by Robin Mellom
As Trevor watched Wilson walk off into the crowd, like some sort of janitorial wild cowboy, he realized that “next year” meant he’d be an eighth grader. And not long after that, he’d be in high school. Then college. Then working. Then doing annual taxes and complaining about it, all adult-like.
Whoa, that moment got weird, he thought.
But for now, he was glad to have one more year with Wilson.
Trevor spotted Molly standing off to the side, fastening and refastening the safety pins on her jacket. He approached her and said, “Tomorrow’s the last day.”
Molly rolled her eyes. “Let me do a backflip.”
“Make sure you find me. I have something to give you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t like surprises.”
“It’s not a surprise, especially since I just told you about it.”
“As long as it isn’t a plastic snake that jumps out—”
“Nope,” Trevor said.
“Or a bunch of glitter that poofs out at me—”
“No way.”
“Or a zombie clown that pops out of a cake—”
“Nope. Oh, wait. I sort of love that idea.”
Molly narrowed her eyes. “Just don’t go overboard or anything. Got it?”
“I won’t go overboard or anything. I’m guessing it probably won’t even make you smile.”
“You know me too well, Trevor Jones.”
“See you tomorrow, then.”
She sighed. “Tomorrow.”
The answer was easy. I didn’t need Trevor to help me figure out if Corey was dating material. The answer was clear!
I just don’t have time for romance right now. It’s the end of the year, which means summertime, and I have so many projects planned.
Organizing my bedroom.
Reorganizing the pantry in the kitchen.
Planning my campaign for eighth grade class president.
How could I possibly have a boyfriend, too?!
So I broke it to Corey gently and told him we could just be friends. He kept swiping his hair out of his face, and I’m not sure if it was because he was sort of upset or if he was bored or if there was a fly nearby.
Anyway, it all worked out. This summer will be the best ever. And I won’t even need Trevor’s help. Well, except for campaign management. I will always need him for that.
[skips off]
THE DAY WENT BY RATHER normally for Trevor. All the teachers had worksheets for them to complete. But they were “fun!” worksheets where you got to circle things and color things and draw lines between things. One of the worksheets folded up into an elephant. It was just busywork to get through the day until the final event.
Every year on the last day of school, the students of Westside meet in the gym with their yearbooks and school T-shirts. They run around signing books and writing their names on one another’s shirts with markers. Sometimes people go out of the lines and arms are written on. But no one cares.
It was the last day of school.
Everyone was excited.
Everyone but Trevor.
As strange as it sounded, he really didn’t want school to be over. He was finally—finally—starting to feel like he belonged. Why did it have to end just when it was starting to get so good? And now these were people he wouldn’t see for three months.
And there was one he wouldn’t ever see again.
So that’s why he showed up to school with a large grocery bag full of gifts. And the first one he pulled out was for Marty.
“Here, this is for you,” Trevor said with his head barely peeking over the bag.
Marty looked down to see what was in Trevor’s hand. “A journal? Why’d you give me this?”
“So you can write down your favorite survival tips. Then you don’t have to carry a bunch of magazines around with you. All the good stuff will be right there.”
Marty looked left. Then right. Then he did something unexpected. He hugged it.
Trevor made his way around the room. The Baker twins each got a pencil—one green, one blue—since they both kept losing them and blaming the other.
He gave Mr. Everett a new coffee mug since he seemed to own only one. (Which made Trevor nervous about hygiene issues.) He gave Cindy a new sweater for her kitty. (Cindy almost did a backflip—in a good way.) And he gave Miss Plimp a T-shirt that he’d drawn a picture on with a marker. (As expected, she gave three excited claps.)
Miss Plimp immediately put the shirt on over hers. “Well, did you trust the process?”
He finally understood, he hoped, what she meant by that. “Facing things, not avoiding them—that was what I figured out.”
She smirked. “And…”
“And the process it took to find that answer was pretty epic, Miss Plimp.”
She cupped his chin. “You were my favorite project this year, Trevor.” Miss Plimp then glided through the room, handing out compliments and enjoying her last few moments with this special group of kids.
