Katie Friedman Gives Up Texting! (2 page)

“Why would you want to break up with Nareem?” Hannah asked. “He's like the greatest guy on earth.”

I was pretty sure that Hannah didn't think that Nareem was the greatest guy on earth. I was pretty sure that Hannah thought
Jake Katz
was the greatest guy on earth. Hannah and Jake were the current world record-holders for longest middle school couple—they'd been going out for almost two years. Everybody was pretty sure they were going to get married.

“Well, the thing is—” I said, but then I stopped.

Hannah was texting.

I looked around at the rest of the table—Jake, Phil Manning, Celia Barbarossa, Timmy McGibney, and Jessica Greenfield.

Everyone was staring at their phones. They were either texting, Instagraming, playing a game, or loading some app that had just been invented.

Jessica texted something and laughed; then Celia read something and laughed.

So, those two weren't just texting. They were texting each other.

I'm sure I had a very irritated look on my face, but it didn't matter, since no one was looking at me. “Seriously, you guys?”

No response. I said again, “Seriously?”

One or two heads looked up.

“What?” said Jessica.

“What do you mean, ‘what'?” I said. “I'm trying to talk about something important.”

“We're totally listening,” said Phil, who totally wasn't.

“Forget it,” I said.

Hannah felt bad, I could tell, but not that bad—a little bad. “No, come on Katie, I really am listening. Tell us about Nareem.” I could feel her pushing SEND while she said it.

“Yep, I agree, Katie, Nareem is totally awesome,” added Celia, who never took her eyes off her phone.

I could feel my ears start to burn with frustration.

“THAT'S NOT EVEN WHAT I SAID!” I said, loudly.

That got everybody's attention.

“You guys are so annoying,” I added, not as loudly.

“What do you mean, we're annoying?” asked Timmy. “Everybody uses their phone at lunch. That's what we do. You use yours just as much as anyone else.”

“This stuff is important,” Phil pointed out. “My followers count on me.” He showed Timmy a picture, and they both cracked up.

“Whatever,” I said. “I don't usually just sit there like a robot and text people sitting right next to me!”

“Yes, you do,” Jake said, unhelpfully.

I thought about arguing some more, but I didn't. He was right. I usually texted all during lunch, too. Everybody texted at lunch, because it was the only time you were allowed to use your phone at school. But this was different. I had something important to discuss, and I wanted to actually
talk
about it.

“Okay fine, maybe I text at lunch sometimes, but now that I see you guys doing it, it looks really stupid.”

“You're right, it's stupid,” said Hannah, actually putting away her phone. That made everybody else put away their phones, too. Hannah was kind of a leader that way. “We're sorry.”

“Let's talk about Nareem,” added Timmy.

“I don't want to talk about it anymore,” I said. Yes, I admit it—I was being childish.

Someone came up behind me—I turned around to see my friend Becca Clausen, who always seemed to be there when I needed her most.

I looked up at her—which was a long way up, by the way, because she was like seven feet tall.

“What's wrong?” she said.

“How could you tell something was wrong?”

“I know you,” she said. “That, and the fact that your face is twitching.”

Apparently my face twitches when I get upset.

I got up and walked toward the drink machines. Becca followed.

“I think I might break up with Nareem,” I told her. “But I feel really badly about it.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why am I breaking up with him? Or why do I feel badly about it?”

“Both, I guess.”

I thought for a second. “I'm breaking up with him because I don't really like him that way anymore. And I feel bad because I still like him another way.”

“As a friend.”

“Yeah.”

Becca nodded. “That makes complete sense.”

See? Some friends just get you.

Ms. Ferrell, my guidance counselor, came over to get a drink. “I'm counting on you guys for the talent show,” she told us. “It's a week from Saturday!”

Becca and I started a band last year, called CHICKMATE. Being in a band was kind of the most awesome thing that had ever happened to me.

“Yup,” Becca said. “We're rehearsing Wednesday.”

Ms. Ferrell smiled. “Terrific! I'm really looking forward to seeing you play. First stop, the talent show. Next stop, world tour!”

“Ha-ha,” I said.

“Ha-ha yourself,” said Ms. Ferrell, winking as she walked away.

Becca and I looked at each other.

“What was that about?” I asked.

Becca shook her head. “I have no idea. Maybe she heard we were good or something.”

“From who?”

Becca's phone buzzed, and she took it out. She read a text and started giggling.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” said Becca. “Just Jackie.” Jackie was our keyboard player. Becca asked her to join the band because they played basketball together. Jackie wasn't the greatest musician in the world, but she was really funny—and besides, in middle school you take what you can get.

I watched Becca text for a minute, then got bored. “I'm going back to the table.”

“Okay,” Becca said, giggling at another text from Jackie or somebody.

I went back over and sat down. Everybody put away their phones as soon as they saw me coming.

“Do you still want to talk about the Nareem thing?” asked Hannah. “My phone is totally in my pocket, in case you do.”

“So is mine,” said Phil. “Way down in my pocket. I'm completely available to talk about some deep, heavy stuff.”

He laughed, as did Timmy and Jake. Boys are so annoying, when they're not awesome.

“No, I'm fine,” I said. “Thanks, though.”

Which was right when Nareem walked up.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” I said back.

“What are you guys talking about?”

“Nothing.”

“Really?”

I nodded. Then I took out my phone and started texting, just like everybody else.

 

3

CHANGE OF PLANS

After spending all math period
thinking about what to do, I decided to definitely, absolutely, positively break up with Nareem.

In a text.

Not exactly brave, I know. But I wanted to get it over with, so the next period, when we were both in study hall, I texted him—which was completely illegal, by the way.

Me:
There's something i need to tell you.

Him:
Okay, i have something to tell you, too.

Wow. All of a sudden I felt a little nauseous. Was he going to break up with me first?

I put away my phone and walked quickly over to his table. When he saw me coming, he smiled, and I immediately knew he wasn't breaking up with me at all.

“I have amazing news,” he said.

“What?”

He sat up straight, to demonstrate the importance of what he was about to say. “Do you want to go see Plain Jane with me tomorrow night?”

Wait a second.

Did he just say
Plain Jane
??

Whoa!!

I'm not proud to admit it, but that changed everything.

You have to understand: Plain Jane is my favorite band. They're just like CHICKMATE. They're all girls; they seem like they're all good friends; and they have a great time.

And get this: their lead singer, Jane Plantero, grew up in Eastport, and even went to our middle school!

So basically, the only way we're different is that they're rock stars and we're not.

“Plain Jane?” I said, probably too loudly for study hall. “You got tickets to Plain Jane? On a school night?”

Nareem looked down shyly, the way he always did when he felt proud about something. “Yes. Also, if you would like, we have been invited to go backstage and meet the band after the concert.”

OMG
, I thought,
I can't believe I was ever considering breaking up with you.

I hugged him. “Are you kidding?!”

“Quiet, you two,” said Mrs. Argentino, the study hall monitor.

“Backstage passes?” I whispered. “Seriously, truly, and honestly?”

“Yes,” Nareem whispered back, his eyes wide. He didn't want to get Mrs. Argentino mad. He didn't want to get anyone mad.

“Because of your dad?”

“Yes. Shhh.”

Nareem's father is a lawyer who works in the music business. That's all I knew, until that second. If I knew he could get us backstage passes to Plain Jane concerts, I would have asked him a lot more questions about his career, and probably washed his car and taken out his garbage a few times.

I put my hand on Nareem's arm. “I would love to go,” I said. “You are so incredibly sweet to invite me. Thank you so much.”

“You're welcome,” Nareem said, blushing slightly. “And now, we should probably get to work before Mrs. Argentino becomes angry.”

As I watched Nareem open his backpack and take out his homework, I thought about the concert, and I got more and more excited. I felt so happy. I felt so grateful that Nareem would do this for me. I felt so lucky to be going out with him.

It's interesting, the tricks your mind can play on you when it wants to.

 

4

A CONVERSATION, KIND OF

I bumped into Charlie Joe in the hallway
on the way to my next class.

“How was study hall?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Was Nareem there?”

“Yup.”

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Not much.”

We stared at each other awkwardly.

It would have been easier to just text Charlie Joe, so we could have a real conversation. If we'd been texting, he could have said ARE YOU EVER GOING TO BREAK UP WITH NAREEM OR NOT? And I could have answered, I WILL WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT! STOP ASKING ME! YOU'RE BEING ANNOYING!

But we weren't texting each other, so we couldn't say any of those things.

Charlie Joe started to walk away. “So, uh, I'll talk to you later,” he said.

“He invited me to a concert,” I blurted out.

Charlie Joe stopped. “What concert?”

“Plain Jane.”

“Wow, you totally love them.”

“I know, I do.”

We looked at each other. I think he could read my mind. That I wouldn't be breaking up with Nareem after all. And not necessarily for the right reasons.

But all he said was, “Text me later.”

And all I said was, “Okay.”

 

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