Do-Over

by Christine Hurley Deriso

  “Duh! So I could borrow it!”

  She laughed heartily; then Jade and Jen joined in. My blood was boiling as Carter sank deeper into her chair.

  “Carter,” Darcy explained, “we all know you’re wearing more makeup to try to get Brian to notice you”—Carter gasped—“which is fine, except number one, use the right colors for your ghost-white complexion, and number two, you know Brian likes Jade.”

  Now Carter’s tears spilled onto her cheeks. “You promised not to tell, Darcy!” she whispered.

  “Everybody already knows you like Brian,” Jade purred. “It’s, like, so obvious. I don’t even care, because he’s so not my type. Still, that doesn’t mean you’ll make him like you by walking around looking like a peppermint stick.”

  Enough!

  “Shut up!” I sputtered. “How can you call yourself Carter’s friends when you’re being so mean to her? Maybe you’re all just jealous of her skin.”

  Dead silence. Even Carter was sliding away.

  Darcy’s look chilled me. “Fine, Sludge,” she said in a clipped tone. “You’re right. We’re terrible friends. So why are you hanging with us? There’s your boyfriend, Martin. There are plenty of seats around him.”

  I rolled my eyes and rubbed my locket.

  “Do-over.”

  I had no choice. Did I?

  Ten-second rewind. “Still, that doesn’t mean you can make him like you by walking around looking like a peppermint stick,” Jade said to Carter.

  I cleared my throat loudly. “Hey, you guys!” I said cheerfully. “We’re talking about my makeover, remember? I’ve never used makeup before. Help me with my colors.”

  Mission accomplished. Carter still looked miserable, but now all eyes were on me.

  Darcy fell into stride. “Well,” she said knowingly, “you’re a fall. You know…your season.” She sized me up with expert eyes. “Light brown hair, green eyes…think pink tones.”

  So now she likes me in pink? I groaned to myself.

  Darcy grabbed Carter’s makeup bag and browsed through it. She pulled out some blush and began dusting it on my cheeks. Sitting back to survey her work, she frowned. “You need to get some sun, Elsa,” she said.

  “Hel-lo,” I said playfully. “Ya ever hear of skin cancer?”

  Darcy pursed her lips. “Uh, we’re, like, teenagers,” she said, and the others nodded. Darcy continued putting more stuff on my face. “Elsa, your hair is ultra-stringy. It’s like yarn or something,” she said, fussing over me like I was a doll. “No offense. But you’re obviously using some brand X shampoo. You gotta use the expensive stuff. And what’s with the tacky necklace?”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Oh…just a family heirloom.” I slipped the locket under my blouse and made a mental note to keep it under my shirt from then on.

  “And your nails!” Jade piped in. “Have you ever heard of a nail file?”

  “I’ve got one in my makeup bag,” Carter volunteered, cheerful now that she was off the hot seat.

  “And the eyebrows!” Jen said. The clique nodded, enjoying their expertise as they tackled Project Elsa. “It looks like two caterpillars are crawling across your forehead,” Jen said. “No offense.”

  “We have got to get Elsa to a cosmetic counter…fast,” Darcy said. “Hmmmm…I’ll be in L.A. with my dad this weekend. But next Saturday, the mall. Bring your dad’s credit card,” she told me. “And in the meantime…don’t wear green. It clashes with your eyes.”

  I know what you’re thinking. What’s in it for me, to surrender myself to Darcy and her clique and let them mold me to their taste? Was that Mom’s voice in my head that I heard tsk-tsking?

  Lighten up, I said to the voice. It’s just makeup. And the girls are being nice to me…kinda. It was fun feeling popular.

  Forgoing the color green seemed like a small price to pay.

  THIRTEEN

  LaniAck: Where R U?

  I logged on to my computer as soon as I got home from school. Lani was waiting, anxious to know all the latest news from Horror Springs Middle School.

  I longed to tell her about the past couple of days. My do-over power was so overwhelming, I could hardly believe it. It would feel so great to tell my best friend. But I couldn’t.

  DolfinGrl: I’m rite here.

