Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Planet Girl (6 page)

TWO WORDS: HAIR GEL

To me, there's one thing that's more important than anything else if you want to be irresistible to the ladies.

The hair's gotta be working.

For me, it's all about the hair gel. Throw a little on in the morning, make the hair a little spiky to show a little confidence, and then you're ready to roll. Think about the attitude. If you treat yourself like the real deal, that's how the girls will treat you, too.

And if that doesn't work, then just buy them stuff.

 

14

“Hey, Katie. Listen,
I have something I have to say to you. I've been meaning to tell you this for a long time. You know how I liked Hannah, like, forever? And then, I liked Zoe, but she moved away? And you know how I used to talk about all that stuff with you, and you were so nice and helpful about it? And you know how then you went out with Nareem, and that was great, but then you decided that maybe you didn't like him that way anymore? Well, guess what? I think I know why I don't have a girlfriend and you don't have a boyfriend. I think it's because maybe deep down, we both know the truth. We both know what's really happening here. Don't you agree?”

I waited for the answer for a long time, but none came.

Maybe that's because mirrors can't talk.

*   *   *

That's right, I was talking to the mirror.

What? You expected me to just waltz over to her house and sweep her off her feet, like in some movie?

Well, sorry. Real life doesn't work that way.

So, yeah, I was in the bathroom, practicing. I was planning on talking to Katie in school the next morning, and I wanted to be prepared. I figured I had only one shot at this thing, and I didn't want to blow it.

I was halfway through my third rehearsal when there was a knock on the door.

More like a bang, actually.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“What are you doing in there?” Megan yelled from outside. “I need to get my hairbrush!”

“One minute,” I yelled.

“I'll give you three seconds,” she said, and she wasn't exaggerating. Three seconds later, more banging.

“Fine!”

I opened the door, and she ran in, grabbed the brush, and ran out.

“What's your problem?” I shouted after her.

“You are!” she shouted back.

I followed her back into her room, where at least seven books were spread out in front of her.

“Seriously, what is your problem?”

“Finals,” she said, typing on her laptop with one hand and combing her hair with the other. “Finals are my problem.”

Whenever my sister gets nervous she combs her hair, and finals—short for final exams—make everyone nervous. Even my incredibly smart sister. I think it might be the most dreaded word in all of high school.

In any case, a room with seven books spread out in it was no place for a person like me. I started to leave quietly.

“Charlie Joe, you have no idea how lucky you are.”

Right that minute, I wasn't feeling all that lucky. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Megan said, “that you're still a kid. You don't have to worry about any of this stuff. Finals, colleges, school. I mean, think about it. Your grades don't even count!”

That stopped me in my tracks. My grades don't
count
? How could that be possible? My parents had been after me to get good grades since before I was born.

“Hold on a second. What are you talking about?”

Megan rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows that they don't start keeping track of your GPA until high school.”

“Who's ‘they'? And what's a GPA?”

“‘They' are the colleges. And ‘GPA' stands for grade point average. Why do you think I'm killing myself with all this stuff? Colleges are all about your GPA and test scores. But none of that matters for you.”

“Why not?”

“Because you're not in high school yet!” Megan snapped. “All I can say is, enjoy your little middle school life with your little middle school problems while you still can.”

I wanted to get out of there before she got so stressed out she threw her hairbrush at me, but I had to make sure I heard her correctly. “Wait a second. You mean, because I'm in middle school, my grades don't matter at all in terms of college and stuff?”

She nodded jealously. “Yup, you little worm. You can get A's or C's—it's all the same.”

Wow! Things were definitely looking up.

Then she sighed and pointed at her huge pile of books. “But don't worry, my little friend—someday soon, all this will be yours.”

She picked up a book and started to read, which was my cue to leave.

Someday soon
, maybe.

But not yet.

 

15

As soon as I got
to school the next day, I knew word was out that I kissed Hannah Spivero.

I could tell because all the kids I didn't know very well looked at me as if I was the coolest kid on earth, and all of my friends looked at me as if I was the worst kid on earth.

Jake was first.

“I don't want to talk to you right now,” he said, when he saw me coming.

“Jake—”

“Stop. I know what happened, and I just don't want to talk about it.”

“Well, I'm really, really sorry. Hannah was really upset. Please don't blame her.”

Jake glanced up at me, and I could see the hurt in his eyes. “I don't,” he said. “I blame you.”

