Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages) (18 page)

I FOUND MY PEK UNDER a pile of clothes in a corner of my room the next morning and stocked up with supplies from my parents’
bathroom. I made it through the day like a pro, changing my pad every few hours and wondering if I would be brave enough to
try a tampon next time.

No one had noticed anything different about me at breakfast, which was good because I would have been embarrassed to talk
about it but bad because that meant it wasn’t obvious that I had changed.

Jilly and I were talking about it on the bus when her phone chimed a text message.

“It’s Blake,” she said, “again.” She handed me her phone, shaking her head. “Jon didn’t even text me this much when we first
started going out.”

Miss u. Get 2gether this wkend?

I smiled as I read the text. He wanted to get together! So I had a no-tingle kiss. It was probably because I was so freaked
out about my period. I still liked him, didn’t I?

I sent him a quick reply.
Sure! Talk 2 u 2nite.

When we got to school, Blake sent another text, asking if I wanted to double-date with Jilly and Bus Boy. I was texting him
back when Kara and Mark walked by.

“You finally get a cell, Swift?” Mark asked.

“It’s Jilly’s,” I said, sending a reply to Blake before turning the phone off and handing it to her.

“Blake has been texting her all morning,” Jilly said. “I’m really sorry I gave him my number.” She nudged me.

“Wow, that’s great,” Kara said, clearly thrilled that I now had a man in my life.

“The Bland Man,” Mark said, raising his eyebrows at me.

“I’ve got to run,” Jilly said, giving my arm a squeeze. “See you later.”

“Glad things are going good with Bleak,” Mark said after she left. He chuckled at his little joke.

“His name is Blake,” I said. The “joke” felt different today. I didn’t know if it was because Kara was there or because he’d
used it so many times it was stale. Either way, I didn’t like it.

“Oooh, sorry Miss Sensitive.” Mark grabbed Kara’s hand and strode off down the hall.

“What’s his problem?” I asked no one in particular. I would seriously have to consider taking him off the Hot-o-Meter with
an attitude like that.

“The same problem he’s always had.” Reede’s voice made me turn. She opened our locker and put her bag inside. “He’s into you.”

“But he’s going out with Kara,” I protested. “We’ve been through this.”

“He’s confused,” Reede said. “He doesn’t quite understand what he’s feeling, but when he does, look out. He’ll be all over
you.”

“I think
you’re
confused.” Mark would never be “all over” me with Blake in the picture.

“Nah,” Reede said. “He’ll wait till your thing with Blake has run its course and then make his move.”

I laughed. “You’re crazy.”

“Better than being boring,” she said.

*   *   *

“So, how’s Reede?” Mr. F squirted the windows outside the science lab on Wednesday and wiped them clean. It was the first
of October and people were already talking about what they wanted to do for Halloween.

I frowned. I wasn’t sure why Mr. F was asking me. Reede had been talking to him a lot; he had to know more about her than
I did.

“She’s a complicated girl,” Mr. F said when I didn’t answer. “But she’s got a spark, doesn’t she? Someone definitely worth
knowing.”

“I don’t know if I’d call it a spark,” I said, turning to the streaks on the window in front of me. “But she’s definitely…
something.”

Mr. F smiled. “She’s lucky to have you for a friend.” He moved over to the other window and gave it a squirt.

I furrowed my brow.
Were
Reede and I friends? “Are you just saying that because you want me to be a positive influence on her?” I asked, thinking
back to Ms. Moreno and my parents with Serena.

“I’m saying it because it’s true,” Mr. F said. “You’re loyal and trustworthy and everyone needs that in their friends.”

“You make me sound like a dog,” I said and Mr. F laughed. But his words made me pause. I wasn’t sure we were friends. I didn’t
think so. I still wasn’t completely comfortable around her. I always felt a little off balance, a step behind, a lot younger.

“Well,” he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, “Reede Harper doesn’t strike me as someone who is easily influenced.”

I laughed. “You got that right.” We knocked fists before I hurried off to lunch.

After the last bell, I headed to my locker. The area swarmed with the usual collection of Reede admirers. I shoved my way
through the rather smelly throng.

“This is Reede’s locker,” one of them said.

