My Future Ex-Girlfriend

by Jake Gerhardt

  I also don’t want to look back because there are a few things I find a little embarrassing. I don’t want to look back on how rotten I felt when my ex, Tom Nelson, broke up with me. What did I see in him? Why did I even care?

  And I don’t want to look back on the day I resigned as student council president. It was rash to get so angry about a toilet paper rebellion but at that moment in my life I was not one to be amused by high jinks. If that happened today I would laugh with everyone else. And that’s all thanks to Charlie.

  So what do I want to accomplish for the last ten weeks?

  I want to do everything possible to make the eighth-grade dance a huge success. I want to finish strong in all my classes. And I want to put together an amazing alternative to the canceled class trip (boohoo), NYC Nites. Not only will NYC Nites be great fun but it will also raise money and awareness for a great cause (still haven’t nailed down a specific cause but we’re open to suggestions!).

  And the best part is that I’ll be able to do this with Charlie as my boyfriend!

  Erica Dickerson

  April 1, 2016

  English 8A

  Mr. Minkin

  Suggested Writing Prompt: With only ten weeks left until commencement, your years at Penn Valley Middle School are coming to an end. Write about either what you have accomplished in the last three years or what you want to accomplish in the last ten weeks. Or both!

  If having fun, Mr. Minkin, could be considered an accomplishment, then that’s what I plan on doing in the next ten weeks. And how could I not have fun? Hanging with Sam is like a day at an amusement park, but without the popcorn, soda, and roller coasters.

  I’m so glad Sam and I are a couple. Every morning Sam makes my day when he greets me at my locker and it’s always so exciting hanging with him and his friends. Today at lunch Sam and Foxxy practically had me on the floor from laughing as Sam (of all people) tried to show Foxxy how to eat properly. They’re like a comedy team, those two, they really are.

  But I sort of feel bad for Foxxy, who just got dumped by Holly Culver. The poor guy is really broken up over it. I’ve been trying to include him in everything Sam and I are doing so he doesn’t feel as lonely. (Sam thinks Foxxy should try to get back together with Holly, but trust me. It ain’t happening.)

  Fortunately there are plenty of things to distract him with, like the dance, graduation, and NYC Nites. I’m going to make sure Foxxy is with us as we put together all the end-of-the-year activities. He may not appreciate it, but I’m sure Sam will.

  Okay, that’s it for now. Here’s to the next ten weeks. We’re going to have a blast! And don’t forget to buy your tickets for NYC Nites!!

  5

  NYC Nites It Is

  CHOLLIE

  The best thing about having your girlfriend practically in charge of running the school is that you get all the information about what’s happening before anyone else. Sometimes our meetings in the library are like scenes out of Law & Order, Billy’s favorite show, when the one guy tells all the detectives what to do.

  So today at lunch I can see when she comes into the library there’s something wrong.

  “Bad news?” I ask as she takes a seat.

  “News is news,” she says. “It’s only bad news if we let it be bad news.”

  It’s amazing how optimistic she is, right? She’d be a perfect baseball player, never letting a bad at bat get in the way. I should really be writing this stuff down. She could make millions on a self-help book. I know Billy would buy a couple of copies.

  “What is it?” I ask, unwrapping my second turkey, cheese, and bacon sandwich. Miranda takes a long look at it, and I’m not sure if I should offer her a bite or not. Billy doesn’t think sharing food is a good idea this early in the relationship.

  “I just met with Mr. Lichtensteiner, Mr. Porter, and Duke. We can’t have the dance and NYC Nites. We have to choose one or the other.”

  I’m speechless. And not because I’m shocked, but more because I really don’t understand how all this stuff works.

  “We have to decide by the end of the day.” Then she asks, “Which would you rather do?”

  “I don’t know,” I say. “I really wanted to go to the dance with you, but the thought of everybody getting together for NYC Nites seems like it would be super fun, too. I wish we could do both.”

  Miranda smiles. “Me too. But I guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

  She starts on her work and I pretend to read my history book.

  “Oh, Charlie, there’s something I forgot to ask you,” Miranda says.

  “What’s that?”

  “Would you like to have dinner with me and my parents Sunday night?”

  Have you ever had the wind knocked out of you? It doesn’t hurt, but it’s really scary because you can’t breathe. That’s how I feel: just like I’ve been punched in the gut.

  “This Sunday?”

  “If you’re free,” Miranda says.

  I don’t know if you heard about what happened at the Mullaly residence after Valentine’s Day, but it wasn’t pretty. Duke, Sam, and I all had the same idea of shoveling the snow off Miranda’s sidewalk and it ended with Mr. Mullaly’s car window smashed and him chasing us down the street in his underwear because he was too mad to remember to put on pants. It’s all pretty embarrassing and I know my face is getting red just thinking about it.

  “Are you still worried about the snow day?” Miranda asks.

  Amazing. She can read minds, too!

  I can only nod.

  “It’s okay,” Miranda says, and then reaches out and touches my hand. And you know what? It is okay. It’s like magic. And when she says it’s going to be okay and she touches my hand and smiles I get my breath back and feel 100 percent better.

