Read Planet Middle School Online
Authors: Nikki Grimes
After school,
Jake calls
asking me to meet him
for a run.
I rub my sore ankle
and wince.
“No running for me today,”
I say.
I just don’t tell him
why.
I walk into a room
and Santiago breezes by everyone
who stands between us.
He reaches me
and stares down into my eyes
like no one else
is there.
He cups my face
in his strong hands,
leans in close,
and our lips—
“Joylin!” says the teacher.
“Please tell the class
the answer to the question.”
“What?”
Movie night,
our code words for
hanging out.
KeeLee comes
for dinner
so we have time
to catch up.
Jake pops in later.
“Hey, Joy,” he says,
then switches voices.
“Hello, KeeLee.”
“Hey, Jake,” she says,
then looks back
at the television.
I give Jake
a sharp look,
see his eyes
full of KeeLee,
and pull him down
on the couch right
next to me.
“Let’s watch a movie,”
I say, not bothering
to take a vote.
I start the movie
and dim the lights.
I am
not
having one of my friends
make googly eyes
at the other.
Forget it.
KeeLee and I
find our old table
in the lunchroom,
leaving show choir
and the girls from my team
on their own.
“That was weird last night,”
says KeeLee.
“What?”
“You know.
Jake kept staring at me like
I don’t know.”
She looks down at her plate.
“Like pizza.
With extra cheese.”
“Oh. That,” I say.
Should I tell her?
I wonder.
“A while back, he asked me
if we ever
talk about him.”
“When?”
“I don’t know.
A few weeks ago,” I say.
“I think—he likes you.”
There. I said it.
“Really?”
I hate the way she says it,
twirling a braid
around her finger.
“He
is
kind of cute,” she says.
“KeeLee!”
Then she bursts out laughing.
“I’m just kidding, Joylin.
You should see your face!
Look, Jake’s your friend
and me messing around with him
would just be too—icky.
So forget it, okay?”
I breathe again
relieved that I’m not going
to lose one friend
to another.
I charge through the doors
of a discount clothing store
on the hunt for a bargain.
The few dollars I earn doing chores
will only go so far.
I journey down the skirt aisle,
an explorer in unfamiliar territory,
tossing semi-cute selections
into my basket
as I go.
Once in the dressing room,
I take turns pulling
each skirt on,
then spin before
the mirror thinking:
One of these
is bound to catch
Santiago’s eye.
One morning finds me
in the kitchen
popping a frozen waffle
into the toaster,
trying to scarf it down
before anyone comes in.
“Morning, Joy,” says Mom.
Too late.
“Hi, Mom. Bye, Mom.”
I break for the door.
“Wait a minute,” she says.
“What is that you’ve got on?”
“They’re called clothes, Mom.”
She gives me that look that says
I’m going to smack you
in a minute.
I hang my head,
pinching myself for being
such a smart mouth.
“Sorry,” I mutter,
and take another step.
“You’re wearing a skirt,” she says,
like I don’t know.
“Yes.”
“You don’t own a skirt.”
“I do now. Bought it yesterday.”
“You bought it?”
“Yes.”
“With your own money?”
“
Yes
.”
By now, I’m bouncing
from foot to foot,
itching to be anywhere
but here.
A slow smile spreads
across my mom’s face
like sun rising.
“Okay, baby,” she says,
ready to let me go.
“You have a good day.”
I breathe,
and smile back thinking,
That’s the plan.
Walking to school,
an arctic blast
blows up my skirt
and I shiver,
wishing for the warmth
of jeans.
But I’m on a mission
so I spend the day
sitting cross-legged
pretending to be comfortable.
(If only Mom could see me!)
At lunch, I keep an eye out
for Santiago.
I spot him on the way
back to class,
and saunter by slow enough
so he’ll notice.
Instead, he barely nods.
Embarrassed, I try
to tear up the nearest stairs
two at a time, like always,
only my too-cute pencil skirt
makes that impossible.
My quick getaway
is further interrupted
when I trip and my books
go flying across the stairs.
I bend to gather them
and hear kids giggling
as they stare at my thighs.
I stand up quickly,
cursing the skirt,
wishing for an invisibility cloak,
wondering if Santiago
is worth all this trouble
in the first place.
I thought I had him figured out,
the kind of hair he likes,
the clothes,
the shoes,
the makeup.
Why won’t he even
notice me?
Where did I go wrong?
“Joy,” KeeLee whispers,
standing next to me
as we line up,
“since when did you
like wearing skirts?”
“Since never.”
“Then why—”
I look around,
make sure no one else
can hear.
“I thought Santiago
would like it.”
“Oh,” says KeeLee,
sounding almost sad.
“What? You tried on heels,” I say.
“But that was different,”
KeeLee says.
“That was for
me,
not for someone else.”
I don’t want to listen
to what KeeLee has to say,
so I turn away and hurry
to the exit.
Back home,
I rip the skirt off,
drop-kick it into
the back of the closet,
and pull on comfy jeans.
Later that night
when Dad gets home
in time for dinner,
he walks into the kitchen
all smiles,
checking me
from head to toe.
“So where is it?”
“Where’s what?” I ask.
“The skirt?
Your mom told me
you bought one.”
I groan so loudly
the whole world
can hear me,
then run to my room
and slam the door.
Before it closes,
my dad yells out,
“What did I say?”
I don’t have a fever,
but it’s not entirely a lie
when I tell my mom
I’m sick to my stomach
and need to stay home.
It hurts seeing Santiago
when he doesn’t
see
me.
KeeLee’s a little mad at me
for giving her the slip
during fire drill.
Still, she drops by after choir
to check on the real reason
I’m feeling sick as a dog.
“Forget about Santiago,” she says
when I tell her.
“He’s probably not
good enough for you anyway.”
“Probably not?”
“
Definitely
not.”
KeeLee has a way
of making me smile.
Glory sits down to dinner
by invitation.
Jake does his usual drop-in
right when Mom sets the table.
I see him and cringe,
hoping he doesn’t bring up Santiago.
I’m still trying to figure out a way
to get Santiago to like me.
“Great half-court shot
last Saturday,” Dad says to Glory.
She smiles and we all rehash the game.
During cleanup,
Jake sneaks long looks at Glory
when her head is turned away.
“Man,” Jake whispers,
“that girl’s legs go on forever.
She seeing anybody?”
He’s practically salivating.
I cut my eyes at him
and stomp off to the kitchen.
He’s right behind me.
“Joy, what’s the matter? What’d I say?”
“First, it’s KeeLee. Now it’s Glory.
It’s okay if you’re girl crazy, right?
But let me just
look
at Santiago
and you’re all in my face.”
“That’s not true. I mean—
Look, it’s different with you, okay?
I’m not trying to change myself for a girl.
But you’re turning yourself
inside out for this guy,
and I don’t see why.
There’s nothing wrong with you
the way you are.
You don’t need to become
somebody else.”
I can’t listen to this.
I drop a dish in the sink
and walk away.
“You don’t like who I am now,”
I yell over my shoulder.
“Go find somebody you like better!”