This Girl Is Different
Page 21
Rajas and Jacinda and I sit, leaning back against the full-length windows. “You should have seen your face!”
Jacinda laughs. “You really thought we were holding evil signs?”
“Yes! I was steeling myself for the apocalypse.”
“I felt bad. But I was confused, you know? I missed you so much, and then you told me your idea for a speak-out…but when Ms. Gliss walked in, I needed to, like, play it cool. You totally freaked her out yesterday, by the way. You were so brave, confronting her like that!”
“You were brave to go to Dr. Folger and tell him about her.”
“Not as brave as you.” She looks over at Rajas. “Or you, Mr. Romantic! Ohmigod, Evie, could you just die? I cannot imagine someone doing that for me!” A sadness descends on Jacinda; she must be thinking about Brookner, but she soon smiles again. “That was, like, so fricking sweet! You rock on with your bad self, Raj!”
Rajas shrugs. “Wasn’t that big of a deal.”
“Yes it was!” Jacinda says.
“Yes, it was,” I agree.
“But I should have apologized to you a long time ago.” He’s frowning.
“Yes, you should have.” I bump him with my shoulder. “You’re not completely off the hook, you know. We still need to talk.”
“Great. Every guy’s favorite words.”
“Oh, pish-posh!” Jacinda waves a hand. “Just forgive him already! He was only trying to protect me. As misguided as that was!” Another shadow crosses her face. Again, she shakes it off. “It’s just a matter of time before you two are back together, and until you’re, like, fully engaged in nauseating PDAs.”
I can’t help but smile. I turn to Rajas. “What happened to ‘I don’t like labels’?”
He scratches his nose. “Guess I managed to see the light. When it comes to that particular label.”
Jacinda looks past us to someone entering the gym. She whispers, “Here comes The Man.”
“Yes, yes, here comes The Man.” Dr. Folger gives me a wink. “Didn’t think I could hear you, Ms. Harrod?”
Jacinda looks horrified. “I’m so, so sorry Dr. Folger! I—”
“Jay, you didn’t know?” Rajas becomes serious. “Dr. Folger has spyware in his suit pocket. It uploads directly to—”
“The InterWeb,” I finish.
Her eyes grow wide. “Are you serious!”
Dr. Folger smiles. “Indeed they are not.”
Jacinda juts out her pretty chin and swats Rajas’s knee in fake anger.
“Well, Evie,” says Dr. Folger. “I’d say the inaugural speak-out went quite well, all things considered. Would you agree?”
“Definitely. But we need to make sure all the students’ suggestions are taken seriously. Stiv is game for starting a new column in the newspaper. But we have to create other ways to embrace change and implement—”
“Hold up, Eve,” Rajas says. “How about enjoying the moment?”
“Right, I know. It’s just that we’ve got momentum on our side now, and—”
“Evie!” giggles Jacinda. “Slow down! Take a breather!”
“Okay. I’ll try.” I smile. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Rajas says. “That’s why we love you.”
My cheeks blaze, my heart flips at Rajas’s words. Love. If it weren’t for Dr. Folger’s Cold Shower Effect, I might jump Rajas’s bones right now, before I even decide whether I’ve forgiven him. Time for a change of subject.
“Do you want to join us?” I ask Dr. Folger. “Martha’s bringing food.”
His eyebrows rise. “It’s unorthodox…but don’t mind if I do.” Awkwardly, he sits on the floor, tugging at his ankle to cross his legs.
The door bangs open. “Revolutionaries! A feast! Organic corn chips! Salsa! String cheese! Courtesy of your local Walmart!” Martha plops the food down, along with a six-pack of juice spritzers. She sits. “Well, comrades. Sounds like the inaugural speak-out went quite well, all things considered!”
We exchange glances around the circle, stifling chuckles.
“And what’s so damned funny?” Martha says.
Dr. Folger laughs. “I believe you are starting to sound like The Man. Watch out. In a few years time, you might have an office next to mine.”
Martha throws up her hands. “Never! Perish the thought.” She grabs the bag of chips and wrestles it open. We all dig in, eating like cave men around a fire pit.
