PG03. Pink & Green is the New Black

by Lisa Greenwald

“Of course! My dad eats at the sushi places in Manhattan whenever he has a meeting.”

  “Smart man.”

  “So, I heard all about the cafeteria decision.” He raises a hand for a high-five. “Way to go, Lucy. That’s awesome.”

  I look over at Yamir, who is still standing there, leaning on my grandma’s chair and staring at his phone. He should just go wait at the front of the restaurant if he’s so bored here.

  “Thanks so much, Travis. But, um, you should go eat. You’re gonna miss out on all the sushi.” I nudge my head in the direction of his family’s table.

  “Uh. Yeah. You’re right.” He gives an embarrassed smile. “See you in school.”

  He walks away, and Yamir finally looks up. “That kid is weeeeiiiirrrrdddd.”

  “No, he isn’t.” Sunny hits him on the arm. “He’s nice and cool, not a complete doofus like you and your friends.”

  He hits Sunny back. “Right. Okay. Because you really know about being cool.”

  “Okay, children, time to go,” Mrs. Ramal says. “The Desbergs need to enjoy their dinner.”

  “Bye, Luce,” Sunny says. “I’ll text you.”

  Yamir says nothing but does this strange hand-gesture thing where he puts two fingers on his forehead and then points them at me. I’ve never seen it before, and I have no idea what it means.

  “Everything okay here?” Gari comes by again, putting a hand on Dad’s shoulder. It’s a little unusual, because he knows Dad the least well of all of us, but yet he seems to feel this connection to him. Maybe it’s a guy thing.

  “Wonderful as always,” Grandma says. She does this funny thing with sushi where she moves her chopsticks all around while she decides what piece to pick. I’ve never told her that I notice this, because I’m afraid she’ll stop doing it. It’s just so cute.

  “Now we can enjoy our dinner,” Mom says. “No more interruptions. Who’s ready for round two?”

  The platters are mostly empty, and I’m not even sure I’ve had any sushi yet.

  “I am,” I say. Now that the Ramals are gone and I’ve convinced Travis to stay at his table, I can eat in peace.

  We order a second round, and we’re eating more than chatting, which is fine with me, since it means they’re not asking about Yamir and Travis. I’m sure my family has a million questions. Well, at least my mom does. I can see it on her face.

  “Lucy, we’re so proud of you and all the work you’ve done with Earth Club,” Dad says eventually. “You put your all into it and it paid off.”

  “Thanks.” I smile. I’m so appreciative of this, but all I can think about is what just happened with Yamir and Travis.

  We order three rounds of sushi, and by the time we’re done, we’re fuller than we’ve ever been before.

  “Thanks so much for coming,” Gari says. “See you soon, I hope.”

  “We might not need to eat again for three weeks,” Dad mumbles. “So full. So so full.”

  “That’s how we like it.” Gari pats him on the back, and we walk out to the car.

  That may have been the strangest sushi-eating experience of my life. And that includes one time when I’m pretty sure my dad ate a live fish.

  Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:

  Have faith that things will eventually work out.

  My good feelings about Yamir coming to Sushi of Gari—proof that he was thinking about me—pretty much evaporated after he didn’t say good-bye. And he still hasn’t replied to my e-mail.

  Eighth grade keeps getting stranger and stranger. It feels like the time we took the high-speed ferry to Block Island for vacation. The boat wobbled and swayed so much before it even started out.

  Right now I’m in the wobbly phase, and I have a feeling that most of what’s going to happen hasn’t even started yet.

  I’m not sure why I was so confident that I could make this the best semester yet. I was so sure of it, and it didn’t seem that hard to accomplish. But with each day that passes, I seem to get further and further away from the possibility of perfection.

  Take right now, for example. Erica Crane and Zoe Feldman are sitting at our lunch table. Not just stopping by, or kicking a chair as they pass, or knocking over a milk container.

  They’re actually sitting here, eating their lunches.

  Erica has some kind of fancy mozzarella and tomato salad from Antonio’s Italian Deli downtown. And Zoe’s eating a bagel with cream cheese.

