Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Planet Girl (16 page)

“You mean, like a plan?” Pete said.

“Yeah. Like a plan.”

Timmy snorted. “Wait a second. What happened to the new Charlie Joe, who's all nice and polite and wants totally to stay out of trouble?”

“Mr. Twipple told me that he didn't have charisma,” I said.

“He didn't,” Jake agreed.

Pete said, “I'm Googling ‘how to get a girl to not go to private school.'”

“I don't think you can Google that,” Timmy said.

Pete kept typing. “You can Google anything.”

While we waited for Pete's phone to work its magic, Jake said, “And to think, I spent all that time worrying about you liking Hannah.”

“I guess that's what's weird about girls,” I said. “I did have the biggest crush on Hannah for like, forever. But I'm not sure I ever really
liked her
liked her. You know what I mean?”

“Not really,” Jake said. And why would he? He liked liked
liked
Hannah.

“Hold on,” Pete said. “I got something.” He stood up for the big announcement.

“‘Many private schools have strict codes of conduct. They expect all applicants to have exceptional strength of character. Schools tend to look less favorably on applicants who have problems of discipline on their records.'”

We all sat there in silence for a minute, absorbing this information.

“So let me get this straight,” Timmy said. “The best way to get Katie to not go to private school is to get her in trouble?”

“You'd have to do more than just get her in trouble,” Jake said. “It has to be something that goes on her permanent record. Like, suspended.”

“Whoa,” I said. “Nice try. No way.”

Timmy frowned. “So you're just going to let her go?”

“She'll be around for summers and stuff,” I said, trying to look on the bright side. But I felt miserable just thinking about it.

“Hey!” said Pete. “The old Charlie Joe wouldn't accept that. The old Charlie Joe would have found a way to make it happen.”

“To make what happen?” I said. “To get Katie suspended from school? Are you nuts?”

“Look, Charlie Joe, it's cool,” Timmy said. “I get it. You like Katie. You don't want to do anything that might make her look bad.”

“Guys, like I said, forget it,” I told them. “She would, like, hate me for life. And for good reason. We need another plan.”

We all stared into space for a few seconds, thinking.

“Hey, here's an idea,” Jake said. “What if we fake the whole thing?”

We all said various versions of “Huh?”

Jake stood up and started pacing around the room, getting excited by his own idea. “It's simple. We do something to get Katie in a tiny bit of trouble, and then right when she gets caught, Charlie Joe immediately steps up and confesses to the whole thing, and he tells her that the whole reason he did it is because he likes her so much he wanted to get her in trouble so she wouldn't go to private school.”

The rest of us scratched our heads like our hair hurt.

“I have no idea what you're talking about,” I said.

Pete smacked his forehead. “Wait, I get it! Jake's saying we just get her in a tiny bit of trouble, but then you can say it was all to make sure she won't leave you by going to private school.”

Jake looked at Pete. “You basically just repeated what I said.”

“Cool,” answered Pete.

“But I don't get it,” I said. “If she doesn't actually get in trouble, then she'll still go to private school.”

“So you want her to get in
real
trouble?” Jake asked.

“Of course not,” I answered.

“Charlie Joe, think of it this way,” Timmy said. “If you do this, you'll be her hero. She'll think it's like superromantic, and maybe she'll decide she can't go away because she won't want to leave you.”

Pete made gross kissing noises. “Oh, Charlie Joe, my hero! I love you so much!”

“Ew,” Jake said, but he was smiling, proud that he had come up with a plan that Pete and Timmy actually liked. Then he turned to me. “So what do you say?”

I thought about what they said. Things between Katie and I were okay, I guess. We were definitely friends again, but like I said before, something wasn't quite right. It wasn't like it was before all this stuff happened, that's for sure. Talking to her had become kind of stressful. I was a little hung up on the private school thing. And it was entirely possible she was still hung up on the kissing-Hannah thing.

So overall, we were at like a B-minus. Which is a grade I would have been perfectly satisfied with if we were talking about, say, Social Studies.

But we're talking about Katie Friedman. And I wanted an A.

“You really think she would think that
me
getting
her
in trouble would be romantic?” I asked.

Jake shrugged, then nodded. “After getting over the initial shock? Probably.”

Huh. Well, if Jake thought so …

“What did you guys have in mind exactly?” I asked.

They all looked at each other.

“That's where you come in,” Jake said.

We sat there and thought for another minute.

“It has to be something funny,” I said. “Something that gets her in a little bit of trouble, maybe not enough to actually get her rejected from private school, but something that all the kids would think was awesome. And then I could immediately confess and say I only did it because I like her, and I don't want her to go to private school.”

