Click Here (to find out how i survived seventh grade) (10 page)

• I’m corn.

• Serena Poopendena is in the play, 2.

Things That Give Me Hope

Ms. Moreno told me she was so glad I was part of the Club and, I quote, “We can really use someone like u.” Someone like ME.

Question: Who does Ms. Moreno need for the I-Club?

A. A puppet

B. An ear of corn

C. A large-footed mammal

D. None of the above

The correct answer is E for ERIN PENELOPE SWIFT!!!!

Hear that, Serena? Jilly? Ok, that was weird. Why did I write Jilly’s name, too? Whatever. MBMS rocks.

chapter 9

Playing With Our Food

Today we had corn — I mean play — practice. I’m now after school four days a week. Monday and Wednesday for the play, Tuesday and Thursday for I-Club. Fridays I get off for good behavior.

I have one line: “I can’t HEAR you,” and I’m supposed to draw it out. Mrs. Babish, the drama teacher and director of
A Harvest to Remember
, wants me to cup my hand around my ear when I say it. Geez. And we have to learn three songs and sing them as a Vegetable Medley. That was my name for our tasty little group.

The stage sat at one end of the gym, with stairs running up on either side for access. The heavy gray velvet curtains were pulled back against the sides and the skirt across the top of the stage was frayed, the MBMS emblem in the middle starting to fade.

On the way up the steps to the stage, I saw Mr. Foslowski, the now-famous custodian, catcher of illicit smooching.

“Don’t even think about using one of my closets,” Mr. Foslowski would say to any boy and girl within an arm’s length of each other. Then he’d hold up a threatening bottle of Windex and a crumpled paper towel.

Right now he was running a large dust broom across the stage. “Look out, young lady, coming through.”

I jumped over the end of the broom and watched him continue across the stage. He looked back at me. “You alone?”

“No. I’ve got a bunch of vegetables joining me any second.”

Mr. Foslowski nodded. “Good. There’s safety in numbers.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You look familiar.” He peered at me. “I know. You’re that girl up on the wall.” I cringed as he shook his head. “Those posters were a bear to get down.”

“You took them down?” I glanced over at Jilly, who was talking animatedly with the other actors. She smiled and waved at me. I waved back uncertainly.

“Nine of them,” Mr. Foslowski said. “They’d used that double-stick spongy tape. If I could’ve caught them, they would have been the ones scraping it off the walls.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Why?” he asked. “You didn’t put them up there.”

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t hit her, her friends wouldn’t have put them up.” Mr. Foslowski grunted. “Maybe. Maybe not. Kids do some pretty strange things.”

I glanced at Jilly again. She looked different somehow, now that I knew she hadn’t taken down the posters.

“Okay, people,” shouted Mrs. Babish, climbing the side stairs and clapping her hands. “Take your places for Act One, Scene One.”

“I’m on,” I said to Mr. Foslowski.

“What’s your part?” he asked.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m an ear of corn.”

“Excellent,” he said, as if being an ear of corn was the most normal thing in the world.

During a break, the Vegetable Medley headed for the water fountain while the rest of the cast rehearsed a scene from Act Two.

“Hey, Swifter than an eagle.” I choked on water at the sound of Mark’s voice.

“Sack o’ Potatoes, what are you doing here?” I stepped away from the fountain. Carla, my locker partner, raised her eyebrows at me. She played a bunch of peas in the Vegetable Medley.

“I’m practicing some coding and I had a question.” He glanced across the gym. “Who’s that?” He was pointing at the stage. I knew without even looking that he was talking about Jilly.

“She’s the lead in the play.”
And she acted as if she took down those posters, and she didn’t.

“She’s cute.”

I grimaced. If you like the blemish-free, perfect hair and teeth look. I was glad the lights were dim except for the stage so he couldn’t see my face.

“She seems familiar for some reason. Have I met her before?” “How should I know?” I snapped, then immediately regretted it. I couldn’t show I cared.

Even in the dimness I could see his brow furrow. “Right. Well, can you stop by the lab when you’re finished so you can help me?”

“Sure,” I said. “That’s my job. To help other people.” I couldn’t even be happy that he needed my help. I watched him go, my stomach twisting and turning.

“He likes her,” a voice hissed in my ear. “You didn’t think he’d like someone like you.”

“Shut up,” I said to Serena. My fists clenched beside me, and I turned around to glare at her. “We’re friends,” I said. “He won’t even talk to you.”

She tossed her head and walked away as Jilly came over. “Who was that boy?”

“Just a guy from the Intranet Club.” My heart was racing.
Please, please don’t say you want to meet him.

“You don’t meet on Mondays.”

“He’s practicing some stuff.”

“A real computer geek, huh?”

I smiled, relief flooding through me so fast my knees wobbled. She didn’t like nerdy geeks. “You’re doing great,” I said, steering her away from the Mark topic.

“Thanks, but I feel like I’m never going to learn all these lines.” She grabbed my arm. “You need to come over every night this week and help me.”

“We just started, Jilly. You’ll be fine.” I glanced at her.
Why did you act like you took down the posters? Why can’t I come out and ask you why you acted like you took down the posters when you didn’t?

