Auggie & Me (21 page)

So, when Savanna says, “Charlotte's
always
the first to sign in,” on the one hand it's kind of a compliment because she's saying, “Charlotte's always on top of things, which is why her hard work pays off for her.” But when she says, “Charlotte's
always
the first to sign in,” with that
eww
expression on her face, it's more like she's saying, “Charlotte only gets what she wants because she's first in line.” Or at least that's what I hear. A put-down.

Savanna's really good at those kinds of put-downs, where it's all in the eyes and the corners of the mouth. It's too bad, because she didn't used to be like that. In lower school, Savanna and Ellie and me and Maya and Summer: we were all friends. We played together after school. We had tea parties. It's only been since we started middle school—ever since she got popular—that Savanna's become less nice than she used to be.

“Okay, ladies,” said Mrs. Atanabi, clapping her hands and motioning for us to walk toward her, “everybody on the dance floor, please! Take your positions. Everybody spread out. So what we're going to do today is, I'm going to show you a couple of different dances from the sixties that I'd like you to try. The twist. The Hully Gully. And the mambo. Just those three. Sound good?”

I had taken up a position behind Summer, who smiled and waved one of her cute happy hellos at me. When I was little and still into Flower Fairies, I used to think that Summer Dawson looked exactly like the Lavender Fairy. Like she should have been born with violet wings.

“Since when have you been into dance?” I asked her, because she had never been one of the girls I'd see at dance recitals.

Summer shrugged shyly. “I started taking classes this summer.”

“Sweet!” I answered, smiling encouragingly.

“Mrs. Atanabi?” said Ximena, raising her hand. “What is this audition even for?”

“Oh my goodness!” answered Mrs. Atanabi, tapping her forehead with her fingers. “Of course. I completely forgot to tell you guys what we're doing here.”

I, personally, have always loved Mrs. Atanabi—with her long flowy dresses and scarves and the messy bun. I love that she always has the breathless appearance of someone who's just come back from a great journey. I like that. But a lot of people think she's flaky and weird. The way she throws her head back when she laughs. The way she mumbles to herself sometimes. People have said she looks exactly like Mrs. Puff in
SpongeBob SquarePants
. They call her Mrs. Fatanabi behind her back, which I think is incredibly mean.

“I've been asked to put together a dance piece to perform at the Beecher Prep Benefit Gala,” she started explaining. “Which is in mid-March. It's not a performance that other students will ever see. It's for the parents, faculty, and alumni. But it's kind of a big deal. They're having it at Carnegie Hall this year!”

Everyone made little excited chirpy sounds.

Mrs. Atanabi laughed. “I thought you'd all like that!” she said. “I'm adapting a piece I choreographed years ago, which had gotten considerable attention at the time, I don't mind saying. And it should be a lot of fun. But it will take plenty of work! Which reminds me: if you're chosen for this dance, it will require a
big
time commitment! I want to be clear about that right from the start, ladies. Ninety minutes of rehearsal, after school, three times a week. From now, through March. So if you can't commit to that, don't even try out. Okay?”

“But what if we have soccer practice?” asked Ruby, in the middle of a
plié
.

“Ladies, sometimes in life you have to choose,” Mrs. Atanabi answered. “You can't have soccer practice
and
be in this dance. It's as simple as that. I don't want to hear any excuses about homework assignments or tests or anything else. Even one missed rehearsal is too much! Remember, this is
not
something you're required to do for school! You don't
have
to be here, girls. You won't be getting extra credit. If the appeal of dancing on one of the world's most famous stages isn't enough for you, then please
don't
try out.” She extended her arm all the way and pointed to the exit. “I won't take it personally.”

We all looked at each other. Ruby and Jacqueline both smiled apologetically at Mrs. Atanabi, waved goodbye, and left. I couldn't believe anyone would do that! To give up the chance to dance at Carnegie Hall? That's as famous as Broadway!

Mrs. Atanabi blinked but didn't say anything. Then she rubbed her head, like she was warding off a headache. “One last thing,” she said. “If you're not selected for this particular routine, please remember there's still the big dance number in the spring variety show—and
everyone
can dance in that one. So if you don't make this performance,
please don't
have your mom email me. There are only spots for three girls.”

“Only
three
?” cried Ellie, covering her mouth with her hand.

“Yes,
only
three,” Mrs. Atanabi responded, sounding exactly like Mrs. Puff sounds when she says,
Oh, SpongeBob.

I knew what Ellie was thinking:
Please let it be me, Ximena, and Savanna.

But even as she wished that, she probably knew it wasn't going to work out that way. The thing is, everybody knows that Ximena is the best dancer in the whole school. She got selected for the summer intensives at the School of American Ballet. She's at
that
level. So it was a pretty safe bet that Ximena would make it in.

And everybody knows that Savanna made the finals in two different regionals last year, and had come close to placing at a national—so there was a good chance that she would make it in.

And everybody knows that—Well, not to brag, but dance is kind of my thing, and I have a bunch of huge trophies on my shelf that prove it.

Ellie, though? Sorry, but she's just not in the same league as either Ximena or Savanna. Or me. Sure, she's been into dance all these years, but she's always been kind of lazy about it. I don't know, maybe if there were room for four girls. But not if there can only be
three.

Nope, it seemed pretty clear as I looked around the room at the competition: the final three would be Ximena, Savanna. And me!
Sorry, Ellie!

