“Who’s that?” Jonah asked.
“Maggie,” I said as I waved back and said hello. Feeling bold, I told Jonah, “My friend.”
“Yeah, right,” he muttered. I was pretty sure he was just joking, but I didn’t exactly love the tone. Like I couldn’t have friends of my own?
Like I could. I totally could.
At lunch, Jonah and Kyle dived face-first into the spaghetti special, hands behind their backs. They gobbled up what passed for marinara and meatballs while I watched in horror. Their faces were quickly covered in sauce and bits of faux meat. I would have turned away, but I had been charged with the distinct honor of calling the winner. If I had any chance of breaking out and making new friends, I was pretty sure they’d just been demolished.
People around us were staring. It was humiliation overload. I looked across the cafeteria where Lizbeth and Kristen sat, and I saw Lizbeth look our way, but she didn’t seem to see me. That was one thing to be thankful for.
“Done! Done!” yelled Jonah, a stranded string of spaghetti dangling off his chin.
“Nice, dude,” Kyle said, slapping hands with Jonah. I had to admit, I didn’t know Kyle had it in him to do something that could land him in detention. Eating like a pig out of a trough wasn’t exactly the coolest move but, for some reason, I was impressed.
And totally grossed out.
“Can I go vomit now?” I asked.
“Not till you declare me the winner,” Jonah said. He held out his hand as if he expected me to raise it in victory.
“I’m getting some ice cream,” I said, standing. I needed an excuse to get away from those two, and ice cream seemed like the perfect one.
I took a sandwich out of the bin and stood in line.
“That was kind of insane,” a voice behind me said. When I turned and saw that it was Lizbeth, I wanted to crawl into the ice cream barrel and hide until final bell. She had seen.
“Oh. Um, hi,” I muttered, feeling my neck flush red, the color easing its way up to my face. I didn’t want to be ashamed of my best friend, but I couldn’t exactly brag about him, either, now could I? Not after that display.
“You gotta hand it to them,” Lizbeth said. She picked an ice cream sandwich out of the bin. “Even just eating that food is probably, like, hazardous to their health.”
I smiled. “They’re probably foaming at the mouth right about now. I should go check on them,” I said, then stood purposely still and gazed up at the waterstained ceiling like I had all the time in the world. Lizbeth laughed.
We inched our way toward the cashier to pay. “So,” she said, tucking an escaped strand of hair from her messy bun. “Thanks again for saving me in the halls with Matthew. I was so mortified.”
“No biggie,” I said. “If you ever need me to take someone out on purpose, I can do that, too. I’m, like, full-service that way.”
Lizbeth laughed again as we moved up in the line. “You going to the baseball game tonight?”
Baseball game? Tonight? “I’m not sure,” I lied. Totally, one hundred percent lied because I hadn’t been to a single sports game all year and, until two seconds ago, had no plans to go anytime soon. “It’s a home game,” she said. “Kristen and I are going. You should come.”
It was kind of like an out-of-body experience. I saw myself nodding my head and saying, “Yeah, maybe I will.”
“Cool. You’re up.” She nodded ahead of me to the register.
Once I paid for my ice cream I realized I had to go call my dad and tell him I’d be home late from school, and my phone doesn’t get reception in the cafeteria. Since we’re not allowed to eat outside the cafeteria, I brought the sandwich over to Jonah and dropped it on the table in front of him. “Your prize for winning,” I said.
“Thanks! Hey, where’re you going?” he asked as I kept walking toward the door.
“I gotta make a phone call!”
After clearing it with Dad, I bounded through my final classes of the day, excited and nervous about my sudden after-school plans.
When Eve walked into English class, she smiled at me and said hello. The aqua-blue pleated skirt and pink polo she wore made her look like she was ready for the tennis courts. I went into my usual mini freak-out over what to say to her. I thought of Jonah the other day and his weirdness about her and how I could do a little more digging to see if they liked each other. Then I thought of Jonah doing a spaghetti face-plant and wondered if it was for the best to just leave it alone, at least for now.
