Girls Acting Catty (9 page)

“That's cool,” I said.

“My first boyfriend.” Emma refolded the note and carefully placed it in a Ziploc baggie. She pressed out all the air, sealed the bag, and then put it inside her French book.

“You're sure that's clean?” asked Yumi.

Emma nodded. “It just held my pretzels and I dumped out all the crumbs.”

I had so many questions: Were they going to hang out after school? Or on weekends? Or both? Was she just breaking the news to us today and having lunch with us one more time, before ditching us to have romantic meals with Corn Dog Joe?

Somehow, Corn Dog Joe and
romantic
didn't exactly work together in the same sentence. I wondered if I should start calling him Joe. But that didn't sound right, either.

“You're so lucky you'll have a boyfriend for Valentine's Day,” said Claire.

“If they're still together by then,” said Yumi. “February is months away.”

Emma gasped. “How can you say that? Of course we'll still be together then. I mean I hope we are.” She frowned. “I hope I didn't just jinx it.”

“Don't worry,” said Rachel. “He's into long-term relationships. Didn't he and Jesse go out for a whole month?”

“Three and a half weeks,” Emma said. “And then she dumped him for Oliver.”

“Oliver Banks, who's in my lab group?” I asked.

Everyone else nodded.

“She likes his accent,” Rachel said, rolling her eyes. “That's what I heard, anyway.”

Cute and sweet Oliver and snobby Jesse the Jolly Green Giant were going out? How had I missed all this?

I wondered if everyone else was going to get boyfriends now, too. And if so, did that mean I was supposed to find one? How did someone do that, anyway? I was dying to know, but it's not like I could just ask.

Luckily, no one else in our group mentioned having boyfriends, or wanting boyfriends.

Emma didn't stop smiling all through lunch. Her whole face seemed to radiate with joy, like it was her birthday, or she'd won the state Mathlete competition—again. I was happy for her, but still worried that things would change.

Here's the thing, though. Not much did. We still shared a table with the Corn Dog Boys, and we still ignored each other, for the most part. But every day, after they finished eating and got ready to leave, Joe would smile and kind of half wave at Emma on his way to the garbage can. And Emma would kind of half smile and wave back at him.

It was nice— sweet in a warm-and-fuzzy-feeling kind of way. Things were cool, at least until Taylor and her friends found out about the relationship.

“Is it true that your friend Irma is going out with Joe Johnson?” Taylor asked me in PE, about a week later. If I didn't count that time she made fun of my shoelaces, this was the first time she'd spoken to me since our leg-shaving conversation.

“Um, my friend
Emma
is going out with Joe. I don't know his last name, though.”

Taylor rolled her eyes like I was being difficult on purpose. “He's the guy who eats lunch at your table. The one who sits with Tobias and Erik, right?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that's him.”

Taylor flipped her hair over one shoulder, huffed—all dramatic— like she was beyond annoyed and then faced forward.

“What?” I asked, although I probably should've known better.

“Nothing.”

I figured that would be it, but a few seconds later, she turned around again and said, “Actually, you should tell her to look out, because I don't think he's over Jesse.”

“What?” I asked.

“I'm just saying . . . you should warn your friend, Joe never wanted to break up with Jesse. When she dumped him, he practically begged her to change her mind. There were tears in his eyes. I almost felt sorry for the guy, but at the same time, it was kind of pathetic. You know?”

“Um, why are you telling me this?” I asked.

“I just think Irma should be careful.”

“Emma.”

“Whatever.”

Taylor had to know Emma's name. They'd gone to school together since kindergarten, but I decided to leave that one alone. “Be careful of what?” I asked.

“Everyone is saying Joe is just using Emma to get over Jesse, which makes sense, when you think about it. I mean you know what they say about rebound chicks.”

I had no idea what they said about rebound chicks, or even what a rebound chick was. Somehow I doubted it had anything to do with basketball. Or baby chickens.

Just then Ms. Chang blew her whistle and yelled for everyone to quiet down.

Taylor faced forward, leaving me to stare at her back. She crossed her legs and hugged her knees. Her final words just hung there, like her shiny, dangly earrings. Or— more accurately—like a threat.

chapter nine
me-ouch!

I
took Pepper over to Yumi's on Saturday afternoon. I was excited about meeting her new cat, but more importantly, I was relieved I could get away from Jason for a few hours. It seemed like whenever he was around I said or did something stupid. Or literally choked. I didn't know what my problem was, but until I figured it out, I decided to avoid him as much as possible.

When I got to her house, she was on the front lawn with Hiroki, her scrawny little kitty, who was missing half her tail.

“What happened?” I asked, pointing.

Yumi shrugged. “No one knows. She just showed up that way.”

“Poor girl!” I stopped a few feet away and kept Pepper on a short leash. So far, he was too busy sniffing the ground to even notice Hiroki.

“Are you sure this is a good idea, getting Pepper and Hiroki together?” I asked.

“My cousin has a dog and two cats and they all get along great. She said the trick is to introduce them when they're young and Pepper is still a puppy, right?”

“Yup.” I moved closer, and watched Pepper carefully.

I've learned that you can figure out what kind of mood your dog is in by studying his body language. A curled upper lip is like a warning to back off. When dogs hold their tails up, they're feeling happy and confident. Dogs who tuck their tails between their legs are fearful. If a dog's hair is sticking straight up, it means he or she is on high alert. And when a dog bows down and sticks his butt in the air, it's an invitation to play. And that's exactly what Pepper did, as soon as he noticed Hiroki. He also wagged his tail— another good sign.

So I brought him over slowly, keeping a firm grip on his leash. Yumi was right. Pepper didn't attack Hiroki. All he wanted to do was sniff her neck.

