Click Here (to find out how i survived seventh grade) (18 page)

Gag Alert

“Cute alert! Attention. Major cute alert.”

We were nearly to the school doors when Jilly grabbed my arm, spinning me around. I managed to get a quick peek before stumbling forward. Mark Sacks was about thirty yards away, playing hacky-sack with some boys on the frost-encrusted brown grass. My heart dropped to my ankles. If anyone clicked YES to agree with my hypotheses, they won the prize — a front-row seat to the love match of the century.

“He’s okay,” I said, adjusting myself. “Come on, let’s go inside.” “Okay? Are you kidding? He’s a god.”

I sighed loudly. “If you like that type.” I glanced his way to make sure he hadn’t seen us. Then I had an inspiration. “He looks like a seventh grader. You’re too mature for him.”

“Anyone that cute is worth checking out, no matter what grade he’s in,” Jilly said. Then she grabbed my arm. “Don’t look at him. Just act natural.”

“Not this again,” I moaned.

“Wait,” she said. “I think he’s looking at me.”

“He’s not looking at you. He’s kicking the hacky-sack.” I was feeling a little antsy. If he looked this way, he would see me. And if he saw me, he might come over. And if he came over, he’d see Jilly. And if he saw Jilly, he’d want me to introduce him. And if I introduced him —

I tugged at her arm. “I’m not going to spy for you, Jilly. Come on.”

Jilly stared at me.

“What?” I asked. But I knew what it was. I’d never really talked to her like that before. Stood up to her. “He just kicked it up, caught it in his right hand, and is heading into the building,” I said before she could say anything back. “Can we go now?”

Jilly glanced across the lawn. I leaned toward the building, trying to hide us behind a group of boys.

“Hey, Swift!” Dang. He’d seen me. He was halfway across the grass, coming toward us.

“Omigod, he knows you!” Jilly said, then turned a suspicious eye on me. “And you know him. Why were you pretending you didn’t?”

“I couldn’t really see,” I said lamely. “The sun was in my eyes.” “The sun is that way,” Jilly said huffily.

“We’re going to be late,” I said. “Come on.”

“I’ll catch up,” Jilly said, bending down to tie the famous shoe that wasn’t untied.

“Whatever,” I said. It was over. I’d tried my best but now it was out of my hands. And I wasn’t going to hang around and watch them fall into each other’s arms and declare their undying love. I’m not into self-torture. As I reached for the door handle, Jilly caught my arm.

“Wait a minute,” she said. “You don’t like him or anything, do you?” I avoided her eyes. Like him? That amazing eye peeking out from under that amazing hair? The way his smile was a little lopsided, like we shared a secret? The way he said, “Swiftly,” and it didn’t make me roll my eyes?

What’s to like?

Then a crazy thought crossed my mind. What if I said yes? Came right out with it?

I could see the announcer with the banana-wide grin thrusting a microphone into my face. “Erin Swift, Come Out With It!” he shouts as the studio audience chants, “E-rin, E-rin, E-rin.”

I’d squint up through the glaring studio lights at the large box of overripe tomatoes hanging above our heads. If I told the truth and the audience liked my answer, they’d hit their buzzers and the box of tomatoes would splat down on Jilly. But if they didn’t like my answer, the box would splat on me.

“Erin?” A lone voice from the audience rose up. “Erin, snap out of it.”

I blinked. Jilly was furrowing her brow at me. “You don’t like him, do you?”

I glanced up furtively. No box of overripe tomatoes. I could still say it. She might back off, using the you-saw-him-first rule. Or he might see us both and decide I was the one, that his true love had been right in front of him on the basketball court the whole time… .

I sighed and rolled my eyes. Yeah, right.

“I didn’t think so,” Jilly said, then cocked her head at me. “You know, we’ve been lucky never to have liked the same guy at the same time.”

I didn’t answer. She didn’t know about Timothy Kearns in third grade, Jonathan Jones in fourth, or Bobby Ridge in sixth. She always talked about them first, so I figured she had first dibs. Eventually my feelings faded away, usually before Jilly’s did, which helped. And Mark, well, I’d probably stop liking him, too. Someday.

“See you at play practice,” I said, leaving Jilly outside with Mark as I pushed through the doors into the stream of kids heading for their lockers. I was so flustered I didn’t even notice the person standing next to the doors, staring out the window, until she spoke.

“Told you so.”

I turned and gave Serena my evilest, most face-bending glare. “Shut up.” I didn’t even care if she knew I cared. I just wanted to get away.

