Fabulous Five 009 - The Boyfriend Dilemma (3 page)

"Jon!" Christie called as she followed him out of
the cafeteria. He spun around at the sound of her voice and stopped to wait for
her.

Christie rushed to catch up with him. "Can we go
outside and talk?"

He looked questioningly at her. "Sure."

When they reached the fence at the edge of the school
grounds, Christie struggled to find the right words. "Jon, when you saw me
with Tim yesterday, we were just talking. I accidentally bumped into him coming
out of Mr. Bell's office and dropped my books. He picked them up and carried
them to the door. That's all that happened. Really." She was suddenly
frustrated with herself for being apologetic, but she couldn't stand to have
Jon angry at her. Why were her emotions so mixed up? She wanted to tell him
that she needed more space, but she didn't want him to be angry or hurt. How
could she do both?

She hurried on while she still had the courage. "But I
need to talk to you about something else." She hesitated, drawing in a
deep breath. "You know I like you a lot, don't you?"

This time Jon smiled. "I guess I do."

"Well, I do. That's all there is to it. You should
never doubt that." She put her arm through his. "Besides The Fabulous
Five, you're my very best friend, and I want it to stay that way."

Christie took a deep breath and plunged on. "There's
something I'd like to ask you, though. It's something I've been thinking about
for a while."

"What's that?"

"This has nothing to do with any other boys. I don't
like
any
other boy as well as you," she said quickly. "But I'd
like for us to try being best friends for a while. Not boyfriend and girlfriend
like we've been, but best friends."

As Jon turned to stare at her, Christie could tell he was
hurt. She rushed to finish before she changed her mind.

"I feel like I need space right now. And it has nothing
to do with not liking you as much as ever. I just don't think I'm ready to go
steady, and that's kind of what we've been doing.
Oh, darn!
I'm not
saying it right." Christie bit her lower lip and frowned.

"I don't know how to say it so you'll understand."
Tears came to her eyes. "I really don't want to hurt you."

As Christie turned away, she felt Jon's hand on her
shoulder. He turned her around. "I thought we
were
good friends
already," he said. "Maybe I was wrong."

"No, you weren't wrong about that. I just think we
ought to date other people."

"Being best friends can't be all that bad," Jon
said gently. "What do you want to do? I'm not sure I know how to be best
friends with a girl."

Christie brushed away her tears. "We can do most of the
things we've always done together."

"Okay," he said, raising his head high. "I'm
not sure I totally understand, but I guess we can give it the old Wacko Junior
High try." He looked at his watch. "I guess we'd better get to class."

"Oh, gosh! You're right," she said. "I've got
to hurry. Everything is okay between us, isn't it? I'll see you later?"

"Sure," he answered. "I'll probably be in the
auditorium before you're through with your walkthrough meeting. I'm going to
start taking videos of The Dreadful Alternatives."

Christie gave him the brightest smile she could manage, then
hurried away to class.

By the time Christie got to the auditorium after school she
was panting. Everyone else was already standing up on the stage with Mr. Neal.
She rushed up the stairs and threw down her books just as Mr. Neal picked up
his blue folder to take attendance.

Christie looked around at the other team members as he
called their names. From the ninth grade there were Kyle Zimmerman, who was on
the Teen Court with Katie, Pam Wolthoff, Holly Davis, and Andy Trudeau. Tim
Riggs was standing with Brad Cochran, who was also an eighth-grader. Two other
eighth-graders, Daphne Alexandrou, and Jenni Linn were talking near them.
Curtis and Whitney were holding hands, and Melissa was sitting down, thumbing
through a notebook. Talk about last-minute cramming, Christie thought.

"Okay, everybody, listen up," said Mr. Neal. He
put down his folder and dodged a custodian who was sweeping the stage.

"This afternoon," he continued, "we're going
to walk through all the steps that will be taken in the Super Quiz match so you
will know what to expect tomorrow morning at tryouts, and you can concentrate
on answering the questions and not wondering what to do next. We're lucky. The
match with Trumbull will be here at Wakeman, and you'll have the home crowd
behind you.

"First, I want you to take seats at the two long tables
set up here on stage. At the match, each table will have two ninth-graders on
the right, two eighth-graders in the middle, and two seventh-graders on the
left. Today you can pretend that one team is Wakeman and the other is Trumbull."

"We're Wakeman, they're Trumbull," yelled Kyle and
Andy as they raced to get seats behind one of the tables.

"No way!" yelled Tim as he ran to the other table.

"Okay! Okay!" shouted Mr. Neal. "Neither side
really has to be Trumbull. You'll just be two different teams."

Next, Mr. Neal explained that the ninth-graders would be
asked the questions in each category first. As soon as one of them knew the
answer, he or she was supposed to slap the large button on the table at that
position. The light on the podium would flash, and the buzzer would sound.
Whoever hit the button first would get a chance to answer the question. If it
was answered correctly, that team got one point. If the answer was wrong, the
other team had a chance to answer the question on the rebound, and if they got
it right, they got two points. Then the eighth-graders would do the same thing,
followed by the seventh-graders.

As Mr. Neal was talking, Christie watched the musicians from
The Dreadful Alternatives carrying their instruments onto the stage. There were
two boys with guitars, a boy drummer, and a girl with a synthesizer. If the
girl was Kimm Taylor, Christie thought, she's not that cute.

Just then Jon came up the stairs carrying his camcorder. He
winked at Christie, and she almost melted with relief. Maybe he wasn't terribly
angry with her after all.

