Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages) (39 page)

We went by to see him on Tuesday but he was sleeping. Out in the hall, I held out the jar of Tootsie Pops to Mrs. F but she
shook her head.

“Would you mind bringing them when you come back?” she asked. “I want him to see you and the Tootsie Pops at the same time.”

I looked at my mom, who opened her PDA and clicked around.

“We can come on Friday,” she said.

I nodded. Friday was the party but it would still work if we went right after school. I needed to be at the bus stop at six
forty-five to make the transfers so I could meet Reede at eight o’clock at a restaurant near the party house to change.

“See you then.” Mrs. F squeezed my arm and stepped back into Mr. F’s room.

I WAS OVER AT JILLY’S house the night before the party because I had insisted she dress me. This was too important to leave
in the hands of an amateur like me. As she walked to her closet, she said, “So Chris is definitely not going to be at this
party?”

I shook my head. “I heard him making plans with Bethany. They thought about going but decided to go to a movie instead. Just
the two of them.”

“Well, that’s good. Can you imagine if you ran into him? He’d kill you on the spot.”

We laughed but inwardly I shuddered. Seeing my brother would be the worst.

Jilly laid out three outfits on her bed. I chose a black lacy V-neck and jean skirt. I gulped. The skirt was a lot shorter
than any of mine.

Holding the outfit up in front of me, I turned from side to side. “Well?”

“If Jeff doesn’t go crazy for you, he’s crazy,” Jilly said as she put the clothes in a bag. “Go get him.”

On Friday, butterflies fluttered in my stomach as I thought about what I was going to do that night. I could hardly concentrate
on our history test. I kept picturing myself in Jilly’s outfit, talking easily with older guys before chatting with Jeff in
a cozy corner of some house.

When I got home that afternoon, my mom was in the kitchen, talking on the phone.

“That’s fine,” she said. “I understand. We’ll be there around six.” She hung up the phone and looked at me. “You won’t be
able to go to Jilly’s until later, honey. That was Mrs. Foslowski. Mr. Foslowski has a test scheduled for four so she’d prefer
we didn’t come until six.”

Six? That ruined everything. There was no way I could get to the hospital, visit with Mr. F, come back here, and make it to
the bus stop in time to meet Reede.

“Isn’t that kind of late?” I said. “Won’t he be eating dinner or something?”

“Margo felt like this was the best time so that’s when we’ll go.”

I called Reede for help.

“The next set of buses for your transfers won’t get us to the party until ten thirty or later,” she said. “That’s just not
going to work. Isn’t there any way you can get out of it?”

I sighed. How could I not go see Mr. F? I still hadn’t given him the Tootsie Pop jar.

But how could I not go to this party?

“I’ll be there,” I told her. I’d just have to figure something out.

“What’s wrong with you?” Chris said as I picked at my food. We were eating dinner early so we could get to the hospital in
time. My party clothes were folded neatly in a backpack near the front door. Would I get to wear them?

“Nothing,” I said. “It’s just that I’m kind of feeling bad about visiting Mr. F right after a test. He’ll probably be tired.”
I looked at my mom. “And you look tired.”

My mom sighed. “I am pretty exhausted. I was up until one a.m. meeting a deadline. I don’t do those late nights very well
anymore.”

My dad patted her arm.

“Maybe I could call Mrs. F and see if we can come in the morning,” I said. “Mr. F will probably feel a lot better after a
full night’s sleep.”

My mom smiled. “That’s very thoughtful, Erin. I think we’d all be a little fresher tomorrow.”

I smiled, ignoring the guilty twinge in my stomach when she’d called me thoughtful. It
was
a good idea, even if it wasn’t just about Mr. F.

“You know we’d love to see you tonight,” Mrs. F said when I called. “But tomorrow would probably be better for all of us.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, Erin, but they’ve still got him downstairs for that test,” she said. “I’ll tell him you called.”

“I’ll try to call him later,” I said. I could at least do that. “Tell him the jar is completely full of Tootsie Pops. New
flavors, too.”

Mrs. F laughed. “I’ll tell him.”