I was completely capable of making non-Jonah-related conversation. I totally could do it. All I had to do was say something. Something simple. Anything.
“Hi.”
Sadly, that was the best I could come up with.
“What’s up?” Eve said, dropping her bag on the floor by her desk. Everyone made it seem so easy to talk to people they didn’t know—so why was I sweaty and palpitating?
“Are you going to the baseball game after school?”
Following her question with a second question was another option.
Eve pulled a light blue folder out of her bag. “I didn’t know there was a game,” she said because why would she know? She’d been here exactly four days.
I tried to act as casual as Lizbeth had when she asked me. “Oh, yeah. Baseball. They’re playing here tonight. You should come.”
“Well, I have to go to my grandma’s after school, so—maybe next time? Do you know when the next game is?”
Of course not, since I’ve never had any interest in it at all until twenty-seven minutes ago. “I’m not sure,” I said. “But I can check.”
“Cool,” she said, pulling papers out of her notebook as Ms. Carlisle passed out a worksheet for us.
That went well. We chatted. We made tentative plans. Working at the salon was having a positive effect on my personality.
In that it was giving me one.
After school I slipped into the ladies’ room, redid my ponytail, and added a skinny headband with a Spanish red flower on the side. It was a warm sunny day and slightly breezy, and I wanted to keep my hair out of my face. Except really, I wanted to look good.
As I walked out to the bleachers I had a fluttering of nerves in my stomach. What if they didn’t invite me to sit with them? What if they totally ignored me and I had to sit by myself? What if, worse, they thought I was clinging and pathetic and stalking them?
Dad once said something that now rang in my ears: Fake it till you make it. Like, pretend what’s bothering you really doesn’t bother you. Soon enough, it won’t for real. So I walked across the field to the bleachers like it was something I did every day.
I saw them sitting together in the stands. Should I sit near them? Ask to sit by them? Ignore them in case I looked pathetic? Truly, my thoughts were exhausting.
Parents and students settled on the bleachers as the players warmed up on the field. I took one step up, spotted an empty place to sit, and headed for it.
“Hey, Mickey,” Kristen called out. Her red-and-white-striped shirt fluttered in the warm breeze.
“Hi.” I waved, relieved that one of them had said something.
“Cute headband,” Lizbeth called.
“Thanks,” I said, reaching up to touch the little flower that was slightly smashed from being in the bottom of my bag.
“Did you get it at your mom’s salon?” Lizbeth asked.
“Yeah.” I was standing on the bleachers, blocking some poor father’s field of vision. “That’s so cool,” Kristen said. “You’re so lucky you get to work there.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’s pretty cool.” Bold. I felt a rush of bold. Kind of like when I decided to go for it and reference Matthew Anderson to Lizbeth. Observe:
“Can I sit with you guys?”
A pause that lasted for eternity hung in the air.
Lizbeth scooted over a bit on her seat. “Sure.”
And just like that, I was sitting with them.
“Let’s go, Ravenclaws!” Kriste
n cheered loudly. Lizbeth laughed and nudged her in the arm.
“You’re such a dork,” she told her. “They’re just warming up.”
“Well, they’re doing a really good job of it. Especially Tobias Woods.” Kristen cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, “Looking good, Tobias!”
“Oh my gosh, you are so embarrassing!” Lizbeth laughed, and I did, too.
When the game started I clapped and cheered and woohoo-ed along with Lizbeth, Kristen, and the rest of the people in the stands.
The girls watched the game a little, but only to watch Tobias. He played shortstop, and in case it wasn’t noticeable, Kristen had a crush on him.
“It’s new,” she told me. “It all started last weekend when I was at Scoops on Camden Way. I had just ordered the Dulce de Leche when someone”—she eyed Lizbeth—“knocked it from my hands.”
“Please!” Lizbeth said. “You bumped into me.”
(Lizbeth sure did a lot of tripping and bumping and dropping. From the sound of it, she was almost as big a klutz as me. Something to note for future bonding purposes.)
