Then Mr. Marblane thanks Pink & Green: The Spa at Old Mill Pharmacy for all the awesome makeup work, and he thanks me for coordinating it. He thanks Sunny and Ramal Printing for the great sign. And then he tells everyone to go back to having fun and to continue behaving.
And then the DJ finally puts on a slow song, and Travis walks over to me, and I want to sink into the floor.
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Dance even when you feel awkward about it.
“Will you dance with me?” Travis asks. The green makeup is piled on his face like clumpy mashed potatoes.
“Um.” I will myself to say yes. It’s just a dance. “Sure.”
I put my arms around his neck, and he puts his arms around my waist. He smells like the strawberry punch he’s been drinking all night. Clumps of makeup are falling off his face and landing on his shoulders. I think it’s because he’s sweating so much. The makeup is literally melting off his face.
“Sorry things got so weird between us,” he says. I want to tell him that they didn’t get weird. That there’s really no us. That sometimes one person likes another person, but that other person doesn’t like them back. It’s a fact of life.
“They’re not that weird,” I say. I guess he was actually paying attention all those times I tried to talk to him about us. We’re swaying back and forth, and I force myself to look him in the eyes and not look around to see who everyone else is dancing with. I pray that Gavin asked Zoe to dance, and that Erica didn’t ruin it for them.
“I still like you, Lucy,” Travis says. Oh no. That’s not what I wanted to hear. I thought we were done with this.
“That’s nice, Travis.” I smile. “I just think I have to do my own thing for a while.”
Oh Lord. What am I saying?
“You can do your own thing. I’ll give you space,” he says. “I mean, I just like hanging out with you. And summer is coming soon. And remember when we first met, and you told me how awesome summer in Old Mill is?”
I nod.
“I want to hang with you during the awesome time. When we don’t have to worry about school or anything.” He pauses and leans toward me and—oh no, he’s going for a kiss. Not here. Not here. Please not here. But then he pulls back. My heart is still pounding. “Just think about it.”
“Okay. Well, summer is still a while away.” I pause for a second. It’s hard to take him seriously with the green and brown blobs all over his face. “I’ll think about it.”
The song ends and we pull apart, and Travis says, “See ya, Lucy,” as if he’s leaving the dance for good.
I stand there, watching him walk away, wondering why I can’t just like him. But I can’t. You can’t force yourself to like someone. It just doesn’t work that way.
“Did you see? Did you see?” Zoe asks, all out of breath, falling into me.
“No! What? Tell!”
“You didn’t see Gavin and me dancing? For real?”
“Sorry,” I say. “Was it awesome?”
“Yes, beyond.” She smiles, still out of breath. “I hope there are more slow songs coming up.”
“That’s great, Zo.” I high-five her. “I’m really happy for you.”
It feels good to be happy for someone else even when you’re not all-around happy in the same category yourself. Like, she has a boy that she likes that probably likes her, and even though I don’t have that, I’m excited for her.
That’s what being a true friend is all about, I think. That’s what Erica still needs to work on. But maybe she’s the kind of person who won’t ever realize that. I guess we’ll have to wait and see.
The Masquerade continues. There are more slow dances, but Travis doesn’t ask me again. No one else does either. It’s okay, though. Erica and I sway together during one. And then I do a little group dance with the AGE girls during another.
I go over to the medicine bottle table and check out the anonymous advice seekers. I shake the bottles a little so I can see the answers.
Someone wrote: How can I be more outgoing? And someone else answered: Smile and try to say hi to one new person each day.
Good advice.
Another person wrote: Any idea how I can get my parents to understand me?
The answer: Say what’s on your mind. And then be ready to listen.
Good questions and great answers. And the best part is, it’s all anonymous.
It’s such a simple touch, but it’s never been done before for Eighth-Grade Masquerade. It’s unique. It’s us. And that’s what makes it so special.
Finally it’s time for the presentation part of the event. Mr. Marblane calls every group and individual onto the stage, one at a time, and we all go up and show off our costumes. It’s cheesy, but fun anyway. It’s really what the Masquerade is all about. It’s not about a theme, though that’s fun. And it’s not about who is going with who. It’s about showing ourselves off to one another. Being proud of who we are. Maybe it’s because we’ll all be moving on soon and we’ll want to remember everyone as we were in eighth grade. Maybe it’s because all these years we never took the time to really get to know each other or see each other. We just relied on old ideas we had of each other.
But the thing is, people can change. People do change. Erica Crane is living proof of that. Even a little change is still a change. Sure, she’s never going to be a nice person. And I’m not even sure I want to be her friend. But she has changed a tiny, tiny bit.
And when I think back to how I was when I started at Old Mill Middle School—wow! I’ve really changed. I mean, the whole thing about Earth Club was a huge change. I didn’t even want to join, and look what I’ve accomplished: the grant for the pharmacy, an eco-spa, a green cafeteria. It’s pretty unbelievable. And I guess my worrying has changed a little too. I still worry—about grown-up problems, about thirteen-year-old problems—but it’s different. The worrying doesn’t take up all my time anymore.
People do change. We all change. I guess when you think about it, that’s all life really is—a series of changes. Change after change after change. And all we can do is be ready and open for them.
It took a Masquerade and costumes to realize it. Visual proof of change, and a moment to shine.
It was all right there in front of us. But it took a night like this for us to realize it.
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Really listen to others when they talk to you. Don’t just wait to talk back.
The dance winds down and people start to trickle out. Evan and Sunny are sitting at a table in the corner, talking close, and I don’t want to get too near them and ruin their moment. The rest of the “toe fungus boys” are playing some doofy game where they try to hit a balled-up napkin with a paper plate.