  “So, I heard a rumor about you, Lucy, and I think I might need you to help me,” Zoe says between bites.

  “Yeah?” I ask. Zoe doesn’t make me as nervous as Erica does, but she still makes me a little nervous. I’m scared she’ll ask me something really personal in front of everyone at the table, like how many boys I’ve kissed or something. I don’t completely trust her.

  “So, everyone is talking about how Travis likes you,” she starts.

  “They are?” I exclaim. That can’t be good. I mean, it’s flattering and everything. But technically I still have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who I really like—even though he’s a total jerk.

  Erica gives me a look that seems to say I’ve been living on another planet.

  “Yeah. I mean, everyone knows,” Zoe says.

  “Oh. Um. Okay.”

  “Wait until Yami-pajami finds out,” Erica sings, like she’s happy about this news.

  I ignore her. “So, what do you need my help with?” I ask Zoe.

  “I like Gavin.” Zoe sounds confident and proud of herself somehow. “I want to go to the Masquerade with him.”

  “I don’t really know Gavin,” I say.

  “Right. But we’ll get to know him. Together.” Zoe wipes the cream cheese off her hands and puts an arm around me. “And then can you teach me that amazing eyeliner trick that Erica’s told me about.”

  I nod. I don’t understand what is happening here. Zoe needing my help. A boy telling the whole class he likes me.

  “I think I have an idea for you,” I tell Zoe. “Come with me after lunch, and I’ll explain.”

  People always tell me that I worry about grown-up problems: saving the pharmacy, getting the grant, helping the ecospa get off the ground. And that’s true—I do worry about grown-up problems, and I find a way to solve them.

  But now I have real thirteen-year-old problems to worry about. And I have no idea how to handle any of them.

  I get home from school and find two e-mails from Clint’s dad. I don’t know if it’s funny or pathetic, but I get more e-mails from him than I do from boys my own age.

  He’s reminding me to send him the list of the vendors we researched, so he can make sure they’re all approved by the food services director. Easy enough.

  I look through the rest of my e-mails and realize that Claudia hasn’t written me back. Neither has Bean. That’s so unlike them. Maybe they’re busy. But with what? First-semester finals are over.

  I want to ask Mom, Dad, or Grandma if they’ve heard from Claudia or Bean, but if they haven’t they’ll start to worry, and I don’t ever want to be the person who causes others to worry. As a worrier myself, I know the feeling quite well. And it’s not fun!

  Sunny calls me a few minutes later to tell me a Zoe story. “You’re not going to believe what happened in social studies.”

  “What?”

  “We had to act out a moment in history. But we could do whatever we wanted—a skit or a song or whatever. You know what I mean?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, that kid Gavin gets up to do a rap about the Civil War—and then Zoe just runs up and joins in! She didn’t know the words at all; she just made stuff up, and did weird arm movements and stuff.”

  “Like, in front of the class?” I ask. My heart starts pounding. Maybe my way of helping Zoe with Gavin wasn’t so helpful. Maybe it was a disaster. Suddenly I’m regretting everything.

  I stop my Claudia stalking so I can pay attention to what Sunny is saying. But I’ll have to get back to that soon. Claudia hasn’t been on
any of her social media sites lately, and she hasn’t updated her blog. It’s starting to really worry me.

  She’s missing.

  “Hello? Are you hearing me?”

  “Yes, yes, she did weird arm movements and joined the rap!” I need her to get to the end of this story. I’m scared that I’m responsible for something really terrible.

  “And then she hugged Gavin in front of the class when it finished!” Sunny yelps. “How ridiculous is that?”

  “Pretty ridiculous, but also pretty cool.” I sigh with relief. Hugging seems okay. Not too crazy. She didn’t say Gavin ran away screaming or anything. “I guess she doesn’t need my help anymore.”

  Sunny laughs. “Well, the bad news is I don’t think he likes her.”

  “Really?” My heart sinks like a brick in a swimming pool. I don’t know Zoe that well, but I want her to be happy and get what she wants. “What makes you say that?”

