If You Only Knew (9780698139541) Read online

  “You’re talking to us again?” Jonas turned around and I guess noticed what I was wearing because he said, “Whoa.”

  Tommy turned around to see, too. I crossed my arms over my chest but his eyes had widened already. They faced front again. I sank down into my seat and whispered to Gabriela, “Do I look like a—I mean, gross or slutty or something?”

  She shook her head. “You look pretty,” she said.

  “Thank you.” She’s so nice.

  “If I had a bust,” she said too loudly, “I’d show it, too.”

  I crossed my arms tighter.

  None of my friends said anything as I climbed up onto the wall. I was tempted to curl into myself and hide, but what Colette said about not having to apologize kept echoing in my head and forcing my arms down. It was hard. I felt so noticeable.

  After the second bell, I walked through the corridor toward our lockers, with CJ, Morgan, and Olivia. I could hear the boys behind us saying, “Do it, do it.” I felt a touch on my back, and before I could turn around to ask, “What?” my bra strap snapped.

  “Ow,” I said.

  “Ignore them,” CJ whispered, linking her arm around mine.

  “OK.” I ducked my head and felt my face getting hot.

  Another touch, another sting. “Ow!”

  CJ yanked me forward before I could turn around.

  “Puerile jerks,” Olivia whispered.

  I don’t know what that means, so I shrugged noncommittally.

  “If you say anything,” Morgan whispered, “you’ll just encourage them.”

  We were almost at the lockers. If somebody pestered me over anything but my chest, I thought, I would knock him down and make him stop. Why is this different?

  As soon as I felt the next touch on my back, I spun around and found myself eye to eye with Tommy Levit, whose hand was reaching toward me. His smirk was the same one I had found irresistible, yesterday. I almost punched him in it. But then I realized, this is exactly the problem with me; I’m so unladylike. The whole point, honestly, was to show Tommy I’m a girl. I tried to imagine what each of my sisters would do in this situation.

  I stood as strong as I could and gave Tommy a nasty look.

  Then I turned and walked toward the lockers, feeling proud of myself. My sisters, I think, would have given dirty looks like that. When Anne Marie glares, or Morgan, I die. Good for me.

  Two steps later, I felt his hand on my back again.

  I whirled around, pointed right in his face, and said, “If you touch me again, I’ll rip off your thing and staple it to your head.”

  He stopped grinning. They all did. That whole pack of boys turned pale. It was great. I walked as confidently as I could to my locker and tried to open it, but my hands were shaking too much. I gripped the lock and closed my eyes.

  “Yes,” said Olivia. She bent over to use her key in her lock. When she stood up, her huge smile showed all her crowded teeth. “You tell ’em, Zoe.”

  “Yeah?” I asked her.

  “Wow,” CJ agreed. “Where’d you get that expression?”

  I shrugged. “He looked surprised, huh?”

  Morgan nodded. “It was pretty graphic.”

  “He won’t be bugging you again,” Olivia slammed her locker. “Score one for girl power.”

  She held up her delicate little hand. I high-fived it.

  “How’d it go last night?” CJ asked. “With your dad?”

  “Oh, that’s right.” Morgan looked at me with sympathy.

  Not what I felt like discussing. “A comedy,” I said, dismissing the subject with my hand like it was a bug. I wanted to get back to what a great job I’d done putting Tommy in his place. It wasn’t what my sisters would’ve done, except maybe Colette, but obviously Tommy wasn’t going to like me anyway, so, tough. “You don’t think I was too harsh?”

  “Well,” Morgan said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” She raised her eyebrows at CJ.

  CJ jammed her lock closed and turned her back to Morgan. She leaned toward me and whispered, “Don’t listen to people who lie.”

  Morgan backed away.

  I nodded and stood up straight, like CJ, determined not to be one of those tall girls who folds herself into a parenthesis. I don’t lie. Well, not too much. I try not to. I try to be a really good friend, unlike some people. I held up my head. Nothing to apologize for.

  thirteen

  Morgan was kneeling on the bench, her lunch bag still unopened. “It was a little harsh, is all I’m saying.”

  “He deserved it,” Olivia argued.

  “But you know how boys are,” said Morgan, blowing her bangs. “They were just kidding around. You have to have a sense of humor.”

  I took a bite of my sandwich and asked CJ, “What do you think?” I was psyched she was on my side, not Morgan’s, this time.

  CJ shrugged. “I guess he deserved it. You want me to put your hair in a bun? I think it would look pretty.”

  “OK.” I tucked my limp hair behind my ear. It’s really time for me to get a style, I guess. CJ stood up behind me. I crouched down a little so she could reach my head.

  She tugged my hair away from my face and twisted. “Hand me two pens?” she asked.

  I handed her both Bics out of my pocket and CJ stuck them through my hair. It hurt for a second but then it was OK. I took a bite of my sandwich while she looked over her work on my head.

  “Pretty,” she said.

  I touched the bun. It was holding, maybe even elegantly. My neck felt naked. Across the cafeteria I could see the boys surrounding Tommy, staring at us. I tried to sit up straight.

  “He deserved it but what?” I asked CJ.

  “Nothing,” CJ said, bending from her waist to pick up the napkin I had dropped. “The only thing is, you don’t want the boys to think you’re, you know, coarse.”

  “No,” I agreed. I took the napkin from her and shoved it in my lunch bag.

  “It looks pretty,” CJ said. “Don’t you think?”

  I turned toward Morgan and Olivia. “Pretty,” Olivia said.

  “I think Tommy’s upset,” Morgan said, passing me her bag of Chee-tos. “You really humiliated him.”

  “Really?” I took a handful. “By saying to stop?”

  “His ‘thing’? And you were pointing at him, which is pretty rude.” Morgan took a Chee-to, then offered some to Olivia.

  “No thanks.”

  “CJ?”

  “Can’t. Ballet starts Saturday.”

  Morgan held the bag toward me again.

  I shrugged and helped myself. “But don’t you think he was asking for it?”

  “I’m just saying.”

  “I know,” I said, though I wasn’t sure I knew anything. I mean, it’s not like I revealed something personal, like, you’re afraid of thunder! “It was just a crack,” I explained. “It was just, like, cut it out! Tommy definitely knew that.”

  “Definitely?” Morgan asked. She looked over at the boys.

  “We’re buddies,” I said. “We always rag on each other. I mean, I didn’t take it personally that he was flicking my bra strap.”

  “No?”

  “Well, not too personally.”

  “Listen. Can I be totally honest?” Morgan asked. She leaned toward me with her gentle brown eyes focused on mine.

  “Uck,” I answered. “If you have to be.”

  Morgan took a deep breath and said, “Look what you’re wearing.”

  I crossed one arm protectively over my chest.

  “That’s not fair,” CJ protested quietly.

  “Sorry,” Morgan said. “But she’s one of my best friends, I owe it to her. All I’m saying is, don’t you think maybe you were, a little bit, asking for it, too?”

  “I don’t know.
” I pushed my sandwich away. I couldn’t eat any more. My crossed arms weren’t having much success squishing my bust back into my body. “I didn’t mean anything.”

  CJ touched my back gently. “Maybe you should tell him that.”

  “You think?” I felt too confused to have opinions of my own, right then. I just wanted to go home and hide in Big Blue.

  “You don’t want him to hate you, do you?”

  “Definitely not.” In fact, I want the opposite. “So I should what? Apologize?” I was sure she’d tell me not to be ridiculous.

  CJ nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I agree with CJ,” Morgan said.

  Olivia shrugged. “I’m not really friends with them.”

  “If you’ll come with me,” I bargained. I wasn’t sure at all what I would be apologizing for. I’m sorry everybody is mad at me, maybe.

  “Of course,” Morgan said. We all stood up and crumpled our lunch things. Morgan pitched my bag into the trash can. She has a very good arm.

  “You sure?” I looked at CJ. Going over there to apologize was about the last thing in the world I wanted to do, but I wanted to make things OK again—with Tommy and also with them. Obviously I’m clueless on social problems, suddenly.

  CJ smoothed my hair and whispered, “Mmm-hmm. Don’t worry. We’re right behind you.”

  fourteen

  The boys stood behind him and the girls stood behind me. It had taken about a month, it felt like, to cross the room to his table. I touched the side of my hair—still up. Too bad, because I could’ve used something to hide in, especially since I could feel dampness spreading cold under my arms. Please don’t let me look like a total lunatic, I prayed, but, taking stock of what stood there in front of the boys, I felt pretty doubtful—sweat stains, tight shirt, pointy boobs, pens in my hair. How attractive.

  “So, um . . .”

  Tommy squinted up at me like he was surprised to see me standing there or like I was blurry.

  “Sorry,” I said.

  He gave me one of his don’t be an idiot faces. “For what?”

  “For threatening to rip off your, you know, thing.”

  Some of the boys laughed. Tommy’s fist splayed out to the side and caught Gideon in the belly. They stopped laughing.

  We all just waited. I finally shrugged and started to turn away. If he doesn’t forgive me, what can I do? I apologized. That would have to be good enough. I can’t force him to like me. Obviously. Unfortunately.

  Tommy’s voice stopped me. “It was the part about stapling it to my head that got me.”

  I turned back around to see him grinning.

  “Yeah, well . . .” I smiled, too.

  He stuck out his hand and said, “Truce.”

  I shook his hand. It was a little clammy. “Truce,” I agreed.

  CJ, Morgan, Olivia, and I went outside and sat under the chestnut tree to go over what had happened. We tried to remember every word and figure out what he meant by it, and what the other boys were thinking, and if they all thought I was coarse or not.

  “Probably they think she has a lot of class,” CJ said. “Coming over and apologizing like that.” She smiled at me.

  Olivia picked up a chestnut and rubbed the smooth concave part with her thumb. “I think he should’ve apologized, too.”

  I shrugged, just relieved I did it and hoping nobody would be mad at me anymore. I didn’t need an apology.

  “He took it really well,” Morgan said, ignoring Olivia.

  “Yeah,” CJ agreed. “He didn’t make a big deal, you know? He handled it like it was nothing, almost.”

  “You like him, don’t you?” Morgan asked.

  CJ buried her head on her knees.

  “Don’t you?” Morgan repeated.

  CJ lifted her head just enough to let her eyes peek out, then hid again, and, without looking at us, nodded.

  “I knew it!” Morgan said. “You can’t hide anything from me.”

  I pushed CJ on her shoulder. “I knew it, too!” I wore a big smile. That’s great, if she likes him. She’s cute; he probably likes her, too. How nice.

  Meanwhile, CJ wouldn’t pick up her face. We all pushed her until she toppled over and, giggling, said, “OK, OK! I admit it!”

  We tightened our circle to talk strategy.

  “I can’t believe I like him, he’s so sarcastic and obnoxious, but I do, I really like him,” CJ whispered. “What should I do?”

  Our foreheads were practically touching. “We have to plot,” Morgan said.

  “Right,” I agreed.

  “You really like him?” Olivia asked. “Because he definitely is obnoxious.”

  “Not all the time,” I said. “But sometimes. Often. He is.”

  “What are you saying?” CJ asked me. “I shouldn’t like him?”

  “No,” I said. “I’m just, weird.” I pulled the plastic piece off the tip of my shoelace and chewed on it to keep from talking.

  “What should I do?” CJ asked me.

  I tried to think of what a best friend would say. “Um,” I said. It felt like a big responsibility. I wanted to be a best friend to her. “You want me to do something?” I offered.

  “No! No, no, no. Oh, promise me you won’t tell him!” CJ’s pale cheeks flushed and her green eyes bored right through mine. “Seriously. What if he said he doesn’t like me? I’d die.”

  “OK,” I agreed. Fine by me. “You can trust me.”

  CJ nodded seriously. “I know I can.”

  “We won’t tell anybody,” Morgan said calmly. “But maybe Zoe’s right. She could sort of hint to him, and then he could, you know, think of it himself, and ask you out.”

  We looked at one another. Nobody came up with an objection to that plan. Except me, one little point. “Me?” I asked.

  Olivia shrugged. “You got him to ask out Morgan last year.”

  “You’re best friends with him,” Morgan said.

  “I am not!” I wanted to be clear. “He’s not my best friend.”

  “Whatever,” Morgan said. “You’re better friends with the boys than anybody else, so . . .”

  “Don’t do it unless you want to,” CJ said. “She doesn’t have to.”

  “No.” I smiled. “I want to. It’s just, you know, if he thinks I’m coarse, you might not—”

  “Oh, no,” Morgan jumped in. “I don’t think he thinks that. That’s history. Everybody’s over it. Right?”

  “Right,” CJ assured me.

  “And maybe then,” Morgan said, bringing her knees up to her chin like CJ, “maybe you could ask Jonas about me?”

  “I knew it!” CJ said. “Excellent!”

  I smiled and nodded. Excellent.

  “But be subtle,” Morgan added.

  “I’ll try.”

  For the rest of lunch we talked about how fun it would be if CJ and Morgan were going out with Tommy and Jonas.

  fifteen

  When we got in to English, there was a paper lunch bag on each desk. I sat down and opened mine—nothing inside. I looked up at Mrs. Shepard to see what was going on. She has a reputation of making people cry, but I really like her. She’s about four feet tall and built like she was put in a trash compactor. She takes no crap. Some people call her the Sadist but I feel like, hey, at least she believes we’re capable of actual thoughts.

  She stood in front of the class tapping the pointy toe of her shoe, touching her tongue to her upper lip. Devin said when she was in seventh grade, she never heard Mrs. Shepard yell, all year. She could kill you with a lifted eyebrow.

  We quieted down pretty quick. “Your homework over the weekend . . .”

  A few people groaned. I knew better; my sisters had all warned me.

  “Is there a problem?”

  Lou Hochstetter raised his hand. She didn’t call o
n him, just looked surprised in his direction. “Usually teachers give us the weekend off.” When she didn’t look any less surprised or more angry, Lou went on. “To recuperate.”

  Mrs. Shepard raised one eyebrow at him. I think she melted him because he shrank in his seat. He sits right in front of me, and I swear, he contracted.

  After about a minute, Mrs. Shepard said, “Well, Mr. Hochstetter, welcome to the seventh grade.”

  We all sank a little lower in our seats.

  She waited another minute. The clock in her room ticks incredibly loud. “Your homework for this weekend,” Mrs. Shepard said again, exactly as she had said it the first time, no added anger or stress, “is called Bring Yourself in a Sack.”

  Nobody was budging so she went on. “I’d like you to gather ten items, over this weekend, which will all fit into the bag on your desk, and which, combined, will represent you in your many aspects.”

  I looked at the bag on my desk. Put myself in it? I tried to think of what could represent me. Big Blue? My sisters? My framed certificate from being sixth-grade class president? All too big. Hey, maybe Colette’s brown T-shirt. It was a small lunch bag, but the shirt was feeling pretty microscopic. I tugged to stretch it. No, this shirt is not me at all.

  Mrs. Shepard, sensing that nobody was about to ask any questions, continued. “This is the beginning of our first unit on creative writing. We’ll be exploring different ways of portraying characters. So, for today, I’d like you to split into pairs and interview each other. You’ll then write a newspaper-style article on your partner. Get details like significant events in your subject’s life, favorite foods, what nobody knows about the subject. . . . Be creative, ask probing questions.”

  She stopped talking and touched her tongue to her top lip again. We just sat there. “Is there a problem?” she finally asked.

  I wasn’t coming up with any complaints, that’s for sure. I looked over at Morgan, who was asking CJ to be partners. “OK,” CJ said, then turned and saw me watching. “Can you get Tommy?” she mouthed.

  I doodled on my paper. People started pushing their desks toward other people. Tommy sits next to me, so I turned to him and said, “So?”