  I feel so good I finish my sandwich in one bite.

  SAM

  I’m a man on a mission Monday morning. I’m going to get Foxxy a girlfriend. First on my list is Terri McCool.

  Me: Hi, Terri.

  Terri: Hi, Sam.

  Me: Have you heard about Foxxy and Holly Culver?

  Terri: Yeah. I can’t believe it took so long for Holly to dump him.

  Me: What do you mean?

  Terri: I mean, what did she ever see in him? He wears the same clothes all the time and acts like he’s in kindergarten. And once we counted him wiping his nose with his hand a total of seventeen times until we simply had to stop counting.

  I cross Terri’s name off the list.

  I forget about Terri pretty fast, as a rumor goes around that we can’t have NYC Nites and the eighth-grade dance. According to the rumor, we’re going to vote on one or the other after school. I’m really looking forward to both, but then at lunch it hits me as I watch Foxxy slurping his chili from a bowl and telling Erica a stupid story about Holly that there’s no way Foxxy is going to have a date for the dance. I make up my mind.

  For the first time since the toilet paper rebellion, I give a passionate speech at a student council meeting.

  “What’s the big deal about an eighth-grade dance?” I ask. “Every school has an eighth-grade dance, but NYC Nites, that’s unique. I say we vote for that!”

  Don’t get me wrong, I was really excited about the dance, even though I don’t have a suit and I was probably going to have to get a ride from either my father or Lutz. But when the choice is between a big event where Foxxy could get lost or a dance where he’d likely be a third wheel, it was a simple choice for me. Anyway, our dances tend to be pretty boring. The Valentine’s Day dance was just about the worst night of my life. The girl I sort of liked wasn’t there, and I ended up eating pizza by myself and hiding in the bathroom. Like I said, worst night of my life.

  After I speak no one else says anything and we have the vote. I guess a lot of people feel like I do. No, that’s not right. Most people don’t care a
nd don’t vote. So first place was no vote and second place was NYC Nites. It’s not a landslide, but a win’s a win.

  When it’s all settled and Duke makes it official by hammering his gavel—yes, he actually has a gavel, like he’s a judge or something—Erica and I grab the back table in the auditorium where the teachers sit as they try to stay awake during study group. Just as we’re about to get to work—and don’t think for a second writing sketch comedies is easy—Foxxy comes over and sits down between us.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask, hoping he can hear from my tone that we’re busy.

  “I can’t work with the food committee. Julie Singer is there.”

  “What’s wrong with that?” I say.

  “Julie Singer and Holly are friends. I just can’t be in a group with her,” he says.

  I’m not a stickler for rules, but I think Foxxy volunteered for the food committee, and if he changes groups, then suddenly everyone will be doing whatever they jolly well please and the whole school will fall apart. There’d be chaos. I’m about to tell this to Foxxy when Erica says:

  “Oh, that must be hard on you. You can work with us.”

  And that’s the story of how Foxxy spent the afternoon and then the rest of the week with me and Erica on the entertainment committee.

  We work right at that table after school, going through our ideas, getting the volunteers for our acts, figuring out if we’ll have tryouts.

  Here’s a couple of things that we have so far:

  A talent stage for stand-up comedy (me and Erica), singing, dancing, juggling, etc.

  An art gallery that we’ll set up in Ms. Kerrigan’s room, which fortunately is right next to the auditorium.

  Okay, so it’s only two things. But it did take us a long time to get these ideas hammered out. And Miranda and Mr. Porter think they’re good ideas. Even Duke, the kind of guy who would frown at a pot of gold, thinks it’s a great idea.

  But the best part of the whole week comes on Thursday. Erica and I are working on the auditorium stage, trying to figure out how we’re going to entertain the crowd on the big night. When we’re alone backstage, going through the backdrops for the scenery, Erica gets really quiet, and I can tell she’s not thinking about NYC Nites.

  “What are you doing on Sunday?” Erica asks, and she is real nonchalant about it. But I can also hear in her voice, which goes a little higher, that she’s nervous.

  “I dunno,” I say. “I guess I’ll go to church and try to stay out of my mom’s hair. Maybe hang with Foxxy. You know, Sunday.”

  As Erica is looking through more backdrops she asks, “Would you like to have dinner at my house Sunday night?”

  Wow. I mean, wow! That would be great, right?

  “Sure,” I say. “That would be great.”

  “Oh, here’s a backdrop that might go perfectly,” she says. “What do you think of this?”

  It’s okay. I mean, everything is okay. I’m having dinner with Erica on Sunday night.

  “I think it’s perfect,” I tell her.

  And it’s true. It’s all perfect. Am I on a roll or what?

  DUKE

  I’m too busy to share deep thoughts about my life, so instead I will resort, for the moment at least, to the epistolary15 form. I’m not going to use letters as much as terse entries of thoughts, as if in a diary. Apologies, dear reader, but as you will soon learn, I am tremendously busy and time is short.

  Monday

  Note from Sharon in my locker:

  Hi Duke,

  Hope you had a great weekend.

  See you at student council.

  —S

  I shot right back:

  Dearest,

  It was a long and lonely weekend without you.