  My screen name wasn’t particularly inventive…just a nod to my love of dolphins. Mom used to cringe when she saw my IM spelling. “Chill, Mom,” I’d say. “I’m talking to Lani, not writing my college thesis.”

  LaniAck: Wassup?

  DolfinGrl: Just chillin. How are the Slice Girls?

  LaniAck: 1 of them broke a nail today and called 911.

  DolfinGrl: Fashion emergency! Hey, U won’t believe this: Some girls gave me makeup tips at lunch 2day. They’re taking me to the mall next weekend to help me buy supplies.

  LaniAck: Get out! R U turning into a Slice Girl?

  DolfinGrl: Not in this lifetime. But they’re being nice to me…kinda. Your advice is working.

  LaniAck: So you dumped the nerd?

  DolfinGrl: Martin’s not a nerd. He’s nice and smart and funny.

  LaniAck: You’ve just defined the wordnerd, nerd. Now, quit being so nerdy.

  DolfinGrl: I’m trying!

  I paused.

  DolfinGrl: Lani, I have major news to tell you.

  I couldn’t keep this a secret.

  Suddenly, LaniAck was logged off her computer. My phone rang.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “What’s your major news?” Lani sounded breathless.

  “I’d rather tell you in person, Lani. It’s pretty…unbelievable.”

  Lani squealed so loudly, I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “Tell me now!” she shrieked.

  I took a deep breath.

  The words tumbled out. “My mom came to see me a couple of nights ago…she was right there on my bed…and she said that for the next month, whenever something happens that I don’t like, I can say ‘Do-over’ and the whole world rewinds ten seconds so I can do it over again.”

  Silence.

  Total silence.

  Finally, Lani spoke. “I’m getting my mom,” she said slowly.

  “Do-over!”

  Ten-second rewind. “Tell me now!” she shrieked.

  Whew. That was close. No matter how much I was dying to tell this secret, I had to keep my mouth shut. What good would it do me to have Lani…and her mother, of all people…thinking I was nuts?

  “ELSA!” Lani screeched, making me jump as I held the phone. “What is your major news?”

  Hmmm…what could I tell her? Oh, right…. “I’m entering an essay contest at school.”

  Lani groaned. “That’s major?” she said.

  Sorry, Lani. It’s the best I can come up with on a moment’s notice. “The winner gets a laptop,” I said.

  Lani groaned. My major news would have to suffice. “So what’s the topic?” she finally asked.

  “‘What I’ve Learned in Seventh Grade.’ Pretty lame, huh?”

  “Totally. What are you going to write about? The secret ingredients in mystery meat?”

  I smiled. “I dunno. My language arts teacher wants us to make it fresh and original. I don’t have much homework. Maybe I’ll start working on it today.”

  “Let me read it when you’re through,” Lani said. “And next time you have major news to share, give me plenty of notice so I can alert the media.”

  I laughed. “Gotta go, Lani,” I said. “Someone’s ringing our doorbell. I’ll call you soon.”

  I hung up the phone and went to the door.

  It was Martin.

  “Martin…”

  “I didn’t finish planting your grandmother’s pansies yesterday. I told her I’d be back this afternoon. Snowball was clawing at the front door, so…here she is.”

  Grandma’s cat tumbled from his arms and scampered down the hall.

  “Martin, is that you?” Grandma called, coming to the door.

  “
Hi, Mrs. Jameson,” he said. “I was just letting Snowball in the house before I got started in the backyard.”

  “Thanks, dear. Stop in when you want a cold drink and help yourself. You know the drill.”

  “Okay,” he responded. “But I’ll only be here a few minutes. I have a baseball game later.”

  “Yes, baseball!” Grandma said. “How’s your team doing?”

  “Not bad,” Martin said. “My contribution is to stay off the field. But I’ve got a great view from the dugout.”

  “Oh, you’re being silly,” Grandma said, putting her hand on his cheek. “I’m sure you’re a very valuable member of the team.”

  Martin lowered his head, smiling at the floor. “Whatever you say.”

  “Have you met my granddaughter, Elsa?” Grandma said.

  “We’ve met,” I said. “We have all the same classes.”

  “Oh, wonderful! Martin’s such a bright young man. You’ll have lots in common.”