  “Just a hunch.”

  I can’t tell Sunny that I actually gave Zoe the idea about joining the rap. At the mall, I overheard Gavin talking about it, and I figured it would be a perfect way for Zoe to interact with him. At least, I thought it was a good idea at first. But now I’m not so sure.

  I did try to help her, though. That should count for something.

  My phone alerts me that I have a new e-mail so I get excited, but it’s just a notice about a sale at the yoga store near the pharmacy.

  Sunny and I are quiet on the phone for a moment, which isn’t unusual for us, but then I hear something in the background.

  Laughter. Girl laughter.

  “Who’s at your house?” I ask, assuming that Annabelle came to do homework, though it would have been weird if Sunny didn’t invite me.

  “You don’t want to know,” Sunny says.

  “Huh?”

  “That girl Sienna is here. Allegedly working on a science project with my brother.”

  I remember that feeling I had at sushi the other night, when my heart was hopping out of my body, but I realize that right now I am experiencing the exact opposite feeling: my heart is shriveling into a tiny raisin, dropping to the floor, and landing beside my feet.

  “Oh,” is all I can manage to say.

  “She’s one of those giggly girls.” Sunny pauses. “It’s driving me crazy.”

  “Sun, I have to go. Talk to you later.” I hang up when the tears start pooling in the corners of my eyes and trickling down my cheeks.

  If Yamir invited Sienna to his house to hang out, two things are very, very clear: first of all, Yamir and I are over. And I don’t even know when it happened. Or why it happened. Or if there’s anything I could have done about it.

  Second of all: my whole plan for a perfect last semester is over too. Disappeared. Evaporated. Hopeless. Yamir doesn’t like me anymore. I’m also failing at helping Zoe.

  I’m pretty sure I’m on a path to have the worst semester ever.

  Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:

  Make sure to get fresh air, even when it’s freezing.

  “Lucy?” I hear someone calling me from far off in the distance. I assume the person is talking to another Lucy, because it’s six o’clock in the evening in the middle of January and I’m sitting on one of the boardwalk benches, all alone.

  I bet they’re calling to Lucy their dog. Lucy is a surprisingly popular name for a dog.

  But then I hear it again. And the voice is getting closer.

  “Lucy,” Evan says. “What are you doing here?”

  I turn around to face him. “What are you doing here?”

  “We run on the beach for cross-country,” he says.

  I should have guessed cross-country. He’s in his Old Mill Middle School red sweat suit.

  “Right.”

  “So now you have to tell me why you’re here, because I know you’re not on cross-country.”

  “Ha! I can’t run at all.” I smile. It feels like the first time I’ve laughed in a really long time.

  “So spill it. I don’t have forever. Coach Tello is going to be ready to go soon.”

  He sits down next to me on the bench and takes off his hat. His hair is sweaty, even though it’s freezing.

  “I needed a quiet place to think,” I tell him. “And I hate Yamir.”

  “You do not hate Yamir,” he says.

  “No, really. I know I’ve said it before. But this time it’s true.”

  He looks at me. “What happened?”

  Evan and Yamir were friends when we were all in middle school, but I don’t think they talk much anymore. Yamir moved on to high school and thinks he’s too cool for everyone.

  It’s been a few days since Sienna was at his house, but everything feels fresh in my mind, like it happened five minutes ago. I tell Evan the whole story, and I don’t leave out any details. I tell him about the sleepover, and our talk, and Sushi of Gari, and how Sienna was at his house.

  “I know that girl,” he says. “She just moved here, right? She lives around the corner from me.”

  “I hate her too.”

  “Lucy Desberg! I have never heard you talk this way in all the years I’ve known you.” He’s trying to make me laugh again, but so far it’s not working.

  When I don’t say anything, Evan says, “Listen, just ignore him. Don’t text or call him or anything. Act like you don’t care at all.”

  “I’ve tried that. But there’s one problem.”

  “What?”

  “I do care. I care a lot.”