An hour later, I stood at the front door with my backpack slung over one shoulder. “I’ll pick you up at ten so we can get
to the hospital right away,” my mom said when I pretended to set out for Jilly’s. “Are you sure you don’t want me to give
you a ride? It’s kind of cold out.”

I shook my head. “It feels good. And it’s only a few blocks.”

“Okay,” she said. “Call us when you get there.”

I couldn’t look back at her as I headed down the street. Even though we weren’t always seeing eye to eye, I had never lied
quite this ginormously before. But sometimes you have to make your own decisions. Try new things. Take risks. At least that’s
what I kept telling myself as I walked quickly down the street toward Jilly’s, where I would double back and head for the
bus stop. Besides, it wasn’t hurting anyone. I’d go to the party and have fun, come back, sneak into Jilly’s house, and we’d
see Mr. F in the morning.

Everything would be fine.

I made the bus transfers no problem and called Jilly from a pay phone after I got off at the last stop. That was her idea—she
didn’t want her number showing up on Caller ID. She could always say the pay phone number was a wrong number. I had told her
she’d make a good spy.

“I just got off the last bus,” I reported. “I’m not far from the restaurant where I’m supposed to meet Reede.”

“Nervous?”

“Very.”

“You’ve got more guts than I do, Erin.”

I smiled, but inside my stomach was twisting in on itself.

“So, tell me again what you’re going to do if Jeff is with another girl,” Jilly said. She had made me rehearse this with her
over and over. “That way,” she had explained, “if it happens, you won’t freak out. It’ll be a bummer but at least it’ll feel
a little bit like you’ve already been through it.” I had no idea Jilly’s drama background would come in handy with relationships
and guys.

“I’m going to smile, say hi, then turn and talk to the first cute guy I see, as if I don’t care.”

“Right,” Jilly said. I heard voices in the background. “Time for dinner. Call me later.”

I hung up the phone and hurried down the block, picking up my pace as I spotted Reede.

“Hurry up,” she said when I got to her. “It’s freezing.”

The restaurant was so crowded, no one even noticed us as we wove our way through to the bathrooms in the back.

Reede was already dressed in a skimpy tank, black skirt, tights, and boots. She added more makeup and some different earrings
while I changed in a stall. Then she did my makeup.

“You have eyelashes to die for,” Reede said as she rubbed some shimmering shadow below my brow. Then she added some body jewels
to my neckline and some to my left bicep.

She tugged at my shirt and my eyes dropped to my chest in the mirror. Jilly’s shirt was tighter than any of my shirts and
I was very aware of my perky petes standing out there for everyone to see. I hoped they—and I—were ready for prime time.

Twenty minutes later we stood on the sidewalk in front of a house that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. Muted music
wafted through the open front door and people were streaming in and out, each one with a cup or bottle or can in hand. The
laughter and shouting got louder as we got closer. I hesitated at the walkway leading to the front steps.

My first high school party. Was I really doing this? Me, Erin Penelope Swift, rule follower, good girl, positive influence?

“This is your night,” Reede said, as if reading my mind. “Strut it.”

Taking a deep breath, I nodded. Then I swung my hips towards her and we both laughed as we walked up the front steps.

The music seemed to shake the house. People were everywhere, pushed up against the walls in the entry, spilling out of the
kitchen, filling up the living room where a big screen TV glowed. I grabbed Reede’s hand, afraid I’d lose her in the crowd.
She shook it off so I had to keep my eyes on her blond head as we nudged our way to the stairs, where more people sat or stood.

“’Scuse us,” Reede muttered, stepping over a pair of legs and narrowly missing a foaming cup of beer on the next step. We
reached the second floor, where the music was only slightly less booming; we still had to shout to be heard. After wandering
around for awhile, she shook her head. “Let’s go back downstairs.”

I followed, eager to find Jeff and see what he thought of my stuff.

IN THE FEW MINUTES WE were upstairs, the population seemed to have doubled downstairs. The staircase was now completely filled
and we had to squeeze our way through. I got stuck against the wall as two girls shoved their way up. One of them did a double
take, staring at me.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” she said, eyes roaming my body. “What are
you
doing here?”

“Who is it?” her friend asked.

Amanda Worthington ignored her. “Is your brother here?”

“Excuse us,” I said, “we’re looking for someone.” I pushed past her and moved as quickly as I could down the stairs. “Great,”
I shouted to Reede as we got closer to the music. “Now everyone is going to know we were here.”

“Who was that?” Reede shouted back.

“Serena’s sister.”

Reede shrugged. “Who cares? You’ll be the cool one for coming to this party.” I didn’t want to think about who else would
know once Amanda started talking. We stashed our backpacks behind a sofa in the living room and Reede put her hands on her
hips, surveying the crowd. Suddenly she stiffened, swearing under her breath.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said, her eyes glued to something or someone across the room. “I just need to take care of something. We’ll
hook up later, okay?”

“WHAT?”

“I just need to talk to some people,” she said.

“Why can’t I come with you?” I hated the slight whine in my voice. But I didn’t want to be left with all these strangers.
Older strangers. With beer and cigarettes and who knew what else.

Reede’s eyes flashed with annoyance. “Grow up, Erin. This is a chance to prove you’re not just another middle school infant.”
She stared at me. “I didn’t make a mistake inviting you, did I? You can handle being here without a babysitter, can’t you?”

I stared back, my heart pounding—with anger at her for abandoning me and defiance at her challenge. “I don’t need a babysitter,”
I said. “Just go.”

Her furrowed brow smoothed out and she smiled. “That’s my girl,” she said. “We’ll find each other later.”

No, we won’t,
I thought as she walked away, waving without looking back before being swallowed up in a sea of swaying bodies. My mind spewed
out a few choice names for her. I thought about going after her and saying them to her face when I felt a hand on my butt.
I turned to see who had touched me, but there were too many people and no one was looking at me. I ducked around two guys,
knocking one on the elbow. Beer sloshed across my shoulder.

“My bad,” I mumbled, brushing my shirt off. Great. Now I smelled like beer. I took a breath, the anger I’d had at Reede slipping
away, leaving me feeling weak and alone. Did I look as clueless as I felt? Were people staring at me, knowing I was in middle
school, that I’d never been to a party like this?

I skimmed faces, hoping to find Jeff, but they were all people I didn’t recognize.

Until I looked to my right.

Blake Thornton stood across the room, his arm around a girl. It was a different girl from the one he had been with at the
basketball game. I tried to duck behind someone but he had already seen me. His face registered surprise as he checked me
out, then he smiled slightly, turned, and kissed the girl. And kept kissing her.

I slipped away, shrinking against the end of the wall separating the living room and dining room. Let him come up for air
and see me not watching his stupid make-out session. Who was the immature one in this picture? I adjusted my skirt and crossed
my arms over my chest, continuing my scan for Jeff.

“You go to Washington?” An unfamiliar voice shouted in my ear over the music, the stink of beer wrinkling my nose. I could
feel his chest against the back of my shoulder and I stepped forward, putting some space between us before I turned around.

The guy was about four inches taller than me, his muscles bulging under a tight T-shirt. His brown hair was gelled, his face
rugged with a few days’ worth of stubble.

“Uh, no,” I said, sidestepping to a folding chair. If I had to, I could jump over it and throw it back at him. “I go to a
private school.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “One of those all-girls schools?” he asked, moving toward me. “You must be ready for a little action.”
He took another step and I gripped the top of the chair, ready to heave it and make a break for it. He walked toward me, his
beer sloshing in his hand.

“So, what’s your name?” He was just a few feet away. I could see a scar on his nose and a tiny diamond stud in his left ear.

I lifted the chair a few inches off the ground—

“No way. Erin?”

I whipped around and found myself looking into Bus Boy’s friendly blue eyes. I was so relieved to see a familiar face I nearly
threw my arms around him.

“Hey!” I moved so he was between me and Mr. Action. Mr. Action looked at me, then at Bus Boy. Shaking his head, he turned
and got sucked into the crowd. I heaved a sigh of relief. “Wow. Thanks, Bus Boy.”

“Um, do you think you could call me Jon?”

I smiled, still giddy with relief at having someone I knew, someone I trusted, standing right next to me, even if he had dumped
my best friend. I resisted the urge to tie our arms together with a shoelace or something. “Sorry. Old habit.” I squeezed
his arm, needing contact. “You really saved me from that guy. Thanks.”