Everybody Bugs Out (6 page)

chapter eight

dance plans

W
hen we got to our lockers on Monday, I found Emma and Claire deep in conversation.

“What's up?” Rachel asked.

Emma turned to us and sighed. “Okay, it's not like it's a big deal or anything, but Phil and I are going to the dance. I mean, obviously.”

“Omigosh, that's great news!” Rachel clapped little baby claps and let out the kind of squeal I last heard from the dolphin tank at SeaWorld.

“I guess.” Emma's shoulders seemed kind of slumpy and not at all like shoulders that just got invited to their first school dance.

“What's wrong?” I asked.

“It's the way he asked her,” Claire explained.

“What do you mean?” Rachel wondered.

Emma sighed. “He was bragging about his science fair project last night on the phone and he made a joke about how we could celebrate his victory at the dance.”

“He's that sure he's going to win?” I asked. “What's he doing?”

“I can't tell you because he swore me to secrecy,” said Emma.

“But we're your best friends,” said Rachel.

Emma looked around and lowered her voice. “Okay, promise you won't say anything? Because he made me swear not to tell anyone.”

“I won't say a word,” I promised.

“And neither will I,” said Yumi.

“He's building a maze for his hamster, but that's just the beginning. He has this whole theory about sports and nutrition. He thinks that junk food gets a bad rap. That candy is a better motivator and that a short-term sugar high is more effective for sprinters than any green vegetable. So it's Snickers versus broccoli. Basically, he's trying to figure out whether Einstein is more motivated by junk food or health food.”

“I know what I'd rather have,” I said.

“Me, too,” said Emma. “And there are certain marathon runners who eat junk food before a big race, thinking that calories are calories and it doesn't matter where they come from. Quality does not matter. Strict caloric intake is all that counts.”

“Sounds cool,” Claire said.

“Or boring.” Rachel turned to Emma. “So what are you going to wear?”

“To the science fair?” she asked.

“No, dummy. To the dance!”

“A dress, I guess.” Emma shrugged.

“And high heels?” asked Rachel.

“I don't have any.”

“That doesn't mean you can't buy any.”

“If I can't walk in heels, it's going to be hard to dance in them,” said Emma.

“Good point,” said Rachel. “Maybe heels are too dressy, anyway. It's not a formal dance. Just a regular dance dance.”

“What does that even mean?” Emma asked.

“It means that you can wear a skirt or a casual dress but nothing too shiny,” said Claire. “Unless it's like a sparkly top paired with something more casual, like jeans or tight black pants. Or shiny pants with a muted sweater.”

“You're sure?” asked Rachel.

Claire nodded. “I've already checked with Charlie and Olivia, and they pretty much told me that anything goes. There's always one or two people who get decked out and go formal, but mostly it's guys in jeans and shirts with collars or khakis and T-shirts. Not too many people wear khakis and a collared shirt. Some guys goof and wear ties, but only ironically. Usually they pair them with old jeans or shorts. And as for girls, some of them get their hair and nails done and buy new outfits, while others act super-casual about the whole thing—like it's no biggie and they go to dances every weekend.”

Charlie and Olivia are Claire's twin brother and sister, eighth graders and our secret expert consultants on all things related to middle school. So we listened intently. Although this particular advice was hard to follow.

“Do you think it's cooler to be fancy or to go casual?” asked Emma.

“I don't know how much it matters, as long as you have a date,” said Rachel. “Which reminds me—you guys need to work on that.”

I gulped. She was right. But at least now I knew who I wanted to go with. All I had to do was figure out how to make it happen.

chapter nine

kissing action

Y
umi turned twelve on Saturday and the five of us went to Fun-A-Palooza for her birthday. That's this really cool sports complex with go-carts, miniature golf, batting cages, and a huge arcade with all the best games.

Last time I went, my mom made me choose between racing on the go-cart track and hitting at the batting cages, and I chose the go carts, obviously. But for Yumi's party we didn't have to choose. We were staying all day, which meant we'd get to do it all.

Besides being super-excited about the party and hanging out with my friends, I was also glad I'd finally get the opportunity to talk to everyone about Oliver.

I'd had a crush on him for almost an entire week and I hadn't told anyone.

Not even my diary.

Of course, I don't tell my diary anything. My mom gave it to me on my tenth birthday and I haven't written in it since the day I opened it. And even then all I wrote was, “Dear Diary, Today is my birthday and my mom got me this journal.”

Guess I've had a serious case of writer's block ever since.

Anyway, I couldn't talk about Oliver at school because I didn't want anyone to overhear and spread rumors. The last thing I needed was to be gossiped about at Birchwood Middle School.

And I still hadn't figured out whether or not I should bring up my crush in the first place.

Not before I asked Oliver to the dance.

If I was going to ask him.

Of course, that posed yet another problem, because what if I did ask him and he said no? Things might get awkward and we still had to work together for two weeks and six days. And that's just counting our science fair project. Even if I did manage to survive that weirdness, he'd still be my lab partner until school got out. And that was months away.

