Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Don’t dwell on the negative. Figure out a way to fix it.
I’m still sitting at my kitchen table eating my Honey Nut Cheerios with cut-up banana when my phone buzzes.
It’s a text from Erica:
Need to talk to you. Go to second floor bathroom as soon as you get to school.
A part of me thinks maybe she’s turning a corner and things are looking up. I only slept for an hour last night, but I feel energized. Things are going to work out. I know it. Sometimes positive thinking is enough to turn everything around. I just need to remember that.
Dad picks me up and drives me to school, and I’m grateful for the time with him. Ten minutes here and ten minutes there are worth so much more than a weeklong visit a few times a year.
We don’t even talk much, but he always finds just the right music for a morning drive. Today it’s this new Bob Dylan album. And when we do talk, it’s quiet and relaxed. He’s one of those people who makes me feel calmer just by being around him.
I walk into school and go straight to the second-floor bathroom. I didn’t have a chance to text Sunny, and I wonder if Erica sent her the same text.
Or maybe Erica wants it to be a private meeting.
My heart is pounding. I don’t want to see Travis on the way there. I can’t see him until I know exactly what I plan to say.
Erica’s in the bathroom, sitting on the sink counter. Her eyes are red and her skin is blotchy. Tears dot her cheeks.
“Hi,” I say, softly. “Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay, Lucy?” She sneers. “Come on. Wake up.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “What’s wrong?”
“Elias broke up with me. He needs to focus on his work. That’s what his mom said, or so he claims.”
“His work?”
“Yeah, like schoolwork. I think he’s doing really bad in school.” She rolls her eyes. “His mom is a crazy person. Like, seriously. He wasn’t allowed to watch TV until he was, like, ten.”
“Oh.” I look down at my boots. They’re covered in mud, and I hadn’t even realized it. I must be really out of it. I have no idea what his TV allowance has to do with Elias breaking up with her. Maybe it’s just easier for Erica to blame his crazy mom.
“Anyway,” she says, “I’ll do what you want. No dates. If I can’t have a date, then no one can have a date.”
“Really?” I perk up but try to hide my happiness. It’s for a bad reason, but I’m getting my way, and everyone will benefit from Erica’s misery. It’s kind of perfect, when you think about it.
“Yeah. I’m not going to be the loser without a date,” she reminds me. “Zoe’s fine with it. She can still do whatever she wants with Gavin, obviously. But I will make sure that no one comes with a date if I don’t have one.”
It’s weird that Zoe’s not here. I haven’t seen them apart in months. I wonder if Zoe knows about Erica’s change of heart yet, or if Erica is telling me first. Maybe she’s just saying Zoe is fine with it, but Zoe doesn’t even know yet. I wouldn’t put it past Erica.
“I’m sorry about Elias,” I say. I’m tempted to reach over and give Erica a hug, but I don’t think we’re there yet. She’s still Erica Crane, even if she does sit at our lunch table. And she’s never apologized for all the mean things she’s said. I think Evan’s right about her: she’ll probably never be nice.
“Don’t tell anyone,” she says. “I’m just gonna say you didn’t want dates and the executive committee decided.”
“Okay.”
“I don’t need everyone to know he broke up with me.” She starts sniffling again. “And if I find out you told anyone, I will completely ruin your life.”
Well, I believe that. “Your secret is safe with me.”
We hear the bell ring and it’s time for first period. I silently thank God for making Elias break up with Erica, even though I feel a little bit bad that she’s had her heart broken. I know people have free will and everything, but the timing of this is just too perfect. I don’t really have to worry about breaking up with Travis now. No dates means no dates for anyone. Perfect. It’s divine intervention.
“Where were you this morning?” Sunny asks me as soon as I walk into first period.
“Long story,” I whisper.
Mrs. O’Rourke is at the front of the class, writing on the dry-erase board. I know she’s going to turn around any second and glare at me for talking.
Sunny says through her teeth, “Tell me.”
“Later.”
Sunny’s annoyed, but there’s nothing I can do about it. Zoe is in this class, and she’ll overhear me. Plus, Erica swore me to secrecy.
I mean, okay, I will probably tell Sunny, because that doesn’t count—we don’t keep secrets from each other. And she’ll know not to tell anyone. The whole “I won’t tell anyone” promise doesn’t apply to best friends.
When class ends, Sunny and I walk out together. I need to find a private spot to tell her the big news. Obviously the second-floor bathroom won’t work. I have a feeling Erica will be spending a lot of time there today.
“Come with me,” I tell Sunny. I lead her down the hall, past the science classrooms, through the library, past the cafeteria, and into the band room.
“What’s going on?” she asks. “You’re acting crazy. And we’re going to be late for English.”
“Just shh.”
We walk into the big closet where all the instruments are stored. I know there’s no band or orchestra class next period, so I think we’re safe. At least for a few minutes.
“Elias broke up with Erica,” I tell her.
“What? Is that why you seem so happy?” Sunny raises her eyebrows. “I can’t believe it. You’re meaner than I thought.”
“Well, obviously I’m sad for her, but do you know what she said?”
Sunny shakes her head.
“She said we can’t have dates at the Masquerade now. She can’t be the loser without the date. So it’s for the best. Now no one has to suffer.”
“Oh no.” Sunny holds her head. “I think this is a bigger mess than we realized.”
“What do you mean?”
She lets out a huge sigh.
“Okay, so I was telling my parents about the whole no-dates thing over dinner the other night, because you know how they’re always saying we’re growing up too fast and we should just focus on our studies and stuff?”
“Yeah.”
“So I thought they’d be excited that there’s a chance we may all go as friends and just hang out, and it wouldn’t be a big deal. I told them how you don’t want anyone to feel bad. You know how they’re obsessed with kindness?” She laughs a little. “But Yamir was there too, and he was pretty quiet, texting someone under the table, the way he normally does.” She pauses to roll her eyes. “But maybe he was listening? And he knew it was your idea. And I told them how Erica was basically vetoing it because of Elias.”
She stares at me. I’m finally getting the connection here. Or maybe I’m not. Maybe I’m jumping to conclusions because I want Yamir to be thinking about me. It seems like my brain always finds a way to do that.
“Do you think Elias even liked Erica?” I ask her.
“No idea. I mean, did they ever really hang out? It seems like Erica is all talk.”
“There’s only one person who would know.” I pause. “I mean, one person we’d be able to get the information from.”
Sunny sighs. “I’ll see what I can do.”
We leave the instrument closet and head to English.
Erica is brokenhearted, yet this is the happiest I’ve been in days. Either that makes me a totally evil person or it means I see the silver lining in all bad situations.
Or maybe it’s both.
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Be happy for other people’s happiness.
“So? Anything?” I ask Sunny over the phone.
“Nope. He was, like
, ‘Why would I care about your dumb dance?’ and then he walked away.”
I huff. “Well, that’s rude.”
“Yeah. But in the end, who cares? We got what we wanted. Well, what you wanted.”
“How did the AGE girls seem at lunch?” I ask. I was finishing math homework at the time. But my mind was all over the place with this Elias thing and the whole Travis situation, so I wasn’t sure I was getting anything right.
“They were thrilled. Like, beyond. They’re all into their costumes again, and the makeup. And they feel like they can ask anyone to dance, since no one’s going to be paired off. Honestly, Luce, you totally made their year.”
“Good. That’s all I care about.” That’s a little bit of a lie, since I also care about Yamir. Hopelessly, pathetically, insanely care about Yamir. But Sunny knows that. I don’t need to hit her over the head with it.
“Listen, I gotta go finish the science lab. But what about Travis?” Sunny asks.
“My life is kind of made, since there aren’t any dates anyway. Do I even need to break up with him, or can I just let the whole thing evaporate?”
