“Yeah, I’m into you. What do you want to do about it?”
I get the reaction I want: He’s stunned. But only for a second. “Whoa — really? You serious? You’ll go out with me?”
I flutter my eyelashes. I never knew I could be such a tease!
“Gretchen, I’m kind of blown away.”
He’s so cute. My name sounds so good when he says it. My name is a supermodel strutting down the runway of his tongue!
Gretchen! Gretchen!
“Gretchen?” James pokes his head through the window. His breath smells like onion chips. “You got any change? I’m short three bucks.”
What Do I Say?
After fishing three dollars out of my pocket for James, I turn to Dean and say, “You want to take me for coffee?”
Why haven’t I done this before — flirting with guys is the best thing! I feel like a lion tamer who’s just made her cat jump through fire.
He’s having trouble forming words, but when he does they’re priceless: “Uh, yeah. Now?”
I slap his arm. “We can’t leave James. He’s your cousin.”
“No, he’s not,” Dean says.
I suggest Wednesday. That gives me three days to prepare and him three days to sweat. I roll my head against the back of the seat, grinning at him.
He’s finally catching up … and drooling.
“I’ll pick you up from school.”
James is walking toward us, a bag of Doritos in his hand — do guys never get sick of eating?
“Gretchen. Wednesday?” Dean puts his hand on my leg. HAND ON MY LEG.
I almost lose it.
James throws himself into the back seat and Lucy shudders to life.
I Have a DATE with
Basically an adult
A guy (duh)
A guy I like!
A guy who has his own car and a job
Who isn’t in school
and likes to talk about things other than school
Who’s my friend
Who likes me because I’m funny
and shares my devotion to grilled cheese sandwiches.
Why did I say Wednesday — it’s so far away!
Forewoman Duties
The Spring Fair is fast approaching, according to Ashlyn, whose blood pressure must be through the roof. Even though they mostly look to me now, she marches around the kitchen, barking orders about how, what and why to bake. They all look at me behind her back, but I can only do so much. She did pull my butt out of the gutter not that long ago.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t that dramatic. I owe the girl. We organize an assembly line of brownie makers. I get to be foreman (forewoman?) and deal with soaking dried cherries. We practise our roles like a circus troupe before the first night.
Just then Luke walks in with a shoebox under his arm and a foul look on his face. He heads for Ashlyn so fast he might just bowl her over.
“What the hell is this?” he snarls.
She looks panicked and whispers something. “Well, I DON’T WANT IT!” he shouts. “Stop following me around like a stalker! We are not together anymore!”
He turns and marches out, and Ashlyn leans on the counter, clutching the shoebox.
Since I’m forewoman, I rush over and offer assistance.
She glances around and mumbles, “Please, Gretchen, I can’t handle them staring.”
Do I Know About Public Humiliation?
Ashlyn bends over the sink
in the girls’ washroom and tries to wipe
the mascara from her cheeks.
She looks like a sad clown.
I feel bad for ever thinking
evil thoughts about her. This
isn’t far off what I went through
with Nemiah, and I’m not immune
to the irony.
“He said he loved me two weeks ago,”
she sniffs. I hand her a wad
of paper towel. “He said it and we
messed around and he stopped calling me.”
Sounds like the kind of thing a jerk
would do, I just didn’t think Luke
was one. I shake my mistaken head.
“He’s a loser then. Forget him.”
“I can’t!” she cries. “I love him!
We were going to the Formal together!”
She doesn’t explain what’s in the shoebox,
and this doesn’t seem
like a good time for me to ask. But then,
a stalker’s a stalker.
“Ashlyn, you have to get over him.
Plus, there are people in
I get the reaction I want: He’s stunned. But only for a second. “Whoa — really? You serious? You’ll go out with me?”
I flutter my eyelashes. I never knew I could be such a tease!
“Gretchen, I’m kind of blown away.”
He’s so cute. My name sounds so good when he says it. My name is a supermodel strutting down the runway of his tongue!
Gretchen! Gretchen!
“Gretchen?” James pokes his head through the window. His breath smells like onion chips. “You got any change? I’m short three bucks.”
What Do I Say?
After fishing three dollars out of my pocket for James, I turn to Dean and say, “You want to take me for coffee?”
Why haven’t I done this before — flirting with guys is the best thing! I feel like a lion tamer who’s just made her cat jump through fire.
He’s having trouble forming words, but when he does they’re priceless: “Uh, yeah. Now?”
I slap his arm. “We can’t leave James. He’s your cousin.”
“No, he’s not,” Dean says.
I suggest Wednesday. That gives me three days to prepare and him three days to sweat. I roll my head against the back of the seat, grinning at him.
He’s finally catching up … and drooling.
“I’ll pick you up from school.”
James is walking toward us, a bag of Doritos in his hand — do guys never get sick of eating?
“Gretchen. Wednesday?” Dean puts his hand on my leg. HAND ON MY LEG.
I almost lose it.
James throws himself into the back seat and Lucy shudders to life.
I Have a DATE with
Basically an adult
A guy (duh)
A guy I like!
A guy who has his own car and a job
Who isn’t in school
and likes to talk about things other than school
Who’s my friend
Who likes me because I’m funny
and shares my devotion to grilled cheese sandwiches.
Why did I say Wednesday — it’s so far away!
Forewoman Duties
The Spring Fair is fast approaching, according to Ashlyn, whose blood pressure must be through the roof. Even though they mostly look to me now, she marches around the kitchen, barking orders about how, what and why to bake. They all look at me behind her back, but I can only do so much. She did pull my butt out of the gutter not that long ago.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t that dramatic. I owe the girl. We organize an assembly line of brownie makers. I get to be foreman (forewoman?) and deal with soaking dried cherries. We practise our roles like a circus troupe before the first night.
Just then Luke walks in with a shoebox under his arm and a foul look on his face. He heads for Ashlyn so fast he might just bowl her over.
“What the hell is this?” he snarls.
She looks panicked and whispers something. “Well, I DON’T WANT IT!” he shouts. “Stop following me around like a stalker! We are not together anymore!”
He turns and marches out, and Ashlyn leans on the counter, clutching the shoebox.
Since I’m forewoman, I rush over and offer assistance.
She glances around and mumbles, “Please, Gretchen, I can’t handle them staring.”
Do I Know About Public Humiliation?
Ashlyn bends over the sink
in the girls’ washroom and tries to wipe
the mascara from her cheeks.
She looks like a sad clown.
I feel bad for ever thinking
evil thoughts about her. This
isn’t far off what I went through
with Nemiah, and I’m not immune
to the irony.
“He said he loved me two weeks ago,”
she sniffs. I hand her a wad
of paper towel. “He said it and we
messed around and he stopped calling me.”
Sounds like the kind of thing a jerk
would do, I just didn’t think Luke
was one. I shake my mistaken head.
“He’s a loser then. Forget him.”
“I can’t!” she cries. “I love him!
We were going to the Formal together!”
She doesn’t explain what’s in the shoebox,
and this doesn’t seem
like a good time for me to ask. But then,
a stalker’s a stalker.
“Ashlyn, you have to get over him.
Plus, there are people in
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