Everybody Bugs Out

by Leslie Margolis

  After she helped me clean my face, my skin felt raw and tingly and my eyes were still glassy.

  I blinked hard, stood up, and grabbed my backpack. “I should go. I’m not feeling so great.”

  “Don’t forget the jacket,” Claire said in a sing-songy chipper voice. “And feel better!”

  I’m glad Claire bought my excuse. Not that I was making anything up, exactly.

  It’s true—I did feel completely lousy.

  Just not physically so.

  chapter fifteen

  hannah’s nonnews

  As soon as I got to science the next day Tobias said, “I typed up all our field notes, and I’ve also been doing extra reading and guess what? It turns out a ladybug isn’t a bug at all. It’s a beetle.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  Tobias nodded. “Yup. And technically, it’s called a Coccinella septempuntata.”

  “A what?”

  Tobias repeated himself, enunciating carefully like he’d been up practicing all night. “Co-cin-el-la sep-tem-punta-ta.”

  It impressed me how into the project Tobias was. If I overlooked all of his teasing, I’d have to admit I was glad he was on our team. And yes, his face got pretty pimply sometimes, but his hair flopped over his eyes in a way that almost looked cute.

  I wondered if he liked bowling.

  Maybe I should ask him. Then I wouldn’t have to sit home alone on Saturday night, stressing over what might be happening at the Bowl-A-Rama. I’d get to see it all firsthand. Although maybe it would be torture, watching Claire and Oliver on a date together. What if they flirted? Or worse. What if they held hands or kissed or something? That wasn’t something I could bear to witness.

  Unless imagining all that stuff was worse than actually watching it happen.

  I couldn’t decide. But then I had another thought. Maybe it wasn’t so nice, using Tobias like that.

  Only asking him so I could go out and spy on my best friend and my crush.

  Unless I told him ahead of time that we’d only be going as friends.

  Or would that sound too dorky considering how obvious it was that we’d never be more than just friends? Especially when, at the moment, he smelled like modeling clay?

  Before I could decide whether or not to ask him, he opened his mouth and let out a hugely loud burp.

  “Awesome,” said Jonathan, who sits at the table behind us.

  Tobias grinned and burped again.

  “You’re the master!” Jonathan stuck out his hand, and when Tobias gave him a high five, he burped for a third time.

  Ugh! Clearly asking Tobias out on a date would be worse than staying home alone.

  I spent the rest of the day trying to find a boy I wouldn’t mind going on a triple date with, but no one seemed as good as Oliver. Who, by the way, was wearing a new green T-shirt that really brought out the color in his eyes.

  So I gave up searching and made plans to hit the mall with Yumi and Emma instead.

  When Saturday night rolled around we found ourselves in line at the multiplex on the top floor.

  “Hey, how come you’re not bowling with everyone else tonight?” I asked Emma.

  “Same reason as you. No date.”

  “But you have a boyfriend who lives here,” said Yumi. “If Nathan lived closer, I’m sure we’d be bowling right now—no offense.”

  “None taken,” said Emma, twisting her mouth up unhappily. “I asked Phil but he said no because he needs to work on his science fair project all weekend.”

  “How long does it take to build a hamster maze?” I asked.

  “Oh, he finished the maze-building part last week. Now he’s making Einstein run it ten times a night.”

  “He can’t take a break on a Saturday night?” asked Yumi.

  Emma shook her head. “Einstein’s training schedule is very strict.”

  “Poor hamster,” I said.

  Emma shrugged. “I understand it. He just really wants to win.”

  “Me, too.”

  “I would if it weren’t for Hawaii,” Yumi said.

  “You mean if it weren’t for Nathan,” I said.

  Yumi grinned. “Nathan and Hawaii. Same difference. I won’t deny it.”

  “Who’s gonna take care of Einstein if Phil gets to go to Space Camp?” I wondered.

  “He’d probably try to sneak him in,” Emma said. “Phil is crazy about that hamster!”

  “Does that mean he’s taking him to the dance?” Yumi asked as we both laughed.

  “I hope not,” said Emma. “Hey, have you guys figured out what to wear?”