And maybe, just
maybe
, this would be my chance to finally work my way into the Savanna group, once and for all. I could go back to having Ellie as my best friend. Savanna could have Ximena. It could all work out.

The twist. The Hully Gully. And the mambo.

Got it.

In middle school, your lunch-table group isn't always the same as your friend group. Like, it's very possible—in fact, it's
probable
!—that you may end up sitting at a lunch table with a bunch of girls that you're friends with—but who aren't necessarily your
friend
friends. How you ended up at that table is completely random: Maybe there wasn't enough room at the table with the girls you really wanted to sit with. Or maybe you just happened to end up with a group of girls because of the class you had right before lunch. That's actually what happened to me. On the first day of school, Maya, Megan, Lina, Rand, Summer, Ellie, and I were all in Ms. Petosa's advanced math class together. When the lunch bell rang, we flew down the stairs in a big huddle, not knowing exactly how to get to the cafeteria. When we finally did find it, we all just sat down at a table in a pack. It was like we were playing musical chairs, with everyone scrambling to get a seat. There were actually only supposed to be six kids to a table, but the seven of us squeezed in and made it work.

At first, I thought it was the greatest table in the whole lunchroom! I was sitting right between Ellie, my best friend from first grade, and Maya, my other best friend from lower school. I was sitting directly across from Summer and Megan, both of whom I knew from lower school, too, even if we weren't necessarily good friends.
And
I knew Lina from the Beecher Prep Summer Camp program. The only person I didn't know at all was Rand, but she seemed nice enough. So, all in all, it looked like a totally awesome lunch table!

But then, that very first day, Summer switched tables to go sit with Auggie Pullman. It was so shocking! One second we were all sitting there, talking about him, watching him eat his lunch. Lina said something really mean that I won't repeat. And the next second, Summer, without saying anything to
anyone
, just picked up her lunch tray and walked over to him. It was so unexpected! Lina, I remember, looked like she was watching a car accident.

“Stop staring!” I said to her.

“I can't believe she's
eating
with him,” she whispered, horrified.

“It's not
that
big a deal,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Then why aren't
you
having lunch with him?” she answered. “Aren't you supposed to be his welcome buddy?”

“That doesn't mean I have to sit with him at lunch,” I answered quickly, regretting that I'd told anyone that Mr. Tushman had chosen me to be Auggie's welcome buddy. Yes, it was an honor that he had asked me, along with Julian and Jack—but I didn't want anyone throwing it in my face!

All around the cafeteria, people were doing the exact same thing we were doing at our lunch table: staring at Auggie and Summer eating together. We were literally only a few hours into middle school, but people had already started calling him the
Zombie Kid
and
Freak.

Beauty and the Freak.
That's what people were whispering about Summer and Auggie.

No way was I going to have people whisper stuff behind my back, too!

“Besides,” I said to Lina, taking a bite of my Caesar salad. “I like
this
table. I don't want to switch.”

And that was true! I
did
like this table!

At least, at first I did.

But then, as I got to know everyone a little better, I realized that maybe I didn't have as much in common with them as I would have liked. It turned out that Lina, Megan, and Rand were
all
super into sports (Maya played soccer, but that was all). So there was this whole world of soccer games and swim meets and “away games” that Ellie and I couldn't really talk to them about. Another thing is that they had all chosen to be in orchestra, while Ellie and I had chosen chorus. And the last thing, very simply, was that they weren't into a lot of the stuff
we
were into! They never watched
The Voice
or
American Idol.
They weren't into movie stars or old movies. They had never even seen
Les Misérables
, for crying out loud! I mean, how could I have a serious friendship with someone who had no interest in seeing
Les Mis
?

But as long as I had Ellie to talk to, with Maya there to round us out, everything was totally fine by me. The three of us would chat about the stuff
we
wanted to talk about on our side of the table, and Megan, Lina, and Rand would chat about the stuff
they
wanted to talk about on their side of the table. And then we'd all catch up about the stuff we had in common—schoolwork, homework, teachers, tests, bad cafeteria food—in the middle of the table.

Which is why everything was good. Until Ellie switched tables!

And now it's just me. And Maya.

Maya, who was only really fun to talk to when Ellie was there. Or if you wanted to play a rousing game of dots.

Look, I'm not mad at Ellie for switching tables. I honestly
don't
blame her. Ever since we heard that Amos had a crush on her, it was like she'd gotten a free pass into the popular group. Savanna had asked her to sit with them at lunch, and then arranged it so Amos and Ellie sat next to each other. That's how all the “couples” in the grade got together. Ximena and Miles. Savanna and Henry. And now, Amos and Ellie. In arranged group huddles. The popular boys and the popular girls. It was natural that they'd all want to stick together. Nobody else in our grade is dating or even
close
to dating! I know for a fact that the girls at
my
lunch table still act like boys have cooties! And, from what I can tell, most of the boys act like girls don't exist.

So, yeah, I totally get why Ellie switched lunch tables. I really do. And I'm not about to be super-mad at her, like Maya is. It's hard when you've been invited to a better lunch table. There's kind of no looking back.

All I can do is sit and wait, talk to Maya, and hope that Savanna will ask me to join them at the popular table someday.

In the meanwhile, I draw Venn diagrams. And play lots and lots of dots.