Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages) (24 page)

“HEY, SWIFT.” MARK WALKED DOWN the hall toward me before the first bell on Monday. This was it. The first day we both didn’t
like someone else and I was praying there would be no energy surges or sparks flying. The breakup with Blake stunk and I just
wanted to be crush-free for awhile.

But I did want Mark to notice my new look. Lame, I know, but I couldn’t help it. One thing I learned from Jilly was that when
you are feeling kind of down or bummed out, looking good can help. To get me out of my “eighth grade girls aren’t as mature
as ninth grade SORE LOSERS funk,” I spent some serious time getting ready this morning. My hair was doing what I wanted it
to, I was zit-free, and I was wearing a jean skirt that flattered my slightly-existent hips. Shaving had gone well—no nicks
or cuts—and I’d even put on a little more makeup—not as much as I’d had on at the mall, but I did try the same shimmery eye
shadow Reede wore sometimes.

When I’d come downstairs, my mom had stared at me. “Isn’t that skirt a little short?”

“No, it’s fine,” I said. Couldn’t she just tell me I looked good? Or ask why I was making a special effort? Not that I wanted
to tell her I’d lied to her and had gone to the park to break up with Blake. But still.

“You look—”

“Beautiful?” I said, twirling around. “Wonderful?”

“Older.” My mom had sighed.

“I am older, Mom.” I had squeezed her arm. “Get used to it.”

But now I was standing in front of Mark and he didn’t seem to notice anything. Which was kind of annoying because Jilly and
I both saw the looks I was getting—on the bus and as we walked into school. They were the kind of looks Jilly always got but
I’d never gotten until today.

Except from Mark.

“Any chance I can get some algebra help?” he said. “I’m really confused.”

I sighed. Why did I want Mark to notice how I looked anyway? We were just friends and no way did I want any kind of relationship
right after the Blake Break.

“When did you want to get together?” I asked.

“You got something after school?” he asked. “Maybe I can just come home with you.”

My first thought was, Mark Sacks and me on the bus together? I mean, he came over sometimes but not on the bus. My second
thought was—

“Kara’s on my bus.”

Mark sighed an irritated sigh. “So, when’s the deadline? How long do I have to change my life so I don’t hurt her feelings?”

I pulled my books out of my locker. “Why don’t you try talking to her about it?”

Mark looked at me like I’d just said he had to stop watching ESPN. “I don’t think so.”

“I think you should try,” I said. “She’ll probably appreciate your honesty.”

“She’ll probably get mad at me.”

“Probably,” said a third person.

We both turned to see Reede standing behind us. She was wearing a tight black shirt and jeans that dragged on the floor, almost
completely hiding her scuffed black boots.

“They always get mad,” Reede said, reaching in front of me for her own books. “But they get over it.” She looked from Mark
to me. “Wow, Erin. You look great.”

I blushed. “Thanks.”

“Doesn’t she look great, Mark?”

Mark barely glanced at me. Obviously my hot factor was not registering on his meter. “Yeah,” he said. “Okay, so I just don’t
think I have to ask Kara’s permission to go do homework with someone.”

“Well, aren’t you the lucky study partner.” Reede raised her eyebrows at me before turning to Mark. “You don’t have to ask
permission,” she said. “But like Erin said, just give her a heads up so she doesn’t freak out when you get on the bus.”

“Maybe I should just go home first and ride my bike over,” Mark said. “But it’d be easier for me to just go home with you.”
He groaned. “Why do girls have to be like this?”

“We like to drive you crazy.” Reede laughed as she walked down the hall. “Good luck.”

“Fine, I’ll say something,” Mark said. “But I know she’s going to get mad.”

“Then just come over later,” I said.

“No,” Mark said. “This is stupid. I should be able to go home on the bus with you.”

The first bell rang.

“Let me know how it goes,” I said.

*   *   *

When Mark told Kara, I guess she said, “What a surprise.” Then: “Gee, thanks for the news flash but I’m not even going to
be on the bus today. I have a dentist appointment.”

So at least he didn’t have to see her on the bus. Mark and I took the seat in front of Rosie and Jilly and I ignored Jilly
making her loveydovey face at me.

“See?” I said as the bus pulled away from the school. “That wasn’t so bad.”

Mark leaned back and crossed his arms. “Whatever. I just need help with algebra.”

When we got to my house, we tossed our backpacks next to the kitchen table and I started pawing through the cupboard for snacks.
I tossed a box of Goldfish to Mark and he caught it neatly, setting it on the table. Then he helped himself to a glass of
water.

“Here,” I said, holding out a stone-hard, half-eaten muffin Chris had left on the counter from breakfast that morning. “Chris
wanted you to have this.”

Mark laughed, taking the muffin from me. “He’s a thoughtful guy.” He turned it around in his hand before holding back as if
it were a football. “Go long.”

I grabbed the trash can from under the sink and hustled to the other side of the kitchen. I stopped in the doorway leading
to the hall.

“Or short,” Mark said as he measured the distance with his eyes. He sent the muffin in a perfect end-over-end toss.