  Martin shot me a knowing glance.

  “I’ll be doing laundry,” Grandma said. “Holler if you need anything.”

  She walked off, leaving me face to face with Martin.

  “A lot in common,” Martin said dryly.

  “Is that a bad thing?” I asked.

  “It’s a bogus thing,” he responded. “We have nothing in common.”

  “That’s not true. We both like books and writing.”

  “I’m not sure what you like,” Martin said, “but whatever it is, I’m sure you have to run the list past Darcy for permission to like it.”

  I sighed and rubbed a sweaty palm against the doorknob.

  “I’m just trying to make friends and fit in,” I murmured.

  Martin shook his head slowly. “It’s one thing to fit in, Elsa. It’s another to give in.”

  I fiddled with the knob. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re not like them,” Martin said. “At least I think you’re not. Or I thought you weren’t.”

  My face flushed. “Why is it so terrible to want some friends? And why can’t you give Darcy and her friends a chance? Do you even know them?”

  Martin rolled his eyes. “What’s to know?” he said. “They’re total snobs whose idea of intellectual stimulation is to color-coordinate their shoes with their nail polish.”

  I studied him silently for a moment. “Maybe you’re the snob,” I finally said. “And by the way, why are you on the baseball team if you hate it so much?”

  Martin narrowed his eyes and stared at his feet. “My mom makes me.”

  “Because she wants you to fit in, maybe?” I asked defensively.

  “Glad you’ve got it all figured out,” he said, shooting me an icy glare. “I’m gonna go hang out with some weeds. Bye, Elsa. Enjoy your new friends.”

  ROUGH DRAFT #1

  What I’ve Learned in Seventh Grade

  By Elsa Alden

  When my mom was still alive, she and my dad went on a couple of trips to foreign countries as volunteers for an organization dedicated to ridding the world of land mines. They told me about kids who had lost arms and legs because they made the mistake of playing tag in a field that had explosives buried from some stupid, long-forgotten war. One wrong move and blam! The kids were either killed or marred for life. The kids who managed to escape the land mines soon caught on that although the fields looked safe, they really weren’t. They started tiptoeing through their lives. Eventually, they stopped going out into the fields altogether.

  I don’t mean to make light of what happened to them, but sometimes I feel like middle school is filled with hidden land mines. In elementary school, I was like the carefree little kids, going wherever I wanted, acting however I wanted. But once I started middle school, I stepped on a couple of land mines…wearing pants to school that were just a tad too short, or piping up in science class before I learned that it wasn’t cool…and I started tiptoeing. That’s what I’m doing now, especially since I’m in a brand-new school and am really clueless about where the explosives are buried.

  It’s not so bad watching every step I take. A little tiring, yes, and I’d rather go skipping through the daisies like I used to, or even tromping on them if I feel like it. But I can’t do that anymore. I’m learning if you make a few key friends, you get a better feel for where the explosives are buried, and you’re less likely to blow yourself up. I think that’s the trick. Stay quiet, lie low and find some friends who can tip you off, or at least soften the blow if you misstep. If the friends seem a little mean and snobby at first, well, maybe it’s because they learned the rules of the game earlier than the other kids, and they’ve gotten smarter at playing it. I’m trying to learn to play the game their way.

  I reread what I’d written, then frowned and hit the Delete key. It didn’t feel right. Nothing felt right these days.

  “Your mom and I used to love to sit outside, watching the stars.”

  As Dad and I sat on Grandma’s front porch swing that evening, he squeezed me tightly to his side with one arm and pointed to the sky with the other. “We sat on this very swing when we were dating,” he said. “You see, I was too cheap to take Mom out.”

  I giggled. “So it’s not that the stars were romantic…it’s just that they were free,” I said.

  “Hey, don’t knock it.”

  We sat silently for a few minutes, looking up at the sky and listening to the lazy creak of the swing as it slowly moved back and forth.

  “So, Elsa,” Dad finally said, his eyes on the stars, “is your new principal still ready to enroll you at Harvard?”

  I smiled. “After today, he may think kindergarten is a better fit.”

  The swing creaked. “Really, honey. How’s it going?” Dad asked. “Do you like your new school?”

  I was silent for a minute, thinking about my answer. “It’s okay,” I finally said.

  “Really?”

  I shrugged. “Really. My language arts teacher is pretty cool. The lunch food is tolerable, in a disgusting sort of way. And since you threatened to make me skip a grade, I spent the day taking power naps in class.”

  I laughed at Dad’s worried expression. “Don’t worry,” I assured him. “Your obnoxious ‘My kid is an honor student’ bumper sticker is secure.”

  Dad nodded. “It is pretty obnoxious. I was thinking about getting a new one to put over it that says, ‘My honor student’s dad likes to brag.’”

  Creak. Creak. I loved the sound of Grandma’s swing.

  “How about friends?” Dad asked.

  I shrugged again, gazing down at my hands.

  Dad held his foot firmly on the porch, stopping the swing. “Elsa?” he said, looking concerned. “You can talk to me, honey. Have you made new friends? Are you lonely?”

  Suddenly, my eyes brimmed with tears. “I think I’ll be lonely for the rest of my life without Mom,” I said softly. “And I’m not sure anymore what it means to be a friend. If you’re nice enough to snotty girls so that at least they say mean things to your face rather than behind your back, is that friendship?”

  I glanced at Dad and was devastated to see that his own eyes were glistening with tears. Oh no. I could bear just about anything but making Dad sad. Making Dad sadder.

  I quickly rubbed my locket. “Do-over!”

  Ten-second rewind. “You can talk to me, honey,” Dad said. “Have you made new friends? Are you lonely?”

  I gave him a warm smile. “I’m fine, Dad. Everything’s going great. Really. I’m going to the mall next weekend with some girls. They’re gonna help me buy some makeup.” Dad looked a little wary. “That is okay, isn’t it?” I asked him.

  He shrugged. “Sure. You seem a little young for makeup to me, but what do I know? I mean, it’s not like I’m an honor student at Harbin Springs Middle School.”

  I smiled, and he smiled back.

  “The trip to the mall sounds like fun,” he said. “I’ll even give you a lift. I’m anxious to meet your new friends.”

&n
bsp; I begged my mom for another visit when I got in bed that night.

  “Can you come back for just a little while?” I whispered, gazing up at the plastic stars on my ceiling, which glowed brightly now that the room was dark.

  Nothing.

  “Where are you, Mom? Are you blending in?”

  Silence.

  “I need you,” I groused, still whispering to the ceiling. “How do I know if I’m using my do-overs right unless you give me some feedback?”

  Still nothing.

  “You told me to use them wisely, Mom,” I said, still gazing at my stars. “So how am I doing? I think I’m finally figuring out the rules of this middle school…and that’s a good thing, right?”

  Silence.

  Frustrated, I rolled onto my side and closed my eyes. Maybe my mom would give me some advice in a dream. As I drifted to sleep, I remembered her words: “Use your do-overs wisely. The only person you can change is yourself. Be true to yourself, Elsa. That’s all I ask.”

  Be true to yourself, Elsa.

  FOURTEEN

  Do-Over Day Five

  My first do-over the next week happened before the morning bell had rung. I was at my locker grabbing my language arts book when Martin came walking down the hall. As usual, his nose was in a book. Suddenly, he walked straight into an open locker door, knocking himself off balance and falling on his back. All the kids in the hall laughed. He blushed as he felt around for his glasses, put them back on and got up.

  I rubbed my locket.

  “Do-over.”

  Ten-second rewind. As Martin started walking down the hall toward the open locker door, I ran over and slammed it shut…much to the surprise of the guy who was rifling through it for his books.

  “OW!” the guy screamed, yanking his thumb from the slammed locker. “You just shut the locker on my thumb, moron! What were you thinking?”

  Uh-oh. The law of unintended consequences.

  “My bad,” I muttered, rubbing my locket. “Do-over.”

  Ten-second rewind. As Martin started walking down the hall toward the open locker door, I ran toward him, positioning myself between him and the locker. With his nose still buried in his book, this time he ran into me rather than the locker door, and knocked me to the floor.