Sunny laughs. “Good use of science in this conversation! But I don’t know. Maybe just end it, so you’re not stressing about it anymore? Enough is enough.”
“I think you’re right.”
“Oh! I totally forgot to tell you!” Sunny says, right before I’m about to hang up.
“What? What?”
“Okay, so remember how you were obsessed with those old medicine bottles in the basement of the pharmacy?” she asks. “So, Evan went to this crafts fair in the Berkshires last weekend when he was visiting his grandma, and he was telling me all about this cool thing where people, like, put questions in medicine bottles, and other people put in pieces of advice or something.”
“Huh?”
“Call Evan. He’ll be able to explain it,” she says. “I think it would be a cool addition to Eighth-Grade Masquerade.”
“Thanks, I’ll ask Evan.”
I leave Evan a voice mail, but he doesn’t call back. I really have no idea what Sunny’s talking about, but I figure I’ll find out soon enough.
I spend the rest of the night figuring out how to tell Travis. Obviously a text is too impersonal and mean. Maybe an e-mail? A phone call is probably better. Or I guess in person. Maybe I just need to tell him to meet me by my locker before first period, and we’ll walk somewhere and I’ll tell him. That’s probably the simplest way to do it.
Hey Travis. Meet me by my locker before 1st period tomorrow. Okay? Goodnight.
After I send it, I immediately feel better. I’m taking a step in the right direction. The Travis thing was a fun experiment, but maybe he’s not the right boy for me. Or maybe it’s just not the right time. I need to get over Yamir before I can like anyone else.
A few minutes later, he texts back.
OK. Sweet dreams.
So he has no idea what’s about to happen. Maybe boys really are clueless. I don’t want to hurt him, but truthfully I bet there’s a line of girls in our grade who’d want to go out with him. He’s cute, and he has a planetarium in his house. I’m sure he’ll find someone who likes him more than I do.
I toss and turn all night. It’s not the Travis thing I’m worried about. I also need to figure out my costume. And I’m stressed about the spa. I know Penelope has it all under control, but things could go wrong.
I want everything about this to be perfect.
My grandma told me that Albert Einstein once said that insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I’m basically doing that this year. Trying for a perfect last semester, trying to make things perfect for the AGE girls, trying to make the Masquerade perfect.
And I’m insane. There is no perfect. Things can never be perfect.
And what does perfect even mean? One person’s perfect isn’t the same as another person’s perfect.
I need to accept that and move on. Maybe life isn’t meant to be perfect. It’s meant to be complicated and messy and confusing, and that’s what makes it exciting and memorable. I mean, things with Erica Crane have always been up and down—and while it’s been a lot of down, it’s certainly been interesting. And the whole thing with Travis: it’s not ideal, and I may be breaking his heart pretty soon, but the experience has taught me that even if someone likes you, you might not like them, and you can’t really force yourself to. Lots of things in life are far from perfect, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe we learn things from the imperfections.
Maybe perfect is really just another word for boring.
I needed all these things to happen—heartbreak with Yamir, Erica telling everyone my secrets, Claudia coming home to ask us for advice, ups and downs with Sunny—to make me realize this.
There is no perfect. There’s only hoping for the best. And rolling with the punches.
That’s it.
I get to school the next morning and Travis is waiting for me by my locker. He’s wearing baggy army-green cargo pants and a long-sleeved navy T-shirt. He looks so cute. I wish he didn’t look so cute.
“What’s up?” he asks, still leaning against my locker, like a boy in some back-to-school clothing ad.
“Let’s walk,” I say, after my coat and books are put away. I take my bag and the books I’ll need for the first few periods.
We walk up to the steps to the second-floor bathroom, but obviously he can’t go in there; it’s a girls’ room. So we walk farther down the hall until we find an empty classroom. I think it’s used for the Mandarin class, and the Mandarin teacher doesn’t come until fifth period.