I bite into a string cheese and reach for a chip. “So, Dr. Folger. How about that recommendation for Cornell? Jacinda wants to go there too, you know.”
“Well isn’t that interesting.” His grin reveals a bit of salsa pepper stuck to his tooth. “As it happens, I have drafted a couple of letters. They’re around here somewhere.” He pulls two envelopes out of his jacket.
“Really? That’s fantastic!” Jacinda beams like she’s won a Nobel Prize. Or one of those MTV awards.
“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” I reach for the letters.
“Not so fast.” He whisks the envelopes away. “Perhaps it would behoove me to hold onto these. After all, you’ve not yet been here a semester—”
“And witness the chaos that’s ensued.” Rajas gives a sly smile.
“Indeed,” Dr. Folger nods. “How about we just file these safely away as a little…insurance policy, if you will.”
“Seriously. You should!” Jacinda says. “Evie’s such a bad influence. And I mean, look at everything that’s coming up. Homecoming, of course, and winter formal—”
“Hey! You’re all ganging up on me! Again!”
Jacinda’s still reciting her list. “And prom, and spirit week, and graduation. Ohmigod!” She smacks my leg in excitement. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
Dr. Folger and Martha exchange a look of exaggerated fear.
“Graduation speaker!” Jacinda chirps. “You’d be, like, so perfect!”
“Jay, that is perfect. Just imagine Eve’s address,” Rajas says. “‘How to deal when a revolution turns around to bite you in the butt.’”
I shake my head. “No no no no.”
“Why not, darling?” Martha looks distraught. “Don’t tell me this experience has turned you off from social justice activism—”
Jacinda is trembling with excitement. “No, it’s because she has something else in mind! I know! It’s going to be, ‘How I came here and made this school a better place,’ isn’t it? Isn’t it!”
“Nope,” I say. “Wrong again.”
Jacinda pretends to pout. “What, then?”
Brookner’s words are coming back to me, as imperfect as their messenger was. For someone who prides herself on her precocity, you sure can be dense.
But I’m finally beginning to get it.
It’s not just about me anymore. It never really was.
This girl is different. Yes—but that’s not the entire story.
The real story is much more interesting. I look around our circle, at the funny mix of friends sitting here, sharing this moment, crunching organic corn chips. I think about the kids who spoke out today, at the surprising and inspiring ideas some of them had.
I smile. “I’d definitely give the speech, if people elected me to.” And it would be about how we’re going to change the world. Together. Because this girl, this boy, these kids—all of us—are different.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
It turns out that being an author is a team sport. And boy do I have an amazing team.
Thanks foremost to Noah and Sam, for your sustained patience, silliness, and love. Thanks also to the rest of my family, especially Juanita and Earl Johnson, and Lisa Wichman— for your enthusiasm and careful readings—and to my Aussie family, the Everetts. (Hey Max—thanks for protecting Sam from all those fierce koalas so I could write. My shout, next time we’re down under.)
Tremendous gratitude to my critique group: John Bemis, Jennifer Harrod, and Stephen Messer. E. B. White wrote, “It’s not often that someone comes along who is a true friend
and a good writer. Charlotte was both.” You are my Charlottes, although non-arachnoid and hopefully much longer-lived.
Cheers to my agent, Ginger Knowlton, for constant kindness and for being in my corner. Thanks to my editor, Kathy Landwehr: smart, hilarious, and you make house calls? Doesn’t get any better. Thanks also to Vicky Holifield and Jessica Alexander for insightful and gentle editorial touches, and to Mo Withee, Melanie McMahon Ives, and Loraine Joyner for a cover and design Evie would love. A raised glass to the entire crew at Peachtree Publishers for making this such a humane, delightful, collaborative process. Viva la Peachtree!
Finally, heartfelt thanks to the L-Hs for Ruby love; the angels; the TNS crew; and the rest of my dear friends—too many to name here, but if you’re asking, “I wonder if that means me?” It does. It means you.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by J.J. Johnson
Cover design by Maureen Withee
ISBN 978-1-5040-2679-6
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