  “Last night I tried on six outfits,” I admitted. “But then I felt silly because I don’t even have a date. So it’s not like it matters.”

  “Don’t feel bad. It’s not like I have one, either,” said Yumi.

  “Wait—didn’t we decide that you’re going with Dante?” asked Emma.

  “You guys decided,” said Yumi. “But it’s up to me and I don’t want to do that to him.”

  Not having a date by choice was very different from not having a date because your best friend stole him. But at least I wouldn’t be the only one of my friends going solo.

  When we got to the front of the line we bought our tickets and went inside. The movie was good but not good enough to distract me from thinking about Oliver’s big date with Claire.

  Were they bowling right now? How did they split up for teams? Girls versus boys? Or couple versus couple? Who was keeping score? Did Claire go with skinny jeans or baggy? Did they order nachos or hot dogs or both?

  Claire told me she stunk at bowling and worried she’d get five gutter balls in a row, which would obviously be humiliating, but I knew Oliver was too nice to make fun of her. But would she really get five in a row? And if so, wouldn’t he think that was pretty bad? And, like, maybe wish he were bowling with someone else? Someone with more experience whose grandma lives near one of the biggest bowling alleys in the whole city?

  I’m just saying …

  After the movie we headed up to the food court for pizza, but before we got there we saw Hannah in the window of a fancy dress shop. The kind where you can get silk shoes custom-dyed to match any outfit.

  When she saw me waving she motioned for us to come in the store, so we went. Musak played softly. Two women strolled by with fancy little dogs in their purses.

  “What’s up?” I asked, stopping short once I noticed Taylor was there as well.

  Taylor looked us up and down in her judgey way— not exactly hostile, just very Taylor-esque.

  “We’re looking for dresses for the dance,” Hannah said, tucking her hair behind her ears.

  Taylor held up a purple slinky, strapless thing. “Wouldn’t this look amazingly fab on Hannah? She’s got just the right bone structure to pull it off.”

  I’d no idea what that meant but said, “Yeah, I guess,” because I didn’t want to fight. If I were honest I’d tell her that the dress looked like something an evil princess would wear. Plus, Hannah and I had already agreed that strapless dresses were too annoying to deal with.

  “See, I told you it’s gorgeous. Try it on.” Taylor shoved the dress at her.

  Hannah took a small step away from it. “That’s okay. I don’t have enough money on me, anyway.”

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “Just try it, dummy. If you love it, they’ll put it on hold for you and your mom can buy it tomorrow.”

  “I’m at my dad’s this weekend, and I don’t think he’ll want to go dress shopping. He gets all squirmy whenever I ask him to do stuff like that. He’d probably get my stepmom to take me, and I just know she’d try to talk me into getting something pink or something from the half-off rack. Or something that’s pink and half off.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” Taylor let out an annoyed huff of breath and put the dress back on the rack. “You’re just upset about Erik.”

  “Are you guys fighting?” asked Emma.

  “No,” said Hannah. “Everything is great.”
>
  “Except he still hasn’t asked her to the dance,” said Taylor.

  “He still hasn’t?” asked Yumi.

  “What do you mean ‘still’?” said Hannah. “The dance is two weeks away. He’s got plenty of time.”

  As Hannah and Taylor went back to dress shopping, Yumi, Emma, and I all looked at each other. No one said anything, but we didn’t have to. Obviously, we were all thinking the same thing: something was up.

  chapter sixteen

  no candy, no balloons, no nuts, and no carrots

  So then they were all, ‘I can’t believe she bowled another gutter ball,’ ” Rachel said at lunch on Tuesday.

  Of the four of us, only Claire laughed. Rachel didn’t notice and kept talking. “And Claire was like, ‘Excuse me for not being an expert bowler. But who wants to be great at bowling? People who like wearing used shoes? And—”

  “And Oliver was taking a sip of root beer when she said it, and he cracked up and sprayed soda everywhere,” Claire finished, smiling triumphantly.

  “It would’ve been gross if it wasn’t so funny,” Rachel added as the two of them giggled.

  Yumi ignored them because she was texting Nathan under the table.

