I could feel my face getting hot and I had to swallow to keep the tears away …

I thought the sun would never come out again. I was so bored, and every time I glanced at the clock, the minute hand seemed to be in the same place.  Our tenth grade Social Studies classroom was quiet because we were supposed to be writing a paragraph about wildlife. 

I was almost done; I’d written something about wild deer in people places.  I just didn’t know what I should write to end it … how about That’s all, folks?  Didn’t think so. 

Steve Silverberg, who sits behind me, kept kicking my chair.  He knows how much I hate when he does that.  He’s the kind of person who tortures you forever — and they weren’t really big kicks — just little tap-tap ones that drive me crazy.  I could feel my face getting hot and I had to swallow to keep the tears away. 

I can’t stand Steve because he won’t leave me alone.  Sometimes I get the feeling that the notes he passes to Mike Stark are making fun of me.  If I turn my head slightly I can see Steve passing the folded note behind him and and then they both snicker.  I hear he even has a girlfriend!  She must be a saint. 

I really tried to ignore him, and figure out what else I could write about the deer.  Just then the bell rang, and Ms. McGough, otherwise known as The Cow, got up from her seat and bellowed something about our reports being due next week, and Steve shoved his chair into mine.  Hard.  He laughed as I got my stuff and all I could think about was getting away from him.

I got my books out of my locker, and stuffed them into my denim backpack, which always seems to weigh a ton.  My mom asks me what I put in there.  Just books for school, I say.  And my phone and earbuds, tablet, lip gloss, cinnamon gum, powder compact, brush, some paperbacks, and other stuff.

It was pouring rain by the time I got on the bus.  I was soaked, but was relieved to find Nicki saving me a seat.  It’s always nice to get onto a crowded school bus and find an empty seat being saved for you.  The driver, Mr. D, shut the door and we pulled away from the school.  The guys in the back of the bus were really loud.  Wayne Jennings, P.J. McCole, and Mark Bergen always sit back there.

Nicki was really excited.  “Tony Richter asked me out,” she gushed.  “Look!”  She whipped out a pair of tickets.  “We’re going to the Mohicans game Saturday.  Tony’s brother plays basketball for Carter Tech and got these free tickets … they’re playing the Chargers … it’s going to be way cool.” she just kept babbling and I was happy for her, but a little envious. 

Okay, a lot envious.  Tony is a senior and is a jock and is totally gorgeous and like, a thousand girls would give anything to go out with him.  Present company included!  And here was Nicki, my best friend, clutching these tickets as if they were the gateway to Disney World.  Why she hangs out with plain old me, I’ll never know.

“That’s great,” I remarked, trying to sound supportive. 

“He asked me after Algebra. I was getting a drink at the fountain in 8-hall and he came up to me and said … Nicki, right?  I was like, yeah … and you know the rest.”

I didn’t notice the time passing, and suddenly we were at her stop, Sycamore Grove, and she had to get off.  The bus was slowing down and Nicki was still giggling.  “We’ve been eyeballing each other since the pep rally … I can’t wait!” 

I said see ya to Nicki, as she gathered her stuff; I was nearly dying of envy.  “I’m really happy for you.” 

“Yup … see ya,” she said, probably clueless to my true feelings, and she flipped up the hood on her coat and headed out. 

At Beekman Place, I followed Harvey Klein down the steps and off the bus and felt the drenching rain again.  Pam and Sheila bolted in one direction.  I stepped into the gutter and my foot got soaked.  Perfect, I thought, and ran the rest of the way home.

CHAPTER TWO

My brother Hank was in the den, playing his Time Tracker video game when I got inside.  He’s eleven and in sixth grade and has this reputation as Doom Avenger at Hillsdale School.  He’s very smart, but school just isn’t his “thing.”  It’s something to do between breakfast and gaming. What little homework he gets, he devours it in ten minutes. 

Bobby Henderson, his best friend, was sitting next to him on a kitchen stool, holding the other control.  “Hey,” Bobby said to me. “Hey,” I replied, dumping my wet things in the hallway and reaching for the note on our fridge:

Quickie Gourmet in freezer for you and Henry.
Mom

“Hank, ya hungry?” I poked my head into the den. Bobby waved to shush me.  “He’s up to 75,000 and has TWO extra guys!”

I swore that Time Tracker music would haunt me in my sleep as I peeled back the plastic wrap on the Chicken à la King casserole, and then nuked it for eight minutes. 

Mom had been gone a lot lately, until evening, and acting really weird once she got home.  She got jumpy over just about everything. Dad hadn’t said anything to me and Hank about it, but he had his arm around Mom more often and seemed kind of quiet.  I’d noticed, but Hank was just so busy with his games and riding his bike that it was hard to know what went on up in that head of his.

Up in my room, I put on fresh socks and changed into my fluffy sweats and brushed my hair.  I wondered what is going on with my folks.  I brushed my hair again, wishing it was shiny and straight, like Nicki’s.  My head has cowlicks all over it, and gets frizzy when it rains and Hank calls me Scrubbo-head, like the steel-wool pads.  And brushing makes it worse. 

Just another bad hair day, I thought as I put my brush back on the dresser.  Staring out my window at the waterfall gushing over our drain, I thought about Nicki.  She was probably lying on her bed, dreaming about Tony Richter and clutching those precious tickets.  And here I was, with my parents up to heaven-knows-what, brother blissfully buried in gaming, with my boring life and bad hair and no boyfriend.   

Okay, so I was feeling a little sorry for myself. 

Five beeps from the ‘wave signaled that dinner was ready, and I went downstairs to serve the Quickie Gourmet.  I then heard Hank and Bobby playing ZOINX!.  To be in grade school again.

* * *

“Did you and Henry get enough to eat last night?  You could always add some Capellini or instant rice to the casseroles,” my mother said the next morning.

I swallowed my last mouthful of Crispos cereal and replied, “We were fine.”  I drank my juice and washed my bowl in the sink.  Mom was spreading blackberry jam on an English muffin.  She was in her usual morning rush. 

Hank raced by, almost bumping into Mom, and she nearly knocked the jam jar off the counter.  He grabbed the Crispos box and crammed a handful into his mouth, and Mom gave him a look.

“Henry, you know where the bowls are,” Mom scolded. “Yeah okay …” he put the box back.  “Where ya been, Ma?”

I glanced at Mom, who was pouring black coffee into a purple travel mug with her company’s logo on it.  “I’ve been very busy …” She looked uncomfortable and distracted.  “Listen, I will explain things to you two … just not right now.” 

She sighed, put down the coffee pot, and wiped some crumbs off the counter into the sink.  “I know I’ve been a stranger lately.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” I assured her. “Really.”

“Bobby’s mom is always home,” Hank blurted, with the tact of a train wreck.  “She makes krispy treats and brings them to Scouts … and goes on class trips.”  I could see Mom flinch.  She turned her back to us and stood at the sink, and I glared at him.

“Cut it out, bonehead,” I pulled a blue sweater on over my tee.  “You know that Mom’s B2B Corporate Sales Manager and her job is very important. She’s busy … something is probably going on at work.”

“Well, don’t go ballistic, Scrubbo-girl,” he smirked.  “I didn’t mean nothin’.”

Mom turned to face us.  “I apologize to you both,” she said finally.  “I know it’s no fun coming home from school and fixing your own dinner.  Meg, thank you for watching out for Henry after school. Please, hang in there,” she begged.  “These long days are rough on me too … and your father.”

“Don’t worry about us,” I assured her, heading for the front hallway and grabbing my backpack. 

Mom followed us outside and locked the dead bolt behind us.  “You’re so grown-up, Meg,” she said quietly.  “I can’t believe you’re going on sixteen already.  You’ve been a tremendous help.”

 I smiled.  “Well … thanks,” I replied, and after a quick kiss on the cheek, I headed for the bus stop.  I got that funny, mushy feeling I always get when Mom says things like that.  It was kind of nice to be appreciated, though.  I made a mental promise that I would try to help Mom out however I could.

CHAPTER THREE

Pam Schecter and Sheila Gerhardt were already at the bus stop when I got there.  I could see Hank walking with Bobby and another kid toward their school, just two blocks away.  Our school, Southridge High, is located across town, and Pam, Sheila, and I have to ride the bus. 

We’ve been together since we went to Hillsdale.  Nicki’s development is our next stop — she lives in Sycamore Grove, where all the houses have two-car garages and people pay to have their lawns done. 

I met Harriet Nicole Thomas on the first day of school this year.  Her family had just moved here over the summer and her older sister, Patricia is a senior at Southridge.  Nicki was also starting tenth grade, like us, and as soon as she got on the bus and plopped on the three-seater in front of us, I could tell that she had this thing about her. 

She was chewing gum and blowing the biggest bubbles I’d ever seen, and I was fascinated by her long, straight chestnut-colored hair, and she seemed so comfortable and confident.  She had stretched her legs across the long seat, back facing the window, and turned to smile at us. 

