Click Here (to find out how i survived seventh grade) (7 page)

I closed my mouth, so the words I was going to say disappeared and new ones came out.

“Sure, Jilly. That’s the best part.”

“You signing up for the Intranet Club?” Mark was talking to Rosie, who sat on her desk in homeroom, balancing a pen on the tip of her finger. I sat down and faced front, listening to their conversation as I pulled my books out of my backpack.

“Yeah,” she said. “Someone’s got to make sure you don’t look bad.” Mark laughed. “Very funny.”
Zing
. Something hit the back of my neck. “What about you?” A small wad of paper dropped to the ground as I turned around.

“You’re lucky that wasn’t a spitball,” I said.

“I’m lucky? You mean you’re lucky.” He wadded up another piece of paper and tossed it my way. “So, are you?”

I was about to answer when I felt Rosie looking at me.

“Is Jilly signing up?” she asked.

“I’m going to ask her this afternoon, but I don’t think she will.” “But you’re signing up, right?” Mark was looking right at me, as if he really did want me to sign up.

I nodded.

Rosie raised her eyebrows but didn’t say anything, then turned to Mark. “I’ll meet you at our usual spot for lunch. I already have homework.”

I had a feeling I knew what she was thinking, but it bugged me too much to think about it. I pulled out a notebook and drew pictures of myself with small feet until the bell rang.

I tried to bring up the Intranet Thing with Jilly on the bus, but she was too busy talking about some new girls she’d met and wondering if they’d try out for the play, too. When we got to her house to do our homework, I was forced to talk about it because when I pulled out my books, the Intranet Club flyer floated to the ground at her feet.

“You aren’t going to do that computer club, are you?” she asked, setting her backpack on her chair. “I mean, I know you like computers and all but … boring.” She faked a yawn and looked at herself in the mirror hanging above her dresser, fluffing her bangs.

“I was thinking about it,” I said. “What if we did it together, like the play?”

“I don’t want to do it, Erin. You know I don’t know my Shift key from my house key.”

“Home key,” I corrected. “It’s the Home key.”

“See? Whatever,” she said. “I just don’t want to do it.” She unzipped her backpack and pulled out her homework. Actually, even though I was scared to do something without her, I was glad she didn’t want to. If she joined the Club, she’d see Mark and if she saw Mark she’d like him instantly and he’d like her and that would be that. If there hadn’t been a Mark factor, I would have pushed harder, telling her how the ratio of boys to girls would probably be five to one in the Intranet Club. But there was the Mark factor, so I didn’t push.

“Well,” I said, feeling my heart speed up a bit, “I think I’d like to do it.”

Jilly glanced over at me. “Without me?”

“It would be weird without you, but I’d still like to do it.”

Jilly’s eyes returned to her books. She tugged them out of her backpack one at a time.

“It’s not like I’m going to tell you what to do, Erin, but you need to make sure it isn’t going to get in the way of the play.” She paused. “And doing homework together and stuff.”

“It won’t,” I said. I shifted on her bed, feeling irritated.
What about things getting in the way of the Intranet Club?
I thought. But I didn’t say it out loud.

Jilly sighed. “I’ll miss going home on the bus with you on those days.”

“I’ll miss that, too.” I smiled, the irritation slipping away. “Thanks.” I wasn’t sure what I was thanking her for, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Wednesday, August 28

Ok, here’s something embarrassing. I almost pulled a table down on top of myself in front of Cute Boy. It happened at PON last night….stopped by the Intranet Club table while my parents went to my homeroom to hear all about my classes…Ms. Moreno and Mr. Arnett started telling me all about the Club and how they only can take 25 people and then they both had to leave so Ms. Moreno asked if I could watch the table. Mark comes up, so I tried to hide my feet by holding onto the edge of the table and sliding them under. WHAM…almost went down. SO embarrassing.

Serena came by and made some stupid comment…stuck my tongue out at her. She totally likes Mark, but I don’t think I can tell him that her mom is the bearded lady in a small circus…unless I can see that he likes her 2. Don’t think he does cuz he just kind of shook his head and rolled his eyes at her.

Mark told me he finally reached the last level in
Space Invaders
, which freaked me out cuz I thought I was the only one who played the new version of “the old favorite” as my dad calls it…didn’t tell him that I’d reached the final level in 2nd grade…just smiled and said that was cool, afraid my heart might burst out through my mouth and bonk him on the head or something…it was crazy inside my chest, like it was trapped in a cage, desperate to get out.

Chris is still mad at me, BUT Mark Sacks TALKED to me. Me, Erin P. Swift. WAHOO!!!!!!!!!!

chapter 6

Making My Mark

I decided it was time to do something about my friend situation, which was basically nonexistent. At the door of the cafeteria the next day, I stared out into the vastness, wondering how all of these people could possibly look like they belonged. The tables were round to “promote feelings of connectedness,” according to the information my parents had received. But all it did was show even more clearly who had friends and who didn’t, and made it more obvious when you walked up to a table for a seat because everyone could see you at a round table. If the tables were rectangular, like in a normal cafeteria, you could stand at one end where no one was sitting and act like you were looking elsewhere, even if you were scoping out that table. That was practically impossible with round tables.

