Tyrannosaurus rex represents him not just because he’s so tough, but also because he has been teaching his little cousin about dinosaurs and being a good older cousin is important to him.
I turn to CJ and roll my eyes, thinking I should get her to break up with him, she’s much too good for a jerk like Tommy Levit. She’s not looking at me, though. I’ll write her a note. I’ll apologize for being so moody this morning. When she tried to tell me she wasn’t really best friends with Zoe, I walked away, telling her Olivia was waiting for me. That had to hurt. Olivia’s mother and CJ’s are best friends, so CJ’s always getting compared to Olivia at home, never quite measuring up, of course. I, of all people, know how that feels—if you ask my mother, I don’t measure up to anybody. I am such a bad friend, to shove Olivia Pogostin at CJ, who was only trying to explain that she’d never betray me.
I pick up my pencil and write quickly: Sorry I’m such a moody mess. Tommy thinks he’s so great. Ha! I have to tell you something URGENT Your best friend, Morgan .
I haven’t thought of anything urgent, but there’s still a lot of time left; English/social studies is a double period, which is endless. I’ll come up with something. I press down to pull the paper off neatly at the perforations, leaving the raggedy part gripped to the spiral wire. I never get caught passing notes. I take my time, carefully. Folding the note slowly, I look across the row at CJ.
She’s passing a note to Zoe.
Zoe catches the note, reads it quick, smiles, and touches her friendship ring with her thumb. CJ touches hers, too, then darts her eyes over at me. She frowns, caught. She covers her friendship ring with the other hand, under her desk.
As if I would care or something.
sixteen
T he spatula is sticking out of my bag. It’s too big. It doesn’t fit. It was a stupid thing to choose; it doesn’t define who I am. None of this junk does, really. I don’t even know if this is the exact spatula I split my brother’s head open with. There are a few spatulas in the drawer. Same as that day I chucked it at Ned when he told me about the tooth fairy, I just grabbed one. This spatula could be as distant from any meaning in my life as any random fork in the kitchen. Unless of course I now chuck it at CJ. Which I’m considering. I start to crumple the note I wrote to her, but instead I tap Olivia on the shoulder.
“Cornelia Jane Hurley,” says Mrs. Shepard.
Olivia turns around. I hand the note to her as CJ takes a deep breath. Too bad, CJ. You just lost me.
Olivia looks surprised. She’s opening the note. I wish I could grab it back from her. I lower my eyes, down to my bag. A stick, I have here, a Barbie head, an eraser, and now I’m passing notes to Miss Perfect saying she’s my best friend? When she has all interesting, perfect things in her Sack. I have a twig from the cherry tree. Well, at least I chose one thing that makes sense. This dead twig is totally me.
seventeen
T he first day of school this year I stood at my new locker. Me, CJ, Zoe, and Olivia were joking about the puny sixth graders, but really we were sizing one another up. Zoe was tugging at her T-shirt; I think she’s embarrassed that her hips grew already. Olivia, who looks like a fourth grader at most, has the locker between me and Zoe, and she was huddled on the floor, organizing it. I looked down at her perfectly straight part, her dark hair tugged tightly to the sides into two pigtail braids. I don’t think she grew over the summer at all. She probably stayed inside the whole time diagramming sentences. Her family is best friends with CJ’s, and although every mother in Boggs thinks Olivia is the perfect child, Olivia totally worships CJ.
Tommy Levit passed us, yelling, “Wait for you by the wall!”
“They’re coming?” I asked Zoe, looking at CJ and shaking my head. Zoe hadn’t even asked me and CJ if we minded if the boys joined us, going to
I turn to CJ and roll my eyes, thinking I should get her to break up with him, she’s much too good for a jerk like Tommy Levit. She’s not looking at me, though. I’ll write her a note. I’ll apologize for being so moody this morning. When she tried to tell me she wasn’t really best friends with Zoe, I walked away, telling her Olivia was waiting for me. That had to hurt. Olivia’s mother and CJ’s are best friends, so CJ’s always getting compared to Olivia at home, never quite measuring up, of course. I, of all people, know how that feels—if you ask my mother, I don’t measure up to anybody. I am such a bad friend, to shove Olivia Pogostin at CJ, who was only trying to explain that she’d never betray me.
I pick up my pencil and write quickly: Sorry I’m such a moody mess. Tommy thinks he’s so great. Ha! I have to tell you something URGENT Your best friend, Morgan .
I haven’t thought of anything urgent, but there’s still a lot of time left; English/social studies is a double period, which is endless. I’ll come up with something. I press down to pull the paper off neatly at the perforations, leaving the raggedy part gripped to the spiral wire. I never get caught passing notes. I take my time, carefully. Folding the note slowly, I look across the row at CJ.
She’s passing a note to Zoe.
Zoe catches the note, reads it quick, smiles, and touches her friendship ring with her thumb. CJ touches hers, too, then darts her eyes over at me. She frowns, caught. She covers her friendship ring with the other hand, under her desk.
As if I would care or something.
sixteen
T he spatula is sticking out of my bag. It’s too big. It doesn’t fit. It was a stupid thing to choose; it doesn’t define who I am. None of this junk does, really. I don’t even know if this is the exact spatula I split my brother’s head open with. There are a few spatulas in the drawer. Same as that day I chucked it at Ned when he told me about the tooth fairy, I just grabbed one. This spatula could be as distant from any meaning in my life as any random fork in the kitchen. Unless of course I now chuck it at CJ. Which I’m considering. I start to crumple the note I wrote to her, but instead I tap Olivia on the shoulder.
“Cornelia Jane Hurley,” says Mrs. Shepard.
Olivia turns around. I hand the note to her as CJ takes a deep breath. Too bad, CJ. You just lost me.
Olivia looks surprised. She’s opening the note. I wish I could grab it back from her. I lower my eyes, down to my bag. A stick, I have here, a Barbie head, an eraser, and now I’m passing notes to Miss Perfect saying she’s my best friend? When she has all interesting, perfect things in her Sack. I have a twig from the cherry tree. Well, at least I chose one thing that makes sense. This dead twig is totally me.
seventeen
T he first day of school this year I stood at my new locker. Me, CJ, Zoe, and Olivia were joking about the puny sixth graders, but really we were sizing one another up. Zoe was tugging at her T-shirt; I think she’s embarrassed that her hips grew already. Olivia, who looks like a fourth grader at most, has the locker between me and Zoe, and she was huddled on the floor, organizing it. I looked down at her perfectly straight part, her dark hair tugged tightly to the sides into two pigtail braids. I don’t think she grew over the summer at all. She probably stayed inside the whole time diagramming sentences. Her family is best friends with CJ’s, and although every mother in Boggs thinks Olivia is the perfect child, Olivia totally worships CJ.
Tommy Levit passed us, yelling, “Wait for you by the wall!”
“They’re coming?” I asked Zoe, looking at CJ and shaking my head. Zoe hadn’t even asked me and CJ if we minded if the boys joined us, going to
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