Molly in the Middle

by Ronni Arno

  “Hey, Molly,” Nina says. “Taylor spilled a bottle of juice right in front of Christina.”

  “Oh no,” I say. “That’s bad timing.”

  Nina gives a halfhearted smile. “Yeah, I thought Taylor was going to start to cry. Luckily, it missed Christina and mostly spilled in Wade’s lap.”

  I giggle at that. “People go kind of crazy about this party, huh?”

  Nina nods, then opens her mouth like she’s about to say something, but then she closes it again.

  “I guess I’d better get these napkins over to Christina,” she says. “See you over there.”

  Kellan and Dylan are sitting at a nearby table. He doesn’t make any sign that he notices me here. Then again, I don’t make any sign that I notice him, either. I take one of the cookies out of the package and eat it. I gently place the other one in the front pocket of my sweater.

  The next few classes pass by like normal, but things feel incomplete. Sure, I hang out a little with Nina and Robert in the hallway between periods, but something inside of me feels empty.

  On my way to my last class, I see Kellan at his locker, piling books into his backpack. He’s alone; no Dylan in sight. A lump grows in the back of my throat as I watch him. Even though I’m standing five feet away from him, it feels like he’s on the other side of the world.

  He catches me watching him, and I’m shocked when he gives me a little wave. Without checking with the rest of me, my legs take this as an opening. They speed-walk to his locker.

  “I saved this for you.” I pull the cookie out of my pocket.

  “Sweet!” He takes it from my hand. “Thanks.”

  And then we both start talking at the same time.

  “No, let me go first.” I take a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been a very good best friend. I ruined your first day back at school. I’m sorry.”

  Kellan shakes his head. “It’s my fault. I got jealous of your new friends and just felt left out. I was acting like a baby.”

  “No, no,” I say. “I’ve been the one acting like—”

  “Okay, okay.” Kellan puts his hand up. “How about if we say it’s both of our faults and leave it at that?”

  I smile. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Hey,” Kellan says, “want to go for a practice walk after school?”

  Mom already texted last night to ask if we could move our ice-cream date to tomorrow, so that means I’m free to hang out with Kellan. I lean in and give him a little hug. “That would be awesome.”

  Kellan’s cheeks turn pink. “Cool. Meet me outside after school. My mom can take us straight to my house.”

  I practically float down the hall after that. I’m so relieved that Kellan’s talking to me again that for a few minutes I actually don’t think about the Birthday Bash invitations.

  Until Robert comes sprinting up just as I’m about to walk into Spanish class.

  “Did you get one?” He’s waving a glossy bright red envelope in my face.

  The invitation.

  “I—I don’t know,” I stammer. “Where would I look?”

  “It would be in your locker,” he says. “Quick! Let’s go! Before the final warning bell rings.”

  Robert and I race to my locker. When I get there, I’m so nervous that I forget my locker combination.

  “What are you waiting for?” Robert is bouncing on his toes.

  I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. The numbers pop into my mind. I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans and turn the knob: 34-12-24. My locker pops open, and I scan the inside for something red.

  But there’s nothing.

  I pick up each textbook and place them all on the floor next to me. As I do, Robert picks them up and flips through the pages, in case the invitation got caught inside one of them. After all my books and folders are out of my locker and scattered all around us, I finally turn around and look at him.

  “I’m really sorry,” he says. “I thought for sure—”

  I hold up my hand. If he keeps talking, I’m going to burst into tears, and that’s the last thing I need to do right now. I pick everything up and pile it back into my locker. I have no idea if Robert is still behind me. I’m afraid to look. The second bell rings, which means we have one minute to get to class. I close my locker and turn around. Robert is gone.

  The tears leak one by one out of my eyes, and I wipe them with the back of my hand. I thought all these years of being a nobody were over. I will never be important. Never.

  The hallway is almost empty now. I shake my head, square my shoulders, and head back toward my next class. Less than one hour until I can cry my eyes out. But for now, I have to keep it together.

