I must have cried myself to sleep, because I woke up to the sound of the phone ringing and Allie shouting, “Sam!”
I looked at my alarm clock and it said 7:00. Panic time! I had slept through the night without even realizing it, and I was going to be late for school! I threw on some leggings and a T-shirt, grabbed my backpack, and ran downstairs. As soon as I looked at the table and the sky outside the kitchen window, I could see my mistake. There was a box and three plates on the table. Two of the plates had pizza crust on them and a third was clean. The sun outside the window was setting in the sky, not rising. It was seven p.m.! I hadn’t slept the whole night. I had just taken a really long nap.
I felt disoriented and fuzzy, and that feeling didn’t get better when Allie asked, “What are you doing, Sam?”
“I’m just going to have some pizza,” I said, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. “I wasn’t feeling well before. I guess I fell asleep.”
“Okay, that’s fine,” Allie said. “But what about the phone?”
Allie waved the receiver around in the air. Right, the phone. It had rung, and Allie had called me. That must mean the phone call was for me. My brain cells were obviously not fully awake yet. Duh.
Allie put her hand over the receiver and whispered loudly, “It’s Michael.”
Great. I couldn’t get out of talking to him now. He had probably heard everything Allie and I said to each other before that. I grabbed the receiver and walked into the hall.
“Hello?” I said, trying to not sound like I had just woken up.
“Hey, Sam,” Michael said. “I just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” I replied. “Why, is something wrong?”
“Oh, well, you know, everything that happened today in the meeting,” he stammered. “And then I tried texting you, and I called your cell a couple of times, and I started to get worried when you didn’t answer.”
I unzipped my backpack and took out my cell phone. Sure enough, I had missed texts and phone calls from Michael. It figured. It was that kind of a day.
“Sorry. I just got busy and I forgot to take my phone out of my backpack,” I answered. “I’m fine, really.”
“I don’t think Hailey was trying to hurt you with her idea,” Michael said. “It’s not like other newspapers haven’t gone digital.”
“Thank you for saying that. I disagree, though,” I replied. “I think Hailey knew exactly what she was doing. It’s fine. I don’t really care anymore.”
“Of course you care,” Michael said. “You’re best friends.”
“Were best friends,” I corrected him. “Not are. I don’t even know if we’re friends at all anymore.”
“That’s pretty drastic, don’t you think?” Michael asked.
I never would have imagined that I would want a conversation with Michael to end, but this one needed to, badly. I was already on the verge of tears again, and I didn’t want Michael to be on the other end of my latest sob fest.
“Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t,” I said. “I don’t really want to talk about it. We have an article to write and a paper to save. Are you in or out?”
“I’m in, Pasty.” Michael laughed. “We’ll talk more tomorrow. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and obviously you are.”
“I am,” I said. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.”
I hung up the phone and turned to find Allie looking at me suspiciously.
“Is everything okay?” she asked.
I know Allie was being nicer to me lately, but I didn’t want to cry in front of her, either. So I didn’t. I snapped.
“WHY DOES EVERYONE KEEP ASKING ME THAT?” I screamed. “I’LL BE FINE IF YOU ALL JUST LEAVE ME ALONE!”
I grabbed my backpack and started to storm back up to my room. Then I turned around, grabbed two slices of pizza, plopped them on a plate, and stormed up to my room. All that sobbing can make a girl hungry.
I heard Mom come out of her office and Allie whisper something like, “I don’t know, maybe puberty hormones.” I almost turned back around to throw my pizza at her, but decided it was better not to start another fight at the moment.
I was annoyed, but I couldn’t help but laugh when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
“Gee, Martone, that would have been awkward,” I said to myself as I realized that I had been planning to rush to school with uncombed hair, a pair of leggings that had a juice stain on the front of them, and a T-shirt that I had outgrown six months ago. Allie would have definitely disowned me if that had happened. Ugh, plus my eyes were red and puffy. I totally looked like I had been crying.
I sat in front of the computer. I was definitely not emotionally ready to start on the Green Team story. I didn’t even want to think about what had happened today. I figured I could make a dent in the Dear Know-It-All column and put my mind on someone else’s problems. I almost wished that I could have written myself a letter about what happened with Hailey. But that would have been too obvious. Besides, I wouldn’t have a clue how to answer it.
Mr. Trigg had forwarded me some Dear Know-It-All e-mails that he had reviewed, so I started to read through them. One of them was a topic I hadn’t gotten before.
