The Pages Between Us

by Lindsey Leavitt

  Speaking of A-game, don’t let Steve bother you. Sounds like he was pretty rude—what a chess snob. But at the next meeting we get to switch partners, so I’m sure it will go much better.

  Just do yourself a teeny-tiny favor . . . try not to use the phrase “horsey piece.” I personally think that you using it is understandable/adorable, but other people might, you know, go full Chess Snob on you. I’m guessing everyone in there would do that, actually. I mean, taking a look around that room I could tell they were all WAY into it, given all the nail biting and forehead wrinkling that was going on. I was surrounded by kids who constantly thought three moves ahead.

  Which means one thing: I’VE FOUND MY PEOPLE.

  Why did I think that I should only play with my dad? Now I’ll learn how to get better AND help us find new friends. (Are you calling them friends now or still characters? I think you’ve crossed over. Make friends. I’m sure it will still be dramatic, whoever you invite.)

  Counting Ellie, we only have a couple more to go. And that will be simple. At the next club we’re playing doubles. That’s two more people for me to get to know, and BAM, we’ve got ourselves a fully attended party!

  I know, I know . . . exactly how do I know about us switching partners at the next meeting, you ask? OH! Let me tell you a little story . . . it’s about me . . . in the lunchroom . . . not eating alone or desperately talking to strangers or bringing the wrong food item for exchange. This story is NONE of those things.

  This story is about me, walking into the cafeteria today while feeling a loneliness stomachache about to come on, when suddenly I see two hands waving at me from the corner. It was Ellie, flailing both hands in the air. “Come sit with us!” she called out.

  And that’s when I noticed Ellie was surrounded by a group of girls. They were all girls from Chess Club, and one of them—get this—had a spiral notebook with a unicorn wearing nerd glasses on the cover. TOUCH. DOWN.

  We all talked about the club and our history teacher and unicorns and even Shark Week. It was like I’d stepped into an alternate reality where people actually liked me—people who weren’t you or my relatives. (Wait, maybe that’s what Einstein was talking about with his theory of relativity? I’m guessing his middle school years were bumpy too.)

  How do I say “Whassup, dude?” in physics?

  So then Ellie gave me the heads-up on how we’re playing doubles at the next club meeting. OH! Speaking of club meeting, it doesn’t meet one day a week. Didn’t you see the poster? It meets THREE days a week plus Saturdays. Apparently they meet so often because they’re preparing for the regional tournament. They pick the four top players, and I really want to be one of those top four! We play against Monterey and Santa Barbara and Fresno schools, so it’s a really big deal. I know it might be a stretch to think you’ll make it to the tournament, but don’t worry—you’re just starting out. By next year, you may be caught up with me. (Again, no more saying “horsey piece.” Okay? Love you, thanks.)

  This all means we can’t go to LARP, of course. Or French or Spelling Club. Our schedules are going to be full, my dear!

  So this Saturday when we meet for Chess Club, I’ll ask my mom to come pick you up and then—OH. WAIT.

  This Saturday is that Souper Saturday thing at your church. It’s not that important, right? Just let them know something came up. Did you really want to be friends with those girls? Even with the Savannah Swanson Incident, I’m fine with it, I guess. But maybe be friends with them later, after Chess Club, because you already have so many people lining up!

  And after Chess Club, let’s see if my mom will take us to the mall so we can do that thing where we people-watch and make up stories about the secrets people are hiding. I love that story you told about that woman wearing a long frumpy skirt. You told me she used to be the famous fashion designer Annabelle Dior, but her runway show got a nasty review in the New York Times and now she dresses like a shopping bag just to spite the critics. Seriously, I loved that one.

  And then we’ll go split a soft pretzel. With mustard, of course.

