noticed.

  Back at our table, Megan was watching the Alien Park commercial. “For about the hundredth time,” Mrs. Grady said wearily. Mom beamed at Owen.

  “I can’t believe you made this!” she exclaimed. “Holly told me it was amazing, but still—I’m so impressed!”

  “Thanks,” Owen said, ducking his head. I started checking my flash cards to make sure they were in order, mostly because I was pretty sure our moms had just exchanged “aren’t they adorable” looks. I wondered if they’d noticed the cartoon aliens of me and Owen in the UFO slingshot.

  I saw the judges appear at the end of our row and did a quick count. “Three tables till it’s our turn,” I told Owen. He was hunched over the laptop, setting the commercial to play from the beginning. “That probably gives us about ten minutes.”

  “Okay.”

  We spent a few minutes double-checking everything while our parents walked over to watch the presentations before us. I was going over my notes again, trying to memorize as much as possible so I could make eye contact with the judges. Most of my teachers were always telling everyone to look up during presentations. And I had to admit, watching someone just read off their flash cards could get pretty monotonous.

  Megan tugged Owen’s sleeve. “Can we watch that other cartoon you made?”

  Owen looked distracted. “What other cartoon?” he asked, his eyes still on the screen.

  “You know, the one you made with that girl who’s always calling. With the penguins.”

  I kept my gaze firmly on my flash cards, doing my best to look unconcerned. Even peripherally, I could tell Owen was blinking like crazy.

  “Oh, that,” he said. “Sorry, Megan—the judges are almost here. Maybe later, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Owen straightened, and I saw Coming Soon . . . Alien Park! frozen on the television screen. “She was just talking about Ginny,” he told me. “From the workshop.”

  “I know!” I said. “I remember—the extra project you were doing.”

  “Right.” Owen sounded nervous. “We finished last week, so I played it for Megan. And she’s not always calling. Ginny, I mean. Megan just exaggerates everything. We’ve only talked three times since San Antonio.”

  I adjusted the display board so that it was closer to the edge of the table. “It’s okay!” My voice came out kind of squeaky. “I don’t, um . . . I mean, you had to work on that cartoon. And you’re friends. Right?”

  “Sure, I guess. I just . . .” Owen stared intently down at the table, messy blond bangs falling over his eyes. “I didn’t want you to think I liked her, or anything. Because I—I don’t.”

  “Oh.” Suddenly, I found the table just as fascinating. “Okay.”

  “Holly? Owen?”

  We spun around, equally red-faced, to find the judges waiting expectantly. Behind them, Mrs. Driscoll stood next to my and Owen’s parents. Megan was already staring at the television with a rapt expression.

  One of the judges, a tall man with graying hair, smiled at us. “Are you ready?”

  “Oh! Yes,” I said quickly, moving aside so they could see our display board. Owen hurried over to the laptop, and I cleared my throat. “Our project is called Alien Park,” I began, and for the next few minutes I forced myself to focus on the presentation. The commercial was a huge hit—several people gathered to watch, laughing at the UFO slingshot and applauding when it was over. I described all of our habitats in detail, pointing out the illustrations on the board, and Owen explained a few of the other exhibits. Just like Mrs. Driscoll recommended, we focused more on the scientific stuff, and less on the rides. When we finished, the judges were smiling. The tall judge raised his hand.

  “Can we see the cartoon again?” he asked with a wink, and everyone laughed. Mrs. Driscoll was beaming.

  “Sure!” I grinned as Owen started the commercial from the beginning.

  Once the judges had moved on to the next presentation, Mom pulled me aside for a hug.

  “That was great,” she said, grinning.

  “You really know your stuff,” Dad added. “Future scientist, huh?”

  “Maybe, if being in a symphony doesn’t work out,” I replied, and they laughed.

  After congratulating us, Mrs. Driscoll headed off to see Trevor and Brent’s presentation, and Owen’s family went to have a late lunch. “I think I need coffee,” Dad said, and Mom immediately agreed. After they left, Owen and I walked over to the main gym to see Julia’s presentation.

  “It went well, right?” I asked anxiously. “Did I mix up the Mercury habitat with the one about Europa? Because—”

  “No, you didn’t,” Owen said, laughing. “I think we did really well.”

  We kept going over our presentation point by point and wondering how good of a shot we had at being finalists. Although the prospect of actually winning the science fair wasn’t the only thing that had my stomach buzzing with nervous anticipation.

  After watching Attack of the Carrot Clones, Owen and I found Julia’s table in time to see her presentation with Kim, her lab partner. I tried to pay attention, but in my head I kept replaying the conversation Owen and I were having before the judges showed up. I didn’t want you to think I liked her, he’d said. Thinking about it made my face feel all warm again.

  When Julia finished, the three of us went to the vending machines, then sat outside talking to pass the time until the finalists were announced. It should have been relaxing, but I felt antsy. I wanted to talk to Julia about what was happening with Owen. Or I just wanted to talk to Owen
. But because they were both here, I couldn’t talk to either of them about it at all.

  After what seemed like forever, the list of finalists was posted in the gym. A crowd gathered around, and I hopped up and down, trying to see. Julia squirmed and pushed her way to the front. When she came back, she was beaming.

  “You guys are on the list!” she said excitedly. “I so knew it.”

  “Really?” I cried. Owen’s eyes were wide.

  “Yup!” Julia pulled out her phone. “I’ve gotta text Natasha to tell her she doesn’t have to come back. Oh, Holly,” she added. “Want to spend the night at Natasha’s tonight? She asked earlier and told me to ask you, too, but I flaked out.”

  “Sure!” I said, still bouncing up and down in excitement. “I’ll ask my parents when they get back.”

  “Cool!” Julia gave me a quick hug. “Good luck, I really hope you guys win! You’d better go get ready.”

  Julia headed off to find her parents, and Owen and I hurried to the auxiliary gym. “We might actually get to do that NASA tour!” I said, not caring that I was practically yelling. “How freaking cool would that be?”

  Owen looked just as excited. “Really cool. Actually,” he added as we reached the table, “my mom said that either way, we could take a day trip to Houston over the summer. I don’t think we could do this exact tour with the astronaut trainings and everything, but NASA has other kinds of tours.”

  I fumbled with my flash cards, putting them back in order. “Really? Oh, I hope you get to go even if we don’t win.”

  “She said, um . . .” Brushing the hair out of his eyes, Owen opened the laptop. “She said I could invite you. If you want.”

  I stared at him. “Are you kidding? I’d love to come! Seriously?”

  Owen laughed, his cheeks flushed. “Yeah.”

  Mom and Dad walked in as we were finishing setting up, and Owen’s family arrived a minute later, followed by Mrs. Driscoll.

  “These two are the only seventh-graders from Millican chosen as finalists,” she informed our parents.

  “Really?” I exchanged an awed look with Owen as I stacked my note cards on the table.