Flipped

by Wendelin Van Draanen

  But in my heart I knew that just like the new grass, I wasn’t strong enough yet to be walked on. And until I was, there was only one solution: I had to stay away from him. I needed to rope him out of my life.

  So I closed my ears to the news of basket boys and steered clear of Bryce at school. And when I did happen to run into him, I simply said hello like he was someone I barely even knew.

  It was working, too! I was growing stronger by the day. Who cared about auctions and basket boys? I didn’t!

  Friday morning I got up early, collected what few eggs there were in the coop, watered the front yard, which was by now definitely green, ate breakfast, and got ready for school.

  But as I was running a brush through my hair, I couldn’t help thinking about Shelly Stalls. It was auction day. She’d probably been up since five, making her hair into some impossibly pouffy do.

  So what? I told myself. So what? But as I was throwing on my windbreaker, I eyed my money tin and hesitated. What if …

  No! No-no-no!

  I ran to the garage, got my bike, and pushed out of the driveway. And I was in the street and on my way when Mrs. Stueby flew right in my path. “Julianna,” she called, waving her hand through the air. “Here, dear. Take this. I’m so sorry it’s taken me this long to get it to you. I keep missing you in the mornings.”

  I didn’t even know how much she owed me. At that moment I didn’t care. All I knew was the top bill in her hand was a ten, and it was striking terror in my heart. “Mrs. Stueby, please. I … I don’t want that. You don’t have to pay me.”

  “Nonsense, child! Of course I’m going to pay you. Here!” she said, and waved it out for me to take.

  “No, really. I … I don’t want it.”

  She wedged it in the pocket of my jeans and said, “What utter nonsense. Now go! Go buy yourself a rooster!” then hurried back up her walkway.

  “Mrs. Stueby … Mrs. Stueby?” I called after her. “I don’t want a rooster … !” but she was gone.

  All the way to school Mrs. Stueby’s money was burning a hole in my pocket and another in my brain. How much was it?

  When I got to school, I parked my bike, then broke down and looked. Ten, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. I folded the bills together and slid them back into my pocket. Was it more than Shelly had?

  All through first period I was furious with myself for even thinking it. All through second period I kept my eyes off of Bryce, but oh! It was so hard! I’d never seen him in a tie and cuff links before!

  Then at break I was at my locker when Shelly Stalls appeared out of nowhere. She got right next to me and said, “I hear you’re planning to bid on him.”

  “What?” I took a step back. “Who told you that? I am not!”

  “Someone said they saw you with a whole wad of cash this morning. How much do you have?”

  “It’s … it’s none of your business. And I’m not bidding, okay? I … I don’t even like him anymore.”

  She laughed, “Oh, that’ll be the day!”

  “It’s true.” I slammed my locker closed. “Go ahead and waste your money on him. I don’t care.”

  I left her there with her mouth open, which felt even better than getting her in a headlock.

  That feeling carried me clear through to eleven o’clock, when the entire student body assembled in the gymnasium. I was not going to bid on Bryce Loski. No way!

  Then the basket boys came out on the stage. Bryce looked so adorable holding a picnic basket with red-and-white-checked napkins peeking out from either side, and the thought of Shelly Stalls flipping one of those napkins into her lap nearly made the bills in my pocket burst into flames.

  Darla came up behind me and whispered, “Rumor is you’ve got a wad of cash. Is that true?”

  “What? No! I mean, yes, but I … I’m not bidding.”

  “Oooo, girl, look at you. You feelin’ all right?”

  I wasn’t. I felt sick to my stomach and shaky in the knees. “I’m fine,” I told her. “Fine.”

  She looked from me to the stage and back to me. “You got nothin’ to lose but your self-respect.”

  “Stop it!” I whispered at her fiercely. It felt like I was having a panic attack. I couldn’t breathe. I felt light-headed and wobbly—like I wasn’t in control of my own body.

  Darla said, “Maybe you should sit down.”

  “I’m fine, Darla, I’m fine.”

  She frowned at me. “I think I’ll stick around to make sure.”