On the other hand, what if Oliver did like me and he was simply too shy to say so? Maybe he's been dying to ask me to the dance for weeks and hasn't been able to bring himself to make a move. Not to sound full of myself or completely delusional, because there were some signs.

At least I think there were. When we first started going to his house to work on our bug project, he asked if I wanted iced tea or lemonade and I said half-and-half. Then, on the second meeting he said, “Half-and-half, right, Annabelle?” And on the third meeting, and every meeting since then, he hasn't even had to ask. He just pours me a half-and-half automatically.

Remembering my favorite drink has got to count for something.

Or maybe I was just looking too hard. Oliver also remembered that Tobias liked lemonade. So maybe Oliver is just a nice guy with a really good memory.

But even forgetting the drinks, I had other reasons to be suspicious.

Oliver defended me whenever Tobias made rude comments, and that happened all the time. Of course, any good friend would defend me.

And I did catch him staring at me yesterday. True, I'd had a spinach calzone for lunch. So it's entirely possible that I had something green stuck in my teeth and didn't realize it. Maybe Oliver wanted to say something but decided not to because he didn't want to embarrass me.

I checked my teeth when I got home and didn't see anything. But maybe it had been there at Oliver's and only got dislodged on my way home. It's a five-minute drive, which by any calculation is plenty of time for a measly piece of spinach to dislodge and disappear.

Maybe I just wanted Oliver to stare at me so desperately that I convinced myself he had been when really he was staring at something just over my shoulder, like one of his mom's watercolors of the sea. They were really pretty. But he could stare at his mom's paintings anytime. Why do so when I was standing in his way?

Obviously I felt seriously confused. I needed advice, which is where my friends came in.

But I didn't bring Oliver up while we were at the batting cages. Someone was always hitting, and I didn't want to have to repeat the information twice.

Plus, the machines were loud and I didn't want to shout.

Being in the arcade posed the same problem. And I couldn't say anything when we were in the middle of the go-cart races.…

Even when we went out for pizza afterward, I couldn't tell them because Yumi's parents were at our table, and her baby sister, Suki, and her grandma. (Not the one who lives in Hawaii.)

Mrs. Tamagachi seemed sweet and all, but no way was I going to talk about liking a boy in front of someone's grandma. It's just not done.

After lunch and then another hour at the arcade, we headed back to Yumi's for a “make your own party hat” craft, then a “make your own sushi” dinner and then a “make your own sundae” dessert, followed by a “make your own sleepover.”

By the time we'd rolled out our sleeping bags, I figured I'd waited long enough. Not only was I exhausted from making so much stuff, I also knew that if I didn't say something tonight, I'd never get the chance to. But for some reason, I kept stalling.

The timing never seemed right. Not even after Rachel brought up the school dance. “Two weeks and counting until Valentine's Day,” she said, looking at her watch. “Ticktock.”

“Digital watches don't make that sound,” said Emma.

Rachel whacked her in the head with a pillow. “It's a figure of speech, smarty-pants.”

Emma laughed. “I never understood that expression—smarty-pants. How can pants be smart? Or legs, even?”

Everyone groaned, and justifiably so.

Then Rachel started up again. “You guys, this is serious. We need to make plans.”

“Easy for you to say. You've already got a date,” said Claire.

“I know,” Rachel said. “I just wish it was with Erik. Or at least with someone who was more like Erik. Like his secret twin.”

“Erik has a secret twin?” I asked.

“Only in her dreams,” said Emma.

Rachel turned to me and asked, “Has he asked Hannah to the dance yet?”

“Not sure,” I said, which was technically true. I didn't tell Rachel that when our other classmate, Becky, asked Hannah about the dance, Hannah had changed the subject fast, without answering her.

“You should be happy you have a date,” said Claire. “Looks like I'll be going solo, unless Yumi lends me one of her dates.”

“What?” Rachel and I asked at the same time.

Yumi blushed. “I kind of got asked.”

“By two guys,” said Claire.

“And you didn't tell us?” asked Emma.

Yumi took off her party hat and tossed it aside. “It seemed too braggy to mention and I don't know what to do.”

“Well, who asked you?” asked Rachel.

“Dante and Ezra,” Yumi said.

I felt a stab of envy, even though I didn't know who either of these guys was. “I can't believe you have two dates.”

“No, I've got none,” said Yumi. “Yes, they both asked me, but I haven't given either one of them answers.”

“So which one do you like?” asked Rachel.

“Neither.” Yumi shrugged. “I mean, they're both nice. Dante is a better baseball player, but Ezra is really funny. And not just gross armpit-fart funny or check-out-how-far-I-can-shoot-a-spitball hilarious. He's much more sophisticated.”

“Too bad you can't go with both of them,” said Claire.

“Well,
technically
you can,” said Rachel. “The dance will be crowded and it's not like they're even friends. So you could agree to meet them both there and just make sure they stay on opposite sides of the gym. Then you can run back and forth between songs, maybe changing dresses with each guy.”

“Why would I have to change dresses?” asked Yumi.

“I don't know,” said Rachel. “Maybe to match each corsage?”

Yumi shook her head. “That sounds like a nightmare.”

“Or an old
Brady Bunch
episode,” I said.