“Why does everyone just keep repeating exactly what I said?” asked Jake.

I thought for another minute.

“Okay, let's do it,” I said.

“Sweet!” Pete hollered. Then, a minute later, he added, “Do what?”

“I have no idea,” I said.

Which is when Pete's mom stuck her head in and said, “Pete, don't forget to restock the henhouse.”

Which is when I remember that Pete's family raised chickens.

Which is when a lightbulb went off in my head.

Call it fate, call it good timing, call it bad timing, call it whatever you want—but as Pete groaned and headed outside, I called to him, “Hey, Pete? Can I ask you something?”

He turned back. “What?”

I hesitated, then decided to go for it.

“Have any of your chickens ever been on a road trip?”

 

34

For the next three weeks,
it was business as usual. People started getting more and more excited as the school year started winding down. Then, on the first day of the last week of school, we had an awards ceremony. Jake got a Math award for figuring out some equation that hadn't been solved since 1794 (okay, that's a slight exaggeration, but it was a really hard equation). Pete Milano got an Art award for an incredible drawing of two basset hounds. And Katie got a special award from the English department for being the best writer in the grade. Her acceptance speech was an amazing poem that rhymed
munificence
with
benevolence
—two words I had never heard before and haven't heard since. They probably don't even
know
those words at private school.

I didn't get an award, by the way. Can you believe it?

The day after the awards ceremony, I texted Pete.

What's up? Dance is in three days. Are we all set?

He texted back a picture of a chicken and these words:
Meet Cletus.

Game on.

That day at lunch, all anybody wanted to talk about was the year-end dance.

“Charlie Joe, still not going with anybody?” Eliza asked me.

“Nope,” I said.

Eliza smiled. After all these years, she still enjoyed knowing I was girlfriendless.

“Erica's dad is driving us to the dance in his cool Alfa Romeo convertible,” Timmy bragged. I had no idea what an Alfa Romeo was—I don't know anything about cars—but it was still annoying.

Then Katie came running up, beaming. “Hey, guess what you guys? I just found out we can play at the dance!” No wonder she was so excited. Her band, CHICKMATE, was pretty much the most important thing in her life. Earlier in the year, she'd even gotten Jane Plantero from Plain Jane to sing one of her songs at the talent show. But Katie had always wanted to play at a school dance, and she was finally going to get her chance.

As everyone congratulated Katie and said things like “That's awesome!” and “So cool!” and “You rock!” it dawned on me that there was one small problem with this wonderful news.

Cletus.

I immediately texted Pete, who was sitting two tables away.

Hold on. Maybe we should forget plan

He texted back.

Why?

I texted back.

Katie's band is playing

He texted back.

That's okay. Chickens love music, trust me!

I got a slightly sickening feeling in my stomach, but I ignored it. I texted back.

Okay

Moral of the story: Never trust your friends.

 

35

The last day of school
is more like a party than a school day. All the books have been put away for the year, and everybody is excited about the dance, and signing each other's yearbooks, and talking about the summer. If every day were like the last day of the year, school would be the most awesome place on earth.

As usual, I made sure a bunch of teachers signed my yearbook. They wrote some awesome things.

When I asked Mrs. Sleep to sign it, at first she shook her head. She said, “Mr. Jackson, if I signed your yearbook, I might write something I would later regret.” Then she winked at me, grabbed my pen and wrote,
You have a lot to offer the world. I just hope the world is ready for it. Good luck. Mrs. Sleep.

You know something? Mrs. Sleep is a pretty cool lady after all.

 

36

That night,
I picked at my food.

“Are you nervous about the dance, honey?” my mom asked at dinner.

“Of course not!” I said, but she knew I was lying. It was a well-known fact in my family that I always got nervous before these kinds of things, because I was a lousy dancer.

I ate quietly and looked down at my two dogs. Moose, my hero, was watching me patiently. He knew his turn would come, and I'd give him my plate to lick. Coco was napping right next to him. She always let Moose take lookout. But when the time came, she'd be right there with him, fighting over every scrap.

I noticed Moose was getting a gray beard. It was really cute, but it made me sad, too. I didn't like being reminded that he was getting older. I wish dogs never got older.

Megan wasn't home, so it was just my mom and me at first. Halfway through dinner, my dad came home. As soon as he walked through the door, I saw my mom's eyes change. It was like a light went on inside them. It may have happened every night when Dad came home, but that night, I really noticed it. She jumped up and walked to the door. And my dad's eyes, when he saw my mom, lit up the same way.