I wasn’t sure she’d write back, but there’s an email from Olympia in my inbox the next morning.
To: Kat.Greene@VillageHumanity.org
SUBJECT: Re: Hello
DATE: September 26 7:21:17 AM EDT
FROM: Olympia.Rabinowitz@VillageHumanity.org
Dear Kat,
I’m glad my advice in rap session was helpful to you. And how cool that your mom might be on TV! It could be a lot of fun. At the same time, you expressed worry that your mom might not win. You said she would be very disappointed, and that you would be too.
The thing to keep in mind is that losing is always a possibility on game shows—and in life in general. But with the right attitude and proper preparation, there’s a good chance your mom could walk off with the grand prize. Maybe you have other concerns about this situation you’d like to share? For instance, you mentioned how a lifetime supply of cleaning products might encourage your mom to clean more. It sounds like your mom takes cleaning very seriously. More than a hobby, maybe.
I know you haven’t talked to her yet, but you may want to consider it. Talking always helps. In the meantime, if you ever feel like talking to me, you know where I am. See you in school!
Best wishes,
Olympia
I’d planned on telling Halle about Olympia’s email—and about Mom’s interview for Clean Sweep—during our walk to school. But now at our lockers while we’re putting our books away, I still haven’t said anything. As usual, my best friend has other things on her mind.
“Do you think Michael will ask me out?” Halle says, shoving a binder into her lock-free locker. “I’m picking up these vibes.”
“Vibes?”
“I caught him looking at me in class yesterday. Twice.”
“Well…”
The smile disappears from Halle’s face. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“What?” I ask.
“You know what,” she says.
“I didn’t say anything!”
“Yeah, you did. You said, ‘Well…’ as in you doubt Michael will ask me out.”
I feel as if I’m watching a movie I’ve seen a billion times before. If only I could press Fast Forward. Or better yet, Stop. “I didn’t mean anything by it, Hal,” I say. “It’s just that I have no clue what Michael thinks. It’s not like he pours his heart out to me.”
“Maybe not,” Halle agrees. “But he did tell everyone in rap session that he likes me.”
Where does Halle get this stuff? Sure, Michael said he likes a girl who is nice, and cool, and funny. But he never said it was Halle. Now I’m wishing he had. At least it would get her to shut up and do something about it. Suddenly Halle grabs me by the shoulders. “I have an idea.”
Oh, no. I can see where this is going, and I don’t like it. Not one bit. “I’m not asking him out for you, if that’s what you have in mind. Forget it.”
“That’s not what I was going to say,” Halle replies. “Hear me out.”
“Fine.”
Just as Halle is about to tell me the thing I probably don’t want to hear, her eyes bug out like a TV cartoon character’s. I’m surprised her tongue doesn’t flop out of her mouth too. “Look,” she whispers. “But don’t turn around.”
“How can I look without turning around?” I whisper back. “It’s impossible.”
“Then do it fast. And don’t be obvious!”
As subtly as I can, I turn around to see what Halle’s all freaked out about—and why her fingernails are now digging into my arm. It’s not as bad as I thought. Michael is having a conversation with Olympia at the other end of the hall. “What’s the big deal?” I ask, pulling away from Halle. “Olympia talks to kids all the time.” And writes them emails. And invites them to her office to talk.
“I told you,” Halle says, blowing out air. “He likes me.”
“Just because he’s talking to Olympia? He could be telling her what he had for lunch, for all you know.”
“But he’s not,” Halle says. “Open your eyes and look.”
When I look again, I see that Halle’s not making things up. Michael is smiling at her. When he catches us staring, he waves.
“See?” Halle says. “That’s why I need you to talk to him. To find out if he likes me.”
“Why can’t you do it yourself?” I ask.
Halle looks at me as if I’ve got toilet paper stuck to my head. “You can’t just go up to a boy and ask if he likes you! It’s not done that way. How do you not know this?”
I raise my eyebrows at her.
“You know something, Kat? You really are different.” Halle gives me a playful jab in the ribs. “In a good way.”
“Um, thanks?”
“So, you’ll do it?” Halle is smiling now.
“Do what?”
“Ask Michael if he likes me!”
“I’ll think about it,” I say, rubbing my sore ribs.
“Great!” Halle smiles wider. “Kat?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you know that Michael does the best arm fart? He made one before homeroom this morning and it was so realistic. You’d think he was actually farting.”
“Halle?”
“Yeah?”
“Would you please stop talking about Michael? It’s making my head hurt.”
Halle gives me another playful punch. “You’re funny.”
No, I’m not, I think. I’m dead serious.