“We’re locker partners.”

The boy eyed me with renewed respect. “Locker partner, huh?” he said. “You got her number? She’s not giving it out.”

“I’m not either,” I said.

The bell rang again—reminding us that we only had five minutes to catch the buses—and the boys drifted away. I opened the
locker as Reede hurried around the corner.

“Are they gone?”

I leaned way out, doing an exaggerated check of the halls. “Yep.”

“Good.” She waited for me to get my books, then reached in for her own. I watched her, wondering what it was about her that
Mr. F thought was worth knowing. Probably not her ability to do mental makeovers, listen to her iPod in class without being
caught, or claim that a guy liked another girl when he had a girlfriend.

I wondered if he knew she smoked and what he’d say if he knew she’d offered me a cigarette. I frowned. What was it about her
that I should be noticing? I mean, she was nice but I didn’t think she’d ever be a friend like Jilly or Mark or Rosie or even
Tyler because even when she was in the middle of things, she was on the outside. On purpose.

“You finished counting my eyelashes?” Reede asked, poking me in the side.

“Sorry,” I said, my cheeks warming. “I was just thinking, um, how great your eyes look and maybe I shouldn’t have stopped
you from doing your makeover on me.”

“Really.” Reede raised her eyebrows. “Very interesting. Let me see what you’ve got.” She nodded her head down the hall.

“What?”

“Show me your stuff.” She put a hand on one hip and cocked it.

I raised my chin at the challenge. Stepping away from the locker, I strutted down the hall, then turned back, using an exaggerated
runway model hip swing-shoulder jut.

“Shake it, girl,” Reede said, copying my movements. We shimmied and shook our way toward each other. When we came face-to-face,
we collapsed against each other, giggling.

“What’s the joke?” Jilly stood in front of us, scowling slightly.

“Oh, hey Jilly,” I gasped. “Nothing. We were just being goofy.”

“Well, we’re going to miss the bus if we don’t hurry.” Jilly turned on her heel and strode down the hall.

“Forget the bus,” Reede said, knocking her hip against mine. “Let’s go to the mall.”

That stopped me. “Now?” I’d never gone anywhere right after school without clearing it with my parents beforehand.

What would it feel like to break a rule?

“Now is always the best time,” Reede said. “We could do that makeover.”

“Well…” I hesitated, my mind ticking off all the reasons it wasn’t a good idea.

“Oh, right,” Reede said. “I forgot some people have to check in with Mommy.”

“I don’t have to check in,” I said, annoyed. “
Some
people have to make sure they don’t have other responsibilities.” There. I’d stood up to her. Would she dis me and leave?
Part of me wanted her to, because I was a little afraid to go without talking to my mom. But another part wanted to prove
to her I was as cool as she was.

Reede laughed. “Fair enough.”

Jilly had slowed down so I knew she was listening. She turned around. “Come on, Erin. Let’s go.” She placed her hands on her
hips, a why-areyou-even-thinking-about-this look on her face. She reminded me of my mom, the way she narrowed her eyes and
shook her head slightly.

I took a deep breath. For the next couple of hours, I was going to be Erin On Her Own, Erin Who Made Her Own Decisions. “I’m
going to the mall,” I said. “Want to come?”

Jilly snorted. “I don’t think so.” She spun around, practically running the rest of the way down the hall. She shoved through
the doors and as they swung shut behind her, I had a flicker of doubt. Was I really going to go to the mall with Reede when
I should be on the bus with Jilly, riding with the same people over the same route toward home? And how were we going to get
to the mall? What was I going to tell my mom?

“Guess it’s just us,” Reede said, interrupting my thoughts. “Let’s roll.”

I’D ONLY RIDDEN THE PUBLIC bus once or twice and it was a long time ago, with my parents. I was surprised how well Reede knew
the bus system since she’d only been in Colorado a few months. But I got the impression she went to the mall a lot. And what
a great way to get around without having to rely on a ride all the time from your mom (too busy) or your brother (too expensive
with the bribes). I’d have to try it out sometime. Of course, that assumed I wouldn’t be grounded for life for going somewhere
after school without telling anyone. I was itching to get to a phone without Reede around. I could at least leave a message
so my parents wouldn’t file a missing persons report.