“Hello? The environment. The whole green part of the theme?” I frown at them. “Stop wasting paper goods.”
“They’re made from recycled materials,” Gavin tells me, like I don’t already know. “It says so right here.”
“Duh. I know. I picked all the stuff. But you still shouldn’t waste it,” I tell them.
“Lucy’s the Lorax, don’t you know that?” we hear someone say. The voice is coming from behind us, so we all turn around.
I’d know the voice anywhere. It’s Yamir.
No one says anything. Travis turns away and walks toward the snack table, pretending he’s searching for the best chunk of cubed cheese.
The other boys scatter, and soon Yamir and I are just standing there, in the Old Mill Middle School gym.
He’s not in a costume. Why would he be? But it seems funny to see someone in regular clothes around the rest of us in pink and green. He’s wearing his skinny jeans and a gray collared sweater. He looks older. Well, older than he usually does, I guess. His hair isn’t disheveled or shaggy. It’s short and neat, like he’s on his way to some important dinner.
“You are, you know,” he says, softly.
“I’m what?”
“The L
orax. You speak for the trees.”
I smile. “I guess there are worse things to be.”
He nods. “Can we talk? Outside, maybe?”
“Sure,” I reply.
I look around. Sunny and Evan are still in the corner. Zoe and Erica are on the stage, dancing to music streaming from Zoe’s iPhone. The DJ has pretty much packed up, but I guess they still want to dance. There are teachers milling about, but no one is kicking us out yet.
“Why is he here?” Erica says, loud enough for the whole gym to stop what they’re doing and look around.
I ignore her. I’ve spent too much time thinking about Erica Crane—wondering if she’s changed, hoping I can trust her. But the truth is, I don’t need to be friends with everyone. Some people will never be close. Maybe that’s something that everyone needs to learn sooner or later.
No one else seems to notice that Yamir is here, or that we’re walking out of the gym. Zoe’s mom is supposed to pick us up, and then we’re all sleeping at her house. I hope they don’t leave without me. But I guess I can always find a way there.
It’s a warm March night, and I realize I’m okay without a coat. That’s a good thing, since I left it on the rack outside the gym, and I don’t really want to go in and get it. This Pink Ladies jacket is surprisingly warm.
Yamir and I sit down on the curb outside the school. There are a million stars, and if I breathe in as hard as I can, I’m almost able to smell the ocean.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m so sorry.”
I look at him. Yamir is sitting next to me, apologizing.
“I know I was an idiot. I know I ignored you. I don’t know why I did it.”
I keep looking at him. I want him to talk more. I don’t want to interrupt his train of thought. I want him to speak his mind, to tell me everything. I want him to talk forever.
“I guess I was scared. Scared that I would totally mess up, and there would be no way to fix it, and you’d hate me forever. Also, I have to admit—I was kinda scared I’d have no time for my friends,” he tells me. “This isn’t an excuse. I’m just trying to explain myself.”
I nod, willing him to continue.
“And as I was doing it, I knew it was dumb. And I wanted to explain myself. But then I thought you’d be mad. And so I just kept ignoring and being weird, and then I got used to it. And I convinced myself it was fine.” He looks at me. “But the whole time I really missed you. And I wanted to talk to you. It was like I was torturing myself for no reason.”
“That’s really dumb,” I say. “No offense.”
He starts laughing, and then I start laughing. But it’s not really all that funny. It’s just a little overwhelming that he’s saying all of this. That he’s admitting he was wrong and saying he’s sorry. I knew he had it in him. It just took a little while for him to open up.
“Anyway, I’m sorry. One hundred percent sorry. And I couldn’t wait another day to tell you that.”
“So you showed up at Eighth-Grade Masquerade?” I ask. “I think it’s really because you missed middle school so much.”
“Well, yeah. That too.” He smiles.
“I knew it.”
“I checked with Sunny. And she seemed to think it was okay. If I came at the end, when everything was over.”
“She’s smart.”
“Yes, she got the smarts in the family. I got the looks.”
We stay on the curb for a few more minutes, looking at the stars and laughing about things that probably aren’t so funny. Right now, everything looks beautiful. Even the Old Mill Middle School parking lot looks landscaped and perfect.
“Can you forgive me?” Yamir asks, finally.
“I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Well, I didn’t expect this. It’s catching me a little off guard.”
“You didn’t expect me coming here?” he asks. “Or you didn’t expect that I’d apologize?”
“I didn’t expect any of it. To be honest, I figured we were done. Like, actually done. Every story has an ending.”
“Come on.” He looks at me and gives me the tiniest, smallest, littlest peck on the lips. I think that catches me off guard more than him showing up, or this conversation, or anything else. “We’re Lucy and Yamir. Our story is whatever we want it to be. But I don’t think it’s done.”
“Okay.” I smile. “I’ll trust you on that.”
“We’re just getting to the good part.” He stands up, and takes my hand, and we walk back inside.
The good part. I hear his voice in my head.
We’ll go to high school and things will change. That’s for sure. But we’re just getting to the good part.
Acknowledgments
My sincerest thanks to Maggie Lehrman and everyone at Abrams and Amulet who believed in Lucy from the start and helped bring her story to life.
And to all the readers who have enjoyed Lucy’s story—thank you, thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.
About the Author
Lisa Greenwald is the author of Welcome to Dog Beach, Reel Life Starring Us, Sweet Treats & Secret Crushes, and the Pink & Green series. She works in the library at the Birch Wathen Lenox School in Manhattan. She is a graduate of The New School’s MFA program in writing for children and lives in Brooklyn. Visit her online at lisagreenwald.com.
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