Like Carrot Juice on a Cupcake (13 page)

The next morning, before the bell,

I was too scared to walk into my classroom.

I didn’t want to see
anyone

who knew what had happened

the day before.

I wanted so badly

to hide in the bathroom.

But I couldn’t!

Because what if Pearl and Ainsley were

back in their stall?

Or

what if the kindergartner was there?

The poor, cute kindergartner

that I’d
yelled
at?

Instead of the bathroom,

I stuck my head in my cubby

for a very long time,

pretending to look for something.

I heard crowds of kids walk by.

I ignored them all.

I ignored the pain in my neck

and back and shoulders, too.

Until the warning bell rang.

And I had no choice.

I had to go in.

As soon as I stepped into the classroom,

I noticed Adam and Ben

at the back of the room,

tossing a squishy football

and laughing.

Like
nothing
had happened!

I glared at those happy boys.

Especially Ben,

who’d started
everything
with his stupid chanting!

And then Mrs. Ramji exclaimed, “Eleanor!”

I turned to her quickly

and held my breath.

Was she mad at me?

Had she heard about my meanness?

She didn’t look mad.

“I love your sweatshirt!” she said. “It’s so
lively
!”

“Thanks,” I said.

I glanced over at Ainsley then.

She was sitting at her desk.

I’d hoped she might smile

if I wore the sweatshirt.

But she was definitely not smiling.

“Ainsley’s mom designed it,”

I told Mrs. Ramji quickly.

So Ainsley would hear me give her mom credit.

But Ainsley just frowned deeper.

She looked like

she wanted me

to
take
the sweatshirt
off
.

I crossed my arms over my chest.

I didn’t have anything to change into!

“Your mom is very talented, Ainsley,”

Mrs. Ramji said.

Ainsley did smile a little then,

but only at Mrs. Ramji.

And she thanked her.

Then Mrs. Ramji said to the whole class,

“All right, everyone. Let’s get started.”

So I had to go sit in my seat.

Right next to Pearl.

She wouldn’t even look at me.

She leaned
away
from me

and took a notebook out of her backpack.

I’d helped her decorate the outside of that notebook!

But she definitely wasn’t having

happy decorating memories.

She set the notebook down, hard, on her desk

and slammed a pen on top of it

and stared straight ahead.

I kept looking at her.

But she wouldn’t look back.

“I’m sorry!” I wanted to tell her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

I’m
so
sorry.”

But I’d already tried that.

And she’d told me to
go away
.

My shoulders slumped a little,

and I shook my head.

I’d never get Pearl back.

We’d never be friends again.

She’d never tell me one of her poems

or call me on the phone and shout,

“Eleanor! It’s Pearl!”

I was starting to cry

in school

for the second day in a row,

when a wadded-up ball of paper flew through the air

and landed on my desk.

I knew exactly what that flying piece of paper was.

I opened it up

and smoothed it out.

Sure enough, Nicholas Rigby had drawn me a picture.

This one had a little row of chicks.

He’d labeled them “Marshmallow Peeps.”

And he’d written,

right above them,

“Don’t be sad.”

I wiped tears off my cheeks

and folded that picture neatly

and put it on top of the pile of pictures

I kept in my desk.

Then I turned and whispered to him, “Thanks,”

like I always did.

He kicked the back of my chair,

not too hard,

like he always did.

And I had to admit,

he’d made me feel better.

Nicholas’s note gave me an idea.

Maybe a note could help

with Ainsley

and with Pearl.

So,

while Mrs. Ramji talked about multiplying by ten,

I thought hard about what I wanted to say

to each of them.

Then,

as quietly as I could,

I tore two pieces of paper

out of my notebook.

And I wrote to them both.

First, I wrote this note to Ainsley:

Dear Ainsley,

I am so sorry.

I hope you will forgive me someday.

I’m planning to wear this sweatshirt

every single day

until you do.

Except

I don’t think you will like that.

Will you PLEASE tell me

if you don’t want me to?

And if there’s something else I can do?

PLEASE tell me.

Your friend,

who shouldn’t have done what she did,

Eleanor

And then I wrote to Pearl.

I’d decided she might like a poem.

Since she talks like a poet sometimes.

So I wrote:

Dear Pearl,

I did a mean thing.

A very mean thing.

To a new girl AND

to my best friend.

I HATE that I did it.

But I did.

This is worse than

carrot juice on a cupcake

or a wasp on my pillow

or a dress that’s too tight at the neck.

I hope you never do anything that mean.

I really do.

I almost ended my note there,

with the end of that poem.

But then I worried

that it wasn’t enough.

So I kept going.

I added:

I am so sorry.

I will do ANYTHING to make it up to you.

I would eat PICKLES for you.

You are still my very best friend,

even if I am not yours.

I am so, so, so sorry.

Love,

Eleanor

As soon as I finished writing to Pearl and Ainsley,

I pretended I needed a tissue.

I walked over to the tissue box by the window.

As I passed Pearl,

I slipped her note on her desk.

And I did the same for Ainsley.

Then I pretended to blow my nose by the window.

I tried to watch Pearl and Ainsley while I did.

Ainsley didn’t even open my note.

She just put it in her backpack.

Pearl did read hers.

I think she even smiled a tiny bit.

And then she wrote me back!

I was so happy

when I saw her put that note on my desk,

I almost ran back there.

And I opened that note up fast.

But

it only said: