24

The first day of sixth grade. New building. New teachers. New kids.

“You ready for this?” asked Dad. “Middle school. I can’t believe it.”

I was too nervous to answer. I unbuckled my seat belt and slid out of the car. Normally I would take the bus. Dad only drove me because it was the first day. Mom had offered to reschedule her first meeting and come with us, but I’d had all the pep talks I could take.

Unlike Mom, Dad understood that this was not the time for deep conversations or, worst of all, a good-luck kiss.

I put my backpack over one shoulder as Dad’s car was swept away in the rapidly moving drop-off line. I’d been in the middle school building before. Last year, in fifth grade, we’d taken a tour as a class. We’d walked in a single-file line, shuffling awkwardly as we tried to take everything in without banging into the person in front of us.

Now there was no line, just a random spread of kids. It was up to me to decide which way to move.

Quinn stood in a tight bunch with her normal group of friends, with one exception. Marin was a few feet away. When Quinn had come to my door without Marin, I’d assumed that Marin had been busy, or maybe on vacation with her family. Now I wondered if something had happened between them over the summer.

I was so used to Marin and Quinn sticking side by side, their friendship the ultimate sign of their strength. Standing apart they just looked like nervous sixth graders. Quinn flipped her hair. Marin wrapped the strap of her backpack around her finger.

I was still drawn to them. Maybe I always would be. But instead of feeling desperate, I was simply curious about what had happened between them.

“Abby,” said a voice at my side. “Hello. How have you been?”

I would recognize that voice anywhere. Formal and stiff, with a bit of a squeak. And also, a lot of kindness. Oliver Frank! Finally!

“Oliver, where have you been? I made my mom drive by your house a hundred million times.”

“There was a technology retreat that I had to cover for work and then my family went on vacation. I only returned home yesterday. Thankfully the lectures were enormously enlightening. Did you know—”

“Oh,” I said, cutting Oliver off before he went on to describe what exactly was so enlightening. There was something important I’d been waiting to tell him. “I’m sorry for leaving camp without saying good-bye. I was really embarrassed about everything.”

“You didn’t need to be.”

“That’s not how it felt at the time. I didn’t think I could face it.”

Oliver tilted his face toward the sky. He was trying to understand, but he would never really get it. Oliver was comfortable with himself in a way that I was just starting to be.

Before Camp Famous, I’d thought Oliver’s comfort stemmed from being a little out of it. Now I knew it came from how he felt inside, not that he missed what was going on around him on the outside.

It also helped that Oliver had a whole other life. Everyone needed a break from being themselves for a bit. When being Oliver Frank became too dull or maybe lonely, he could step into the role of Francis Oliver. When being famous became too invasive, the kids at camp could spend three weeks in privacy.

What was I supposed to do when things got hard? When the enormous middle school building rose in front of me and kids began to gather in groups to walk up the front steps together? I still hadn’t figured that out.

I knew what not to do. Lying, faking, pretending to be somebody different was not the answer. And neither was trying to deal with it on my own.

“Oliver,” I said. “Do you think we’ll be in any of the same classes?”

“I hope so, Abby. That would be nice.”

“Yeah, it would be.”

Oliver and I walked together, side by side, toward the school building.

Quinn called out to me. “Hey, Abby. I’m so excited to see you. Did you read that Kai Carter’s tour is coming here soon? I thought maybe we could all go as one big group?” She looked back at her waiting friends. “Do you think you can get us backstage passes?”

Oliver raised one eyebrow. Quinn had looked right past him as if he didn’t exist.

“Oh,” I said. “I can’t. I’m going with Oliver. But maybe we’ll see you there.”

I pulled Oliver forward, away from Quinn and her confused stare.

“I would love to attend Kai’s concert with you, Abby,” said Oliver. “That sounds like a lot of fun. Maybe Kai wants to come over for dinner before he goes onstage. I’ll text him after school.”

“Perfect,” I said. “We can make cupcakes with gummy bears on top for dessert, just like at camp.”

“Just like at camp.”

Oliver and I walked into the middle school building. We were in separate homerooms, but we made a plan to meet up for lunch. I found my locker halfway down a long hall. Marin opened the locker next to mine.

“Oh my gosh, Abby,” she said. “We’re locker neighbors. I’m so glad.”

“You are?”

“Totally. I was so worried all summer long about my locker and who I would be next to. Stupid, right? I mean, it’s just a locker. But the school tells us who’s in our homeroom, so I knew I didn’t have to worry about that. I just—”

Marin paused. She looked over her shoulder, even though no one could hear us over the metallic banging of the locker doors.

“Quinn and I had a big fight this summer,” continued Marin. “She hates me and she turned everyone against me. Which isn’t that surprising. We were growing apart for a while. Quinn’s just not very . . . nice, you know? So I’m on my own, I guess. Time to make some new friends!”

Marin spoke with fake cheer. She was clearly nervous. I was so shocked that Marin—pretty, nice, popular Marin—was worried about making friends that I forgot about my backpack resting on the edge of my open locker.

When I took a step forward to make room for everyone walking by, the backpack fell to the ground and landed on its side. None of my books fell out. But when I bent down to pick it up, a tiny pink object rolled out from the open front pocket.

Wilbur! The adorable pig eraser with the curlicue tail that Marin had given to me last year. In all the excitement of camp, I’d forgotten that I’d packed him in my backpack along with my notebook. Poor little guy. He had been trapped in there all summer.

Or maybe, he’d been hiding all summer. Waiting for the perfect time to reappear.

I handed Wilbur to Marin. “You probably don’t remember,” I said. “But you gave this eraser to me last year when I was having a bad day. I think he’s good luck. Why don’t you take him today?”

Marin placed Wilbur upright in her open palm. “Of course I remember. He’s so cute. Are you sure? I don’t want to take him from you if he’s good luck.”

“I’m sure,” I said. “I want you to have him.”

“Wow. Thanks so much. So I’ll see you back here after first period? I’ll report on anything lucky that happens. Like maybe not running into you-know-who!”

I smiled. “I’ll meet you right here.”

“And Abby,” called Marin. “Maybe you can take him with you to second period. You know, for good luck.”

“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds great. I need all the luck I can get.”

“It’s middle school,” said Marin. “I bet we’ll be passing him back and forth all year long.”