I liked her immediately. We clicked, and we’ve been tight since.  She hadn’t even seemed nervous to be starting high school.  I, on the other hand, had been pretty petrified.

Nicki is really fun to be with, and her life always seems so exciting.  She likes to talk about all the things she’s doing and who she’s kissing in the hallways or whatever. 

She doesn’t look at all like a tenth grader. She wears a D cup, and lipstick too, an intense red shade called Fire.  Her mom doesn’t allow her to wear it … says it’s “too mature” for her. Nicki always puts it on as soon as she gets on the bus every morning.  What a rebel!  She’s so cool. 

I keep hoping that maybe this “thing” will rub off on me, and I’ll be getting kissed too.  I just don’t think boys like me — they don’t look at me like they look at Nicki.  She looks like she could be at least twenty. I still have lots of catching up to do.  Next to her, I feel like a seventh-grader! 

 Pam and Sheila wear C-cup bras. Sheila has “hips.”  She’s pretty, and wears her hair in tiny, tight braids all over her head, with colorful beads on the ends of them.  A lot of Black people wear their hair like that and it looks really cool.  I’d never be able to pull it off. 

Pam has very frizzy shoulder-length red hair and can’t do much with it, so she keeps it pulled back, though strands are always coming out and they get in her face.  She doesn’t seem to mind. Pam is one of the most laid-back people I know.  Nothing seems to rattle her.  Pam and Sheila are both kind of quiet at school but when it’s just us, they won’t stop chattering! 

“Hey, Meg!” they chorused as I approached, and Sheila was tinkering with her phone.  She always has those earbuds in.  She’s into Dubstep music and I sometimes wonder if the wears them in the shower. 

“‘Sup,” I answered, just as the bus pulled up.  As we settled into our seats, Mr. D cranked up the radio, and we were on our way again.  He has this rule that if nobody goofs around or makes too much noise, he keeps the radio on.  “Slammin” by Positive Crisis surrounded all of us, followed by a traffic and weather report.    

Suddenly, I felt something ping off my head, then saw a rubber band bounce off the ceiling of the bus. I turned around.  Wayne Jennings, a couple of rows back, made a face and a farting sound through his lips. This is high school? I thought.

“Ignore him … he’s a jerk,” Pam said, rolling her eyes.  She’s had her share of teasing, with her red hair and million freckles and glasses. Marty Quigley has been calling her Red Riding Hood since sixth grade and one time she called him the Big Bad Wolf but that just made things worse.  I guess he has nothing better to do. 

When Nicki got on at the next stop, she was wearing the typical goofy smile and her Ray-ban aviators.  Since Pam and Sheila had stayed after for Yearbook yesterday, they hadn’t heard the news on the bus. Those tickets, by now, looked as if some dog had chewed on them.  Pam squinted at the tickets and said, “Saturday?  Sorry, I can’t go.”

“Not you, moron,” Nicki retorted, and she launched into the whole story again. 

I turned to the window so they wouldn’t see my face.  I was ashamed of being so jealous and resentful.  Some friend I was!

CHAPTER FOUR

“Who was the sixteenth President of the United States?”  Mr. Marr collected the quiz papers from the front row.  This was his daily trivia question today in History class.  We can earn two points for extra credit toward our final grade. 

Paul Kemp raised his hand.  “Abraham Lincoln,” he answered.

“Nice job, Paul,” Mr. Marr smiled.  “Two points.  Now everyone open your American Foundation books to page 375.”

Everyone likes Mr. Marr.  He tells jokes in class and knows a lot about history, and is a great teacher.  He respects his students’ opinions and never makes you feel bad about an incorrect answer, but we are expected to try. 

As we opened our textbooks, I glanced toward the door, which was open.  Daphne Harris, an eleventh grader, was at her locker across the hall.  She’s so perfect (her face and her clothes make me feel seem sort of dumpy). She hangs out with seniors, all the cool “in” crowd.  I looked down at my boring blue sweater, feeling plain and kind of gross. 

I barely heard Mr. Marr speaking as I gazed out the door again. This time, a tall guy with blond hair was kissing Daphne. She had her back to me, but when they stopped kissing, I could see the guy’s face. 

Was he CUTE.  Of course, perfect Daphne Harris could get away with sucking face in the hallway during class … and that guy! Who was he?  I couldn’t take my eyes off him as they turned and disappeared from view.  Then Mr. Marr’s voice broke my thoughts.

“We’re waiting, Margaret.”  He was standing next to my desk.  All my teachers call me Margaret.  I wish I had a normal name like Kathy or Jennifer or something.  I sat up in my chair, feeling clammy and really embarrassed in front of everybody in the room.

Mr. Marr then gestured toward Marcy Weston, whose hand was raised.  “General Lee,”  she said. “Correct!” he replied. “Margaret, please stay with us.”

I felt stupid for the rest of the period, and didn’t dare look out the door again.  I had been a doofus in front of my favorite teacher and the rest of the class.

As the school day wore on, I puzzled about that guy, Daphne’s boyfriend.  Who was he?  I’d never seen him before; maybe he was new. I couldn’t take my mind off him … he was that gorgeous. 

On the bus ride home, his face stayed in my mind.  I barely listened to Nicki go on about her most recent close encounter with Tony.  She’d gotten to second base with him after gym class, behind the big trophy display case.  Talk about risky.  This girl thrives on living dangerously.

When I got home, it was the same scene:  Hank and Bobby playing ZOINX!. Today’s fridge note read:

Save your appetites!
Bringing pizza home around six.
Mom

Dad wasn’t home until late. He’s National Sales Director at Co-Ax Technology, and he works until closing Monday through Friday, and most of Saturday.  Sometimes he brings home cool stuff because he gets a great discount. One time, he got a drone and Hank managed to crash it into the Gormleys’ shed.

Mom arrived home later with two pizzas from Gino’s, and set them down on the counter, and reached up to grab a few plates from the cabinet. We helped ourselves to dinner, and quietly sat at the dining room table.

Mom looked as if she’d been crying.  A lot. We all ate in silence, and Hank kept his trap shut the entire time.  He’d beaten Bobby’s score by 10,000 points, but he didn’t mention it.  He just kept looking at me like, what’s with Mom?

She excused herself after dinner and went upstairs to her bedroom. I did the dishes, and as I rinsed the suds down the drain, I had a weird feeling that something was really wrong.  What could be going on to freak her out like this, and how long will it be until we find out? Did Dad know about it?

The next day was Saturday, and I spent most of it at Nicki’s. I’d gotten up around eight-thirty, wolfed down a bowl of cereal, yanked my jacket out of the closet, and took my bike out of the garage.  I made sure I left a note about where I’d gone.  Hank was already up, watching cartoons, eating Apple Rings out of the box.  “Bye, Hank,” I whispered, careful not to wake my parents. 

“Yeah … see ya.” 

It was sunny, but very cold.  The upcoming Monday was Valentine’s Day, and as I rode and felt the crisp air rush by my face, I wondered whether or not I’d get any valentines.  Probably not, I decided, turning into Nicki’s driveway … I assumed that Nicki would, though. 

She opened the front door.  “My folks are just getting up,” she said.  I followed her down the hall to her room, but passed the bathroom on the way. There stood Mrs. Thomas in her red fuzzy robe brushing her teeth. She gave me a quick wave hello. 

Nicki and I sat on the floor, where she’d been arranging pictures and cutting out captions from magazines for her photo album.  She reached for her purse.  I swore that if she got those tickets out again I’d scream.  I was relieved to see it was just strawberry lip gloss.  I sat cross-legged next to her and watched her cut out the word Yikes! from a Today’s Teen magazine. 

We talked about school and she started telling me about Tony, and making out with him every spare minute, in every possible place.  I tried to look interested, and she brushed her hair aside to show me a love bite under her turtleneck.  Ouch, I thought. Mrs. Thomas wouldn’t like that.

“So, does he French-kiss?” I asked.

“Oooh la la,” she bragged, and wiggled her tongue.  “Like a pro.”

I scoffed but I was still impressed. Nicki went back to her photo album, and  I watched her for awhile. She went on about how cool Patricia dresses and gives her advice about getting the boys to notice her: cleavage.

“What?” I’d asked.

“You know … like this.”  She grabbed the latest issue of Metro magazine from the pile by her photo album, and pointed to the chest of the model on the cover.  “See that line, between her —“

“Oh,” I said, leaning for a better look. The model was wearing a very low-cut blouse. Nicki definitely has “cleavage.”  I think I’d be ashamed to dress like that. 

We spent the afternoon snacking and talking about people at school and stuff.  “I can’t believe Harvey Klein was your first kiss!” shrieked Nicki, rolling on the bed.  “What a clown!”

“He was NOT my first kiss!” I protested, wincing. “He did it on a dare, in sixth grade.  During recess.  I had no idea he was going to do it!”

“Excuses, excuses!” she shouted, “You kissed El Geeko!”

“Shut up!” I heaved Freddy, her big stuffed frog, at her.  She dodged Freddy and piped down.  “Then who was your first kiss, anyway?”

I didn’t know which was worse:  Harvey’s dare, or not having really kissed anyone at all yet.  “I forget,” I tried to change the subject.  “Hey, do you know Daphne Harris’ boyfriend?  He’s cute.”

“Jeff Rettinger?” Nicki asked, splashing cologne on her wrists.  She wears Sunset Blue, and it’s very pretty.  “He plays hoops with Tony.  Why?”

“I’ve never seen him before. Anyway … Daphne is so stuck-up,” I said.  “She’s so perfect, and she seems to know it.  She can get any guy in school.” 

“So what?” Nicki was getting impatient.  “And you’re telling me this because?”  I was suddenly too embarrassed to confide to her my crush on Jeff.  Best friend or not, a girl has her self respect.  It would seem kind of pathetic next to her big romance with Tony. 

“Forget it,” I said. “It’s nothing.” It was time to go home for dinner, and she had to get ready for her big date, so I said Bye and saw myself out.

CHAPTER FIVE

For once, it seemed, our whole family was together that night.  I was surprised that Dad was home when I got back from Nicki’s.  Everyone was sitting in the living room. 

“C’mere, Meg,” Mom called to me, in a strange voice that didn’t sound like hers.  Something was definitely wrong, and she had the same look from the other night.  She patted the sofa next to her. 

Hank was curled up on the recliner and looked glum.  I had a weird feeling in my gut as I sat down across from Mom. Her eyes were watery and red.  She reached for a tissue and pressed it to her nose.  Dad was sitting to her right, holding her hand, and staring at the floor as he started to speak.

“What we are about to tell you both is going to explain a lot,” he said, squeezing Mom’s hand.  I heard the clock in the hallway chime six times.

“Grandmom is sick,” he began.  I didn’t like the serious tone in his voice.  The room suddenly seemed very warm, and I held my breath as Dad continued to talk.  I heard the words, but I had to struggle to make sense out of them. 

“They found something bad in her lung,” he continued quietly, “the doctors have been running tests on her to see what it is. She’s been having trouble breathing, so she went to Dr. Fein, and he sent her to have a CT scan and then a biopsy.  Your mom has been taking some time away from the office to be with her every afternoon since this all came about … going to the doctors with her and helping with things at the house …”

Mom sniffled and gripped the tissue tightly.  I couldn’t speak, but Hank asked softly, “Is she gonna be okay?”

“We hope so, Henry sweetheart,” Mom replied, her voice sounding very small.  “She’s starting treatments …”

I got up from my seat and went over to sit next to Mom, giving her a hug, not knowing exactly what was wrong with my grandmother, or what to say.  I knew she needed me; needed all of us — now, more than ever.  Mom’s knuckles were white as she gripped Dad’s hand, and she had a blank look on her face.

This must really be serious … not Grandmom, I thought.  Please, not Grandmom!  I never even thought of her as being old, and can’t imagine her being really sick, either. 

Mom and Aunt Carla are so close to Grandmom, and we are always together on birthdays and holidays. She’s always so full of energy and tells stories about when she and Poppy were dating, has a really funny take on reality TV stuff … and she makes the BEST peach cobbler … it’s so not fair. 

I sat there with a huge lump in my throat.  I was afraid to blink, trying to hold back the tears. I am fifteen … almost grown-up. I knew I needed to be strong for Mom.

Hank suddenly jumped up and went to sit between my parents. He could barely get the words out.  “It’s cancer, isn’t it!” he cried, burying his face in her sweater.

Mom took Hank on her lap, hugging him, and held my hand as I sat next to her. Then, my worst fear came true.  “Yes, honey,” she whispered into his hair. Dad continued to look at the floor.

I couldn’t understand this.  It was true that Grandmom had smoked cigarettes for years, but then she’d quit, and went on some health-food kick, and took up walking, and she was supposed to have been as fit and healthy as can be.  But now she had cancer? 

Later, I lay on my bed hugging my squishy heart pillow. It gave me some comfort. I puzzled over the news, and I didn’t even want to call Nicki … not right then, anyway. 

Around eight-thirty, it occurred to me that she was probably at the game with Tony.  Eating hot dogs and nachos and guzzling soda and cheering.  Having a total blast.  Maybe Jeff Rettinger was there too, with Daphne. 

The whole world was out there having fun. But not me. The whole house was so quiet that it seemed eerie.  That night, I went to bed early and Hank slept in his sleeping bag on the floor in my parents’ room.

I continued to lie awake long into the darkness, and I realized that my problems didn’t seem so big anymore.  Boys, clothes, popularity … it didn’t matter, did it?  All I could think of was Grandmom with a tube in her arm and this horrible monster in her lung.  I couldn’t sleep at all. Around midnight, I got a text from Nicki, along with some snaps of her and Tony:

It was awesome!!!
Can’t wait to tell you about it
😘😘😘

 I didn’t respond.

* * *

Mom, Dad, Hank and I seemed to drift through Sunday — we were practically bumping into each other all day.  My parents tried to keep things somewhat normal, but it was a lame attempt, really. 

Nicki texted again, but I really wasn’t up for a conversation.  I knew she wanted to tell me all about the game, and I just wasn’t interested and didn’t feel like talking. Hank didn’t play any video games, but mostly messed around on his tablet. 

Later in the afternoon, I went to the computer in the den and looked up the lung carcinoma kind of cancer. I already knew cancer was a bad disease, but I needed to know more about what Grandmom was fighting. What I found out was that most cases are due to tobacco smoking, and are usually not curable. It really seemed like a monster was growing in her chest.

I read a little more about treatments, but closed the browser when my stomach started to feel queasy. Grandmom quit smoking years ago! She did the right thing. And she got cancer anyway!

I went to my room for the rest of the evening, and said I wasn’t hungry for dinner. Dad brought up a sandwich and a glass of milk, kissed me on my forehead, and quietly closed the door.

CHAPTER SIX

I sat with Pam and Sheila and the Beekman bunch on the bus Monday morning — as usual, Sheila was lost, earbuds cranked, nodding to the beat.  She had it so loud I could hear the words.  Pam reminded me that today was Valentine’s Day and asked me if I was going to give out any valentines this year. 

I’d forgotten about it, honestly, and grunted in response. What a dumb holiday this is, if you don’t have a boyfriend.  Giving valentines out for the heck of it, to me, is a waste of money.  Pam was like, Ooooooo-K … and she sat back and stared out the window. 

Nicki got on the bus with a big smile, just as I’d expected, and took the seat behind us.  She leaned forward the rest of the trip and told us about her date at the game Saturday; how Carter had won against the Chargers, 78-62. And all about Tony. Lots about Tony.

Again, I wanted to be happy for her but this time it wasn’t out of envy.  I just had a lot on my mind.  She went on and on about how they’d gone out for pizza afterwards and then got a little alone time in the back seat of his brother’s car.  She has a curfew, and she’d juuust made it.

Pam was totally fascinated, her eyes wide behind her glasses, hanging on Nicki’s every word, and asking all kinds of questions.  My mind was blurry with thoughts of more important things … like Grandmom. 

For the first time, I began to see my best friend Nicki as just a child in this woman’s body, going to college games with older guys and bragging about it and dressing kind of trashy … it was all so bogus.

“Meg?” Nicki looked at me.  “I said Jeff was at the game too.”

“Really?” I replied with sudden interest.  Then it dawned on me that Daphne was probably there too.  Then I added, “Oh, that’s cool.  Great.”  I knew the smile on my face was fake but I didn’t care what anyone thought. 

Nicki looked at Pam and Pam shrugged.  They asked me if everything was okay and I said I was fine and it was nothing.  I faced the window and ignored them the rest of the way. When it was time to get off the bus, I grabbed my backpack and was down the aisle before Mr. D could even get the doors open.

* * *

Steve Silverberg was doing his usual funky foot job on the back of my chair in McGough’s class third period.  He just knew I wouldn’t face him down and that’s why he was doing it. 

I kept thinking about Grandmom, and this sudden crisis in my family, and how I’d blown off my friends on the bus that morning.  I doodled on the cover of my notebook and tried desperately to ignore Steve’s constant foot-tapping. 

Of course, he sits there staring earnestly at McGough when she’s speaking, like he’s all ears. When she turned to write on the board, I heard Steve whisper to Marty Quigley, “Moooo!”  And of course, that set off Mike Stark.

The Cow.  What a terrible name for a teacher.  So she’s older and kind of overweight and well … so what?  When will Steve and Marty give it a rest?  And why doesn’t Steve just LEAVE ME ALONE?

After gym, I stood in the lunch line for Sloppy Joes and tater tots, my favorite.  I chose a carton of orange drink and went to our table.  I was the first to sit down, followed by Marcy Weston, Erin Shapiro, and Pam and Sheila.  The cafeteria was a din of chatter and laughing, and the girls at the next table were giggling and admiring each other’s valentines. 

Nicki came over to our table and sat down right in front of me, and took a bite out of her Sloppy Joe.  Her purse was bulging with store-bought valentine cards and some candy.  I stared past her, and spotted Jeff Rettinger and Daphne Harris, standing in the lunch line.  I couldn’t help myself. Jeff was so cute.  Lucky, perfect Daphne.

Nicki swallowed and exclaimed, “Meg, what’s the deal?”

I was suddenly feeling very annoyed.  Why did she have to sit at our table, anyway?  Shouldn’t she be with the other “perfect” people like Tony, Jeff, and Daphne?  What did she want with our “Out” Crowd … Marcy, Erin, Sheila, Pam and me?  She could sit anywhere she wants to.  Then I thought, what is my problem?  Nicki’s my friend.  I was so confused … I felt awful.

Nicki spoke in an exaggerated tone.  “MEG …” she began, “what is WITH you today?”  Pam and Sheila had long since caught wind of my mood and were staring at me, chewing and waiting.

Suddenly, I slammed down my drink and before I could stop myself, I roared, “Would you just leave me ALONE?”  I was immediately sorry and felt a chill come over me.  Everyone at our table stopped what they were doing to listen, and the cafeteria noise grew quiet.

Nicki’s mouth dropped open for a moment, and what I saw in her eyes wasn’t nice.  “Ex-cuuuuuse me, GIRLFRIEND, whatever your problem is, I don’t know, but you’re trippin’.”

My throat felt full of tears and my face was burning with rage … and embarrassment.  Then I exploded.  “Why don’t you get lost, you big show-off!”

Nicki’s face looked as if I’d slapped her, but I was on a roll.  I stood up, yanked my books and purse from the bench and I felt all eyes in the cafeteria on me as I strode to the door.  I didn’t care that I’d just left a $3.50 lunch sitting in there; all I wanted was OUT.

I tore into the girls’ bathroom and threw my stuff on the floor and splashed cold water on my face.  Did I really say those things?  What was the matter with me?  I’m not the only person in the world with problems.  I was a total wreck. 

I knew I couldn’t stay in there forever, so when the bell rang for next period I took a few deep breaths and brushed my hair but I still looked pretty bad.  Two juniors came in, chattering with gossip, and I left.

I drifted through the rest of the day. People were exchanging valentines and candy and stuff.  Nicki ignored me in the hall, and even Pam and Sheila avoided me. 

It was probably the worst day of my life.  On the bus ride home, I sat right behind Mr. D and bounced out as soon as we stopped at Beekman.  My thoughts were a miserable whirl:  Grandmom’s got cancer, I have no friends, and I hate myself.  And I didn’t get one single valentine … not even from any of my friends.

* * *

I went with my mother to see Grandmom that night around dinnertime.  She’d just had one of her treatments, so Mom brought her a bunch of quick heat-and-eat foods.  Aunt Carla had been by earlier, with cold cuts, fruit, and some bottles of strawberry liquid meal replacement stuff. 

Grandmom was resting in the easy chair when we arrived, and she didn’t look so different at all.  A car commercial was blaring on the TV.  She gave us a huge smile, but she was obviously tired.  She had a small bandage on the inside of her forearm.  That’s where they inject the medicine, Mom had told me in the car on the way over. 

Mom put all the food away and went about straightening the room.  I slowly went over to Grandmom, kneeling by her chair. “Margaret Rose, honey …” Grandmom said softly.  “How’s my girl … is school going well?”  She lowered the volume with the remote.

I tried to smile, taking her hand.  It seemed frail, and not very warm, but her grip was as firm as always.  I didn’t want to talk about school, but that’s typical Grandmom.  She wants to know all about us, not wallow in her own problems. 

“Things are fine … I got an A on my commercial art project,” I replied, and she smiled. Just then, Mom appeared and placed a cup of hot tea on the end table.  I didn’t know what else to say, so I just sort of kept kneeling there and holding her hand. 

Mom began to chatter about the weather, and they agreed that it was unusually rainy for this time of the year, and so on.  It was as if they were avoiding talking about The Monster — like, it was there and nobody wanted to upset anyone else.  And Grandmom’s bandage was plain as day.  The vibe was weird, and kind of sad.

Grandmom asked about Hank, and Mom said that he would be there to see her after she was feeling better; after the treatment had run its course.  I remembered the online wiki about lung cancer, and knew that Grandmom would probably be very sick for a few days as the medicine in her body worked to fight the bad cells.  It was all so upsetting and I felt like a character in some movie, going through all the motions. 

I’d never been this close to The Monster before.  Now it was happening, in our own family. Looking at Grandmom’s face, with the smile lines and twinkling eyes, I wondered how much longer that we could have her with us.  Then I scolded myself for giving up on her so easily. 

I made a promise that I would be there for my grandmother, no matter what happens at school or with Nicki or my own dumb problems.

“You’re so pretty, Margaret Rose,” Grandmom was saying to me.  “Smart, too. Just like my Thelma.”  Mom and I exchanged glances and we both smiled at the compliment.  When Mom blinked, the tears ran down her face.

CHAPTER SEVEN

All night, I tossed and turned.  I couldn’t believe how rotten I’d acted toward Nicki, and then how tender I’d been with Grandmom.  Was I going crazy? 

For the next few days, I kept to myself, sitting alone on the bus, up front, and I brought my lunch to school.  I ate my sandwich in a stall in the girls’ room in 8-hall. I was too ashamed to face anybody, especially Nicki.  She must hate my guts, and I couldn’t blame her.  I’d hate me, too. 

At home, the freezer was filled with lasagna and pot pie and stuffed peppers and french bread pizza.  Mom was still working flex time at the office so she could be at Grandmom’s in the late afternoons; Aunt Carla drove her to and from the chemo appointments. I didn’t mind heating up dinner.  It was my way of helping. 

Usually, when Dad came home, he gave each of us hugs and then disappeared into the den to pay bills or make video calls to work or whatever.  Hank was in his own world, spending a lot of time at Bobby’s.

I would lie awake at night, in the dark, and think about people like Daphne, Nicki, and Steve Silverberg, who seemed to have carefree lives … just a big game of goofing off and popularity. 

How I envied Nicki, despite the things I said and felt.  How great it would be, for once, to be pretty and funny and flirt and have any guy I wanted and lead that kind of golden life.  It wasn’t going to happen.  Jeff would never notice me … even Harvey Klein had kissed me on a dare. 

A DARE.  How pathetic!

* * *

One night, I was in my room, with my stereo on low, sitting at my desk.  My Language Arts assignment was open on my laptop in front of me, but I was doodling on a piece of paper.  I hadn’t spoken to Nicki or anyone else in our group in over a week. Nobody had any idea what was going on because I hadn’t told a soul about Grandmom.  I tried to put my social problems out of my mind. Suddenly, Hank barged in, making me jump.

“Hey!  Knock first,” I barked, annoyed.

“Door was open … what’re you doing?” He was peeking over my shoulder.

“Whaddaya think?  Homework.  Now if you’d please scram …”

“Doesn’t look like homework,” he challenged, looking at the paper, and then flopped down on the bed.  “Who’s Jeff?”

I’d been doodling Jeff Rettinger’s name.  Hardly Language Arts homework.  I hadn’t even realized I was doing it.  I changed the subject.  “What is it, Hank?  I’m busy.”

“Are not.”  Hank strolled over to my bookshelf and picked up my school paper award plaque.  The brass plate read: 

MARGARET ROSE GELLER
Best Letter to the Editor
Daily Headliner  

It was originally an English assignment, to write about something “important” to the community.  My letter had been about recycling, and not only had Miss Durham given me an A, but she also had my letter sent to the Headliner as well as the school paper.  My mom has the newspaper article saved with my picture:  Local Student Highlights Environmental Issue.  My family had been so proud of me. My “friends”, too.  That shining moment was just a memory now.

Hank turned to face me.  “Meg, I’m scared.”

“I know … me too,” I replied, putting down my pen and joining him on the bed.

“Think she’ll be all right?” he asked, looking and sounding much younger than eleven.  I didn’t know what to say, and I felt sorry for him. 

“She’ll probably be just fine,” I reassured him, feeling like a grown-up.  My kid brother needed me.  “Don’t worry … Grandmom’s tough.  She’ll beat this.”  Was I trying to convince him, or myself?

 Hank thought for a moment.  Then he spoke.  “I hope so, Scrubbo-head.”

 Sensitive soul, my brother.

* * *

I was starting to get tired of eating in the girls’ room.  Standing there cramming down my sandwich while someone was flushing in the next stall was silly, not to mention disgusting.  I knew that I was just hurting myself by shutting everyone out. 

Sometimes random people looked at me and pointed, whispering, probably about the lunchroom spectacle.  Nicki had avoided me ever since, and I’d been sitting alone on the bus. I knew this was a mess of my own doing.  I gradually realized that I was going to have to go back to the cafeteria and apologize to my friends. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

One day in late February, I made up my mind.  At lunch, I would face everyone.  All morning, I had these awful pains in my stomach, like diarrhea, and by the time gym class rolled around I was a total nutjob.  My badminton partner finally gave up, shrugged, and went to get a drink of water. I spent the rest of gym on the toilet.

What would happen during lunch?  Would everyone blow me off?  Laugh at the outcast?  Turn their backs on the big-time dork?  Move to another table?  These thoughts were driving me crazy.

When the bell rang, I gathered all my courage and left the rest room.  I trudged through the hall crowds, almost shivering.  One thought haunted me:  now or never.

Next to this, the hardest thing I’d ever done was on the night of the Hillsdale School Play, in second grade.  I’d tripped on my cardboard apple costume on-stage and fallen on my face and got a bloody nose … mortified, I started crying. 

I’d almost died of embarrassment, and my mother and Grandmom had come backstage right away to help clean me up.  Grandmom had comforted me with a big hug, telling me:  “These things happen.  It’s okay, Margaret Rose.  Go out there and show everyone what you’re made of.”  And that’s what I did, to the applause of everyone in the auditorium.

Grandmom’s words echoed in my mind as I dodged the crowds, and as I turned the corner I ran smack headlong … into Jeff Rettinger!  My stuff went everywhere, and so did his.  We both crouched down to pick everything up.  “S-s-sorry,” I stammered, feeling stupid.

“Me too,” he said, and as we knelt, I looked straight into his blue eyes.  Man … was this guy fine.  I couldn’t breathe, and my legs were weak.  He’d even smiled at me — as if he were embarrassed, too!  I felt like such an idiot.  Of all people to bulldoze in the hallway, it had to be Jeff.

He smiled again, and as quickly as it had happened, he’d gathered his books and was gone, swallowed by the sea of faces.  I stood there a moment, stunned, and then remembered with a jolt that I had a mission.  Suddenly, I was just a bit happier; I don’t know where it came from … but Jeff had smiled at me! 

I straightened up, began walking again, and as the second bell rang, I could see the cafeteria doors.  I strode on.  Show them what you’re made of, my grandmother’s words echoed.

* * *

I stood by the door to the lunchroom, hearing the familiar roar of a hundred kids goofing off and chowing down.  I peeked inside at the table where I used to sit, and saw Sheila put down her tray, followed by Marcy and Erin.  Pam was waiting in the milk line, but Nicki was nowhere in sight. 

I took a deep breath.  Now, I told myself, and began walking toward our table.  My head was buzzing with fear, drowning out the noise, and it seemed as if I had blinders on.

Their faces, one by one, turned to watch me coming.  They were all quiet.  Pam, holding a carton of milk and bag lunch, adjusted her glasses and sat down.  When I reached the table, Sheila was the first to speak, taking out her earbuds.  “Look what the cat dragged in,” she announced, mouth full of hamburger.

I slowly sat next to Marcy and put my books down on the bench. “There’s something I … I … that I gotta tell you …” I was so embarrassed I was ready to cry, and I knew they had no reason to listen to me.  Erin slurped her chocolate milk, and Marcy toyed with the red Jell-O on her tray.

“Let’s hear it, Meg,” Pam said, and she sounded friendly.  I held my breath a moment, then it all spilled out.

“Listen, I was a dweeb and I’m really sorry … I didn’t mean everything I said … it’s been crazy at home and I’m having a real hard time … you guys are the best, you know that … I was awful, and I’m sorry …”  My face got that hot flush again and then I couldn’t talk because I was fighting the tears. 

Pam handed me a napkin.  “Tell us what’s wrong,” she cocked her head, a few red strands bouncing, which she tucked behind her ear.  “C’mon, just spill it … we’re your friends, remember?”  Marcy, Erin and Sheila moved closer and sat around me.

I blew my nose and dabbed at my eyes.  “My life’s a hot mess.  My grandmother’s kind of … sick.”  I glanced around, and I saw understanding on their faces.  “She’s … she’s got … cancer.” There.  I’d said it.  Now it was out.  They all said things like, “What?” “Oh no.” “When did you find out?” “Meg, that’s gotta be rough.”

Suddenly, Sheila looked up, past me.  I turned, my face wet from crying.  It was Nicki.  But she wasn’t mad, and she didn’t say anything mean … just the opposite.

“Your Grandmom?” she asked softly.

I nodded, feeling another wave of tears, and Marcy moved over so Nicki could sit next to me.  “Meg … I’m sorry.”  She just gave me a hug, and I felt some relief come over me.  Everyone else at the table was quiet. 

I pulled away from her and wiped my nose again, and Pam handed me another napkin.  I could’ve gone through a whole box of them.  “Nicki, I’m really sorry … I was an idiot.”

My best friend just stared into my watery eyes and shrugged, with a little smile.  “It’s cool,” she said quietly.  “Don’t you sweat it.”

I realized then how wrong I’d been about her.  Nicki Thomas wasn’t just a skeezy kid in a woman’s body, or selfish, or stuck-up.  I’d expected her to really give it to me; hand me my head on a plate.  But now she was the mature one, and I felt very lucky to be her friend.  Nicki had shown me what SHE’S made of.

After school, I turned my combination lock and yanked it open, and inside my locker I found some handmade valentines taped to the inside of the door. 

I couldn’t believe it … only Nicki knows my combo, so I knew she was behind this.  From Pam … Love, Sheila … Have the best V’s day ever; from Erin … and the biggest one was signed by Nicki — “Friends Forever.”  I took them all down, tucked them into my backpack, and realized I have the best friends in the world.  Maybe Valentine’s Day isn’t such a dumb holiday, after all.    

CHAPTER NINE

On Friday after school, Mom was much more cheerful.  She announced that Grandmom was feeling better — she’d been sick from the chemotherapy for a few days, but she was eating regular food again.

Mom pulled out a pound of ground chuck from the fridge and said that Grandmom would be coming over for dinner.  I felt so happy I asked if I could help with the meatloaf. 

“Sure!” Mom replied, and slid the silver bowl toward me.  In it were the chop meat, eggs, bread crumbs, and parsley and other stuff.  “Start squishin’.”

I put my topaz ring in my pocket, washed my hands, and dug in.  Just like the old days.  Grandmom was coming to visit!  Things almost seemed normal again.  I was even having a rare good hair day.

We heard Hank slam the front door and he barreled into the kitchen.  “What’s for dinner?  Can Bobby eat with us?”

Mom was grating cheddar cheese for the scalloped potatoes.  “Not tonight … family only,” she smiled, and he started to protest, but she added, “Grandmom’s coming to eat with us.”

My brother’s face lit up at the news.  “Cool!  She’s feeling okay now?”  He peered into the silver bowl.  “Eeeew,” he exclaimed. “What died?”

I pulled out my slimy hands and pretended to lunge for his throat, but he yelped and just barely escaped the claws of gunk.

Mom rolled her eyes at us and laughed.  “You two.”

Dinner was delicious.  Dad had taken the rest of the evening off from Co-Ax, so we were all together.  Grandmom was more herself.  It was hard to believe about The Monster.

During dinner, Grandmom had eaten quite a bit, and couldn’t refuse a piece of Mom’s pecan pie.  “You like it because it’s your recipe, Momma,” my mother teased.

“Well,” replied Grandmom, wiping her mouth, “if I may say so myself, between you and Carla, I’ll be stuffed like a Christmas turkey come Memorial Day!”

We all ate until we were full, and later Dad drove Grandmom back to her house.  I hadn’t wanted the evening to end.  It was like the good ol’ days, before this happened — when we all felt as if Grandmom would be here forever. 

I knew that she still had treatments ahead of her, and I remembered my promise to myself.  I would be there for her.  And my friends all understood what I’m dealing with, especially Nicki.  She’s the best.

* * *

The other night we’d had a long video chat, and I’d apologized again.  She’d said it was cool, even though she’d been really mad at first.  We’d started talking about Tony and basketball and suddenly it slipped out …

I have major-league hots for Jeff Rettinger.

“GET OUT!!  No way!”  She seemed more amused than surprised.  She busted out laughing hysterically.  “Like … Daphne’s Jeff?  I had no idea you were this into him …  I thought it was just a little crush or something.” 

“What’s so funny?”  I retorted.  She didn’t have to be so extra about it.

She eventually caught her breath. “No kidding?  Jeff?  Really?  Ya know, he’s not exactly available …”

“No kidding,” I answered, feeling dumb.

“Well,” she raised her eyebrows, “if ya got it that bad, we’ll have to do something about it.”

My heart started to pound.  What was she getting at?   But then I realized that if you want bowling lessons, you go to the pros … and Nicki was averaging 300.    

CHAPTER TEN

The buzzer sounded through the roar of the crowded bleachers at the start of first quarter.  The gym was ablaze with lights and shouts of cheerleaders, and a roar erupted at the Cavaliers took the court by storm, in blue-and-white uniforms. 

“There he is!” Nicki squealed, clutching my arm.  “Number sixteen … that’s Tony!” 

I craned my neck to spot him, darting between other players, and stealing the ball from the Jaguars’ number twelve.  Both Tony and Jeff Rettinger were on the court, but since we were sitting in the top row, keeping an eye on them wasn’t easy.  Everyone jumped up and cheered when the Cavaliers sank two in a row. 

It was contagious.  A trumpet player in the pep band blew a piercing “Charge” and the crowd shouted the word in unison, and cheered.  I was glad Nicki had convinced me to come to the game.  Sure beat spending Saturday night at home watching Hank and Bobby sparring at Missile Attack.  Mom was at Grandmom’s, and Dad was home looking after the boys, but keeping tabs on his office virtually. 

Nicki was meeting Tony after the game, and there was going to be this party at Todd Stanford’s, win or lose.  “You’re coming with me to that party,” Nicki had declared on the video call that night before the game. Her expression on the screen was mischievous.

“Why … to get a load of Jeff and Daphne?” I rolled my eyes and she laughed.

“News flash!  She’s in Acapulco with her parents.  Doug Harding told Tony that Todd’s bash is a go and that Jeff would be there without her.  So Meg … this is your chance!”

Was she out of her mind??  I stared at the screen with a “yeah, right” expression.  “You’re nuts,” was all I said.

“This is your golden opportunity,” she insisted, raising her eyebrows.  “Don’t screw it up by chickening out.”

“Whatever,” I exhaled, and she grinned.

“See ya later,” she added before we ended the call.

* * *

The game was a lot of fun.  By halftime, though, the Jaguars were ahead by fourteen points.  The players jogged off the court after the buzzer sounded, and someone put a boom box near the mike, filling the gym with rap music. 

“C’mon, let’s get a snack,” Nicki got up and I carefully followed her down the bleachers.  We sidestepped some couple making out, and the guy was wearing a Jaguars football jacket.

They were selling stuff to eat in the hallway outside the gym, and Nicki got a bag of Cheez Curlz; me, a box of caramel corn with a toy inside.  The “toy” turned out to be a plastic ring with a bug on it.  I tried it on.  “Oh, it’s definitely you,” Nicki commented, and I stuffed it into my purse.

The kid next to me ordered a large lemonade, and the girl behind the table turned to get a cup.  When she’d filled it with lemonade, she turned again toward us, but stumbled — the large cup of lemonade went flying, and almost like slow-motion …

Everyone scrambled to get out of the way, but this kid got it big time.  Wide-eyed, the girl put her hands over her face and looked horrified as she said how sorry she was. 

The kid seemed stunned at first, but then he reached over for a bunch of napkins and blotted his jacket and jeans.  I noticed he was smiling. Everyone else went back to what they were doing, and some guy was coming with a mop.

I grabbed more napkins and handed them to him, and he looked so pitiful with his jacket and jeans all soaked like that.  What a mess.  “Guess I should’ve ordered the pretzels,” he joked, with a shy smile.  He was really cute, with wavy brown hair and great eyes — green, I think. 

“Yeah …” I replied.  “you okay?”

“Yeah.”  He took the new lemonade waiting for him, along with a bag of Cheez Curlz, on the house.  We chucked the soggy napkins.  “I’m really sorry,” repeated the girl behind the table.

“Don’t worry about it,” he smiled, then turned to me.  “My name’s Rich,” he said, as Nicki came back with her mouth full.  I introduced myself, and Nicki too. “I saw,” Nicki swallowed.  “Bummer.”  I just couldn’t get over how cool Rich was about getting soaked and laughing it off.  And he was good-looking, too.

Just then the music stopped and the buzzer sounded again.  Everyone started going back into the gym.  “We gotta go,” I said, and then before I lost my nerve, I added, “Ya wanna sit with us, Rich?”  It just came out.  I froze, watching his face for a hint. 

 Sure,” he answered.  “My friend Steve is down front by the cheerleaders … my sister Kyra is one of them, and he’s going out with her …”  So Rich was Kyra Decker’s brother.  She’s friends with Daphne.

I was totally stoked as we made our way back up to our seats in the bleachers.  I was like, WOW!  I’d practically asked a guy out.

Rich and I talked while we watched the game, as the Cavaliers regained the lead.  I pointed out Nicki’s boyfriend on the court — hint-hint … she’s not available, but maybe I am.

Sitting there with Rich, I wondered if I was acting “cool” enough.  Nicki, as always, looked really great, but I hadn’t been able to find anything with “cleavage” in my closet.  So I just went with my white Cavaliers hoodie.  Not exactly dangerous, but Rich didn’t seem bothered by my lack in that category.

Soon I felt comfortable with him, and he was easy to talk to. Rich told me he’s a junior, likes the band Claw, plays the drums and he’s hoping to get into one of the groups at our school, The Black Toads.  He said they write their own stuff and play a few gigs around town, and they’re also shooting for the end-of-year Battle of the Bands at school. 

Talking with Rich, I hardly noticed the deafening cheers and the buzzer as the game ended — the Cavaliers clinched a victory score of 64-58.  I realized I hadn’t looked for Jeff all through second half.  By now, Rich’s clothes were a bit drier, just sticky. 

“Let’s go,” Nicki jumped up.  “We’re meeting Tony in the lobby … hey Rich, what’re you doing after the game?”

“Party at Todd Stanford’s … my sister’s going there with my friend Steve … a bunch of us are going.”

“Us too!” I exclaimed.  “See ya there?”

As we made it to the gym doors, Rich disappeared into the crowded hallway.  “You bet! I gotta go home and change first,” he called back to us.

I couldn’t wait to see him again.  It was really nice being with him, and my “out” crowd status didn’t seem to bother him at all.  Rich Decker was different … and I liked him.  As I followed Nicki and Tony to his dad’s car, I was on top of the world.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Todd Stanford lives in Greenbriar, and his house is absolutely amazing.  There’s this huge chandelier in the entry hall, the kitchen has a really neat island with a sink in it, and the cathedral ceiling in the den is loaded with skylights. 

Nicki and I excused ourselves so she could reapply her super-red Fire lipstick. Even the downstairs bathroom looked awesome.  It was large, with a wall between the vanity and the toilet, so I peed with some privacy.

She teased me the whole time about Rich, and how I was “cheating” on Jeff Rettinger.  As if!  We both knew the whole point of my coming to this party was to meet Jeff.  I hoped Rich would come, so when Nicki went off to neck with Tony I wouldn’t end up standing there like an moron.

The house was pretty full, and as we came out of the bathroom the doorbell rang.  It was Gino’s, with a delivery of about ten pies and several two-liter bottles of assorted soda. 

Word was that Todd’s folks were next door, and they don’t mind his parties … as long as there’s no booze or really loud music and the place doesn’t get trashed.  Which is fine with everybody, according to Nicki, because kids think this house is way cool, with the 60″ flat screen TV and Bluetooth stereo speakers and everything.

Nicki fit in right away, saying hi to everyone she saw, and I felt like the awkward tagalong with a fake, stiff smile plastered on my face.  I kept glancing around to see if Rich had come, and when Nicki offered me some pepperoni pizza I said no thanks because I was so nervous.

People were hanging around everywhere and eating — the living room, the stairs, the kitchen — anywhere there was space. The doorbell rang again, and in came two cheerleaders, followed by Rich Decker in fresh clothes, and … Steve Silverberg!

Oh NO … my heart almost stopped.  Was he the Steve who was going out with Rich’s sister … and is his friend?  Just great.  My evening was over. 

I tried blending in with the Stanfords’ blinds and thought about crawling under their dining room table.  When Tony appeared, he grabbed Nicki and they started smooching on the recliner.  I saw Steve kissing Kyra, but Rich had disappeared.

I made my way into the big kitchen, past kids having snacks at the island and stood by the French doors, pressing my nose to the cool glass.  Outside there was a beautiful deck and I began thinking how much fun it would be to have a barbecue out there. 

“Hey, you.”  I turned and there he was!

“Hi,” I said a little too enthusiastically.  Was I glad to see him!  Since Nicki was now camped out making out with Tony, and totally oblivious to anything else, I was especially glad that Rich had come.  I relaxed instantly, thinking that the party might just be fun after all.  Rich had a way of making me relax, and those eyes …

We ended up outside on the deck, just sitting and talking, huddling close together … I really didn’t mind the cold so much.  At one point I didn’t care whether or not Jeff came to the party.  And Steve hadn’t so much as said a word to me.  Things were turning out just right.

“There you are,” Nicki poked her head out the door.  “It’s almost eleven and my mom’s outside in the car waiting for us.” 

Already?  I couldn’t believe how fast the time had gone. “I gotta go,” I turned to Rich and he smiled.  “See ya in school Monday?”

We both got up.  “Sure,” he replied.  And then he stepped toward me and said, “Meg …” 

He came so close that his lips lightly brushed mine with a kiss, and then he kissed me a second time.  It felt warm and kind of nice — I found out that a boy’s lips could be really soft.  It felt nice … okay, wonderful.  I realized my eyes were closed, and when I opened them again he was smiling that shy grin of his.  “Bye … see ya,” he spoke softly.  “Great hangin’ out tonight.”

I felt really clumsy and I was backing up and before I could answer him I stepped on Nicki’s foot and she let out a loud yelp. She’d come out onto the deck and seen the whole thing!

“Bye, Rich,” I answered, as Nicki protested, “Ow!” We closed the door and made our way through the house to the front door, sidestepping people.  Nicki squealed and gave me an elbow in the ribs as we walked down the front lawn to the Thomas’ car.  I barely felt it because I was in some sort of daze. 

All I could think of was I’d been kissed by Rich … friendly, nice Rich Decker.  Massive headrush! I felt so giddy, as if my heart was going to beat right out of my chest! As we got into the car, I said to Nicki, “So what was that you asked me about my first kiss?”

“Harvey Klein!” she cackled, closing the car door.

Ha!

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Mom, what was your first kiss like?” I asked her Sunday afternoon, as we sorted laundry by the machine.

Mom looked at me and then smiled as though it was written all over my face.  “First kiss, huh?  Hmmmmm …”  She dumped a capful of blue detergent into the washer and shut the lid.  She started the cycle, and turned, folding her arms.  “Are you implying that something special’s happened, Meg?”  She was still smiling, but that look sort of embarrassed me. 

“Mom …”

“Well,” she leaned against the washer and continued, “My very first kiss was when I was about your age … Jerry Haefner, the boy who lived across the street from Grandmom and Poppy’s, walked me home from the bus one day.  I wasn’t feeling well, some kind of bug I suppose. Jerry was so nice — he was a year older and he was always friendly toward me. His dad and Poppy would fix each other’s cars sometimes and drink beer and talk about baseball and one day the Dodgers …”

“This is so not the point, Mom.”

She hesitated.  “Sorry, guess I was rambling.  Anyway, so that day I was coming down with a bad flu. Jerry sat next to me the whole way on the bus, and when we got off at our stop, a terrible storm was brewing.  When we got to my house, a sudden powerful gust of wind came and Jerry grabbed me, probably to protect me from falling over, and before I knew it, he’d kissed me.  Then came a huge crack of thunder!”  She trailed off, chuckling. 

I smiled, imagining it.  “I suppose,” she went on, “that Jerry wasn’t too concerned that the girl from across the street might toss her cookies on him at any second … or that he might catch the flu, too.”

I giggled.  All in the name of love.  It was pretty funny, as first-kiss stories go.  It made me think of the way Rich and I met. 

Mom and I left the laundry room and went into the den, where Hank was gaming. “Did you like it, Mom?” I asked her, sinking into the comfy recliner.  “I mean … did it feel nice?”

“Yes,” she replied with a blush.  “Oh yes.  Although it would’ve been better had he waited until after I got over the flu, because he was out sick for a couple of days, too.”

“But then you would have missed the big wind,” I pointed out.

Mom thought for a moment.  “True,” she said.  She then told me about how Grandmom had spied on them through the peephole in the front door and how tickled she was that her daughter was growing up.  “Poppy, though,” she continued, “watched Jerry with a shrewd eye from then on.”

I laughed, and wished I’d known Poppy.  Then I asked, “How is Grandmom doing?”

Mom reached over and ruffled my hair.  “She goes for another treatment tomorrow,” she answered.  Then she smiled and added, “I have a wonderful mother, don’t I?”

I reached for Mom’s hand.  “Mine’s not so bad, either.”  

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

For the rest of the day Sunday, I replayed Saturday night in my head.  The lemonade episode.  Meeting Rich.  Hanging out at the game.  Todd’s party … outside on the deck … every word … and each time I thought about the kiss, I got all shivery inside. 

Of course, Nicki had me on chat for an hour Sunday night, digging for the gory details.  I loved talking about it, but the way she went on, you’d think Rich had kissed her.  Before we ended the call, she said, “Won’t Jeff be jealous!”

It’s ridiculous when she says stuff like that.  “Right … ha ha… his loss, I guess,” I played along.  I was glad to get off the phone so I could go lie on my bed and dream about Rich.  The way his lips had felt on mine … his quick, easy smile.  I knew I really liked him.

On Monday, in McGough’s class, I was relieved that Steve had left my chair alone, for once.  Either he’d seen me at the party and had sudden respect for me, or his creepy pea-brained mind was on something else (like Kyra). 

As I leaned over to get a drink at the fountain after class, I thought, Soon spring will be here … and then school will let out for the summer.

When I got to my locker in 7-hall, I turned my combination: 32-10-36.  I yanked open the lock, and happened to glance up the hall, and there stood Jeff Rettinger, near room 310.  And guess who was back from Acapulco, complete with tropical tan? 

Seeing Daphne raised up on her tip-toes to kiss Jeff made my heart thump.  Part of me still wished I were in her shoes … dating tall, blond, athletic Jeff, part of the “in” crowd …  hopelessly beyond the reach of average kids like me.  Next to Daphne, I’m dorksville.

Thinking about the party again, I was glad Jeff never showed.  Nicki’s idea was stupid anyway.  Meeting Rich at the game, though, must have been my destiny.

As I walked up the hall carrying my books, I strode right past Jeff and Daphne, trying to ignore their P.D.A.  I swallowed hard and kept walking toward the gym. The “perfect” couple.  Every school has one.  When I reached the girls’ locker room I began changing for handball, and as I imagined Rich Decker, I couldn’t help smiling.

At lunch, I carried my tray of pizza, string beans and pears to our table.  The “out” crowd.  My friends.  I felt relieved to have nice people to eat with, because without them, a crowded cafeteria could be a pretty lonely place.  I put my tray down next to Marcy Weston and Sheila exclaimed, “Hey Geller!  What’s with this Rich guy?”

News travels fast, I thought.  Nicki must’ve told them this morning.  I sat down and shook my carton of orange drink, smiling. I felt every bit the celebrity with everyone’s eyes fixed on me. 

“So what happened?” prompted Erin Shapiro.  “Spill the tea, Meg.”

“I met him Saturday night at the game,” I replied, sipping the lukewarm drink from my straw.  “He sat with me during the whole second half of the game, and we went to Todd Stanford’s party afterward.” I left out the part about the lemonade thing. I decided that would probably kill the glamour. 

I took a bite of pizza, and they came at me with more questions:  “What’s he like?”  “Is he nice?”  “Is he cute?”

“Definitely cute,” I answered as Nicki sat down across the table from me.  “And …”

“And what?” encouraged Marcy, impatiently.

I wiped my mouth.  “He kissed me at the party.”

“Cool!” said Erin.

“Meg has a boyfriend!” added Pam.

“That’s so wild,” gushed Marcy.

“Is he a good kisser?” Sheila wanted to know.

I swallowed another bite.  “The best,” I replied.  Okay, so that was a bit much.  A kiss from Harvey Klein back in the dark ages made me no authority, but I couldn’t help myself.  It felt neat to be the center of attention in our group for once, and a little drama never hurt anyone.  In fact, with our boring lives, we could use the punch. 

“So, ya gonna to see him again?” Nicki asked with her mouth full. 

I sure hoped so.  “Naturally,”  I replied.  I could always cruise 8-hall and sort of “bump into” him there.  I slurped what was left of my orange drink, and glanced up to see the admiration on their faces.  We all know that we “out-crowders” have mighty slim pickins in the guy department. 

“Wow … Todd Stanford’s party,” said Sheila dreamily.  “You’re lucky.”

I happily finished my pizza.  She was right.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I daydreamed through the rest of the day — in Mr. Marr’s class, I put together a script in my head of what I would say when I saw Rich again.  I wanted to be ready — I hate that sweaty-palm-peanut-butter-mouth feeling.  At the end of the day, I was at my locker and I felt a tap on my shoulder.  I turned around, and it was him!

“Hey, you,” he said casually, with that grin!

I forgot all about my script, and was tempted to say something cliché, like Long Time No See, but held my tongue.  I was so excited to see him again, and a little nervous, and I got all clammy and of course, my mouth was dry as a bone. 

After a few moments of small talk about how great Todd’s party was, Rich asked me if I wanted to meet him at the gym Friday night for another game … we were playing the Harbor Ferry Wolverines.  I said yes, that would be cool, and he gave me a quick kiss and was on his way. 

Oooooh, yeah!  I floated all the way to the bus, on top of the world.  When I sat down next to Nicki, it must’ve showed because she was like, you saw Rich again, huh?  She didn’t seem too thrilled though, totally different from how she was at lunchtime. 

“Yeah … we’re going to the game Friday. He kissed me again!”  Mr. D put the bus into gear and we began moving away from the curb. 

“That’s great,” Nicki’s voice sounded flat, almost choked.

I turned to her and spied a tear running down her face.  She wiped it away quickly, like she wanted to hide it.  “Are you okay, Nicki?” I asked.  “What’s wrong?” 

It reminded me about how she’d helped me not too long ago, how she cared when I’d told them about Grandmom.  Now the shoe was on the other foot.  Pam and Sheila were sitting across the aisle from us and hadn’t noticed. 

“What happened?  C’mon, you can tell me.”  At that moment, Rich was the furthest thing from my mind.

Nicki sniffed and rubbed her nose with her coat sleeve.  “It’s Tony,” she whimpered.  “He dumped me.”

She then told me that Tony has a new girlfriend; her name is Brittany Jenkins and she’s a junior and is a friend of Daphne’s.  Nicki also said that everything was cool up until art class this afternoon, when she met Tony in 9-hall for a smooch.

That’s when he laid it on her.  It was all over.  Like, thanks, it’s been real, have a nice life.  That was it.  Nicki had really been hurt.  I felt sorry for her, and extremely pissed off at Tony. At least he didn’t break up with her over text, but that really wasn’t much consolation.

All the way home, I tried to comfort her and I promised I’d call her tonight and we’d talk about it and everything was going to be okay; Tony’s a jerk and didn’t deserve her anyway.  It was weird because here I was, all psyched about Rich, and now she was so miserable. 

Nicki said she was falling in love with him too, and that they’d even made it to third base.  Third base!  To be that close to a guy … and then get ditched? He’s already with this other girl Brittany, and she doesn’t have a very good reputation. What is it about certain guys that makes them such jerks?

That night, we video chatted, and Nicki told me that I really didn’t know everything, exactly … and what she said totally blew me away. She wouldn’t do it with him, and so he dropped her.  He’d told her that since they’d gone to third base, he was sort of expecting it. 

She’d explained to him that she was a virgin and wasn’t ready; that she had these feelings for him but it just wasn’t the right time and everything … I suddenly felt ashamed of the way I once thought of Nicki. 

Sex — I know a lot about it, but no one in our group had done it yet, as far as I knew.  Just because Nicki’s pretty and funny and outgoing doesn’t mean she’s that way.  And Tony took a hike when he found out he could get it somewhere else.  Jeez, how crummy was that? Jagoff.

I told Nicki I was really proud of her because she stuck to her guns and that being a virgin is important to me too.  I heard her sniffle.  “Thanks,” she said.  “I know I made the right decision and he’s a creep but it really hurts …”

“I know,” was all I could say.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Grandmom was sick from her treatment all week, so Mom and Aunt Carla took turns going over to her house every day.  Thursday night I went with Mom, so I felt very grown-up to  realize that my mother must have felt I was mature enough to handle this. 

When we got there, the place was quiet.  Mom handed me the bouquet of fresh flowers we’d bought and asked me to put them in water.  She gave me Grandmom’s favorite porcelain vase, the one with little blue flowers on it. 

My mother went into the bedroom and I cut the stems and filled the vase with tap water, arranging the pretty flowers … geraniums, I think.

I noticed the dishes in the sink, and began to wash them.  Grandmom is neat as a pin and it was so unlike her to leave stuff in the sink … but I also knew that staying in bed and getting well was more important than this morning’s dishes.  It must be awful to go through chemo, I thought. 

I finished washing the last cup and placed it on the drainer, and brought the vase into the living room.  I paused so I could see into Grandmom’s bedroom, and saw Mom sitting in a chair next to the bed. 

“It’s okay, Margaret Rose … you may come in,” my grandmother called weakly.  I knew her voice sounded that way, but inside her was the same brave spirit.  I knew Grandmom was using every bit of her strength to get better, and I realized how much I love her. 

I set the vase down on her nightstand, next to a big bottle of antacid.  I noticed a blue plastic basin on the floor near the bed. 

“How’s my girl?” Her eyes lit up and crinkled with a smile.  I’m her only granddaughter because Aunt Carla has two boys; Timothy and David — both in college.  I carefully sat down on Grandmom’s bed, remembering what it feels like to have a sick stomach.  “I’m okay, Grandmom.”

Mom spoke up then. “Meg has a boyfriend now,” she announced cheerfully.  “She’s had her first kiss already.”  I winced. Maybe she should’ve been anchor on WTFX News.  This was, after all, kind of personal.  “Tell Grandmom about Rich,” Mom invited.

I felt myself blush and hesitated, noticing the pride on Grandmom’s face.  I realized that Grandmom must be eager to hear about everything going on in our lives, big or small.  I took a deep breath and told them about meeting Rich at the game, and so on.  Grandmom’s smile never faded as she listened.

Sitting there with Mom and my grandmother, I felt all my hang-ups melt away.  They were really happy for me.  Would this be the reaction I’d get when I decide to get married some day?  Guess I’d cross that bridge when I came to it. 

“Just like us Parker women,” goes Mom.  “Must be in the genes.”  It is a matter of family history that Dad wasn’t the first man to propose to my mother, and Grandmom had been quite popular with the “fellows” in her day.  It was like I was continuing some kind of legacy or whatever. 

Soon, Grandmom had to rest again so I went into the kitchen with Mom to help make a little something for her to eat.  We stood together silently, by the counter.  She was making chicken broth with pastina and I made toast and cut up some fruit for a salad. 

When I put everything back into the fridge, I closed the door and saw all the pictures hung up with cute magnets:  Me as a baby; Mom and Aunt Carla at Raccoon Mountain on a ski trip a long time ago; Dad, Mom, me and Hank at Disneyland last year, and Timothy and David sitting on horses at the Fair last summer. 

I turned to Mom and she gave me a big hug, as if she could read my mind.  We’re all Grandmom has — there are little pictures of all of us everywhere in the house.  My favorite is a big 11 by 14 picture of Poppy, taken in his Army uniform, after the war. 

Grandmom always said she used to pray for peacetime every day and was beside herself when the letter came … he’d be on the plane the next day.  I never knew Poppy because he died when Mom was pregnant with me.  We are Grandmom’s entire world.

My mother tiptoed back into Grandmom’s bedroom to place a mug of the chicken broth with pastina and toast on her nightstand.  I saw her move the vase to make room for the food, and stand there a moment.  Then we quietly let ourselves out.

As we walked to the car, I realized that friends and boyfriends may come and go, but family is forever.  That’s what makes Grandmom so happy.   She may be fighting cancer, but she’ll always have us.  No matter what.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Every day that week I met Rich in the hall; before homeroom and after Mr. Marr’s class.  He has a different lunch period so we can’t sit together, but no big deal.  First thing in the morning, and then again at the end of the school day was enough to keep me going.  He always gave me a nice kiss — and I didn’t even care who was looking! 

On Friday afternoon, Rich really held me close and during our kiss our mouths were open and I felt this delicious surge of tingles … I imagined that Nicki used to kiss Tony that way.  But Rich wasn’t like Tony.  He seemed really sincere, like … well, you could just tell.  Rich was different.  After he kissed me that afternoon, I was looking forward to the basketball game more than ever.

On the bus ride home, Nicki seemed much happier, and I was glad because the week had really been rough on her. 

As we sat together in the two-seater, she told me about this guy in her English class who’s really cute. He’s been flirting with her, but she’s been so wrapped up in the Tony thing, big surprise.  The guy’s name was Brandon Micilli and Nicki thought that he might ask her out.  I was really happy for her, and relieved that she was the old Nicki again. 

Pam and Sheila, across from us, both had humongous wads of bubble gum in their mouths and were making loud popping noises.  Wayne Jennings stood up in the back of the bus and yelled, “Hey dorks!  Cut it out!”  His ape friends guffawed and then Wayne called to Mr. D:  “Yo, Mr. D!  Pump it up!”

 I saw our bus driver glance into the big mirror and smile, reaching for the radio.  Up went the volume, and Double Infinity’s latest song filled the bus. 

Everyone seemed to be in a great mood.  I was looking forward to my weekend:  the game tonight, then spending all of Saturday at Nicki’s … she was trying to find a new ‘do and wanted me to help her go through some magazines.  And on Sunday, Grandmom was coming for dinner again. 

Mom said that the oncologist, Dr. Ondash, feels really optimistic about Grandmom’s treatments, and her X-rays will probably show The Monster shrinking.  The Doc seems to feel that her kind of cancer will respond fairly well to the treatments.  I just want the news someday that Grandmom will be okay. She’s in good spirits, and has her okay and not-so-okay days.

So there we were on the bus, on that sunny, fifty-five degree day, on our way home.  Sheila, with earbuds cranked, was still popping her gum, and Pam was laughing about something, showing Sheila her phone.  Nicki went on and on about Brandon.  I began daydreaming about my date with Rich.  Everything will be okay, whispered a little voice from somewhere inside me.

At Sycamore Grove, Nicki jumped up and raced up the aisle, calling, “See ya tomorrow!” 

When the bus finally pulled up to the curb on Beekman Place, Sheila, Pam and I were out of our seats in no time.  We waved to Mr. D on our way out.  Smiling, he nodded with a wink.  Slinging my backpack over my right shoulder, I bounded down the steps and into the cool, spring-like air … then an idea hit me:  maybe I’ll get a new ‘do, too.