I got similar treatment from everyone else in the gang: Timmy, Eliza, Nareem, even the new kid, Emory, whom I'd given advice to about Eliza. Talk about ungrateful!

I didn't get similar treatment from Katie, though, because I didn't get
any
treatment from Katie. She just kept smiling that fake smile at me, which was way worse than if she'd yelled at me, to tell you the truth.

Hannah was the only one who was a little nice to me, because I think she felt a little guilty and knew it wasn't
all
my fault. But she was way more concerned with making Jake feel better than she was with making me feel better, and I couldn't blame her for that.

And then there was Pete.

Pete Milano—the most obnoxious, irritating kid in the whole school, but still somehow a good friend of mine—was the only one who acted normal to me. But that's how Pete is. He just wants to have a good time, and he doesn't judge. I guess he's kind of like a dog that way.

I sat next to Pete in Social Studies. Usually he drove me crazy, but today, I was just grateful to have someone to talk to. (Really quietly, since you're not supposed to talk in class.)

“Hey, Pete,” I whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for not being mad at me like everyone else.”

“Why would I be mad? It's not like you kissed my girlfriend. And by the way, if you ever do kiss Mareli, I will punch you in the worst place on your body to get punched. I think you know where I'm talking about.”

Note to self: Never kiss Mareli.

It seemed like a good time to change the subject. “Hey, Pete, did you know our grades don't matter until we get to high school?”

“Cool!” Pete seemed excited by the news, but I'm not sure why. I was pretty sure he was going to get the exact same grades in high school that he was getting now. Bad ones.

“Mr. Jackson, Mr. Milano, I'll thank you to hold your tongues,” said Ms. Albone, our teacher.

Pete actually started holding his tongue. “Oww, it hurtsth,” he wailed, laughing.

“Sorry, Ms. Albone,” I said.

Pete winked at me and said way too loudly, “Grades don't count in middle school, remember? You said!”

“
Shhh!
” I hissed, but I was too late—Ms. Albone was walking over to my desk.

Oh, great
.

“Did you really say that, Charlie Joe? That grades don't count in middle school?”

“I—can't remember.”

She shook her head sadly and headed back to the front of the classroom. “As I was saying,” she said, “for our last big assignment of the year, I'm asking students to write a five-page paper on anyone they consider to be a personal hero. They can be alive or dead, young or old, male or female. It's totally up to you. But you have to make a very convincing case why they're your hero. This will rely on everything we've learned this year about how to state a point of view clearly, and then how to back it up with examples and research.”

Ugh.

A five-page paper.

I was going to have to use some pretty big margins.

Jill Farnak's hand went up in the front row. “Um, Ms. Albone? Is it okay if the hero is a friend?”

“Well,” Ms. Albone said, “you have to really believe they're a hero. They can't just be heroic because they're your friend.”

Jill looked crushed. “Okay.”

A few more kids asked questions, but my admittedly limited attention span had just about run out. I started thinking about everything that had happened over the last couple of days. I was exhausted. So much had gone wrong, and now I had to worry about a five-page paper! But there were a few good things to remember. At least we had camp reunion weekend coming up. At least Katie was still talking to me, even if it was just fake talk about the dogs. And at least I knew that my grades still didn't really count. If only I could figure out a way to avoid doing any real research …

I raised my hand.

“Excuse me, Ms. Albone? Is it okay if the person is a family member?”

Ms. Albone smiled. “Well, I'd have to say yes to that one. It's perfectly acceptable if you decide to write about someone in your own family. I'm sure they would be very honored! Although, I would prefer not to get twenty-four papers about your mothers and fathers.”

Yes!
As far as I knew, there were no biographies yet written about anybody in my family. Which meant, I didn't have to read any.

So which member of my family should I write about?

I looked across the room and saw Katie, taking notes like she always did. I still had my big speech I wanted to give her. When was I going to do it? What was she going to say? She was probably going to laugh at me. A speech wasn't going to do it. I had to prove myself some other way. I had to show her who I really was—a decent person. I had to—

“Charlie Joe? Are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, Ms. Albone.”

She clucked her tongue in that disapproving teacher-y way. “I was just saying, no matter who you all decide to do your paper on, you still need to do some real research. No short cuts.”

“Yes, Ms. Albone.”

No short cuts.

I was starting to realize how true that was.

In school, and in life.

 

Eliza Collins's Guide to Romance