  And Emma just looked away, her mouth set in a straight line and a bored expression on her face, like she was sick of this story.

  I didn’t blame her. It’s the third time they’d told us about how Oliver sprayed root beer out of his mouth. We were tired of hearing about their fabulous double date.

  “Know what’s so weird about Caleb?” asked Rachel. “And I mean weird in a good way.”

  “How he acts like a clueless surfer dude, but he’s really into animals and he even volunteers to clean out the rabbit cages at the local shelter, which is the grossest job there is,” said Emma.

  “How did you know?” asked Rachel.

  “Because you told us yesterday,” Emma replied.

  “Oh.” Rachel took a bite of her tuna fish sandwich. “Sorry.”

  “Hey, I heard the no-Candygrams go on sale next week,” said Claire.

  “What’s a no-Candygram?” I asked.

  “Well, you know what a regular Candygram is, right?” asked Claire.

  After I shook my head, she went on to explain. “It’s when you pay a dollar and you get to write a message on a card that will be delivered with some candy to the person of your choice on Valentine’s Day.”

  “They hand them out in homeroom,” Rachel added.

  “And the no-Candygram is just the card?” I guessed.

  Emma nodded. “Exactly. They took away our candy after some parents complained that childhood obesity is on the rise. They wanted to send balloons instead. But then the environmentalists asked, ‘Why bring more nonrecyclable waste into the area?’ So someone thought trail mix would be better, but then the parents of kids with nut allergies got together and protested. Which is how everyone came to agree on carrot sticks, but that seemed like way too much work. So now we’re just doing grams.”

  “No candy, no carrots, no nothing,” said Yumi.

  “Except for the cards and message, which is the best part anyway,” Rachel said.

  “Huh. Guess I don’t need to worry about any of that, since I don’t have a date for the dance.” I didn’t mean to sound all sour cherries about it. It just came out that way.

  “They’re not just for dates. You’re supposed to get them for all your best friends, too,” Claire said.

  “Are you sending one to Caleb?” Yumi asked Rachel.

  “I probably should,” said Rachel. “Since he’s so nice to rabbits and all, but I don’t want him to get the wrong idea.”

  “What’s the wrong idea?” I asked.

  “That’s the problem.” Rachel frowned. “I mean, I kind of like him and I’m sure we’ll have fun at the dance, but it’ll also be weird seeing Erik there with Hannah.”

  “If they end up going,” Yumi said.

  Rachel perked up. “What do you mean ‘if’?”

  “Nothing,” said Yumi. “Just—we ran into Hannah at the mall on Saturday, and we found out he hasn’t asked her yet.”

  “As of Saturday or as of today?” Rachel wondered.

  No one answered her, so she looked at me. “Annabelle? What do you know? This is important!”

  “She told us on Saturday and I haven’t heard anything since, but we don’t really talk about it, so maybe he’s asked her by now.”

  Rachel munched on her celery stick in contemplation. “Maybe I should send him a gram.”

  “Erik?” I asked.

  She nodded. “Of course, Erik.”

  “That’s bold,” said Claire.

  “If you do send him one, you’ve got to get one for Caleb, too. He’s your date, so it’s only fair,” said Emma.

  “Anyway, just sending one isn’t the main issue,” said Claire. “It’s all about what you write in the note.”

  “Dear Erik,” said Rachel, pretending to write in the air with her celery stick. “Why go out with Hannah when you can have me instead?”

  Everyone giggled. Sure it was a tad mean-spirited, but it was funny, too.

  “And Dear Caleb,” Rachel continued. “You’re a great second choice. Thanks for being my backup date.”

  “What if I send one to Oliver and he doesn’t send one to me?” Claire said.

  “He will,” said Rachel. “Oliver is way too polite not to.”

  “I don’t want him to send me one because he’s polite,” said Claire. “I want him to send me one because he likes me.”

  “Obviously he likes you,” I said. “You guys had the best time bowling.”

  “I mean, I want him to like me like me,” said Claire. “But half the time he talked about stupid stuff, like cricket or your science fair project.”

  “He mentioned our project?” I asked.

  “Uh-huh.” Claire nodded.