  The girl who will soon have mustard on her chin,

  Olivia

  Grateful:

  1. Einstein’s middle school theories

  2. Ellie’s waving hands that were aimed right at me

  3. Girls who like nerdy unicorns

  4. My mother for agreeing to drive me to Chess Club and then take us to the mall (she hasn’t agreed yet, so this is technically a PRE-grateful)

  5. Annabelle Dior’s dark secret past

  Piper—

  I’m at the shelter. In between lessons with Trigger, I keep peering out the window to look for your mom’s car.

  Where are you?

  Olivia

  Chapter 20

  Olivia,

  Sorry I missed the shelter last night. I was busy. Did you go, or were you playing chess? And sorry I didn’t call you back. I was still busy. And maybe not so much busy as a little annoyed.

  You want to give up all the other clubs? Even LARP, which was super fun? And Spelling Club, which wasn’t super fun, but people were at least nice? I’d even go to Extreme LEGO Club with Danny again if I had to.

  Obviously, I don’t love Chess Club. I don’t think the people there are chess snobs. I think they are just snob snobs. Every other club I’ve been to, people tried to make me feel welcome. It wasn’t just Steve who was mean to me. Everyone kept looking at me like, “Why are you here? You’re too stupid.”

  And I know a horsey thing is a knight, okay? But why don’t they just call it a HORSE instead of a knight? Maybe in the old days, that worked, but chess needs to get with the times.

  So I’m not going back. I know I said Sagittarians don’t quit, but I decided if people are mean, quitting is a good thing. My parents said I could still go to clubs, and I will. All the other clubs we went to. Maybe new ones. I don’t even know. I really need to focus on planning my birthday party anyway. More Chess Club would probably mean a bloody nose for Steve Polaski, and then the party would be completely kaput.

  But you. You love it. And that is SO GREAT, really. Keep going. Keep eating lunch with your friends. I am honestly glad you found a little home. Just because we like different things doesn’t mean we can’t still be close. Sure, we won’t have Souper Saturday (or the mall after Chess Club, since Souper Saturday is an all-day thing), but we can still do Mondays at the shelter and, of course, my Party of Epic.

  Oh, and if you want to add Ellie to my invite list, that’ll be great. Well, maybe. I really need to figure out the list now that everyone is talking about it. People keep coming up to me and asking me when the party is, like it’s an open invitation. Our lunch table was totally packed today, and Jackson Whittaker even came over and sat there for a little.

  I probably should have mentioned that first with a bunch of hearts and exclamation points, huh? Here you go, better late than never:

  JACKSON: Hey, Piper.

  ME (trying to cover shock that Jackson knows my name): Hey, Jackson.

  JACKSON: So are you coming back to LEGO Club after your Danny fight?

  ME: I don’t know. I got sort of grounded after that, so I have to convince my parents I won’t get violent and that LEGOs are educational.

  JACKSON: They are. We build stuff.

  ME: I know, I told them we’re improving our spatial ability. We’ll see if that works. (I only knew the word “spatial” because I looked it up the night before to strengthen my argument with my parents so they’d let me go to LEGO Club again. They’ve been holding out on that one.)

  JACKSON: And . . . uh, what about your friend, Olivia? Jordan said she fell in love with him there.

  ME: THAT DID NOT HAPPEN.

  (Then I think Jackson got scared because he started to scoot away.)

  JACKSON: Okay. Well, cool. I will . . . let Jordan know. He’ll be bummed. He thinks Olivia is cool. I mean . . . she is cool.

  ME (switching from mean-sounding to so so so excited): She is! The
coolest! The best! You should talk to her sometime! I mean, not that she’s sitting around waiting for you to. But you should!!!

  (I know. I failed you a little. It was all that screaming in your letters bursting out of me.)

  JACKSON (smiled!): All right. I hope you both come back to LEGO Club. See ya.

  END SCENE

  I know I’m the one who knows nothing about boys or dating clues. But that sort of seems like interest to me, Olivia.

  So it might be the perfect window to invite him to my party? I didn’t know he was friends with Jordan. Maybe I should invite both of them so it’s not too obvious? Even though my invite list is about to explode to twenty and my mom might need to sell one of the twins to pay for all the extra pottery.