  I’m almost at my Spanish classroom when I hear Robert call my name. I turn around to see him running my way.

  “Molly!” Robert stops in front of me, out of breath. “She’s not finished yet.”

  “What?” I ask him, clutching my textbook to my chest.

  “Christina isn’t finished handing out the invitations yet.”

  My stomach flip-flops. “Do you know if I’m getting one?”

  “No. It’s top secret. She won’t say anything until all of them are out.”

  “Then how do you know she’s not finished?”

  “I ran into her after I left your locker. I saw her slide an invitation into Wade’s locker, and she still had a couple more envelopes in her hand. Then the bell rang, and she told me she’d have to finish after this period.”

  “So there’s still a chance?” I suck in my breath, afraid to start breathing again. I just want this whole waiting time to be over.

  “I’d say there’s a good chance.” Robert smiles. “Just hang in there for a little while longer.”

  And then he runs off. I take my seat in Spanish and watch the clock for the next forty-five minutes. When the final bell finally rings, I slowly gather up my things. I want to be sure Christina has enough time to put the invitation in my locker.

  The hallway is buzzing. The kids with red envelopes flash them to anyone who walks by, and the kids who don’t have them are whispering and pointing to those who do.

  I keep my eyes straight ahead of me as I head to my locker.

  chapter

  23

  BY THE TIME I REACH my locker, my heart is beating so fast, I’m afraid I might pass out. I slowly turn the lock, and when my locker pops open, I see it immediately.

  A bright red envelope, resting on top of my pile of books.

  My body feels like it’s a balloon that’s been released into the sky. My name, written in sparkly silver calligraphy, stares up at me, and this time the tears that well up behind my eyes are happy ones.

  “You got it!” Robert’s voice booms behind me.

  I grab the red envelope and hold it up. “I got it.”

  “Sweet!” Robert holds his hand up for a high five, and I happily give him one.

  Kids stare as they walk by, their mouths hanging open. They elbow each other and glance at Robert and me. I’m clutching my invitation like it’s an Olympic gold medal.

  “Oh, wow.” Alissa Steinman, a girl in our grade who I’ve never spoken to before, is standing behind us. “Did you get an invitation to Christina Golden’s Birthday Bash Brunch?”

  “She sure did.” Robert’s beaming with pride.

  Alissa looks me up and down. “Cool. Congrats.”

  “Thanks,” I say.

  This happens a few more times with other kids I recognize but don’t actually know. It’s as if they see me for the first time ever. As we all pack up for the day and head toward the exits, practically every seventh grader I pass says hi to me or gives me some kind of compliment. Others just smile and wave after a quick glance at the invite.

  When I meet Kellan outside, I’m still holding the red envelope in my hand.

  “What’s that?” he asks.

  “Oh,” I answer casually. “It’s an invitation to Christina’s Birthday Bash.”

  “Christina’s what?”


  Kellan’s probably the only one in the whole middle school who doesn’t know about her birthday party. “It’s this big party Christina throws every year for her birthday. Maybe I can get you an invitation?”

  The words pour out of my mouth as if they were spoken by an invisible alien living inside my body. What was I thinking?! I barely got myself an invitation. There’s no way I can get Kellan one.

  “Nah.” He laughs. “It’s okay. Thanks, though.”

  I let out my breath and smile. I don’t know what I would have done if he actually wanted to go.

  Mrs. Bingham takes us back to Kellan’s, where she has watermelon waiting for us. We eat it outside in the backyard and have a contest to see who can spit the seeds the farthest. My seeds practically dribble out of my mouth and land just in front of my feet. As always, Kellan wins the spitting contest.

  He does really well on our walk, too. We don’t even stop at our usual bench. He spends the first fifteen minutes talking about school—he thinks Mrs. Littman is a good teacher, he doesn’t understand a word in Spanish class, and he’s bummed that he can’t participate in PE—and when he finally stops, I fill him in on the drama at home.

  “Whoa,” Kellan says. “Eliza actually said that to your mom?”

  “Yep,” I say.

  “Whoa,” Kellan says again.

  “She isn’t wrong, though.”

  Kellan nods.

  “I mean,” I continue, “my mom isn’t around much. If she were really worried about Eliza, don’t you think she’d move back home? Maybe spend more time with her?”

  “I guess,” Kellan says. “But isn’t she in a fight with your dad?”

  “They’re grown-ups,” I say. “They should just work it out.”

  “Yeah,” Kellan says. “Like we did.”

  “Exactly.” I point my finger in the air. “We made mistakes. We apologized. We got over it.”

  “We’re so much more reasonable than grown-ups.” Kellan laughs, and I do too.

  “So what happens at Christina’s Birthday Bash that makes it such a big deal?” Kellan asks, stopping to take a sip from the water bottle that’s shoved in his pocket.

  “It’s a fancy brunch at her country club. We get all dressed up and eat caviar.”

  “Ewww, gross!” Kellan spits out his water. “Caviar is fish eggs.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “Well, there are also a bunch of chocolate fountains.”

  “I guess that’s cool.”

  “We get picked up in a limo. There’s a professional photographer and a dress-up photo booth. And I’ve heard the gift bags are amazing.”

  “Nice,” Kellan says. “When is it?”

  I shrug. “I’m not sure. I haven’t actually opened the invitation yet.”

  “Well, I hope you have fun. You’ll have to tell me all about it. Except for the caviar. I don’t want to hear about that.”

  “So you’re okay with the fact that I’m going to the party?” We’re about a block away from Kellan’s house now.

  “Yeah,” he says. “It’s not that I don’t want you to have other friends, Mols. And no offense, but I think Christina is a jerk.”

  “She’s okay once you get to know her,” I say, even though I’m not sure I believe it.

  “If you say so,” Kellan says. “I just want to be sure we’re always friends.”

  “Of course,” I say. “Best friends.”

  After more watermelon and another seed-spitting contest (I lose again), Mrs. Bingham drives me home. Eliza and Coco are playing video games when I walk in. I haven’t talked to Eliza since her fight with Mom. I consider asking her how she’s doing, but I’m not sure I’m ready to hear the answer.

  Instead, I go up to my room and get ready for homework. I pull the invitation out of my backpack and flip it around in my hands. I place my finger under the seal and gently pull so that the envelope opens up. I pull the invitation out. It’s made of a shiny black paper with red trim.

  You are cordially invited to

  Christina’s Birthday Bash Brunch

  The Club at Fairview

  Saturday, May 20

  10:00 a.m.–1:00 p.m.

  Semiformal attire

  I hug the invitation to my chest. This party will change my life. And I know, once Christina gets to know me better, she’ll welcome Kellan into her circle too.

  I pull a red marker out of my desk drawer so I can write the date on my wall calendar. As my hand finds May 20, I freeze.

  Oh no. No, no, no.

  May 20 is already circled.

  It’s the date of the Muscular Dystrophy Walk with Kellan.

  chapter

  24

  I FEEL LIKE I JUST ate a loaf of moldy bread. My stomach is swooping and swirling, but I know what I have to do.

  Of course I have to go to the walk. It’s Kellan, and it’s the most important day of the year for him.

  But then again, my entire reputation rides on this party. If I back out, Christina will never speak to me again and I’ll go back to being an outcast. And Robert. What would Robert think if I bailed on the party?

  I’m sure I’ll figure something out.

  I think I’ll figure something out.

  I hope I’ll figure something out.

  Just because I’m curious, I google “semiformal” and find out that it means fancy, but not ball-gown fancy. If I do go to the party, I’ll need something to wear. I open my closet door and scan the contents. Nothing in there says “semiformal.” I consider calling Mom and asking her to take me dress shopping, but the thought of spending hours at the mall with her makes me feel like I just swallowed a bowling ball. And she’d probably make me get a dress that she likes instead of one I like.

