Click Here (to find out how i survived seventh grade) (13 page)

And I thought I had a wild imagination. “He’s not even looking this way.”

Jilly leaped up, knocking three blouses to the floor. “Don’t look at him,” she said. “Just act natural.”

I wasn’t really looking at him and I was acting natural, but I turned my head anyway. Picking up the shirts Jilly had knocked down, I watched while she moved to another rack. I could see her out of my peripheral vision. “You’re looking at him.”

“That’s because he’s not looking this way now.” She whipped her head toward me. “Okay, now he is.” She bent to tie her shoe, which was already tied. “Is he still looking at me?”

“Are you saying it’s okay for me to look at him?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Why can I look at him now but I couldn’t look at him before?” Jilly groaned in exasperation. “Because before we were both standing and it would have been obvious, but now you’re already facing that way and I’m down here so it’s natural that you would look over that way.”

“Oh.” This boy surveillance thing was pretty complicated.

“Well?”

“He’s not looking at you. He’s eating a pretzel and jabbing his friend with a straw.” I could see him better now. I frowned at Jilly. “So do you want him to see you or not?”

“I want him to see me, but I don’t want him to think that I saw him first because then it’ll look like I’m after him when I’m not. He’s really after me.”

“Oh.”

She was still on the floor, retying her other shoe now. I glanced back out the window.

“He’s leaving,” I said.

“He’s leaving?” Jilly bounced up and ran to the window. “Follow him.”

“What?”

“Just go out and see which store he goes in.”

“I thought you just said you didn’t want him to think we’re following him. That it would be lame.”

“It would be lame if
I
followed him, not if
you
followed him.”

I furrowed my brow. “Why not?”

“Erin, he’s getting away. Please!” She practically shoved me toward the door.

“Geez, Jilly. All right. All right.” I shrugged her hands off my back. Turning on my heel to face her, I saluted. “Erin Swift reporting for duty.”

Jilly rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was fighting a smile. “Just go already.”

I turned back toward the door and performed an exaggerated march.

“Don’t do that when you get out there,” Jilly said.

I saluted again and returned to my normal walk as I stepped out of the store. I took a few steps in the direction of Bus Boy and his pal. Bus Boy kept walking, then stopped in front of a music store. He quickly downed his drink and scarfed down his pretzel, leaving the cup on the floor outside the store. Litterbug. Minus two points.

As he and his friend entered the store, he paused. Swiveling his head, he looked right at me. I was so startled, I just stared. He grinned and waved at me. I waved back. I didn’t know what else to do. Once he was safely inside the store, I ran back to Jilly.

“Did you just wave at him?” Jilly turned from the window, where she had had her nose pressed against the glass.

“He waved first,” I protested. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I can’t believe you waved at him,” Jilly said, shaking her head. “You totally blew our cover.”

“I only blew my cover,” I said. “Yours is still safe.”

I looked at some shirts and a jacket while Jilly made out her Christmas list. We walked over to another store (after I snuck ahead to make sure Bus Boy was nowhere in sight), and Jilly added to her list.

“I was going to look at some CDs but we can’t go anywhere near that music store now,” Jilly said. We sat at a table near Juice Express, sipping a couple of smoothies. “Hey, I think that’s Brian Johnson.” Jilly dropped her head under the table.

“Who?”

“Brian Johnson,” Jilly said, her voice muffled by the table top. “He’s in my homeroom. Isn’t he cute?”

“The one in the blue shirt and earring?”

Jilly popped up, then popped back down. “Yeah.”

“Yes. He is. Cuter than Bus Boy.”

“Who?”

“The boy we were spying on earlier. Bus Boy. The one on our bus.” “Oh, right. I think he’s an eighth grader.” She paused. “Where’s Brian?”

I took a sip of my smoothie, making her wait as I hatched my diabolical plan. “You can come out now. He just went into Structure.”

Jilly sat up. Brian stood only a few yards from our table.

“Jillian!” He waved at her and she waved back, smoothing her hair, which stuck out at odd ends because she had been practically upside-down under the table.

“I hate you,” she whispered out of the corner of her mouth as she smiled at Brian.

“No, you don’t,” I said. She looked at me and laughed.

“You’re right,” she said. “You may be a sneak, but you’re a good friend. Thanks for playing spy.”

“You’re welcome,” I said. “Thanks for the smoothie.” We drank in silence for a while. “I think Brian likes you.”

“Umm,” Jilly said, her chin in her hand as she leaned her elbow on the table.

“If he still likes you in the spring, I bet he asks you to the dance. I bet you’ll have so many guys asking you, you’ll have to put their names in a hat and draw one out.”

Jilly laughed. “I wish.”

I didn’t say anything else. But I did wonder what it would be like to have someone like me. I didn’t need a whole hatful of guys. Just one.

chapter 12

Ouch

“You’d never know you were a puppet, except from back here.” Mark was walking slightly behind me as we headed for the computer lab. We’d been hard at it for a few weeks now, first developing the Intranet and then the content. The idea that everything we wrote and created would be seen by every kid at MBMS was starting to freak us all out. We realized how important everything we did was. Mark and I talked practically nonstop about web pages and other stuff, in addition to having a few pickup games of basketball in the gym with some other kids to give our brains a break.

“I can see where the strings come out.” Mark tapped me lightly on the back, sending a shiver through me. I shook my head, but I couldn’t help smiling. Only Mark Sacks could say something like that and have it send my heart soaring. It was so great to be friends with him that it was almost okay that he didn’t like me more than a friend. Almost.

“You know you’re the only one who still talks about the PI,” I said. “When are you going to get over it?”

Mark smiled and shrugged. “It’s fun to tease you.” He flipped his bangs back, and I raised my eyebrows in mock surprise.

“You
do
have another eye.”

“Yeah, I let it out every once in a while to stretch.” I laughed as we stepped into the lab.

“Erin, check this out.” Rosie waved me over.

“That looks great,” I said, leaning over her shoulder. “I like that font.” “Hey, Erin, are you all ears?” I glanced over at Steve, who was in Mark’s group. He was grinning and tugging at his ears. Then he pointed to his screen and read aloud, “Molly Brown Middle School was proud to present
A Harvest to Remember
, starring blah, blah, blah, and our own Erin Swift as …” He swiveled around in his chair. “Drumroll, please … an ear of corn!”

“Ha, ha, ha,” I said, shaking my head. I didn’t know why they even had to put it on the Intranet since it would be over before we went live. But Ms. Moreno didn’t want to leave any events out. “I tried out as a favor to a friend and got stuck in the vegetable chorus, okay?”

Steve whirled back around in his chair, chuckling to himself. A few titters ping-ponged around the rest of the room, but it all seemed good-natured. Serena sneered but I ignored her. I was in my element now. Her meanness couldn’t penetrate my webmaster shield.

Ms. Moreno smiled at me. “I like to see that mix of the arts and science.”

“Thanks,” I said as I headed to my group.

Tyler leaned over as I sat down at my computer. “I think you’ll make a great ear of corn.” His hair gel almost made me gag but I held it back and scowled instead.

“I’m serious,” he protested. He did look like he meant it. “Thanks,” I said. “I think.”

He smiled and looked back at his monitor.

We worked hard for the next two and a half hours, taking only a quick snack break at the vending machines. When 5:30 rolled around, I logged off and scrambled out the door. I had exactly thirty minutes to get home and then go over to Jilly’s to help her with her lines.

“Tell them they are welcome. Everyone is welcome. They have given us much, taught us much, and we are —”

“They have given us so much and taught us even more —” I interrupted.

“Darn it,” said Jilly, slapping her thigh. “That ‘much, much’ speech comes later.” She strode over to her starting place and began walking toward the center of the room. “Tell them they are welcome. Everyone is welcome. They have given us so much and taught us even more. I will speak with your father about a welcoming party.”

I clapped loudly and Jilly grinned before collapsing on the floor with the back of one hand thrown over her forehead in an exaggerated gesture.

I reached down and she gave me five. “Thanks, Erin,” she said. “You’re a lifesaver.”

When I got back from Jilly’s, Chris was lounging on the couch, flip-ping through the channels. I dropped into a chair next to him.

“Mom said you would take me to the library before it closed.” Chris ignored me, clicked again, and came to rest on ESPN.

I glanced at the clock on the wall. “We’ve got forty-five minutes. They’re holding the book at the counter so I’ll be fast.”

He blinked and folded his arms over his chest, the clicker peeking out from under one elbow. I leaned over and pressed the MUTE button.

“I thought by the time you were sixteen you didn’t do stuff like the ST.” Neither of us had used the Silent Treatment on each other in years.

Chris clicked the MUTE off and the room filled with the roar of an engine from the next commercial. He watched the rest of the commercial, then groaned and turned it off.

“Let’s go.” He strode across the room, grabbed the car keys off the hook, and stalked out the door without his jacket.

“Wait up!” I called, hurrying after him. “Mom, Chris is taking me to the library!”

“Okay, honey.”

I hoped he was. I was afraid he might leave me, even though the whole point of him driving was to take me to the library. I made sure my library card was in my pocket and scurried out to the garage.

Chris pulled into a parking space that faced the street. Turning off the ignition, he tapped his fingers impatiently on the wheel. “Hurry up.”

“You’re not coming in?”

He shook his head.

I ran inside and was back in a few minutes, my book clutched in my hand. When I opened the door, I noticed the car’s dome light didn’t go on. “Hey, I think the light’s —”

Chris grabbed my wrist and pulled me inside. “Close the door! Quick!”

I ducked, barely missing the door frame as I fell into my seat and slammed the door. I stared at him in the darkness.

“What’s up?”

“Get down.” Chris was slumped way down in his seat. I looked through the windows, trying to figure out what we were hiding from. “Stop looking around and get down,” he hissed, grabbing my arm again. I slid down in the seat, having a strange sense of déjà vu. I rearranged my knees under the dash and held my breath, even though I didn’t need to. No one could possibly hear me breathing through a closed door. Chris was staring out the window, his hands gripping the steering wheel. Between two of his fingers dangled the basketball key chain I had given him when he was eleven and I was seven. He usually wore it in a belt loop with no keys on it and had it with him for every basketball game he played. He said it was good luck.

“There she is,” Chris whispered to himself, jolting my eyes from the silver basketball to his face. I dared raise my head two inches so I could see out. A girl stood under the streetlight at the corner. She was magazine-cover beautiful, with long blond hair that curled softly at the ends. Her sweater showed off a very nice set of boobolas and she wore tight black jeans and stylish boots.

Amanda Worthington. It had to be. I shook my head slightly, wondering how I was once again spying on someone’s love interest. I sighed. Always the spy, never the spy-ee.

Letting out my breath, I glanced over at Chris. Even in the dim light, I could see his longing. Is that how I looked when I looked at Mark? Suddenly I felt guilty, as if I was reading Chris’s journal or listening in on a private conversation. I turned my eyes back to Amanda. She was looking over her shoulder, smiling and tapping her foot. Seconds later a boy appeared at her side, throwing his arm casually across her shoulders as they walked down the sidewalk. I sucked in my breath and sank way down in my seat, counting to five before looking over the dashboard. They were just past our car. Amanda leaned toward the boy and kissed him right on the mouth. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi, four Mississippi, five Mississippi, six Mississippi. She pulled back slowly. Wow. That was one long kiss. The boy brushed her hair away from her face, and they continued down the sidewalk before turning the corner and disappearing.

I didn’t dare look at Chris. I slouched there, clutching my book in my lap, trying not to breathe.