The gift Trevor had for Corey was a little risky. But he’d put so much effort into it that he had to give it to him.
He shoved the jar into Corey’s hands. “Here. It’s all natural. Found the recipe on the Internet. No smell at all. You can go on any camping trip and still have perfect hair.”
Corey’s eyes grew big. “Wow. Thanks, man!” He immediately scooped out some goop and slid it through his hair with a graceful whoosh. “I don’t have a mirror, but I can tell it works. Thanks, bro.”
Trevor shook his hand and then said something he never thought he’d say. “I hope it works out with Libby.” But he meant it. He really did hope it worked out.
Corey readjusted his hair, looking nervous. “She doesn’t like me, man. She just wants to be friends or something like that.”
Wow, Trevor thought. Didn’t see that one coming.
Trevor patted Corey on the back. “Don’t worry. As far as friends go, she’s the best. You’re a lucky guy.”
Corey stood up straight, considering this. “Yeah. I guess you’re right. Me and Libby as friends. That’s cool.”
“Later, bro,” Trevor said and then sidled up next to the trash can. Before he dumped his paper bag, he snatched his one last gift, tucked it under his arm, then strode up to her.
She was sitting in the bleachers. Drawing her own pictures in her yearbook.
“Can I sign it?” Trevor sat down next to her.
Molly slid the book over to him. “You’d be the first.”
He wrote out a note to her, then passed it back and waited for her response.
She read it, then looked up. “What gift?”
He pulled out a stack of paper. He’d printed a picture of her soul bear on the top of each sheet. “So you can draw stuff. And write letters.” He poked her on the shoulder. “To me.” He motioned to a sealed envelope on top of the pile. “Write me whenever you can. Every day if you want.”
Molly pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to tell him what she’d been thinking. But she’d thought about it all night—this speech was rehearsed well. She placed the letter back into Trevor’s hands. “We can’t be friends.”
Trevor’s stomach dropped. “What? What do you mean?”
“I’ve moved from school to school, always collecting stuff like good Hello Kitty supplies or safety pins from the teacher. I don’t collect friends. It’s like there’s something missing in my friendships, and I…” She looked away. “Look, they never work out. I’m sorry.” She stood up and started to walk toward the door.
Trevor couldn’t believe this. After all that had happened this past year, she didn’t want to be friends? It was over?
He glanced up and saw Miss Plimp on the far side of the room, swaying from left to right as she proudly watched all the students signing their yearbooks. And that’s when her T-shirt caught his eye. Some other kids had drawn on it with marker. And he couldn’t help but notice that someone had drawn a heart around the word Trust.
That
was it. That’s what Molly has been missing all this time. “Trust me, Molly,” he yelled out to her.
She turned back around, wiping a tear from her cheek.
He rushed up to her. “We’re friends. And we’ll stay friends. Trust me.”
The final bell rang.
All the students whooped and hollered and scampered around, collecting their belongings as they hugged and squealed, saying their final good-byes.
Molly surprised Trevor. Without warning, she snatched the gift out of his hand. “Friends,” she said. “I like the sound of that.” Then she turned and ran out, disappearing into the crowd.
He sighed, glad that Molly had taken the Soul Bear stationery—and the sealed envelope. And hopeful what was inside that envelope would work.
But then he realized that in all his rush the previous night to get something for all these people, he’d forgotten the most important one. He rushed over to Libby. “I can’t believe this—I didn’t get you a gift.”
She smirked at him. “You’re still coming over today to help me organize my bedroom, right?”
“Yep.”
“And start brainstorming campaign slogans?”
“My pen is ready.”
“What more could a girl want?” She draped her arm around his shoulder and walked out with him.
He paused and looked back at the almost empty gym. Wilson was in the far corner preparing his floor buffer. He gave Wilson a thumbs-up, and Wilson nodded back at Trevor. He knew that nod. It was a nod that said, Next year. You will use this floor buffer.
Next year.
Trevor swallowed hard, then joined Libby and headed out the doors, leaving Westside Middle School behind them.
