Alex's Challenge (17 page)

“Yes. I totally am. Do you know what I did today?”

“No,” Jenna admitted. She looked up at her sister. “What did you do?”

“I went to the mall with Matt, who just wanted to ditch me and go hang out at the Discovery store or something. So I went to Barnes & Noble and read magazines. Like
all
the magazines. I was starting on
Outdoor Living
when Matt finally came and asked if we could go home.”

“Oh,” Jenna said. “I guess it was a pretty awful day for everyone.”

“Yeah, it was. Now, can you come back down and play Scrabble with us?” Steph said, crossing her arms and tapping her foot impatiently. “Seriously. Dad really wants to.”

Jenna got up. “Yeah, totally,” she said.

The two girls walked to the living room, where Adam had set up a card table and was placing chairs around it. Their dad walked out of the kitchen with a huge bowl of popcorn. Catching Jenna's eye, he smiled. “Nobody wanted pizza for dessert,” he said. “Guess we just have to eat ice cream and popcorn.”

To: [email protected]

From:
[email protected]

Subject: Miss you!

Monday, September 3

 

Hey, Grace,

Can you believe school is about to start already? We've only been home for a few days, barely any time to relax, and all of a sudden we have to start getting up early again! I've really loved being able to sleep in again, though . . . and watch TV and go shopping . . .

But I am excited to go back to school. It's going to be so cool this year! At my school, since it's so small, the sixth-graders aren't at middle school—they're still at the elementary school, and next year we go to the high school. So this year, we rule! I can't wait.

Are your parents going to let you join drama club? I bet they will . . . once they see you perform, they can't possibly say no! You were the best actress at camp!

My mom is calling—we have a Labor Day barbecue thing over at my grandma's house, so I'd better go. Write back soon!

 

Love,

Brynn

 

Grace sat patiently as her mom slid two strips of bacon next to the steaming-hot eggs already on the plate in front of her. Across the table, her dad was paging through the newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee. “Grace,” he said, poking his head over the paper, “what's a five-letter word for
mad,
first letter
L
?”

Grace thought for a minute. “I have no idea, Dad, sorry,” she said. Her dad sighed and went back to the paper.

“Livid,” her mom said, sitting down next to Grace with a plate of food for herself. “Need juice, Gracie?”

“I'll get it,” Grace said. She got up and crossed to the refrigerator.

“So, Grace,” her father said, folding up his newspaper and looking at her with a serious expression, “ready for the first day of school?”

Grace found the carton of orange juice behind a stack of Tupperware and sat back down at the table. “Definitely!” she said. “I finished my last book last night.
Bridge to Terabithia.
I loved it.”

“That's wonderful, honey,” her mom said. “I'm very proud of how hard you've worked this summer. You'll be perfectly ready to get back to school.”

“Definitely,” Grace said again. “I am so excited. In middle school they have drama club, and I'm signing up first thing tomorrow! I can't wait! Plus, I haven't seen any of my friends, and it's going to be so cool to . . .”

She stopped when she noticed her parents exchanging one of their famous looks. “What, you guys?” she asked, suddenly worried. “I don't like the look of those looks,” she joked, trying in vain to lighten the mood.

Her mom sighed. “It's just . . . drama club? Grace, I don't think it's a good idea for you to join the drama club this year.”

Grace put down her glass. “What? Why not?” she asked.

“Your mother and I think you need to focus on getting your grades up,” her dad responded. “You did a great job this summer with your reading, but you have to prove that you can continue working hard. We would hate for you to take on too much too soon—and have your schoolwork suffer.”

“But Dad, it won't suffer! I
will
keep working hard, I swear!” Grace promised. She could feel her face starting to turn red—a sure sign she was about to cry. “You saw how well I did this summer—I can keep working hard
and
join the drama club.”

Grace's father shook his head. “Grace, I'm sorry. I'm not going to back down on this one. Camp is not the same as school—
middle school
,” he reminded her. “It's not forever, sweetie, but it is for now.”

Grace looked at her mom. “Mom? Please?”

“No, honey, I'm sorry. Your dad and I discussed this already; we decided that you wouldn't be allowed to join any extracurricular activities until we see real evidence that your grades are going up. That means at least one semester. I'm very sorry, and I am very proud of how well you've done so far.”

Grace could tell that her mom
was
sorry, but she still couldn't believe they weren't going to let her join the club. Over the summer, she had realized how much she loved to act—she loved being onstage, with people watching her while she performed. It was an amazing rush. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she shoved her plate away and stood up so fast that her chair fell over.

“I can't believe this!” she exclaimed. Her chin began to tremble, and she had to rush away before she completely broke down into tears.

Once upstairs, Grace threw herself onto her bed, buried her face into her pillow, and sobbed
. This stinks,
she thought. She rolled over, still with tears streaming down her cheeks, and sat up. Doing so, she caught a glimpse of her summer reading books, stacked neatly on her desk next to her computer.

She scrambled up and crossed her room, sliding onto the chair at her desk. She logged on to instant messenger, but none of her friends were online.
Great,
she thought.
No friends, no drama club.
She opened up her Web browser and tried to distract herself. She had gotten a really nice e-mail from Brynn earlier, but she didn't feel like writing back to it—Brynn had sounded excited about school starting, and Grace was decidedly Unexcited.