“Easy for you to say,” Jilly said. “You only have one line.”

“And a fine line it is,” said Carla, who was so quiet I’d forgotten she was there.

“Why thank you,” I said in mock exaggeration. Carla and I giggled. Us veggies had to stick together. Jilly rolled her eyes while I finished the drink Mark had interrupted.

While I slurped, Jilly blabbed about how important her role was and how the entire cast was counting on her. I found myself saying, “Blah, blah, blah,” in my mind as she talked. I stopped drinking and took a breath, letting the water run while I watched it arch gracefully in the air before circling down the small drain. Why couldn’t I ever seem to get as much in my mouth as I wanted? I always felt like I was gulping at it like a fish in a bowl. I wondered if they could design the fountain differently so we didn’t waste so much water when we got a drink. Or —

“Erin?” Someone tapped on my shoulder. “Erin, are you listening to me?”

I turned to look at Jilly, who was frowning at me.

“Yes,” I said, though I had no idea what she had just said. I glanced at Carla, who just smiled at me. I could tell she was sort of in awe of Jilly.

“Can I get a drink now?” asked Jilly. “My throat is dry from all that talking.”

I stepped away from the water fountain. “I’m done.”

Jilly tossed her hair over her shoulder and held it back with one hand, turning on the fountain with the other. She was the only person I knew who could drink from a drinking fountain without slurping.

“So, how many lines do you have?” Carla asked Jilly. “Forty-seven.” Jilly looked toward the stage. “I think they’re starting again. I’ll meet you after rehearsal.” She took off across the floor before I could respond.

“I can’t hear you,” I said softly to the empty air.

Carla’s eyes were on me but mine were on Jilly. She stood in the middle of the stage, so sure of herself, smiling and nodding at Mrs. Babish. Watching her, I suddenly felt like there was a whole world separating us, not just half a gymnasium.

“Hey, Erin,” said Carla, startling me. “I think we’re on.”

We took our places as Mr. Trubey, the music teacher, strode across the gymnasium toward the stage. He took the steps two at a time and seated himself at the piano.

“Okay,” he said, lightly fingering the keys. “Let’s walk through the opening piece.” He looked over at us. “Corn? Lend me your ear. Squash? Let’s be careful where we sit. Peas? Thank you.”

I rolled my eyes at Carla who rolled hers back, but we couldn’t help smiling at his puns.

“Okay, people,” Mr. Trubey said, raising his hands. “Let’s make it organic.”

When I got home, Chris was doing his homework in front of the television.

“How many times do I have to tell you —” Mom said before Chris cut her off.

“Okay, okay.” He clicked off the TV, staring at the blank screen. “Want to shoot some hoops after you finish?” I asked him as Mom headed for the kitchen. I couldn’t believe he was still mad at me about the Hitting Serena–Amanda thing.

Chris’s eyes moved slowly from the blank TV screen to me, then back again.

“I’ll take that as a maybe,” I said, and headed out to the driveway. Soon I was dribbling and shooting, working my way around the key, a wavy half-circle we’d painted on the cement to mark the three-second lane and foul line. As I put up a three-pointer, Chris appeared below the basket and caught the ball as it swished through.

“And the crowd goes wild,” I said, waving my hands in the air as I made crowd noises. Chris whizzed the ball at me and if I hadn’t been so quick, the pass might have knocked me off my feet. I stifled an “umph,” feeling as if the ball had left a crater in my stomach. I recovered, planted my feet, and shot again. It bounced off the rim. He passed it again. I shot again. This time it bounced off the backboard and off to the side. He scrambled for it.

“You’re not following through,” he said before passing me the ball.

“Okay. Thanks.” I shot again, this time making sure my right hand continued in a forward motion after the ball. The ball hit the backboard and dropped into the basket.

“Right,” Chris said, passing it to me.

I passed it back. “Your turn.”

Chris twisted from his place beneath the basket, leaped up, and sank the ball neatly.

“Two points,” I said, smiling. He grunted. “Look, Chris. I’m sorry I hit Serena and ruined your chances with Amanda. I had no idea.” And even if I had, I’m not sure it would have stopped me from hitting Serena when she called me a puppet.

Chris shrugged. “You know what? It’s not a big deal. I just had the most beautiful girl on the entire campus actually noticing my existence when
wham!
You give her sister a right hook.”

“Actually, it was a straight-on punch,” I said. “But that doesn’t matter. I’m just sorry it happened.” I crossed my arms. “And it would have been nice if you cared a little bit about what happened to me.”

“She called you a stupid word. Who cares? Why did you get so bent about it?” He dribbled back and swished a basket from the sidewalk. “Unless you thought it was true.”

“It isn’t!” I shouted, stealing the ball from him and dribbling it back. “Then why’d you hit her?”

“She deserved it,” I said, echoing Rosie. “You don’t know what she’s like.”

Chris shrugged, raising his arm to easily block my shot.

“Just don’t do any more stupid things that might affect my life, Erin.” He made his layup, then headed toward the porch, letting the ball bounce toward me.

I made a face. “Like I’m going to know that in advance.”