On Sunday morning, the day of Mr. Bachinsky’s concert, I’m still on cloud nine from the date on Friday. I can’t believe it – Peter nearly kissed me!
Leaning on one elbow over my half-eaten bowl of cereal, I relive the moment when he gazed at me with that expression in his eyes. Maybe I’ll sit with him this afternoon at the concert, and who knows what’ll happen after that.
The abrupt ring of the phone interrupts my daydream. I dive to answer it before Dylan does.
“Hello?” I say in a cool voice, hoping it’s Peter.
“Kira?” Disappointment fills me – it’s a girl. “It’s me, Taylor.”
Stunned, I don’t respond for a few seconds. “Ah … hi,” I finally say.
“What are you doing this afternoon?” Her voice trembles like she’s on the verge of tears.
“Um, well, Dylan’s playing in a recital and ...” I stop, realizing I sound like a nerd.
“Oh,” she says in a small voice.
“But I don’t have to go. I mean, I don’t want to go at all. My mom’s making me.” I wrap the cord around my finger.
“Oh, really?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, do you think you could help me with my science project?” Her voice sounds desperate. “I have no idea where to start, and it’s due tomorrow.”
“Ah …” I think of Peter, but memories of playdates with Taylor crowd out my thoughts of him – recollections of the good old days when we had our dog shows in the backyard on hot, summer days. I want to see Peter, but she’s really stuck, and she’s so popular. I teeter between the two choices.
“What time?” I twist the cord some more.
“One o’clock, at my house?”
I hesitate, then say, “Okay.”
“Thanks, Kira. You’re the best.” She sounds so relieved. “See you later. Bye.”
“Bye.”
I hang up the phone and unwrap the cord from around my finger. I can’t believe it! The most popular girl in the school wants to spend the afternoon with me? I beam.
“Who was that?” asks Mom, spooning cooled rice on flattened green seaweed. She’s gotten up early to make sushi for the concert
“It was Taylor.” I try to sound like it’s no big deal at all. “She wants help with her science project this afternoon.”
“So you’re not coming to the concert?”
I risk a bit of sarcasm. “Mom, it’s not like I’m playing in it or anything.”
She rolls up the seaweed and rice. “Well, okay, but you’ll be missing some delicious food.”
I eye the plate of sushi. “Yeah, but Taylor’s really desperate.”
“Well, maybe I could bring some back for you after the concert, okay?”
“Sure.” I’m amazed at how understanding Mom can be sometimes.
I purposely arrive at Taylor’s house five minutes late. It’s a quaint little home, all neat and tidy inside. Her slim, brunette, beauty contest mom is just as pretty as ever and welcomes me as though Taylor and I never stopped being friends. Even her dog Tippy waddles to me, his tail wagging his chubby little bum.
“Hi, Tippy.” I reach down to stroke his wiry, white fur. “You still remember me, don’t you? The dog shows?”
“He sure does,” says Taylor’s mom. “But he’s gotten kind of old and fat since you last saw him. Taylor doesn’t have as much time to walk him anymore.”
It’s true, his sides bulge so much he looks like a big, round snowball.
“Hi, Kira.” Taylor wanders down the stairs wearing blue jeans and a sweatshirt, her eyes puffy.
“Hi. I brought some books for you to use.”
“Thanks,” she says.
“We really appreciate you doing this,” says Taylor’s mom.
“Yeah. I’ve been seriously stuck.”
Her mom takes my coat and tucks a hanger neatly inside before placing it in the closet. “Taylor was in tears this morning, so I suggested she call you. I remembered you were a really good student.”
My mood falls. Am I only here to tutor Taylor? For a few seconds, I feel disappointed, but then realize, it’s a start – a chance to be friends again.
Taylor leads me to the kitchen table where we begin to work. I show her how to lay her project out and explain the things she needs to know. It’s slow going, but by four o’clock she’s nearly finished. She’s always struggled with science, but I don’t mind. After all, we’ve been friends a long time, and friends help each other out.
When I get home, Dylan meets me at the door. “You missed some really good food,” he says.
“No, Mom saved me some.”
Mom shakes her head. “Sorry, honey. It all went so fast.”
I drop my shoes and let out an exasperated sigh, wondering what leftovers I’ll be stuck eating for supper.
“But you sure missed a good concert. Peter and Charlotte played really well.”
“And me too,” insists Dylan. “And Mr. Bachinsky played a fiddling tune at the end.”
“Did everyone laugh?” I ask.
“Yes, and Dylan and Charlotte joined him in playing another. They were quite the hit!” Mom says.