As we headed for the mall restroom, Reede ran into someone she knew. While they talked, I bolted for the pay phones and left
a message at home, saying I’d gone to the mall to help a new girl with a project. This was true. Reede was the new girl and
I was the project.

I could relax a bit more when we entered the restroom, which always amazed me with its lounging area, seats in front of a
mirrored wall, completely separate stalls with full-length wooden doors, and mouthwash and body splash you could use to freshen
up.

“Love the outfit,” Reede said, nodding to the layered shirts and jeans I was wearing. I’d bought them the last time Jilly
and I had gone to the mall together. She had helped me pick them out. I had a little prick of guilt that I was here and she
wasn’t.

Reede cocked her head. “But we need to do more with your hair and face.”

I smiled. I wasn’t going to say no twice to a Reede Makeover.

She led me to a chair and took out the familiar makeup case I’d seen at school. She spun me so I faced her, my back to the
mirror, while she worked.

“Ready for the unveiling?” she asked when she was finished. When I nodded, she spun me around and—

—I stared at someone I hardly recognized.

I was like one of those cover girls on a magazine, with eye liner, heavier eyeshadow that made my brown eyes look even darker,
and lots of mascara. Regular Rule Follower Erin would have felt uncomfortable and wanted to wipe it off. But Make Her Own
Decisions Erin felt transformed, wild, maybe even a little dangerous.

“Whoa,” I said.

“You like?” Reede asked, smiling as she pulled up my hair on either side. Without waiting for an answer, she fluffed my hair
with her fingers. “You got a comb?”

I produced one from my purse and she parted my hair on the side—something I never did—then pulled it back with a shiny clip.
“Put these on,” she said, holding out large hoop earrings. I never wore anything except studs or small hoops because the long
stuff got in the way when I played sports.

“All done,” Reede said as I stood up. I shook my head, enjoying the feeling of the metal earrings against my neck. I couldn’t
get over me. With my height, I could easily pass for fifteen or sixteen.

Reede tugged my shirts down around me, revealing more skin above my breastbone. “I think you’re ready to meet your public.”

*   *   *

I’ve never had so much fun at the mall. We spent most of our time following cute guys into stores without them knowing. Reede
would act like she was buying something for her brother (she doesn’t have one) and then would hold it up to one of the cute
guys because he was “just the same size” as her brother.

Then she’d tilt her head. “You’re actually bigger than he is,” she’d say. “Do you work out?”

It sounded like a corny line to me but the guys would always flex under their shirts and say, yeah, they worked out and they
were on the wrestling team or football team or whatever. It didn’t take me long to be holding up shirts and flirting and talking
about sports, especially basketball and soccer, which I knew something about. I felt like a different person and yet I knew
I was me.

As we headed to Structure, I realized I hadn’t thought about Blake at all. Should I feel guilty?

“You’re not married to the guy,” Reede said when I broke down and said something. “Nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting.”

Which we did plenty of, especially with two guys we met outside Orange Julius. One of them, who was totally cute, even asked
for my number. Not Reede’s.
Mine.

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Reede said. “But maybe if she breaks up with him—why don’t you give us your number?”

I hid my amazement when he did, his admiring eyes following me out the door.

“I can’t believe it,” I said as we walked away. “Why didn’t he ask for
your
number?”

Reede smiled. “Because you, my friend, are
sizzling.
” She licked her finger and touched my arm, hissing between her teeth. “You are such the It Girl.” She glanced at her watch.
“Wow. It’s almost five o’clock.”

“What?!” Panic jolted me. I still had to call my mom to pick me up. I was probably totally busted. “Omigod. You’ve got fifteen
minutes to turn this It Girl back into It.”

After I was back to Boring Erin, we headed for the bay of pay phones.

“You want to hang on to this or should I?” Reede waved the paper with the guy’s number on it in my face.

I snatched it from her. “Do you think it’s fake?”

“Only one way to find out,” she said, snatching it back. She picked up the receiver, dropped some coins in, and dialed. “It
went straight to his cell phone voice mail. But it was him.” She held up her hand and I slapped it. “You’re golden, girl.”