Dear Know-It-All,
I have a sweater that my grandmother knit for me. She made it a few years ago, when I didn’t care about fashion so much. It is definitely NOT a fashion statement. I used to wear it all the time, but now that I’m getting older, I’m worried that it’s not such a good fit anymore. (It fits fine; you know what I mean.) I’m torn, because I feel good when I wear it. It makes me feel close to her, and it’s so comfortable. Could the sweater and I have outgrown each other? Should I give it to someone else and move on?
—A Tight Fit
I looked around my room. Allie had placed sticky notes on almost every item in it. An X meant that I should throw it away. A plus sign meant that I should keep it. A question mark meant that Allie didn’t know what to do with it.
But there were some X’s that I wasn’t sure I was ready to give up yet. I wasn’t even sure I was ready to give up the way my room looked anyway. I know Mom was excited about redecorating, and I was, too, but now I looked around and saw that my room was full of memories. Allie had put a lot of X’s on my paper piles, and there was a big X on the bulletin board that was splattered with ridiculous headlines like Jellyfish Apocalypse Not Coming and Alien Baby Looks Like Katy Perry. I knew that the bulletin board wasn’t the most stylish thing in the room, and that it wasn’t even particularly necessary, but it made me even sadder to think about losing it when I remembered that Hailey had contributed at least five of the headlines. That was when she was a real best friend, when she knew how much I cared about newspapers and had taken the time to cut out funny headlines for me. Now she just wanted to banish them forever.
The letter made me think about Hailey, too. Was I like a grandma-knit sweater that she had outgrown? Maybe this was just her way of sabotaging our friendship so she could move on to some new, improved best friend. I mean, I was part of the twenty-first century, too. It was a little hard to avoid that, considering it was the century we were living in. But I didn’t think that being modern meant getting rid of everything from the past. I read books on my tablet, but sometimes I still wanted to curl up with a real book, to feel the pages flip through my fingers, to fold a page over and then find my spot later. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with that.
I decided that the grandma-sweater letter would be my choice for this issue’s column, and I sent Mr. Trigg a quick e-mail to get his approval. He usually trusted my instincts, so I didn’t think it would be a problem. I typed a few notes about how I might respond to the letter and then shut my computer down.
Because of my extralong nap, I wasn’t very tired and I didn’t think my sleep routine was going to help, so I decided to exert some energy and start going through some of the piles in my room. Some of the things that had an X on them were definitely destined for the trash, like the piles of article drafts and old homework.
Others I wasn’t sure about yet. There were books that I could donate because I knew I’d never read them again and books that I was sure I’d never part with because I wanted to read them over and over again, but there was another group of books that I just liked having around, even though I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get back to them. I’m sure Allie would talk me into getting rid of them, too, but it wasn’t a decision I was ready to make on my own, so I put them in a Maybe box.
Other things in the Maybe box included tickets to the movies Hailey and I had gone to together, flyers from school sports events (the ones Michael had participated in), article drafts with Mr. Trigg’s comments on them, and printouts of photos that I had stored digitally on my computer.
I had already filled two recycling bags with paper, so I carried them down to put them in the recycling can outside.
“I’m impressed,” Allie said. “I didn’t think you’d ever throw out even one piece of paper.”
Allie was at the kitchen counter, packing some snacks for tomorrow’s lunch.
“Me either,” I confessed. “I’m still not ready for a clean sweep. I have a big Maybe box.”
“I have an idea,” Allie said. “Why don’t you leave your Maybe box with me? If it’s not too personal, I mean. I might have a different perspective on the stuff.”
“Supposedly I’m not very good at seeing different perspectives,” I said.
“Who said that?” Allie asked. “Some teacher?”
“No, and I don’t want to talk about it,” I said. “I’ll put the Maybe box in your room. You can do whatever you want with it.”
“You’re really coming along, Sammy-pants,” Allie said.
She knew that I hated when she called me that. She didn’t care, obviously. I didn’t either right now, having heard worse from my best friend.
“What about colors?” Allie asked. “Did you like any of my ideas?”
“No offense, Allie-baba,” I said, hitting back with the nickname that she wasn’t fond of. “But I’m not as ‘colorful’ a person as you are. I’d rather go with something more neutral. Maybe black and white. Like a newspaper.”
“How bold,” Allie said. “That’s never been done before.”
“Whatever.” I sighed. “If you want to help, fine. If not, I don’t care.”
“I think you need another nap,” Allie retorted.
“Maybe,” I said.
I grabbed a handful of carrot sticks and went back upstairs. I carried my Maybe box into Allie’s room and then changed back into my pajamas. My room was already starting to look more organized. I tried to focus on that and not my fight with Hailey so I could go back to sleep. Because I knew if I thought about Hailey, I’d be up all night.