“Oh yeah.” Rachel blushed.

“Anyway, wouldn't her dates both want to escort her to the dance?” I asked.

“Look at you, all formal,” said Claire. “Escort!”

Everyone giggled.

“What's so funny?” I asked.

“That's not how it works in junior high,” Rachel explained. “Everyone just goes to the dances with their friends and they meet their dates there.”

“It all changes in high school,” Claire added.

“But I don't think I want to go with either guy,” said Yumi. “And it seems wrong to say yes just so I'll have a date. Almost like I was using one of them and—” Yumi stopped talking because her phone chimed with a new text message.

She reached for it, but Rachel got there first.

“What are you—hey stop!” Yumi cried, lunging for her phone, but Rachel wouldn't let go. In fact, she stood up on her tippy-toes and held it over her head, far from Yumi's grasp.

“That's private property!” Yumi yelled.

“I'll give it back to you as soon as you tell us who you've been texting all this time!”

“Okay, fine, but this is so mean to do to me on my birthday!”

“I'm doing it because I care!” Rachel said as she handed back Yumi's phone. I kind of wished she'd read her text first. Forget that it's an invasion of privacy—I was curious. We all were.

“Don't keep us in suspense!” I said.

“I said I'd tell you.” Yumi brushed her hair from her face. “I met a boy in Hawaii.”

“What?” Claire asked.

“That's so great!” said Emma.

“And you're just telling us now?” asked Rachel.

“You never asked,” Yumi said.

“That's the kind of information you're just supposed to volunteer,” Rachel said.

“So what's his name?” I asked.

“Nathan,” Yumi said.

“Have any pictures?” asked Emma.

“Of course. Hold on. Let me just write him back.” Yumi began texting.

“What did he write?” asked Rachel.

“Wait a sec.” Once Yumi finished, she looked up at us and smiled. “Just Happy Birthday. Surf's up!”

“Surf's up?” asked Rachel.

“It's an inside joke,” said Yumi. “Too complicated to explain. You had to be there.”

“And what are you writing back?” asked Rachel.

“None of your business!” said Yumi. After she finished, she brought up a tiny picture on her cell phone screen.

We all huddled around the phone, trying to make out the image. The sun glinted in the background, making it hard to see his face, and her screen was tiny. Almost too tiny for the five of us to be looking at once, but we managed.

Nathan seemed cute. He wore a green and blue floral print bathing suit and a blue and white rash guard. He was standing on the beach. He had black hair, or maybe it just looked that way because it was wet.

“Let's see.” Claire moved in closer.

Rachel took the phone.

“Careful not to delete him!” said Yumi.

“Don't worry!” said Rachel. “I have my own phone, so it's not like I don't know what I'm doing.”

When the phone finally got passed to me, I quickly scrolled through the shots. There were four pictures—the original of Nathan standing on the beach. Then Nathan biting into a hamburger, Nathan holding a boogie board, and Nathan smiling and waving at the camera.

None of Yumi and Nathan holding hands or riding horses together on the beach or having a picnic—those are the romantic images that flashed through my mind when Yumi first said she'd met a boy in Hawaii. But I guess if they were both doing all those things together it would be hard to document themselves on film. It's not like they could hire a photographer.

“How'd you meet him?” I asked, handing back the phone.

“And where does he live?” Rachel asked.

“Did you guys kiss?” Claire wondered.

“Shh! Keep it down.” Yumi glanced at the door. “My parents are in the next room!”

“You mean they don't know about him?” Rachel gasped. “Is it forbidden love?”

“No. Of course my parents know him,” said Yumi. “Our grandmas are friends, and his lives in the condo complex next door to mine. But they don't want me spending too much time talking to him. Right now, I can only call him on weekends, after I finish all my homework. Luckily they never said anything about texting.…”

“So that's why you've been spending so much time staring at your phone!” said Claire.

Yumi didn't deny this. In fact, she didn't say a word. I couldn't believe she'd been sitting on the news for so long—acting like everything was normal when she was involved in a secret romance! For weeks now!

“So what's the story? Tell us everything,” I said.

Yumi tiptoed to the doorway and peered out. “Okay, the coast is clear,” she said, joining us on the floor again. “We met on my third day there. That's when his family arrived. They live in Michigan.”

“Michigan? That's so far away,” said Claire.

“It's in the Midwest,” Yumi told us. “In a different time zone, even.”

“So that's why you don't want to go to the dance with any guy from Birchwood,” said Rachel. “Because you have a secret boyfriend who lives far away.”

Yumi shook her head. “No, we're not going out. We both know that it would be pointless because who knows if we'll ever get to see each other again?”

“But that's why you want to spend the summer in Hawaii,” said Emma.

“Well, yeah,” said Yumi. “He's trying to do the same thing, so we can be together, but I don't think it's going to work. And I know summer is far away but I can't stop thinking about him.”

“Did you kiss him?” asked Claire.

Yumi nodded and we all screamed into our pillows.

“Keep it down!” Yumi said, eyes wide and arms waving. “My parents don't know about that part—obviously. Although I think they caught us holding hands once. So embarrassing.”