  There’s only one person who can help me. The question is . . . will she?

  I take a few steps across the hall to Eliza’s room. The door is closed, but music is playing, softer than it usually is. I knock twice.

  “What?” her voice calls from the other side of the door.

  “Ummm. It’s Molly.”

  “What do you want?”

  I take a step closer to the door, as if this will somehow help her to understand that I come in peace.

  “I need help.”

  Silence.

  “With a dress.”

  The door opens, and I’m standing so close to it that I practically fall into her room.

  “Why don’t you ask Mom?” She stares at me.

  I blink. “Because I thought I’d ask you.”

  Eliza stares at me for a second longer. She’s wearing jeans and a hoodie. There’s nothing special about her clothes, but she knows how to accessorize to make them look unique. A bangle of bracelets hangs from her wrist, and her hair is tied up in a messy bun. Her earrings are the exact same color as her sandals, and her fingernail polish matches the tint on her toes.

  “What’s the dress for?” Eliza steps inside her bedroom, and I follow.

  “It’s for a party that I might go to.” I twirl a purple strand of hair around my finger.

  “A party you might go to?” Eliza opens her closet door. “That’s not very helpful. I mean, what kind of party is it?”

  “Christina’s Birthday Bash Brunch.”

  Eliza raises her eyebrows. “I have no idea what that is.”

  Right. I keep thinking everybody knows what that is. “It’s a semiformal brunch at Christina’s parents’ country club.”

  “Which club?” Eliza scans her closet.

  “Fairview.”

  Eliza whistles. “Wow. Fancy schmancy.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “We’re taking a limo.”

  “What kind of seventh-grade party is this?” Eliza shakes her head.

  “A big one,” I say. “Which is why I need help finding a dress.”

  “You’ve come to the right place,” Eliza says. “Let’s see what I have here.”

  Eliza crawls deep into her closet and pulls out a few bins stored in the back—bins I hadn’t even s
een before. I think they multiply in Eliza’s closet while she sleeps.

  She opens the lid of one of them and rummages around until she finds what she’s looking for. “Aha!”

  I kneel down on the floor next to her. She holds up a black taffeta dress with spaghetti straps.

  “Stand up,” she demands. “Let’s see if this might work.”

  I do as she says, and she holds the dress in front of me. “Go try it on.” She hands me the dress, and I scamper off into my room with it. I slip it on as fast as I can, since I know how quickly Eliza’s moods can change. In five minutes she may decide she doesn’t want to help me anymore.

  I race back into her room, and she takes a few steps back, eyeing me up and down.

  “Add this.” She hurls a silver shrug sweater at me, and I throw it on.

  Eliza stares at me for a few seconds and then nods. She rummages around in her closet some more until she finds a pair of silver sandals with a heel higher than I’ve ever worn before.

  “Put these on.”

  I sit down on her bed and tighten the straps. I stand up, wobbly at first, and Eliza claps her hands together. “Perfect! You just need some jewelry to top it off. I’ll find something for you.”

  “You think I look okay?” I look down at myself, but it’s hard to get the whole picture.

  “See for yourself.” She points to the full-length mirror behind her closet door.

  I stumble across her carpet and make a note to myself to practice walking in heels. When I reach the mirror, I actually gasp.

  I look like a completely different person. A fancy person. A person who eats caviar and rides in limos and gets invited to semiformal parties.

  “Wow,” I say.

  “You look good,” Eliza says.

  I turn to face her. “Thank you so much.”

  “No problem. I’ll do your makeup for the party if you want. If you decide to go.”

  “Yeah,” I say. If I decide to go. “That would be great.”

  “Now get out.” Eliza points to the door. “I’m busy.”

  I reach the door before I turn around. “Thanks, Eliza.”