Check it out. My parents went ahead and got me this new vest I’ve been wanting. I told them all about my attempt at almost rescuing Trevor and Corey in the wilderness, and they were so proud, they gave me an early birthday gift.
And get this. My parents even said they reserved a camping space for us in the woods! They’re going to rent an RV so we’ll have comfortable beds and heating and cable TV, but STILL. I can’t wait.
Yeah, it’s been an all-around good year. It will be interesting to hear how things go for Trevor next year, when HE’S the eighth grader.
All he has to do is remember the one piece of advice I always give: JUST CHILL.
Later, Westside.
I’m not really sure where things will go with me and Libby. I’m heading to high school, and she’ll be busy running the middle school. So for now, we agreed to meet up at the swimming pool over the summer. My plan is to beat my record number of laps and completely sweep her off her feet.
I’ll keep you posted.
I have to admit, it feels pretty good to not want to humiliate Trevor anymore. It was really taking up a lot of my time.
And hey—make sure you guys edit this documentary so that I look like the hero. A superhero would be cool. You can add special effects, right? A few exploding buildings and swinging off skyscrapers through the streets of New York would be SWEET.
I’ll let you guys get working on that.
So long, Westside!
OH. MY. GOD. I’ve missed my gum soooooooo much. I plan to spend my whole summer chewing and popping my way to happiness.
Even though, honestly? I’m already pretty happy. A positive state of being, I think you call it. It’s because I get to go to the mall whenever I want.
Turns out, my dad didn’t get mad at me at all about sneaking Lucy onto the trip. My mom went out of town, and she forgot about Lucy, so she would’ve died a horrible death if I hadn’t stowed her away. I mean, she would’ve had access to all her holiday sweaters, so it’s not like she would’ve died being unstylish, but I’m just glad she’s still with us today and that I get unlimited trips to the mall due to my mom feeling guilty.
So I’m looking forward to next year, for sure. I don’t plan to run for class president—that job was made for Libby. Instead I’m going to join a rock-climbing club. It’ll impress Marty, hopefully. But I’m only going to the club that meets at that gym with the indoor rock wall and also happens to have a lovely juice bar and fantastic gift shop. Otherwise, why go?
Also? Westside ROCKS! Y’all know that, right?!
See you guys next year. I get the feeling it will be my cutest year yet!
Toodles!
Libby: You took on a bear, Trevor.
Trevor: You put on an event without planning it.
Libby [smiling proudly]: We are awesome.
Trevor: Totally.
Libby: Are you worried about eighth grade?
Trevor: Me? Nah. I’m not a worrier. Are you already making plans for eighth grade student council?
Libby: Me? Nah. I’m not an Over Planner.
[glance at each other]
Libby: Let’s make sure we sit next to each other on the bus next year.
Trevor: And bring each other Raspberry Zingers.
Libby: And ranch dressing.
Trevor: And never run against each other for class president.
Libby: And never enter a contest to win a school makeover on a TV show.
Trevor: And never get lost in the woods.
Libby: But always stay best friends.
Trevor: We have to, Lib. I think it’s the law.
Libby [elbows him]: It was a great year, right?
Trevor [takes a deep breath]: Nope, it wasn’t great…it was epic.
ROBIN MELLOM used to teach middle schoolers, and now she writes about them. (Any resemblance between fictional characters and her previous real-life students is purely coincidental. Probably.) She is also the author of The Classroom: The Epic Documentary of a Not-Yet-Epic Kid; The Classroom: Student Council Smackdown!; The Classroom: Trick Out My School!; and Ditched: A Love Story. She lives with her husband and son on the central coast of California.
(And don’t forget to follow Robin on Twitter @robinmellom.)
Through a freak incident involving a school bus, a Labrador retriever, and twenty-four rolls of toilet paper, STEPHEN GILPIN knew that someday he would be an artist. He applied himself diligently, and many years later he has found himself the illustrator of around thirty children’s books. He lives in Hiawatha, Kansas, with his genius wife, Angie, and a whole bunch of kids. Visit his Web site at www.sgilpin.com.