“Anyway,” Kristen continued, “Tobias saw what happened and straight up bought me a new cone. Without even asking. I hadn’t really noticed him much before then, but now . . .” She sighed. “I’ve noticed.”
“Cool,” I said. “Does he know you like him?”
“He does now,” Lizbeth said.
We watched the game for a few minutes until Kristen had an important sighting. “Lizbeth, look,” Kristen said. She was pointing back toward the school. We all looked to see Matthew Anderson crossing the field to the bleachers. Tonight he was wearing a Harvard sweatshirt with tan boat shoes.
“Please don’t embarrass me,” Lizbeth said to Kristen.
“Lizbeth,” Kristen loudly whispered. “Think of the double dates!”
“I’d be so mad at you right now if she didn’t already know,” Lizbeth said, motioning to me.
Kristen looked around at me. “Lizzie told me. Nice save, taking the fall for Grace here.”
I shrugged, blushed, grinned. “No biggie.”
Matthew took a seat on the bleachers two rows down and a bit over from us. Mostly out of earshot, as long as no one spoke too loudly.
“Hi, Matthew!” Kristen called, and Lizbeth buried her face in her hands. Even though most of her face was covered, it was obvious she was embarrassed. “Come to cheer Tobias on?”
“Hey, Kristen,” Matthew said. Looking at me and Lizbeth he said, “Hello, ladies.”
“Oh my gosh,” Lizbeth muttered, still hiding her face.
“Do you want to come sit with us?” Kristen asked. “Plenty of room here.” She patted the tiny space between her and Lizbeth.
He smiled, flashing white teeth. “I’m not staying long. I have tennis lessons at the club in half an hour.”
What’d I tell you? Total prep.
“Cool,” Kristen said. “Well, we’re here if you need us!”
“Thanks,” he said.
Everyone went back to watching the game except Lizbeth. She whacked Kristen in the arm and said, “I can’t believe you just did that!”
“Lizzie, why do you always act so weird around boys?”
“I only act weird when you purposely humiliate me,” Lizbeth said.
“You embarrass yourself by acting embarrassed,” Kristen said. “You need to chill out. Guys are so not that big of a deal. Ask Mickey. She’s best friends with one of them.”
“Eh. They’re not that bad. If you don’t mind the occasional burps in your face and incessant talk about skateboards and video games.”
“See?” Kristen said. “The worst that can happen is he could blow burps in your face.”
After just a little while Matthew got up to leave. He couldn’t even get both feet on the ground before Kristen was calling, “Bye, Matthew! See you tomorrow! Lizbeth says good-bye, too!”
“Kristen!” she snapped, covering her face again. Kristen laughed, and I sort of did, too, but it was super clear that Lizbeth didn’t think it was funny at all. I felt bad for her. Kristen did seem a little pushy.
Lizbeth reached into her bag, took out some lip gloss, and swiped it across her lips. Without a word she passed it to Kristen, who did the same. And poof, without one word exchanged, they were all made up.
Kristen held the lip gloss out to me. At that moment, looking at Kristen’s hand holding the glittery tube for me, I felt like I was in. Maybe not Friday-nights-level-in, but in nonetheless.
I took the gloss—Sugar Cane Sheer with tiny little silver specks in it—and swiped it across my lips, grinning a glittery grin for the rest of the game.
The next morning I decided to forgo my usual ponytail and try wearing two long braids. Then, I was almost late to school because I waited for Jonah to show up so we could walk to school together like we did every morning. I called his house but no one answered, so I finally had to leave without him.
Maybe in a way it was for the best, because I ran into Lizbeth and Kristen jumping out of Lizbeth’s mom’s car. We all raced up the steps at the same time. Before they went one way and I went the other, Lizbeth called back, “Sit with us at lunch, if you want.”
If I wanted? I stood completely still in the hall, stunned, staring into space. First the baseball game and now lunch—which was huge. Friday nights might not have been as far off as I thought they were.