  I leaned a little closer. “What did he say?”

  “He talked about how much fun it was, learning about bugs and stuff. And that if you weren’t on the team, he and Tobias would never get anything done. And I was like, ‘Please can we not talk about school on Saturday night?’ ”

  “You should see the bug drawings he’s doing. They’re incredible. He’s so talented.”

  Claire gave me this look—like she could read my mind and wasn’t exactly thrilled with what she found there. So I quickly asked her, “How’s your project coming along?”

  “Fine.” Claire shrugged. “We’re almost done.”

  I turned to Emma and Rachel. “What about you guys?”

  “It’s crazy,” said Rachel. “You wouldn’t believe the high fat and sugar content in the food here. It’s all so processed and prepackaged. The only real actual fruit they sell are apples, and half the time they’re mushy.”

  “Or at least they have mushy spots,” Emma added. “But Phil doesn’t think we can win because my project is anti-school.”

  “How is it anti-school?” I asked. “It’s science. You’re just reporting the facts.”

  “Right.” Emma nodded.

  “I think he’s just trying to psych you out,” said Rachel.

  “But why would he do that?” asked Emma. “He’s my boyfriend.”

  It was a good question, but not one that any of us could answer.

  chapter seventeen

  to no-candygram or not to no-candygram? that is the question …

  Today is the last day to buy no-Candy grams,” Rachel informed me on our walk to school a couple of days later. “So I’m taking a vote. Should I send one to Erik or not?”

  “I say no,” I replied. “Which is what I already told you three, no, four times.”

  “What about you?” Rachel asked Yumi.

  “Huh?” Yumi looked up from her phone.

  “It’s dangerous to text while walking,” Rachel said. “You could trip and hurt yourself. Or you could hurt your best friend’s feelings by not paying attention to what she’s saying.”

&nb
sp; “Sorry.” Yumi flashed a sheepish smile and then put her phone away.

  “So?” asked Rachel. “Erik—should I send him a gram or not?”

  “I thought we covered this ages ago. If you send one to Erik, you’ve gotta send one to Caleb, too. Otherwise, it’s mean.”

  “But that’s two whole dollars.”

  “It’s all or nothing,” said Yumi.

  Rachel threw up her hands. “You guys are no help! You’ll be lucky if you get any no-Candygrams from me.”

  “You mean you haven’t already sent them?” asked Yumi.

  “No, I’m just kidding. Of course I have.”

  “Me too,” said Yumi.

  I stayed silent because I’d been avoiding the no-Candygram table all week. The problem? Besides wanting to send them to Rachel, Emma, Yumi, and Claire, I really wanted to get one for Oliver, too.

  We were lab partners, after all. And he totally deserved one, since he was always sneaking ginger cookies into class for me. We were friends, just like me and Claire and Emma and Yumi and Rachel. So I don’t know why I hesitated.

  But I did. And it’s not like I could ask for any advice. That would make things way too obvious.

  As soon as we got to school I checked my wallet for the five dollars my mom gave me. It was still there, so I headed over to the no-Candygram table.

  A bored-looking eighth grader sat behind the booth. It had a red tablecloth and some balloons on either side, and I wondered what the environmentalists thought of that. Maybe not much, since it was only a handful.

  By the time I got to the front of the line I still hadn’t decided, so I asked for four grams and handed her my money.

  “Here you go,” she said, handing me the cards along with my change. I stared at the single dollar, thinking I should’ve just bought five and then decided later. Now I’d have to wait in line all over again. If I were to get one for Oliver, that is.

  “Hello?” She waved the money at me impatiently.

  “Sorry, I’ll take another one. Unless. Well, no. Never mind.” I grabbed the dollar and shoved it into my back pocket.

  Then I wrote messages to my friends.

  To Emma, aka “Ms. Smarty-Brain” (I’d say pants, but I know you have a problem with that): According to the U.S. Greeting Card Association, over 1 billion Valentine’s Day cards are sent out every year. And I guess that makes this 1 billion and 1. (Okay, it only took a Wikipedia search to come up with that statistic, and I know how you feel about online source material, but too bad!)