I squared my shoulders, took the biggest, hugest breath I could take, and walked right up to the table where Rosie and Mark were sitting.

“Anybody sitting here?” I indicated the spot next to Rosie.

Rosie shook her head but didn’t look up from her noodles. I sat down, listening to Mark and Rosie talk about their families. I found out that Mark used to live next to Rosie’s aunt and they would hang out together when Rosie’s family visited.
She’s known him forever
, I thought.
No wonder they’re such good friends.

“So,” Rosie said after taking a bite of pasta. “Why are you sitting here?”

Rosie had always been straightforward and to the point, but she’d never been straightforward and to the point with me.

“Um,” I said. She didn’t say anything. “Um,” I said again. And then, “Remember the time you stuffed Play-Doh in Kevin Hudson’s mouth when he made fun of my feet?”

There was a hint of a smile on Rosie’s face. “You remember that?” “How could I not? He gagged so much he almost threw up.” I laughed. “Besides, when someone stands up for you, you remember.”

“I’m sure Jilly stands up for you all the time.” Rosie took a sip of her water.

I shrugged. “I guess.” Mark was talking to a boy next to him so I leaned over, speaking quietly. “You wiggled your fingers at me in the bathroom. On the second day of school. Thanks.”

Rosie took another bite of her noodles.

I waited. Why wasn’t she saying anything?

“Why are you watching me eat?”

“I’m not!” My cheeks warmed.

“Yes, you were.”

“Okay, I was,” I said. “I’m just trying to figure out what’s up with you.”

Rosie chewed slowly and deliberately. Then she looked right at me. “If Jilly were here, right now, would you be sitting with me? Would you be talking to me?”

Wow. To the point. I frowned. “I hope so.”

“But you’re not sure?”

I shook my head.

“Well, at least you’re honest.”

We finished our lunches, talking about the play — Rosie: Why in the world would you try out for that? Me: I don’t know. — and the possibilities of the Intranet Club.

Rosie acted like we hadn’t even had that weird part of the conversation, but it flitted in the air around us the whole time. Would I try to be friends with Rosie if Jilly and I were together on the same track?

I had a feeling I knew the answer. And I didn’t like it.

I stood at my locker, hands on hips, looking as if I couldn’t find something. But out of the corner of my eye I was watching Mark at his locker. I hadn’t said anything to him at lunch. I was determined to say something brilliant and witty this afternoon.

I grabbed my locker door and kept staring inside. If I timed it right, I could close my locker just as he was about to pass me and maybe we could walk to class together. Wow. I couldn’t believe I was planning that way. But I was.

A boy sauntered over and leaned against the lockers next to Mark, blocking my view. I leaned out to get a better look. Suddenly, he peered around his locker door. I ducked so he wouldn’t see me staring, banging my head on one of the coat hooks.

“Dang,” I muttered, rubbing my brow with my fingers. Lifting my head, I put my eye against the slit between the door and my locker and scanned the hall. I leaned in, pulling the door along with me to get a different angle. Mark’s locker was closed. He was gone.

Straightening up, I grabbed the locker door and closed it — finding myself face (mine) to shoulder (his) with Mark Sacks.

I sucked in my breath. I could feel my eyes widening to big-screen size.

“Um — um —” So much for brilliant and witty. I tried to smile. My face was only about a foot away from Mark’s. I could see flecks of dark in the one gray eye. I could see all of his freckles running across his nose like so many dots. Then I freaked. What if I had bad breath? I didn’t have my usual Tic Tac after lunch. What had I had for lunch anyway? Peanut butter. Did that smell bad on your breath? What if it was mixed with jelly and a little mashed banana? Banana peels stank if you left them in the car too long and it got hot. Maybe once they were hot inside your stomach, they stank, too. Maybe —

“Erin?” Mark interrupted my maybes.

“Huh?”

“I said I didn’t see your name on the list. For the Intranet Club.” “You didn’t?” I asked stupidly. “Oh, well, that’s because I haven’t signed up. Yet.”

“Ms. Moreno said you’re a real computer whiz so she’ll probably hold a spot for you, but you may want to sign up just in case.”

“She did?” No one had ever said that about me before.

“Yeah,” said Mark. He was looking at me, not around me. This was my chance for brilliant and witty.

“So.” I fell into step beside him, very aware of my feet, which seemed to loom extra large across the tile. “This cool sounds pretty club,” I said nervously. “Have you ever webbed any feet before?” My stomach dropped. Had I just asked Mark Sacks if he’d webbed any feet?

Mark laughed. “I think I know what you mean,” he said. “You’re pretty funny.”

I smiled, but inside the gymnastics continued. I wasn’t trying to be funny. I was trying to ask a simple question about web design. What was wrong with me?

“I’ve done some web stuff,” he said. “What about you?”

I took a deep breath, saying my answer once in my mind before saying it out loud. “My mom’s a web designer. I help her out sometimes.” I didn’t tell him about my personal-private-no-one-will-see-but-me website.