Planet Middle School (8 page)

Run

After school,

Jake calls

asking me to meet him

for a run.

I rub my sore ankle

and wince.

“No running for me today,”

I say.

I just don’t tell him

why.

Daydreaming

I walk into a room

and Santiago breezes by everyone

who stands between us.

He reaches me

and stares down into my eyes

like no one else

is there.

He cups my face

in his strong hands,

leans in close,

and our lips—

“Joylin!” says the teacher.

“Please tell the class

the answer to the question.”

“What?”

Movie Night

Movie night,

our code words for

hanging out.

KeeLee comes

for dinner

so we have time

to catch up.

Jake pops in later.

“Hey, Joy,” he says,

then switches voices.

“Hello, KeeLee.”

“Hey, Jake,” she says,

then looks back

at the television.

I give Jake

a sharp look,

see his eyes

full of KeeLee,

and pull him down

on the couch right

next to me.

“Let’s watch a movie,”

I say, not bothering

to take a vote.

I start the movie

and dim the lights.

I am
not
having one of my friends

make googly eyes

at the other.

Forget it.

The Day After

KeeLee and I

find our old table

in the lunchroom,

leaving show choir

and the girls from my team

on their own.

“That was weird last night,”

says KeeLee.

“What?”

“You know.

Jake kept staring at me like

I don’t know.”

She looks down at her plate.

“Like pizza.

With extra cheese.”

“Oh. That,” I say.

Should I tell her?

I wonder.

“A while back, he asked me

if we ever

talk about him.”

“When?”

“I don’t know.

A few weeks ago,” I say.

“I think—he likes you.”

There. I said it.

“Really?”

I hate the way she says it,

twirling a braid

around her finger.

“He
is
kind of cute,” she says.

“KeeLee!”

Then she bursts out laughing.

“I’m just kidding, Joylin.

You should see your face!

Look, Jake’s your friend

and me messing around with him

would just be too—icky.

So forget it, okay?”

I breathe again

relieved that I’m not going

to lose one friend

to another.

Skirting the Issue

I charge through the doors

of a discount clothing store

on the hunt for a bargain.

The few dollars I earn doing chores

will only go so far.

I journey down the skirt aisle,

an explorer in unfamiliar territory,

tossing semi-cute selections

into my basket

as I go.

Once in the dressing room,

I take turns pulling

each skirt on,

then spin before

the mirror thinking:

One of these

is bound to catch

Santiago’s eye.

Caught

One morning finds me

in the kitchen

popping a frozen waffle

into the toaster,

trying to scarf it down

before anyone comes in.

“Morning, Joy,” says Mom.

Too late.

“Hi, Mom. Bye, Mom.”

I break for the door.

“Wait a minute,” she says.

“What is that you’ve got on?”

“They’re called clothes, Mom.”

She gives me that look that says

I’m going to smack you

in a minute.

I hang my head,

pinching myself for being

such a smart mouth.

“Sorry,” I mutter,

and take another step.

“You’re wearing a skirt,” she says,

like I don’t know.

“Yes.”

“You don’t own a skirt.”

“I do now. Bought it yesterday.”

“You bought it?”

“Yes.”

“With your own money?”

“
Yes
.”

By now, I’m bouncing

from foot to foot,

itching to be anywhere

but here.

A slow smile spreads

across my mom’s face

like sun rising.

“Okay, baby,” she says,

ready to let me go.

“You have a good day.”

I breathe,

and smile back thinking,

That’s the plan.

Runway

Walking to school,

an arctic blast

blows up my skirt

and I shiver,

wishing for the warmth

of jeans.

But I’m on a mission

so I spend the day

sitting cross-legged

pretending to be comfortable.

(If only Mom could see me!)

At lunch, I keep an eye out

for Santiago.

I spot him on the way

back to class,

and saunter by slow enough

so he’ll notice.

Instead, he barely nods.

Embarrassed, I try

to tear up the nearest stairs

two at a time, like always,

only my too-cute pencil skirt

makes that impossible.

My quick getaway

is further interrupted

when I trip and my books

go flying across the stairs.

I bend to gather them

and hear kids giggling

as they stare at my thighs.

I stand up quickly,

cursing the skirt,

wishing for an invisibility cloak,

wondering if Santiago

is worth all this trouble

in the first place.

I Don’t Get It

I thought I had him figured out,

the kind of hair he likes,

the clothes,

the shoes,

the makeup.

Why won’t he even

notice me?

Where did I go wrong?

Fire Drill

“Joy,” KeeLee whispers,

standing next to me

as we line up,

“since when did you

like wearing skirts?”

“Since never.”

“Then why—”

I look around,

make sure no one else

can hear.

“I thought Santiago

would like it.”

“Oh,” says KeeLee,

sounding almost sad.

“What? You tried on heels,” I say.

“But that was different,”

KeeLee says.

“That was for
me,

not for someone else.”

I don’t want to listen

to what KeeLee has to say,

so I turn away and hurry

to the exit.

News Travels

Back home,

I rip the skirt off,

drop-kick it into

the back of the closet,

and pull on comfy jeans.

Later that night

when Dad gets home

in time for dinner,

he walks into the kitchen

all smiles,

checking me

from head to toe.

“So where is it?”

“Where’s what?” I ask.

“The skirt?

Your mom told me

you bought one.”

I groan so loudly

the whole world

can hear me,

then run to my room

and slam the door.

Before it closes,

my dad yells out,

“What did I say?”

Sick to My Stomach

I don’t have a fever,

but it’s not entirely a lie

when I tell my mom

I’m sick to my stomach

and need to stay home.

It hurts seeing Santiago

when he doesn’t

see

me.

What Are Friends For?

KeeLee’s a little mad at me

for giving her the slip

during fire drill.

Still, she drops by after choir

to check on the real reason

I’m feeling sick as a dog.

“Forget about Santiago,” she says

when I tell her.

“He’s probably not

good enough for you anyway.”

“Probably not?”

“
Definitely
not.”

KeeLee has a way

of making me smile.

Is Everybody Crazy Now?

Glory sits down to dinner

by invitation.

Jake does his usual drop-in

right when Mom sets the table.

I see him and cringe,

hoping he doesn’t bring up Santiago.

I’m still trying to figure out a way

to get Santiago to like me.

“Great half-court shot

last Saturday,” Dad says to Glory.

She smiles and we all rehash the game.

During cleanup,

Jake sneaks long looks at Glory

when her head is turned away.

“Man,” Jake whispers,

“that girl’s legs go on forever.

She seeing anybody?”

He’s practically salivating.

I cut my eyes at him

and stomp off to the kitchen.

He’s right behind me.

“Joy, what’s the matter? What’d I say?”

“First, it’s KeeLee. Now it’s Glory.

It’s okay if you’re girl crazy, right?

But let me just
look
at Santiago

and you’re all in my face.”

“That’s not true. I mean—

Look, it’s different with you, okay?

I’m not trying to change myself for a girl.

But you’re turning yourself

inside out for this guy,

and I don’t see why.

There’s nothing wrong with you

the way you are.

You don’t need to become

somebody else.”

I can’t listen to this.

I drop a dish in the sink

and walk away.

“You don’t like who I am now,”

I yell over my shoulder.

“Go find somebody you like better!”