  Pining for you,

  DVS16

  Early-morning meeting with Mr. Lichtensteiner, Mr. Porter, and Miranda Mullaly. Choice between dance or NYC Nights. I begin to lobby for the dance. That afternoon, Sam Dolan gets the jerks in the student council to vote for NYC Nights. I hide my disappointment, end meeting, begin working with Mr. Porter.

  Note: Mr. Porter struggles with basic math. Not sure if we’ll be able to pull this off.

  I’m also a little angry with Sam.

  Tuesday

  Check in on spirit committee. Sharon and Ralph working on a jingle to play over morning announcements. Ralph a little too excited. Sharon appears serious and businesslike.

  There are forms to fill out for the police and fire dept. I can’t trust Mr. Porter to do them correctly, or even edit them. I’ll have Sharon give them a once-over.

  Wednesday

  Jingle coming along. Sharon and Ralph Waldo perform it for me to the tune of “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without a Smile”:

  Sharon: Hey, sixth-graders.

  Ralph: Hey, seventh-graders.

  Sharon: You’ve got your own style.

  Ralph: But, brother, you’re never fully dressed without a smile.

  Ralph: Hey, teachers and,

  Sharon: Hey, administrators

  Ralph: You’ve got your own style.

  Sharon: But, brother, you’re never fully dressed without a smile.

  (Piano riff here, provided by Mr. Wexler, the Judas.)

  Sharon: Are you in need of a smile?

  Ralph: If so, we have the cure. New York City Nights, the Penn Valley Middle School talent, comedy, dance, art extravaganza.

  Sharon: We have it all. So remember . . .

  Both: You’re never fully dressed without a smile.

  Ralph is quite proud of this work. He thought it was brilliant. I thought it was too much and missing the point. Sharon said it wasn’t an advertisement for the Super Bowl. She’s probably right.

  Knuckles and Moose watch from across the room, ready to pounce.

  Thursday

  Ralph and Sharon record the duet in the music room. Mrs. Lambert accompanies them on the piano. Mr. Wexler, once my mentor, disappointed me by coaching them.

  I’ll hatch a plan to get back at Ralph.

  Sharon is thrilled with the spirit committee’s progress. I feign interest.

  Busy with commencement speech. Perusing great eulogies for inspiration.

  Friday

  Note from Sharon in my locker first thing in the morning.

  Duke,

  So busy I forgot to ask. Would you like to have dinner with my family Sunday night?

  —S

  I immediately respond:

  Sharon,

  Your request made my day.

  I’d be delighted.

  Yours always,

  DVS

  Ralph Waldo watched me slip the note in Sharon’s locker.

  Ha!

  6

  Meet the Parents Eve (Anticipation)

  DUKE

  TODAY I FINALLY have a little bit of peace, a respite from the stress of working closely with Mr. Porter. I planned to use this time to work on an act for the talent show which will show off the dancing skills of Sharon and yours truly, but my nerves are now frayed thinking about the Sunday dinner. I’m not too much of a man to admit I’m extremely distracted. So, unable to get any work done, my only choice to keep my mind occupied was to bake a pie. A little something to offer my hosts, the Dolans.

  Neal and Cassandra insisted on helping, and against my better judgment, I allowed them to join me in the kitchen, provided they did not ask questions about Sharon. It wasn’t too bad, looking back on it now. They chatted about their favorite subject, their next book.17 They did not get in my way too much. But once the pie was in the oven, I had to choose: indulge their inane conversation or march upstairs to be alone with my thoughts once again. I’m sure my choice goes without saying.

  The smell of the cherry pie filled the house and I decided it might be best
to prepare for the evening by writing a script. And although I am not foolish enough to believe it will work out as written, it gives me a chance to practice my lines, if you will. Mostly, it gives me a rough idea of the topic of conversation, though one never knows how a dinner party’s conversation will truly run its course.

  SCENE ONE

  LIGHTS UP

  THE DINING ROOM of the Dolan residence. DUKE, fourteen, sits at the table with SHARON, MR. DOLAN, and MRS. DOLAN. They have completed dinner and are enjoying coffee and tea.

  Duke

  Dinner was a triumph, Mrs. Dolan. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed better lamb chops.

  Mrs. Dolan

  I’m very happy you enjoyed it, Duke.

  Duke

  It’s a pity Sam couldn’t join us. Will he be in the hospital for long?

  Mr. Dolan

  A couple of weeks, tops. But enough of Sam. Please, tell us more about your plans for the future.

  Duke

  I’m planning on attending either Harvard or Princeton18 when I graduate from high school. Right now I’m considering a double major, international relations and pre-med.

  Mr. Dolan

  Very impressive.

  Mrs. Dolan

  Those are difficult schools to get into.

  Duke

  Both Harvard and Princeton accept only the cream of the crop, as they say. And that’s why I’ve been preparing even while in the eighth grade. I’m currently the student council president, the sports editor of the school newspaper, and the editor in chief of the yearbook committee. My grades are impeccable. And, lest we forget, I shared the stage with Sharon as the lead in this year’s spring musical.