  The Booster Club president, Mrs. McClure, had been fluttering around the basket boys, fixing ties and giving them last-minute instructions, but now suddenly she was slamming her gavel on the podium, calling into the microphone, “If you’ll all settle down, we’re ready to begin.”

  I’d never seen six hundred kids quiet down so fast. I guess Mrs. McClure hadn’t either, because she smiled and said, “Why, thank you. Thank you very much.” Then she said, “And welcome to the fifty-second annual Basket Boy Auction! I know that your teachers have gone over the procedures with you in homeroom, but I’ve been asked to remind you of a few things: This is a civilized proceeding. No whistling, catcalls, or other degrading behavior will be tolerated. If you wish to place a bid, you must raise your hand high. Bidding without raising your hand is prohibited, and should you decide to be a funny guy, you will be caught and detained or suspended. Are we all clear on that? Good.” She looked from one side of the gym to the other. “Teachers, I see that you are in position.”

  Six hundred heads turned slowly from side to side, looking at the blockade of teachers on either side of the gym.

  “Man,” Darla whispered, “they’re not leaving much room for fun, are they?”

  Mrs. McClure continued, “Minimum bid is ten dollars, and of course, the sky’s the limit, but we don’t accept IOUs.” She pointed to her right. “Winning bidders should go directly to the table at the north door when I declare the basket to be sold. And as you’re aware, winners and their basket boys have the rest of the school day off and are exempt from tonight’s homework in all classes.” She smiled out at the blockade. “Teachers, we appreciate your support on this.

  “All right, then!” She put on her reading glasses and looked at a three-by-five card. “Our first basket has been brought by Jeffrey Bisho.” She looked over her glasses at him and said, “Come on up, Jeffrey. Don’t be shy!” He inched forward as she continued. “Jeffrey has brought a scrumptious lunch consisting of chicken salad sandwiches, oriental noodles, baby grapes, iced tea, and fortune cookies.” She smiled at him over her glasses. “Sounds delicious, and sounds like fun! Which,” she said, looking back at the crowd, “Jeffrey is! He enjoys skateboarding, skiing, and swimming, but ladies, he also enjoys a day in the park and watching Humphrey Bogart movies.” She turned to him and grinned. “They are a kick, aren’t they?”

  Poor Jeff tried to smile, but you could tell—he wanted to die.

  “All right, then,” said Mrs. McClure as she whipped off her glasses. “Do I hear ten?”

  Not only did she hear ten, she heard twelve, fifteen, twenty, and twenty-five, too! “Going … going … gone!” cried Mrs. McClure. “To the young lady in the purple tunic!”

  “Who is that?” I asked Darla.

  “I think her name’s Tiffany,” she said. “She’s a seventh grader.”

  “Really? Wow. I would never have bid last year! And I … I don’t remember bids going up that high, either.”

  Darla eyed me. “Which tells me that maybe you would bid this year? How much you got?”

  I looked at her and almost dissolved right on the spot. “Darla, I didn’t bring money on purpose! My neighbor made me take it on the way to school because she owed it to me for eggs and—”

  “For eggs? Oh, like Bryce was talking about in the library?”

  “Exactly, and—” I looked at her looking at me and stopped cold.

  “How can you even think about bidding on that boy?”

  “I don’t want to! But
I’ve liked him for so long. Darla, I’ve liked him since I was seven. And even though I know he’s a coward and a sneak and I should never speak to him again, I’m having trouble focusing on that. Especially since Shelly Stalls is after him. And now I’ve got this money burning a hole in my pocket!”

  “Well, I can understand the bit about Shelly Stalls, but if you know that boy’s just a big piece of fluffy cheesecake that you’re gonna regret eating, I can help you with your diet.” She put out her hand. “Give me the money. I’ll hold it for you.”

  “No!”

  “No?”

  “I mean … I can handle this. I’ve got to handle it.”

  She shook her head. “Oh, girl. I’m hurting for you here.”

  I looked back at the stage. The auction was happening so fast! They’d be at Bryce in no time. As the bidding continued, the battle in my head got louder and fiercer. What was I going to do?