  I need to get SERIOUS about this party already. Only a couple weeks to go. I really think I need to ditch the casting and just invite people. For time reasons.

  Sorry I’m quitting Chess Club. I know you understand.

  Piper

  Grateful: Never having to see snobby Steve Polaski again, knowing I’m NOT STUPID just because I have reading comprehension issues and don’t totally understand chess, having so many people to sit next to at lunch, LARP, and my mom cooking tacos tonight

  Hi, Mrs. Jorgensen. It’s Olivia. I emailed Piper but she didn’t answer. I called but it was busy.

  Sorry, sweetie. Everything okay?

  Yes. Sure. I mean, relatively. It’s a complicated question.

  Sounds like you need to talk. Hold on, I’ll hand the phone to Piper.

  Hey

  Hey

  Sooooo . . .

  I read what you wrote.

  Okay. Are you . . . mad?

  Me? No. Great. Super fine. I’m actually thinking about how you talked to Jackson. And he said I was cool?

  Yep. So awesome, right?!

  Yep.

  Olivia.

  What?

  What’s wrong? I can tell there’s something wrong. Do you want me to call you?

  It’s okay.

  You’re acting weird.

  No I’m not. In fact, I think we should get going on our plans for our double wedding.

  Pink-and-purple theme, right?

  You know me better than that. You can have pink or purple. Not both. How about pink and orange?

  Gross.

  Aqua?

  Maybe. And I’m thinking of switching from peonies to orchids. They were used in ancient Greece and were a symbol of love and beauty. You know how much I want to have a Greek wedding.

  But I liked peonies. I looked them up. They make the bouquet look bigger. How do you make a bouquet out of long skinny flowers?

  We already decided. You get to pick the people—caterer, musician, wedding planner. That way you can create whatever story you want with their lives. I’m flowers.

  It’s not a big deal. We can just do both.

  We can’t have both. We either stick with the theme or we don’t. If I force myself to get behind a flower I’m not passionate about, then that’s going to show in my bridal photos! You either support me in this or you don’t, and I feel I should express my disappointment to you. I can only sacrifice so much.

  Wow, did that take you forty-five minutes to type out or what? Why are we texting instead of talking?

  Greek-themed weddings with orchids are what’s best for ME. And maybe you shouldn’t spend all your time worrying about the guest list. Why can’t you just try something that I want to do simply because we’re best friends? Don’t go off and do peonies on your own.

  We’re not talking about our double wedding anymore, are we?

  I want you to come to Chess Club. With me.

  But that wasn’t our plan. We wanted to try a bunch of clubs. You haven’t even tried LARP yet. So you’re going to give up everything else just for chess?

  Of course I am. And you’re the one who said we’d commit to Chess Club. Getting better at chess is a big deal for me!

  Which means you think Souper Saturday isn’t that big of a deal. I’ve been looking forward to it for weeks. I know I didn’t say it, but . . . I don’t know. I like having all these things to do and people to be with.

  I just don’t have time to go, that’s all.

  What kind of club meets FOUR DAYS A WEEK? That’s not a club. That’s a full-time job.

  It doesn’t feel like a job. I’m really liking it.

  I . . . I just wish you were going to Souper Saturday with me. I feel like you’re ditching me a little bit.

  I’m sorry.

  Gotta go. Finn just dragged the dog into the bathtub. Mom needs my help.

  You don’t have a dog.

  I know!

  Text me later?

  Piper?

  Chapter 21

  Piper,

  I’m not really sure what to say . . . or how to say it. I guess I figured you’d want to do Chess Club because that was our agreement—find a club we both like and go together so we can find friends. Or I could learn to have conversations and you could play casting director. Whatever the reason, we started this together.

  Together . . . like always. Me. And you.

  I had no idea you were feeling so “stupid,” as you say. Because you’re NOT. You’re Piper, and everyone adores you as soon as they get to know you.

  The only reason why you don’t have a lot of friends is because you CHOOSE not to. Whether you realize it or not. Maybe it’s because you’re only comfortable hanging out with me . . . or maybe it’s because you’re incredibly loyal to me . . . or maybe you just don’t like too many people being around you because you live in the middle of a litter of kids, I don’t know. My guess is it’s probably all of that.

  But it’s all different for me. At my house, now that Jason is gone, it’s just me. You say that you feel just as ignored at home as I do, but I don’t see how that’s possible. You have to escape to the bathroom just to talk on the phone. Me? I have only my cat to worry about. Sometimes Blinkie takes time out from her kitty naps to glare at me, but other than that I don’t have much “social interaction” at home.

  And when I said you’re VERY loyal to me . . . as much as I don’t want to admit it . . . sometimes I think that’s exactly why you spend all your time with me. Yes, it goes back to that Savannah Swanson Incident in third grade. Yes, you tell me all the time to block that out of my memory and never mention it again. Yes, you’re usually right.

  I said I’d try to be okay with you being friends with those girls from church who were in Savannah’s group, but I can’t get that day out of my head, Piper. It feels like it would take brain surgery.

  That memory haunts me.

  It wasn’t so much that I showed up for Savannah’s end-of-the-year school party and no one was there. It wasn’t even that she and all her crew laughed at me the next day when they said it had been canceled and they forgot to tell me. And it wasn’t even the fact that I overheard them in the bathroom saying that they intentionally told me to go to a different place because they think I’m such a NERD.

  It was the part where I had to explain it all to my dad. He kept hounding me about what happened, and he even called the teacher to find out why it was canceled. You have no idea how embarrassing it is to have your teacher call and explain why you were left out of a party. Or how humiliating it is when that teacher calls in the world’s most popular girl, Savannah Swanson, and gives her detention. Or how awful it is that none of those girls from third grade will even look my way anymore, including your church friends Eve and Tessa.

  I was scared to even talk to anyone after that whole ordeal.

  That potted pink chrysanthemum you dropped off at my house after the whole Savannah thing went down was the sweetest. I loved it. And I’m glad you gave me a fake one because it won’t ever die. I keep it on my nightstand to remind me of you . . . that Piper Jorgensen is always on my side.

  And I know you say I shouldn’t bring up the incident. But there are reasons why making friends is so hard for me. So once I w
alked into that Chess Club, and felt comfortable—for the first time in years—I started to think maybe I could finally shake off that whole humiliating incident.

  So it’s okay if you don’t want to go to Chess with me. It’s probably time I step out on my own and start to make friends by myself. Fly away, baby bird!

  Flapping my wings,

  Olivia

  Grateful for:

  1. Two days off of school

  2. Chess Club again on Saturday

  3. Mom letting me cook my vegan corn casserole

  4. Never having to see Savannah Swanson again

  5. My fake pink chrysanthemum

  6. OH, AND JACKSON AT YOUR PARTY

  Chapter 22

  Hey, Olivia,

  So, Savannah Swanson. I guess we talk about it.

  That was awful. SO awful. I can’t imagine how bad you must have felt. It was really rude of Savannah, who moved to South Dakota anyway and GOOD RIDDANCE, to laugh at you and be mean in front of others like that. But I’m starting to wonder now if those girls feel bad about it too. I mean, Eve is nice. So is Tessa. They all are. Maybe they weren’t really a part of Savannah’s meanness. Maybe they just happened to be there. Maybe they felt awful about it too. Maybe, Liv.

  Okay. Can we shake it off? Just for now?

  I have to tell you about Souper Saturday—I had so much fun. It was pretty much the best day of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed that hard. Bethany Livingston is so funny when she’s not acting all smart! We were supposed to tie blankets all day, but we kept tying other things into the blanket. And they had these candy-cane brownies that were just amazing. Tessa and Eve were there too. And we had this whole joke about monkeys, because Tessa brought this jungle-print fabric. A lady would come in to the church gym to work on a blanket and we would try to think of a way to talk about monkeys in the conversations: