Click Here (to find out how i survived seventh grade) (26 page)

“I wish you weren’t going to be gone,” I said to Rosie as we walked to the bus after school. I looked up as a brisk December wind picked up and a few snowflakes began falling. I stuck my tongue out and caught a flake.

“What are you going to do?” asked Rosie.

I shrugged. Ms. Moreno had asked if I would work on the Intranet over the break but I’d said no. I had to keep my punishment. No more computers.

“Well, my grandma always says, ‘The hardest work is to do nothing.’” “I wrote the letters,” I said. “I don’t know what else to do.”

“I know.” We climbed on the bus and my eyes scanned the seats.
Whew.
Jilly wasn’t on yet. I wouldn’t have to suffer her Death Stare. Rosie and I found seats over the wheel well because she liked to put her feet on it. As I stuffed my backpack on the floor in front of me, Jilly got on the bus and sat in front next to Bus Boy. I sucked in air and my heart pounded. But she didn’t look back. Didn’t even turn her head an inch. Which was good. Because I didn’t want that horrible look she might give me. So it was good that she hadn’t looked back. It was good that I was completely invisible.

“Erin, did you hear what I said?” Rosie poked her elbow into my arm. “We’re launching the Intranet when we get back from Christmas break.”

This got my attention. “You’re launching?” Ms. Moreno and Mr. Arnett had suspended the Intranet indefinitely. The kids were still working on pages but really just for practice. No one had set a date.

“Yeah,” said Rosie. “Give people time to, you know, kind of forget about the first launch.”

I looked at her. I’d been so wrapped up in how the BN had affected me, I hadn’t thought about what it meant to all the other kids who had worked so hard on the Intranet. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I feel horrible.”

Rosie nodded. “I know.”

“Most of my blog was about my feelings, but everyone is focusing on what I said about other people.” I shook my head. “I’m the one who should be absolutely mortified.” That was a new word I’d learned and I liked it. It fit my situation much better than “embarrassed.” “Actually, I
am
absolutely mortified.”

“People always want to know the bad in other people, that’s what my mom says. It’s a way for them to feel better about themselves.”

“Can’t they feel better without making someone else feel bad?” Rosie didn’t say anything. She just looked at me. I didn’t like how that look made me feel.

“I have reading to do,” I said, leaning over to pull a book out of my backpack. We didn’t say another word for the rest of the ride.

Thursday, December 12

I know I said I’d never touch a computer again but I can’t stand it. I promise I’ll delete this entry as soon as I’m finished so it won’t fall into the wrong hands, but I’ve got to do this.

Things That Totally Bum Me Out

Almost 2 weeks have passed and nothing has changed, except there was a little less chatter about my blog.

• Serena, Jilly, Tyler, and Mark are still not talking to me.

• Today I saw Jilly by the buses after school, talking to Bus Boy…doing most of the talking, surprise. Mark walked by and they didn’t even look at each other. He stopped to talk to a friend and I just watched him for a minute…never noticed how the tip of his tongue stuck out a little when he had his mouth open…reminded me of a little kid…he looked kind of silly, actually. But I miss him.

• Mark and I haven’t had a real conversation since the BN. I have no idea how he and Jilly broke up, since neither of them is really talking to me, or how it’s affecting them. And even though I’m giving up the computer, Mark and I could still talk about it. And we could shoot hoops. And make fun of Puppet Porter.

It’s like they are all people I saw in a movie once, a movie I watched over and over until it felt like it had happened to me.

But then the credits roll and I realize that I really didn’t know the people in the movie at all, they weren’t a part of my life.

When I look at Jilly, it’s like she’s on 1 side of a big canyon and I’m on the other…I don’t see any way to get across to her. And even if I did, she’s got her back to me on the other side so she wouldn’t even know I was coming.

Things That Make Me Feel a Little Better (but not much)

• Ms. Moreno called me at home again, asking me to come back to I-Club. I told her no. She told me it was a terrible misunderstanding, a horrible mistake, but I didn’t have to quit using computers.

But it’s the punishment I’ve assigned myself and I plan to stick with it (right after I delete this page).

It kind of stinks, though, cuz so much of my life is about the computer. Computer games, helping my mom, designing my own web-site, and this blog.

Ok, More Things That Kind of Make Me Feel Better…

• Chris is being pretty nice to me.

• Rosie is still my friend.

Again I ask: Why does it seem like the things that totally bum me out are so much bigger than the things that make me feel better?

chapter 27

ATTENTION!

On Saturday, the first day of our winter break, I borrowed the neighbor’s dog so I’d have an excuse to walk by Jilly’s house. She never came out. I shuffled around the block and when I passed her house again, I thought I saw the curtains move in the living room but I wasn’t sure.

On Sunday, I brought over some of the things she’d left at my house — two CDs, some fingernail polish, and some hair clips. I also brought a bottle of her favorite perfume, wrapped in a pretty box with a ribbon.

I was so nervous standing on her doorstep, I thought I’d either faint, puke, or both. My whole body shook. Would she see me? What would I say to her? I looked down at the cement, my eyes following the familiar crack that led from under the WELCOME mat all the way across to the other side of the porch. How many times had we traced it with chalk, or jumped over it so we wouldn’t break our mother’s back? Was it only four months ago that we were standing on this porch, holding those MBMS envelopes, wondering if we’d be together?

Mrs. Hennessey answered the door. “Jillian is upstairs,” she whispered, as if the house were full of sleeping children. “I don’t think she wants to be disturbed.”

I sighed, feeling sad and relieved. I had no idea what I would have said to her.

“I’m really, really sorry,” I said. I couldn’t even look at Jilly’s mom. But her fingers touched my chin gently, lifting my face.

“So am I, honey. So am I.” Her eyes were kind and my lip quivered with gratitude. At least Jilly’s mom didn’t hate me. I wanted to ask her if she thought Jilly would ever forgive me, but I was afraid to.

“Is there a message?” Mrs. Hennessey asked.

I thought for a minute. “Tell her I have no idea what to wear.”

Jilly and I had exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve every year since we were six or seven. It was hard to light the candles and sing songs with my family, watching the time click by, knowing there would be no guessing and giggling and ripping off ribbons and paper before opening what always seemed the perfect gift. I had bought her present months ago — a pair of faux pearl earrings that she’d admired — and it sat, looking small and sad in its bright foil wrapping, on my dresser.

The days over winter break seemed to drag on without end. It was December 26. Ten more days until school started up again. I wandered downstairs to Mom’s office. Her desk was clean except for a series of papers with diagrams and markings indicating the flow of the website she was working on. A dark green vine wound its way across the top of the bookcase, which was filled with computer books, novels, and instruction guides.

“That’s a cool intro,” I said, leaning over her shoulder. She was designing a website for a silk plant company and had this beautiful image appearing and reappearing on the screen.

“I’m having trouble deciding how the slogan should appear,” Mom said. “Should it slide in from one side or be a dissolve of some kind?”

With a few clicks she demonstrated the slide from the left.

“That’s nice,” I said, ignoring my twitching fingers, itching to grab the mouse. “What about a fade-in? I think that would look better since it’s just text.”

Mom made the selections and tested it. “Perfect,” she said. She smiled over her shoulder at me. “Thank you.”

I shrugged. It wasn’t much. I watched her for a few minutes longer, as if I might be able to find a clue in her design that would help me with my problem.