Wednesday, November 6

Could my life be any more horrible? Today I’m trying to listen as Mark tells me how great Jilly is after their little rendezvous outside the school this morning, but it isn’t easy…Mr. Foslowski is way off on this 1. Being his friend is the WORST. I think Mark thinks I think it’s neat that he likes my best friend. He has no idea he is TORTURING me with all his questions and stuff. Somehow it feels like he should know he’s torturing me, that he should wonder how I feel, knowing he likes my best friend more than a friend but not me, when I’ve been totally in love with him since the very 1st day of school. Where is the justice?

Today he asked me if I thought she’d go out with him…like I’m going to do all the work for him. I don’t think so. He’s like fine, be that way, and I’m like you’re a big boy, you can do it…guess that was the wrong thing to say cuz he got all bent and gave me a dirty look…wouldn’t talk to me for like the rest of the day. Hello? He’s mad cuz I won’t be the go-between? I KNEW this would happen. They haven’t even officially gone out and already Hypothesis #2 was coming true—this will ruin everything.

So I spent the rest of the class staring at Mark’s back…which really stinks because he usually turns around at least 1 or 2 times to make faces at me…not today…oh, he’s got this 1 cute curl that just touches the collar of his shirt. It was like that curl was hypnotizing me or something cuz I couldn’t stop staring at it…kept wanting to touch it…almost did…but didn’t. He mighta thought I was some weirdo on top of being mad at me.

Did I say MBMS stinks? Well, even if I did, I’ll say it again.

MBMS stinks.

chapter 18

FE (Fatal Error)

Apparently Mark got over his stage fright and asked Jilly out without my help because they are now, officially, a couple. In seventh grade this means he walks her to most of her classes, is late to his own, and they call each other every day. It also means my conversations with him will now be 90 percent about Jilly, 10 percent about stuff that really matters. I guess I should be happy he’s not mad anymore and is talking to me. But the conversations have not been too exciting. For example, they’ve been going out for a whopping two days, and this is what I got in homeroom:

Mark:
Jillian is really great.

Me:
(trying to review for a math test) Um hm.

Mark:
Did you know she’s going to a drama camp over winter break?
Me:
Um hm.

Mark:
Oh, I guess you would, since you’re friends and all.

Me.
Um hm.

Mark:
So, where do you think I should take her this weekend?

Me:
Over a cliff.

Okay, I didn’t really say that, I just thought it. But I was annoyed. I decided to try to steer the conversation in another direction.

Me:
How is the sports page coming?

BJM (Before Jilly Madness), this question would have launched Mark into a twenty-minute description of what he and his group were doing on the Intranet. AJM (After Jilly Madness), this is what I get:

Mark:
Fine. Do you think Jilly would rather go to a movie or out to lunch?

Scientific American
hasn’t called yet, but Hypotheses #1 AND #2 are popping out all over the place. I’d barely saved them to disc when they came true. This has to be the fastest hypothesis proof in the history of humankind. And it stinks. The only good thing is that I know Jilly’s mom would never let her go on a date with a boy by herself because she’s only twelve and three quarters. Neither one of us is allowed to date until we’re fifteen or sixteen. I kind of wish I’d said this to Mark because maybe it would shut him up, but I didn’t. It’s weird how I can be mad at him for liking Jilly, but still like him because he’s so cute and nice (when he’s not Jillified), and feel sorry for him because Jilly won’t be able to go out alone with him — all at the same time.

“I wonder where Mark is,” Rosie said when we sat down at our usual table in the cafeteria. But she said it as if she knew exactly where he was and was wondering if I did.

I glanced at the empty place next to Rosie before popping open my water bottle and taking a big swig. I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth and looked right at her.

“You know where he is.”

Rosie hesitated, then nodded. “Do you?”

“Probably with Jilly.”

Rosie sighed. It was a sad sigh and for a second, I had this wild thought that she liked Mark, too. But I knew she had her eye on her eighth-grade leader in I-Club. Was that to throw me off so I wouldn’t think she liked Mark? Was it just a grand scheme to —

“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure you knew,” Rosie said, interrupting my thoughts.

“Why?” But I didn’t wait for an answer. Because I knew the answer. “You know I like him.” Of course she knew. She was so smart about everything.

“I thought you might,” she said softly. “But then you’re such good friends, I started to doubt it.” She smiled. “You’re so calm around him. I’m never like that around a boy I like.”

I had trouble picturing Rosie as anything but confident.

“That’s because we’d get to talking about computers or something and I’d kind of forget that I liked him.” I snatched up a bunch of fries as I told her everything, including how he’d asked all those questions and that’s why I got mad. “Do you two talk about Jilly?”