We go inside and sit down at the desks. He slicks his hair back but it’s all disheveled, and I immediately wonder if I’m making the wrong decision. Travis is cute. He’s boring, but still cute.
“Talk to me, Desberg.” Calling me by my last name—I love that, for some unknown reason. I’ve always loved it. Now what should I do? I have no idea.
“So, you heard about the ‘no dates to the Masquerade’ thing, right?” I ask. “I’m really glad the whole executive committee agreed. This way no one feels bad.”
“I didn’t hear that,” he says. “But okay.”
“So, like, we’re not going as a couple,” I say, trying to rephrase what I just said. Some part of me thinks he’s not getting what I’m saying.
“Yeah, whatever.” He raises his eyebrows. “That’s fine. I’m doing some costume theme with my boys.”
“Your boys?”
“Yeah. Gavin, Evan, Nicolai, Carmine, maybe even Luke if he can get his act together.”
“Oh.” So Travis wasn’t even really concerned about going with me. He wasn’t worried about a costume theme with me. And he hasn’t asked me to hang out in a few days. Maybe we’ve already broken up. Maybe I can just let things cool off naturally.
“So that’s all you wanted to tell me?” he asks. He seems anxious to go. He keeps looking at the big clock above the door. That must be it: he knows what’s up. That we’re just not compatible, but he doesn’t want to openly break it off either.
We’re good. We’re on the same page.
“That was it,” I say.
“Cool. I gotta run and talk to Mr. D-H before class. He was not pleased with my essay on The Outsiders.”
“Good luck with that.” I smile. He doesn’t ask me to walk with him, and he doesn’t grab my hand or even try a little kiss before he goes.
I’m relieved. Everything is working out.
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Don’t assume you know how others feel.
Word about the no-dates plan spreads like wildfire throughout the eighth grade. Everyone is psyched about it—which is kind of surprising. All this year I thought people were in a rush to grow up and act like they’re in high school. But they’re not. Everyone just wants to hang out with their friends, and maybe talk about boys, or talk about girls. But nothing too serious.
It’s refre
shing.
Of course, it took Erica Crane’s heartbreak to make this happen. And she’ll probably never know the good deed she did. But maybe that’s okay too. If she knew, it would go to her head.
I spend the rest of the day feeling pretty great. I’m off the hook with Travis, and everyone’s excited that no one’s going with a date. I even get an e-mail from Clint’s dad about how thrilled everyone is with the vendors I found for the green cafeteria, and how if I want a job in Old Mill Schools Dining Services when I’m older, I’m hired.
I told him I’ll keep it in mind. I think I’d be much happier as a makeup artist or a spa consultant, but you never know. This year is proof that everything can change—ideas, plans, aspirations. Being able to roll with it is what’s most important.
Mrs. Deleccio and another science teacher have taken my composting idea and are handling it themselves. I’m so disappointed that I couldn’t find time to do it. But I’m still glad I suggested it. Sometimes you really can’t do it all. And I guess realizing that is more important than trying to do everything and completely freaking out and letting people down.
Sunny comes over after school to hammer out our costume plan. The AGE girls are going as oldies singers, like in “The Shoop Shoop Song.” Annabelle’s mom is really good at sewing, and she’s making them poodle skirts and everything. They told me they have the “pink” part of the theme covered.
Apparently Travis and “his boys” are going as some kind of toe fungus. On his way to lunch he said, “We’re gonna rock the green. Believe me.”
It sounds completely disgusting, but whatever. I’m not planning on spending that much time with him anyway.
“Did you ever talk to Evan about the medicine bottles?” Sunny asks me. She’s been going on and on about the grossness of what Evan’s planning on wearing and how she’s not going to be able to look at him.
“No. I left him a voice mail and then figured we’d talk in school, but we haven’t had a chance,” I say. To be honest, I’d totally forgotten about it.
PG03. Pink & Green is the New Black Page 14