A twinge of regret runs through me, but I shake it away. Who cares about Mr. Bachinsky’s concert? I spent the afternoon with the most popular girl at school, and Peter nearly kissed me. Things are so looking up.
I hop up the stairs to my room and open up my e-mail on my computer. Typing in Charlotte’s name, I write:
Charlotte,
Sorry I couldn’t go to the concert. I heard it was fun. I had to help Taylor with her science project.
Kira
I imagine the surprise on her face when she reads my message. Won’t she be floored? But by nine o’clock, she still hasn’t answered.
The next day, Charlotte is quiet and distant as we walk to school. I wonder if she’s jealous.
After dropping off Dylan, I ask her, “So, did you get my e-mail?”
“What?” Charlotte says like her brain is in a fog. “E-mail? I didn’t check last night.”
“Oh. I heard you played really well yesterday and that Mr. Bachinsky played a fiddling tune.”
Charlotte barely hears me. She’s in some kind of trance. I tell her all about Taylor and the science project, but halfway through the story, I can tell her mind is elsewhere.
“Charlotte, are you even listening to me?”
She smiles dreamily. “Kira, I have something to tell you.”
“What?” I sense she’s going announce bad news.
Charlotte slows down her pace, and then blurts out, “Peter asked me to go out with him.”
“Out where?” I ask, confused. “You mean like the date we had on Friday? Oh, good. When are we going?”
“No.” her face is lit up. “You know – out, as in steady!”
It’s like a bomb drops on me and explodes my whole being. How can this be? Peter nearly kissed me the other night, and that was only three days ago.
A lump forms in my throat, but I manage to squeak out a few words. “Steady? But I thought he liked me.”
She smiles and begins chattering away like she thinks I’ll be happy for her. “So did I, but it turns out it was me he was after all along, but because he was so shy, he kept talking to you instead. Like remember the dance we went to?”
My head whirls. “But I thought you wanted me to go out with him.”
Charlotte flips her hand like what she did was perfectly okay when it’s not. “I did, but then yesterday, he sat with me at the concert, and then walked me home.”
The lump in my throat grows larger, and I can’t speak.
“He even held my hand.” Charlotte drops her voice low as though it’s some sort of exciting secret.
I force myself to swallow the hard lump and push out a few words. “But … he’s so shy.”
“Not that shy.” Charlotte babbles on. “He kissed me too – on the cheek. Isn’t that cute?” She squeezes her shoulders up to her neck and smiles.
The rest of the walk is pure agony, hearing her tell how my crush had wanted to ask her to dance at Halloween, but had asked me instead. About how he sat in the library with me hoping she would show up. About how he wanted to go to a movie just the two of them. And worst of all, how when I thought he wanted to kiss me, he was trying to get up the nerve to ask me if she liked him. My insides are torn, and I feel like turning around and running home.
But I know I have to face the day, so I do the only thing I can. I paste on a phoniest smile I can muster, and like an Oscar nominee, I put on the greatest performance of my life, pretending I’ve never really been that interested in Peter. The only consolation I have, is knowing I’m nearly in with the IGs.
The day drags on. I feel dead inside and can’t wait to get home to the safety of my room where I can bury my head in my pillow and cry my eyes out, but the hands of the clock barely crawl.
At lunch, Peter joins us, but it’s not the same anymore. All his attention is focussed on Charlotte, and they act like I’m not even there. Not only have I lost Peter, but I’m losing my BFF too.
After lunch, Peter walks Charlotte to her class, leaving me behind. They don’t even say good-bye. Miserable, I grab my things from our locker and hurry down another hall.
From a distance, I see Taylor and the IGs standing by the cafeteria. Taking a deep breath, I approach them.
“Hi, Taylor.” I put on my most confident smile even though my stomach’s whirling around.
Taylor shifts uncomfortably. “Oh … hi Kira,” she says, like I’m interrupting some juicy gossip. “Ah … thanks for helping me yesterday. I couldn’t have done it without you. I handed it in this morning.”
“She helped you?” Sydney looks at Taylor like she’s gone nuts.
“Yeah.” Taylor shrugs. “She’s really smart.”
“And you did just great, Taylor,” I say, sounding like a teacher and wishing I could take my words back the minute they were out of my mouth.
Taylor squirms a bit, exchanges awkward glances with the others, and then turns to leave, the IGs close on her heels. “Well anyway, thanks.”
They leave me standing there all by myself even though they know full well we’re all headed to the same class. And that’s when reality strikes me – I’m dead alone!