Just then, she remembered the blog that Julie, the counselor she'd had at camp, had set up for all the bunkmates to keep in touch when they got back to their own lives. Grace accessed the site, and found three messages waiting. One was a welcome note from Julie, which included Julie's e-mail address, phone number, and mailing address. There was another message from Marissa, the CIT from their bunk, but Grace was the most excited about the message from her friend Alex:

 

Dear 3C:

I hope everybody's having a great time back at home! I know you all miss getting up at the crack of dawn, smelling funny, and eating terrible, disgusting, horrible food. I do, too. Anyway, I just wanted to write to tell you all that I miss you so much . . . and I hope we can get together soon! Let's keep in touch here as much as possible—I want to hear about everyone's sixth-grade experience!

Love,

Alex

Grace sighed. She was sure other people
were
glad to be back with their friends—and she was, too—but she really wasn't looking forward to the sixth-grade experience. Even if she was starting to like reading more, school just wouldn't be fun without drama class. She logged off the computer without writing a response to Alex.

On the desk, next to her stack of books, was a picture from camp that Grace had framed when she got home. It was the cast from the camp play. She picked up the frame and looked closely at the picture.
I look so
happy
,
she thought.
And part of it was that I thought I'd be able to be in drama club this year.
She sighed and put down the photograph.

Then a thought crossed her mind. She knew both of her parents wouldn't be home from work until five-thirty each night, and this year, they'd decided she was too old for a babysitter. They'd given her a key and everything.

And drama club was after school every afternoon from three to five o'clock.

So . . .
her mind was whirling. With no parents or babysitter home after school, no one would know what time she came home. And if she came home right away after drama, they would just assume she'd been there since three o'clock!
It's the perfect plan!
she thought excitedly. A tiny twinge of guilt stabbed at her sides, but she quickly waved it off. She'd keep up with her schoolwork, of course, for the semester. Then when she got all A's—or mostly A's, anyway—even
with
drama club, her parents would know that she could handle both. How could they argue?

It could work. Her plan could definitely work.

It was just a matter of pulling it off.

 

Alex groaned and rolled over to swat her alarm clock. “Six-thirty already?” she moaned. It was the first day of school and she was already ready for summer vacation to swing around again.

Pulling herself out of bed, she stumbled out the door and down the hall to the bathroom. After a nice hot shower, she knew she'd start to feel like herself again.

After her shower, she pulled on the outfit she'd decided on the night before: Her favorite jeans and a cool yellow shirt she'd gotten at the mall with her mom over the weekend. She blow-dried and brushed her long brown hair and pulled it back into a ponytail, and for the finishing touch, added a pair of white socks with little frogs on them and her favorite green sneakers. Appraising herself in the full-length mirror that hung in the hallway, she thought to herself,
Perfect!
She was ready to face middle school.

Downstairs, her mother had poured a bowl of cereal for her and set it on the table with a glass of orange juice. “Eat up, Alex,” her mom said. “Excited about school?”

“Yeah!” Alex replied, sitting down and taking a big gulp of juice. “Totally. I got an e-mail yesterday about soccer tryouts, too—they're today after school. So I won't be home till five.”

Alex's mother put down the newspaper she was reading. “That's very exciting, honey,” she said. “Do you know anyone else who's trying out?”

“Well, I think a lot of the girls from last year's team will try out,” Alex said. Just then, Alex's father walked into the kitchen jangling his keys.

“Ready to go, Al?” he said. He leaned over and kissed Alex's mom and then looked at Alex expectantly. “We'd better get a move on if you're going to be at school on time.”

Alex shoveled a few more spoonfuls of cereal into her mouth and then stood up to kiss her mom good-bye. She grabbed her brand-new backpack off the floor where she'd placed it the previous day and shifted it onto her shoulders. “Ready!”

The drive to school didn't take long. Alex's dad gave her a few dollars for lunch and she excitedly ran into the school lobby. Instantly, though, as she entered the crowded room, she knew she was more worried than she had let on. There were so many people packed in—and they were all so
old
! She felt like a baby. All the other kids were taller and bigger than she was. The boys looked like grown men, and the girls looked like adult women. Some of the boys even had
mustaches
! And the girls . . . well, they were obviously not in elementary school anymore.

In the corners of the room, Alex could see small groups of what had to be sixth-graders, all huddled together, looking young and scared. She stood stock-still and scanned the room, looking for a familiar face. Finally, she saw one across the room—her best friend, Ellen. Ellen's eyes met Alex's, and obvious relief flooded both their faces.
Thank goodness,
Alex thought. She was glad they had planned their meeting place the night before on the phone. She scurried over to her friend.

“Hi!” Ellen squealed, throwing her arms around Alex for a big hug. “Can you believe this place? I'm going to need some kind of personal OnStar system just to find my way around!”

Alex opened her mouth to agree, but she was cut off by a burst of static, followed by a thundering voice that boomed over the loudspeaker. “ALL STUDENTS TO THE GYMNASIUM,” the deep voice said. “ALL STUDENTS TO THE GYMNASIUM FOR WELCOME ASSEMBLY.” Ellen and Alex looked at each other.

“That's us,” Alex said nervously.

Ellen laughed. “Oh, come on, Alex. It'll be fun!” She looped her arm through her friend's and propelled them both toward the gym, where the other students were beginning to gather. They made their way through the packed room and found seats on the end of the bleachers farthest from the door.