  “Evan! Come on! The bus is leaving.” We hear Coach Tello calling from the entrance to the boardwalk.

  “If you ever want to talk to someone that’s not Sunny or the other girls at your table, I’m here.” He gives me a soft tap on the shoulder and runs off toward the bus.

  Evan just may be the person to talk to.

  I can’t really talk to Sunny, because Yamir is her brother. And Annabelle and the rest of the lunch girls think I have this blissful life with an amazing boyfriend and another boy who likes me. I mean, that’s kind of what I want them to think, but it’s not true at all. I can’t burst their bubble. And how would I explain the whole thing? I’d have to admit I’ve pretty much been lying the whole time.

  I spend the next week really working on not caring. It’s probably going to take some practice, but I’m positive I can do it. When I put my mind to something, I know I can make it happen. Plus, it’s a little easier not to care when there’s another boy paying so much attention to you.

  Travis. It turns out he is a pretty determined person too. And he’s determined to get me to like him.

  “Come over Saturday night,” he says as we’re on our way to band.

  “Just me?” I ask. I’ve been talking to Travis more and more in band, telling myself I’m gathering Gavin information for Zoe. It’s helpful to have something to focus on. I haven’t really done much yet on my new Earth Club project, but in the meantime, playing matchmaker is good. And it’s always more fun to help someone else. I’m hoping he’ll tell me that Zoe should come over too.

  “Well, no. Gavin and I are having a party.”

  “Is it your birthday?” I ask. Claudia went to parties all the time in high school, and they always made Grandma so nervous. Usually the parents were away and they ended really late and Claudia came home crying. I hope Travis is talking about a different kind of party.

  “No. We used to have parties all the time in Chicago. So we wanted to try one out here.” He smiles. “Nothing crazy. Just pizza and soda, and we can hang out in our basement.”

  “Oh. Um, okay.”

  He smiles at me. “Don’t sound so unsure. It’s a finished basement, and we have a pool table and foosball and an old-fashioned pinball machine. It’ll be chill.”

  “The pinball machine really makes it for me,” I tease. “Now I’ll definitely come.”

  He hits my arm gently. “Okay. Great.”

  He walks into band before me, and it’s amazing what you can notice about a per
son when they’re a few steps ahead of you: his jeans are a little too short and his sweatshirt is a little too long, but he has a cute walk. A confident walk. There’s something nerdy about Travis. A cool kind of nerdy; he’s not really trying to be anything other than who he is.

  Georgina is the first one at our lunch table, and when I sit down she says, “I heard you were invited to the party.”

  “Hello to you too!” I laugh, but she doesn’t.

  “Are we all invited?” she asks.

  “I think so.” I open my lunch bag to find a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and I immediately feel disappointed. Maybe I should start making my own lunches. “I mean, if you’re not, I’ll just make sure you are. Travis isn’t the kind of person to leave people out.”

  “Cool.” Georgina looks relieved. “Thanks, Lucy.”

  Everyone else comes late to lunch, so for a while it’s just Georgina and me sitting there. And that’s when it occurs to me—my new mission in life, now that the cafeteria project has succeeded.

  Maybe I can’t control everything to have the perfect last semester. But there’s one thing I can do. And part of it is sitting right in front of me.

  Annabelle, Georgina, and Eve are so concerned about having boyfriends. I’ve known the AGE girls, as these inseparable friends call themselves, forever—it’s time for them to be happy. We only have a few more months of eighth grade, and I want those months to be awesome for them. I may not know Zoe that well, but I also want things to work out for her and Gavin.

  I may not be able to control my own love life, but I can help all of them. And when you help other people, you feel better. It’s a fact of life.

  Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:

  Remember that every one of your favorite experiences was a new experience once.

  “What are you wearing to the party?” Sunny asks me over the phone on Saturday. I’ve been online most of the day researching composting programs in schools. It’s actually much more work than I realized. And I bet everyone is going to find it really gross. It’ll definitely be harder to convince people to compost than it was to turn the cafeteria green. “This is kind of a big deal. It’s like our first party party.”