I usually saw Jonah at some point during morning classes, but that day I didn’t. I was beginning to think that he was sick, but then I saw him walking toward the cafeteria for lunch. He was with Kyle and they were probably going to have one of their usual grossout fests. Thank goodness I would be spared from whatever they had in store today. I figured everyone would be happier with me sitting at another table and leaving them to their business. Me, especially.
I waited for Lizbeth and Kristen outside the cafeteria. When I saw Eve, I asked her if she wanted to eat lunch with us.
“Yes, please,” she said, looking relieved. “I hid out in the library the first two days and then graduated to the cafeteria where I sat with some girls who worked on their sticker collections at lunch. Don’t get me wrong—they were nice and all, but I haven’t traded stickers since the second grade.”
“Well,” I said, feeling bold, “you’re with us now.”
“Have you guys met Eve yet?” I asked when Lizbeth and Kristen showed up. “She just moved here this week.”
Then Lizbeth and Kristen introduced themselves and we headed toward their table. As we crossed the cafeteria, Jonah spotted me. I was glad he was at school and okay, but wondered why he had bailed on me that morning. He held up his hands to me like, What are you doing? and I held up my own like, What do you want me to do?, then followed the girls to their table.
“Do you three have any classes together?” Eve asked.
“No,” Lizbeth said. “We met at her mom’s salon.”
“We met at her mom’s salon, too!” Eve said, sitting down. “And, wait, can we talk about how cool it is that her mom owns that salon?”
“So cool,” Lizbeth agreed. “She gets all the best hair products and accessories.”
“And nail polishes,” Kristen added.
I smiled—beamed, really. Yeah, it was pretty cool. The salon, the compliments, the hanging out.
It was all going pretty darn well.
CHAPTER 14
When I got to the salon on Saturday, I stuck my head in my mom’s office to let her know I was there. When I opened the door, I saw Devon sitting across from her desk. They both turned to look at me.
“Oh, sorry,” I said, stepping back out again. Mom had her hands folded on her desk, and Devon sat tightly, her knees glued together and her arms wrapped around her ribs. I wondered if she was sick. “Just wanted to let you know I’m here.”
“Thanks, Mickey. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Okay,” I said, stepping back out. I almost shut the door completely, but then . . . well, then I wondere
d what was going on. I had noticed that lately Devon hardly had any clients, and I wondered if their talk had anything to do with that. She’d had some at first, but they’d dwindled down to almost nothing. Even new clients didn’t seem to want her to work on them.
“. . . you’re new, but we really need to address the problem,” Mom was saying. Devon mumbled something that sounded like “I know,” but it was hard to hear. She was usually so outspoken, but now her voice seemed to be stifled. Mom continued, “I don’t want to have to give your station away, but if things don’t improve . . .”
Wow. Getting your station taken away meant getting fired. I hadn’t realized things were that bad. I felt sorry for Devon—I didn’t want anyone to get in that much trouble.
I heard rustling in Mom’s office and made a quick dash for the back. I ditched my stuff, snapped on my smock, and got out on the floor. I was rearranging some towels when Devon came out looking red in the eyes. She kept her head down as she walked back to her station, her studded wedges stomping with determination. Violet and Giancarlo seemed to make a point of not looking at her by turning away from her area completely. They had to have known what was happening.
I grabbed my broom and pretended to get to work. When I passed Piper’s station, I quietly asked her what was going on.
“No clients, no money,” Piper said out of the side of her mouth, like she didn’t even want Devon to know she was talking.
I watched as Devon sprayed her mirror with glass cleaner and wiped it down, then ran the wet paper towel around the leather of the chocolate-brown frame. She’d had so few clients that her products could have easily been collecting dust, but one thing you could say for her was that her station was sparkling clean.
Our eyes caught, and I smiled more brightly at her than I ever had. Instead of yelling at me that I should let her cut my hair, she gave me a barely-there smile on her crimson-less lips. She looked sad and defeated.
When Mom came out of her office, we all went quickly back to work. Devon finished cleaning and stood stoically beside her station, almost daring anyone to sit in her chair. She didn’t exactly look inviting, but maybe she figured it was better than looking desperate.
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