Thunk. Right into the trash can.

“Two points,” I said.

“Oh, that was easily a three-pointer.”

“No way,” I said. “You’re, like, eight feet from it.”

“But we’re in a smaller area overall.” Mark opened his arms to survey the kitchen. “Everything is on a smaller scale.”

“But the basket is huge compared to the muffin,” I said. “Cheater.”

“Meanie.”

I laughed.

“So, where
is
the Muffin Man?” Mark asked, grabbing a handful of Goldfish and tossing them back.

“Who knows?” I said, putting the trash can back under the sink. “He’s always got something after school.”

“Well, hello, Mark.” My mom came into the kitchen to refill her water bottle.

“Hi, Mrs. Swift.”

“Thanks for helping us carry boxes the other day,” she said. That was when he’d come over to tell me about Kara. “It was nice
to get the basement cleared out.”

“No problem,” Mark said.

Mom smiled at both of us. “Study hard.”

Mark and I sat side-by-side at the kitchen table and worked through his algebra.

“I don’t see where you’re having a problem,” I said when we’d finished. “You got every single one right. I hardly helped at
all.”

“Well, it was enough for the lightbulb to go on,” Mark said. “I don’t know why but it just made more sense when you explained
it.” He smiled at me, then nudged his elbow against mine. “You’re in my elbow space.”

I nudged him back. “No, you’re in mine.”

We nudged back and forth until we both were rubbing our sore elbows. Then we looked at each other and our eyes caught. My
heart fluttered a little, like old times. I had a flash that maybe we were about to kiss and I couldn’t believe I had just
thought that because didn’t I just have a horrible experience with Blake Thornton and I was not going to like anyone for a
long, long time?

But then the doorbell rang and Mark’s mom was standing there, ready to take him home, and I wasn’t sure what the flutter meant
or if there would have been a kiss or if maybe I’d imagined the look in his eye as I stood on my porch, waving good-bye.

And in the next minute, none of that mattered because Chris pulled up with someone in his car who wasn’t his girlfriend, Bethany.
And when this someone stepped out of the passenger seat, my heart triple-flipped and then stopped beating.

OMIGOD. OH YOUR GOD. HE
was
a god.

The guy standing a dozen feet away in the driveway had deep tanned skin, brown eyes, and dark hair tied back in a ponytail.

I couldn’t breathe.

“Erin, right?” The god boy smiled. It was a smooth, easy smile. My heart flipped again at my name coming from those lips,
softened by a southern accent. How had he known? Were we meant to be together? Why wasn’t I getting a vibe on his name to
prove we had some psychic connection?

“Yeah,” I said, choking it out.

“Your brother told me to be on the lookout for his little sister. I’m Jeff.” His eyes dropped briefly to my chest before returning
to my face. I fought the urge to cross my arms over my perky little middle school breasts. But I didn’t want him to know I’d
seen him look.

“Hi,” I said. No psychic connection after all. Just an annoying brother who probably said stupid things about me. Even though
I came up past the god boy’s shoulder, I suddenly felt very small.
Little sister
implied
young, baby, don’t bother.
And why should he? If he was a junior like Chris, he was three years older than me. I might as well be in preschool as far
as he was concerned.

“Just show him your alien markings and go back to your spaceship,” Chris said, nudging me out of the way to go inside.

“Shut up,” I said automatically as I followed them inside. Chris went immediately into the family room and flipped on the
TV. Jeff lingered in the kitchen, where I caught the faint scent of his cologne mixed with boy smell.

“I’d be interested in those alien markings.” Jeff turned and raised his eyebrows at me in a way that sent a tingle down my
spine.

My cheeks warmed and I dropped my gaze. Some of the new welcome-to-teenhood sproutings on various parts of my body were definitely
alien markings. But no way was I showing them to anyone.

“Massey, it’s on,” Chris called from the other room.

“Be right there.” Jeff looked at me. “Got anything to drink?” “There’s soda in the fridge.” I motioned to it.

He pulled out three cans of Coke, popped the top on one, and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I said. For a second, I thought he was going to invite me to go sit somewhere with him. Then he took a long gulp
from his can. “See you soon, Swift the Younger.” I watched him walk into the family room, his shoulders wide, his muscles
large and taut. Man, oh man.

“Little sister’s cute,” I heard Jeff say.

Chris snorted. “Little sister’s little,” he said. “She’s in eighth grade.”

I strained to hear what Jeff said next but Chris had turned the sound back on, drowning them out.

That night I leaned against my window, looking out at the night sky. I kept hearing Jeff’s words,
Little sister’s cute.
I couldn’t believe this high school god thought I was cute. I mean that Greg from the mall was all right but Jeff was… I
don’t know. Beyond wow. And Swift the Younger. How cool was that?

“Erin.” My mom’s voice was soft behind me. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

“Hey, Mom.” I glanced over my shoulder but didn’t move from the window.

“How was your study date with Mark?”

I blinked once, twice.
Mark who? Blake who?

“Fine,” I said, turning back to the night sky. “Just fine.”