  Then suddenly the gym fell quiet. You could have heard a pin drop. And standing next to Mrs. McClure looking completely mortified was Jon Trulock. Mrs. McClure was scouring the crowd with her eyes, looking very uncomfortable, too.

  “What happened?” I whispered to Darla.

  “No one’s bidding,” she whispered back.

  “Do I hear ten?” called Mrs. McClure. “Come on, out there! This lunch is delicious. Strawberry tarts, roast beef and Muenster cheese sandwiches … ”

  “Oh, no!” I whispered to Darla. “I can’t believe I did this to him!”

  “You? What did you do?”

  “I voted for him!”

  “Well, you couldn’t have been the only one … .”

  “But why isn’t anyone bidding on him? He’s … he’s so nice.”

  Darla nodded. “Exactly.”

  That’s when I realized what I had to do. My hand shot into the air and I called, “Ten!”

  “Ten?” warbled Mrs. McClure. “Did I hear ten?”

  I put my hand up higher and said to Darla, “Say twelve.”

  “What?”

  “Say twelve, I’ll outbid you.”

  “No way!”

  “Darla! He can’t go for ten, c’mon!”

  “Twelve!” Darla called, but her hand didn’t go up very high.

  “Fifteen!” I cried.

  “Sixteen!” called Darla, and eyed me with a laugh.

  I whispered, “Darla! I’ve only got fifteen.”

  Her eyes got enormous.

  I laughed and called, “Eighteen!” then held her arm down and said, “But that really is all I’ve got.”

  There was a moment of silence and then, “Eighteen going once! Eighteen going twice … Sold! for eighteen dollars.”

  Darla laughed and said, “Whoa, girl! What a rush!”

  I nodded. “Yes, it was!”

  “Well, no dessert for you. Looks like you got cleaned out by something a little more … uh … nutritious.” She nodded toward the stage. “You gonna go up to the table like you’re supposed to? Or you gonna stick around and see the carnage?”

  I almost didn’t have a choice. Before Mrs. McClure could say two words about Bryce or his basket, Shelly called, “Ten!” Then from the middle of the gym came “Twenty!” It was Miranda Humes, with her hand way in the air. They went back and forth, back and forth, higher and higher, until Shelly called, “Sixty-two!”

  “I can’t believe it,” I whispered to Darla. “Sixty-two dollars! C’mon, Miranda, come on.”

  “I think she’s out. Shelly’s got it.”

  “Sixty-two dollars going once!” cried Mrs. McClure, but before she could say, Going twice! a voice from the back of the gym called, “A hundred!”

  Everyone gasped and turned around to see who had called the bid. Darla whispered, “It’s Jenny.”

  “Atkinson?” I asked.

  Darla pointed. “Right over there.”

  She was easy to spot, standing tall above the others in the number-seven basketball jersey she almost always wore. “Wow,” I whispered, “I had no idea.”

  “Maybe she’ll slam-dunk him for you,” Darla said with a grin.

  “Who cares?” I giggled. “She slam-dunked Shelly!”

  Mrs. McClure was gushing into the microphone about the record-breaking bid when a big commotion broke out over by Miranda. I spotted Shelly’s hair, and my first thought was that there was going to be a fight. But instead, Shelly and Miranda turned to face Mrs. McClure and called, “One-twenty-two fifty!”

  I choked down a cry. “What?”

  “They’re teamin’ up,” Darla whispered.

  “Oh, no-no-no!” I looked over Jenny’s way. “Come on, Jenny!”

  Darla shook her head and said, “She’s through,” and she was. Bryce went to Shelly and Miranda for one hundred twenty-two dollars and fifty cents.

  It was a little strange, meeting up with Jon and walking over to the multi-purpose room for lunch. But he was just so nice, and I think grateful that I’d bid, that by the time we got situated at our table, I wasn’t feeling so awkward or silly. It was just lunch.

  Things would have been easier if they hadn’t seated me in direct view of Bryce and his little harem, but I did my best to ignore them. Jon told me all about this radio-controlled airplane that he and his dad were building from scratch, and how he’d been working on it for nearly three months, and that over the weekend they were finally going to get to try it out. He told me a funny story about soldering the wires wrong and practically starting a fire in their basement, and I asked him about how a radio-controlled airplane works because I didn’t really understand it.

  So I’d relaxed a lot and was actually having a good time eating lunch with Jon. And I was so relieved that I hadn’t bid on Bryce. What a fool I would have made of myself! Watching Shelly and Miranda fawning all over him didn’t bother me nearly as much as I thought it would. Really, they looked ridiculous.

  Jon asked about my family, so I was telling him about my brothers and their band when a huge commotion broke out over at Bryce’s table. Suddenly Shelly and Miranda were rolling on the floor like an enormous furball, smearing each other with food.

  Out of nowhere Bryce appeared at our table. He grabbed my hand, pulled me a few feet away, and whispered, “Do you like him?”

  I was stunned.

  He held my other hand and asked again, “Do you like him?”

  “You mean Jon?”

  “Yes!”

  I can’t remember what I said. He was looking into my eyes, holding my hands tight, and then he began pulling me toward him. My heart was racing and his eyes were closing and his face was coming toward mine … . Right there, in front of all the other basket boys and their dates and the adults, he was going to kiss me.

  To kiss me.

  I panicked. I’d been waiting all my life for that kiss, and now?

  I yanked free and ran back to my table, and when I sat down Jon whispered, “Did he just try to kiss you?”

  I turned my chair away from Bryce and whispered, “Can we please talk about something else? Anything else?”

  People were whispering and looking my way, and when Shelly Stalls came back from cleaning up in the washroom, everyone fell quiet. Her hair looked awful. It was sort of oiled to her scalp and still had little chunks of food in it. She glared at me so hard it looked like she was trying to get laser beams to shoot from her eyes.

  A couple of adults steered her back to her seat, and then everyone started whispering double-speed. And Bryce didn’t even seem to care! He kept trying to come over and talk to me, but either he’d get intercepted by a teacher or I’d dash away from him before he had a chance to say anything.

  When the dismissal bell finally rang, I said a quick goodbye to Jon and bolted out the door. I couldn’t reach my bike fast enough! I was the first one off campus, and I pedaled home so hard it felt as though my lungs would burst.

  Mrs. Stueby was out front watering her flower bed and she tried to say something to me, but I just dropped my bike in the driveway and escaped into
the house. I certainly didn’t want to talk about roosters!

  My mother heard me slamming doors and came to check on me in my room. “Julianna! What’s wrong?”

  I flipped over on my bed to face her and wailed, “I am so confused! I don’t know what to think or feel or do … !”

  She sat down beside me on the bed and stroked my hair. “Tell me what happened, sweetheart.”

  I hesitated, then threw my hands up in the air. “He tried to kiss me!”

  My mother struggled not to let it show, but underneath her composed expression was a growing smile. She leaned in a little and asked, “Who did?”

  “Bryce!”

  She hesitated. “But you’ve always liked him … .”

  The doorbell rang. And rang again. My mom started to get up, but I grabbed her arm and said, “Don’t get that!” The bell rang again, and almost right after that there was a loud knocking at the door. “Mom, please! Don’t get it. That’s probably him!”

  “But sweetheart … ”

  “I was over him! Completely over him!”

  “Since when?”

  “Since last Friday. After the dinner. If he had vanished from the face of the earth after our dinner at the Loskis’, I wouldn’t have cared!”

  “Why? Did something happen at the dinner that I don’t know about?”

  I threw myself back onto my pillow and said, “It’s too complicated, Mom! I … I just can’t talk about it.”

  “My,” she said after a moment. “Don’t you sound like a teenager.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whimpered, because I knew I was hurting her feelings. I sat up and said, “Mom, all those years I liked him? I never really knew him. All I knew was that he had the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen and that his smile melted my heart like the sun melts butter. But now I know that inside he’s a coward and a sneak, so I’ve got to get over what he’s like on the outside!”

  My mother leaned back and crossed her arms. “Well,” she said. “Isn’t this something.”