Here's the thing, though. Hiroki attacked Pepper. In a flash the cat hissed, leaped out of Yumi's lap, and landed on Pepper's back.

“Oh no!” I yelled.

Pepper let out a whimper and shook her off. Or I should say Pepper tried to shake her off, but Hiroki dug her claws into Pepper and held on tight. Then, once she landed on the ground she hissed and got ready to pounce again. Luckily Yumi grabbed her before she had a chance to.

“Is he okay?” she asked, as she struggled with a squirming Hiroki.

“I guess so.” I checked Pepper's fur. He wasn't bleeding or anything and he acted more shaken up than hurt.

Of course, he wasn't the only one. The whole thing made me nervous. Hiroki seemed sweet and innocent . . . but the way she'd snapped and pounced so suddenly? It was crazy. It all happened so fast. And it was so vicious and one-sided. A surprise attack!

“I'm so sorry,” said Yumi. “She got nervous, probably. She's still pretty skittish. I'll bring her inside.”

Once Hiroki was gone, I ran my hands along Pepper's back. He seemed okay— he just stared at me with his honey-colored eyes, as if to ask,
Why did
you bring me here, anyway?

It broke my heart. “Sorry, big guy.”

“Is Pepper hurt?” Yumi asked when she came back outside. “Can we still take him to the park? I need to warm up my arm if I'm even going to have a chance at making starting pitcher next season.”

Yumi liked to practice pitching by playing fetch with Pepper. And he liked it too. As soon as he heard the word
park
he wagged his tail.

“Sure, we can go,” I said.

“Cool, hold on. I just need to grab a ball.” Yumi headed into her garage and came out a minute later. “I'm so sorry about Hiroki. I knew she was a little skittish, but I never thought she'd attack your dog.”

“He's okay,” I said.

The park was crowded, like it is every weekend. We played fetch with Pepper until the sun set and we had to squint to see the ball.

By the time we got home, Pepper was panting, but this didn't stop him from barreling straight for the living room as soon as I opened the front door. His new favorite person was home— Jason.

“Hey, Anna Banana. Where were you?” He turned off the TV and stretched. There was a hole in one of his tube socks and his big toe stuck out of it. It was more cute than sloppy, though.

“I took Pepper to meet Hiroki, my friend Yumi's cat.”

“Cool. You two have fun?”

“We did, but Pepper didn't. Well, not at first, anyway. He got attacked by the cat.”

Jason paused mid-stretch. “Pepper got attacked by a cat?”

I nodded.

He laughed and clapped his hands together. “Man, how very catty.”

I didn't know what Jason was talking about. Nor did I appreciate that he was laughing about Pepper's attack. Hiroki could've done some serious damage. Her claws were sharp. “It's not funny.”

“Sorry. I wasn't laughing about Pepper. It was just my bad pun. And
catty
is one of the most perfect adjectives in the world, don't you think?”

“I don't know.”

“Sorry, I guess it's just my bias. I'm not the biggest fan of cats. When I was a kid, one totally clawed me with no warning, just because I was petting her. So they all seem harsh and spiteful. Catty, if you will.”

“I like cats, and Hiroki probably just got scared. Who knows what kind of awful life she had before Yumi adopted her? Plus, Pepper is so much bigger than her. He must look like some kind of monster.”

Jason bent down to scratch Pepper behind the ears. “Are you a monster? Are you a monster, little guy?”

He talked baby talk to Pepper, who ate it right up, rolling over onto his belly and gazing up at Jason. Clearly, he'd forgotten all about me by now.

But Jason hadn't. “Hey, want to see something cool?” he asked me. “Come on, Pepper. Let's go.”

I followed them to the backyard. “You taught him something else?”

Jason grinned and then looked at Pepper. “Stay!” he said. Then he tossed Pepper's red ball in one direction and his nylon bone in the other.

Pepper sat there obediently, gazing up at Jason like he was totally in love with the guy. (And okay, while I couldn't really blame him, it still totally annoyed me.)

“That's cool,” I said, since Pepper never showed such self-control with me. Just this afternoon, he got completely spastic when he realized we were heading to the park.

Jason laughed. “Wait, I'm not done yet.” He looked down at Pepper and said, “Get your ball. Come on, man. Go get your ball, Pepper.”

Pepper took off toward his ball, which he picked up and brought right to Jason. “Good boy,” said Jason, giving him a treat. He told Pepper to stay, again, and then tossed the ball. “Now go get your bone. Go get your bone.”

Pepper took off toward his ball until Jason called, “No, Pepper. Your bone. Get your bone.”

Suddenly, Pepper stopped, darted left and actually fetched his bone.

Jason turned to me, beaming. “So what do you think?”

I couldn't believe it. Seriously— it made no sense.

“He actually knows the words
ball
and
bone
?” I asked.

Jason nodded. “Took me the whole week to teach him.”

“I didn't even know that could be done.”

“It's no biggie,” said Jason, with a shrug.

“You're . . . amazing.” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop myself, before I realized how ridiculous I sounded.

Jason just laughed. “I'm not, really. It's like I said before. I have a lot of free time.”

I headed upstairs, completely mortified again. I tried doing my homework, but couldn't focus. In fact, I couldn't even sit still, so I paced back and forth. My heart felt like it was pounding at about a million beats a second, and I had a major case of Jason on the brain. He was all I could think about. Jason training Pepper; Jason watching TV; Jason grilling veggie burgers in the backyard.

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me.

Not until the next morning, when I woke up in a panic, because the answer hit me, like a lightning bolt to my brain.

The reason I'd been acting all spacey at school?

My excuse for feeling completely flustered at home?

The fact that I'd been thinking about Jason twenty-four/seven?