Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages) (29 page)

THANKSGIVING PASSED WITHOUT TOO MUCH excitement. We went over to my grandparents’ house with some relatives for dinner, then
watched college football where all the dads fell asleep in their chairs and Chris and my cousins and I decorated them with
pieces of popcorn while they snored on.

The next week was crammed with studying for exams and I-Club stuff—we still had a lot to do before our February or March launch.
Mark stopped me in the hall a few times but we didn’t talk long because I was always in a hurry and, if I was honest, because
I didn’t want to give him a chance to ask me out or do anything weird. We were
friends
and I was insane over Jeff Massey and I wanted to keep it that way, nice and simple.

“You are one hard person to pin down,” Mark said the Wednesday before we officially got out for winter break. “What’s up?”

“Just crazy,” I said, not slowing my pace as I headed to my locker. “Studying, working on the website, you know.”

“Yeah, well let’s do something over the break,” he said, matching my pace.

“Sure,” I said. “Call me.”

“Why don’t you call me?”

I looked at him. “Okay,” I said. “
I’ll
call
you.
”

“You’d better,” he said, shoving me playfully before turning down another hall toward his class.

“Right,” I muttered, just as the bell rang.

“I think Jon is going to break up with me,” Jilly said the second we sat down on the bus that afternoon.

“Not again,” I said. “Jilly, you’ve got to stop doing this to yourself. Besides, even the stupidest boy wouldn’t break up
right before Christmas and Bus Boy is not stupid.”

“So you think he’s going to break up with me
after
Christmas?” “Jilly!”

“Okay, I’m sorry. I’m just getting this weird vibe.”

“You’re just being paranoid,” I said. How many times were we going to have this conversation? “Just think how excited he’s
going to be when you give him his present.” She had gotten him this cool speaker setup for his iPod. It must have cost her
all of her savings.

“You’re right,” she said, sighing. “I know you’re right. Still—”

“Stop it, Jilly,” I said. “You’re going to marry him.”

Over the break, I saw Jilly almost every day and Mark, Rosie, and Tyler a couple of times at the Y. The day before Christmas
Mark gave me a present—a necklace with a basketball on it.

“I didn’t know we were giving each other presents,” I said. “I didn’t get you anything.” I wasn’t sure how I felt. I mean,
it was jewelry, which usually meant romance, but it had a basketball on it, which wasn’t very romantic. But the basketball
was silver, which was.

So what did that mean?

“That’s okay,” he said. “This isn’t much. I just saw it and thought you might like it.” He looked at me closely. “It doesn’t
mean anything, Erin. It’s just something I saw.”

I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved. “Okay. Thanks.” I put it on and he smiled.

“Looks good,” he said.

I felt guilty so I gave him a gift card to Sports Authority the day after Christmas. He thanked me but didn’t seem too excited
about it.

“I thought you could pick out something you want,” I said.

“Sure,” he said. But I had a sinking feeling he was bummed because I hadn’t picked out something for him, like he’d picked
out something for me, even though he said it was something he’d just seen and decided to get for me.

Can we just have an uncomplicated friendship, please?

Our first week back after the holiday, I was walking toward the lunch room when I spotted Mr. F cleaning the floor outside
the boy’s bathroom. He straightened up slowly. His breath came faster, like he’d climbed a long flight of stairs.

“You okay, Mr. F?”

“Fine, fine,” Mr. F said, brushing away my question with a rag.

“But you seem—”

“Mr. Foslowski, there you are!” Puppet Porter rushed toward us. “There seems to have been a slight… incident in the science
lab. I was just about to page you.”

“I’m on my way,” Mr. F said, reaching for his cart. His movements were slow and deliberate, like he was unsure if his body
would do what he wanted it to do.

“See you later, Mr. F,” I called after him.

He waved his hand but didn’t look back and didn’t say anything.

It was the first time I could remember that we didn’t knock fists.

*   *   *

“So, my parents said I could bring a bunch of friends up on the ski train in February for my birthday,” Carla said, handing
out invitations near her locker that afternoon. “Who’s in?”

How fun would that be, riding up on the train to Winter Park, going to the snack car, hanging out with everyone before and
after a great day of skiing?

“Me,” I said, along with everyone else.

“Think your parents will let you?” Mark asked.

I scowled. Did he have to bring that up? “They’d better,” I said, “or I’m sneaking out.”

“Now you’re talking,” Tyler said, grinning. “We’ll help.”

When I got home after I-Club, Jilly was sitting in the living room, her face blotchy with tears.