Just as Christie was about to focus on what Mr. Neal was
saying again, a thin girl with straight black hair that hung to her waist came
onto the stage. She had big almond-shaped eyes and her skin looked as smooth as
ivory. Christie did a double take. That must be Kimm Taylor, she thought.

Christie sneaked a glance at Jon. He was busy talking to the
drummer and wasn't paying any attention to Kimm. What difference does it make
anyway, Christie told herself firmly. Jon and I are just friends.

As the custodian started dusting the podium and cleaning the
tables, Jon's camcorder started making a
whrrring
sound. He was running
around the stage taking pictures from different angles. Glancing back at Mr.
Neal, Christie wondered how he could keep things straight with all the activity
going on around him.

"After we've had a round of questions for each of the
other categories," the teacher was saying, "we'll get to the current
events category. Answers for the current events are worth five points each and
can be answered by anyone, regardless of his or her grade. In the tryouts,
however, we'll stick with answering by grade. During the Trumbull match, keep
in mind that if you're wrong and the other team answers the question correctly
on the rebound, it's worth ten points. A team can catch up really fast with
current events.

"Does anyone have any questions?" Mr. Neal looked
from student to student, and no one spoke. "Okay, study hard and lots of
luck to you tomorrow."

"Are you feeling better now that we've had the
walk-through?" Tim asked Christie as they all began to file out of the
auditorium. She looked quickly to see if Jon was watching them. He was involved
with the band and was looking the other way. Kimm was standing very close to
Jon, and Christie couldn't help feeling a little twinge of jealousy.

"Much better," she said, giving Tim a bright
smile. "All I have to do now is memorize a whole history book, a whole
social studies book, a whole math book, and a whole science book."

"I hate to scare you, but the really tough part is the
current events category. That's the one people really bomb out on. The only way
to study for that is to read the whole encyclopedia and every current events
magazine that comes out."

"Oh, great! What am I supposed to do about that?"

"Nothing." He chuckled. "Some kids got it,
and some kids don't. You'll find out if you've got it when they ask you the
questions."

"You're really encouraging," she said. "I
thought I'd probably lie awake
half
the night worrying about the
tryouts. Now I'll stay awake
all
night."

"Any little way I can help," he kidded.

When they reached the big double doors at the front of
school, Christie stopped in her tracks.

"I've got to go," she said abruptly. "I'll
see you tomorrow." Tim gave her a puzzled look and waved good-bye.

As Christie rushed away down the nearest corridor, her mind
was racing. During the meeting she had noticed Tim looking at her several
times. She liked Tim. He was fun to be with, and when she stood near him, she
got goose bumps all over. But she liked Jon, too. Very much. Even if they had
agreed to try being best friends, she didn't want to push it too fast by seeing
someone else.

That evening, Christie spent most of her time cramming for
the tryouts. She went through all of her books and made a zillion notes to
remind her of the answers to possible questions. By the time she went to bed,
she felt as if her head would burst from all the things she had forced into it.
Every nook and cranny of my brain must be filled to overflowing, she thought.

Instead of lying awake the way she'd expected, she fell
asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. During the night she had a
dream about Jon and Tim.

She was looking out a window, and the two of them were
looking up at her.

"Go out with me," begged Jon, who was down on one
knee. "I'll make you the star of one of my videos."

"Forget him. Go out with me," said Tim. "I'll
help you study for the Super Quiz. I'll even help you do math problems."

"I'll make videos of you doing math problems,"
offered Jon, frowning at Tim.

Christie watched both boys carefully, hoping they wouldn't
start fighting. She only wanted to be friends with Jon, and she had never
thought about going out with Tim. In her dream she looked from one to the other
in total confusion—not knowing how to answer either of them.

"Okay, everyone," Mr. Neal called as the Super
Quiz team regrouped in the auditorium the next morning. "Please take the
seats you had yesterday."

After everyone was seated, he continued, "We almost had
a big problem this morning. I couldn't find my folder with the tryout questions
in it, but I talked to each of the contributing teachers and they gave me
copies of the questions. You're probably surprised to find out that all
teachers aren't perfect."

The boys made hooting noises, and the girls giggled.

"All right, I know you've been dying to do it, so get
it out of your systems.
Hit those buzzers
!
"

Hands flashed to slap the buttons that set off lights and
the buzzers, filling the room with
baaap
,
baaap
,
baaap.
Christie laughed and fought off Curtis Trowbridge, who was trying to hit her
buzzer, too.

"YOU CAN STOP NOW!" yelled Mr. Neal, and the
baaap
,
baaap
noises slowly quieted. Everyone was laughing and joking about who
had beaten whom and who had made the most noise.

"Remember," Mr. Neal continued, "the top two
scorers in each grade will represent Wakeman next Friday in the match against
Trumbull.

"Now, I'm going to throw a switch up here at the podium,
and from now on only the buzzer and the light connected to the button that is
hit
first
will go off." Suddenly one buzzer sounded and a light blinked.
Mr. Neal frowned jokingly at Brad Cochran.

"Okay, LET THE GAMES BEGIN!" Mr. Neal called out
dramatically. The questioning started with the ninth-graders in the social
studies category, and then Mr. Neal moved to the eighth-graders. When he began
quizzing the seventh-graders, Melissa took an early lead in scoring.

As Christie had suspected, Curtis, Whitney, and Melissa were
well prepared, and the competition among the seventh-graders was hot and heavy.

During the next round of history questions, Curtis passed
Melissa, and Christie was next, with Whitney a close fourth.

The next category was science, which was Whitney's best
subject, and she quickly pulled ahead of Christie. Christie began to worry that
she might even come in last. She nervously tapped her fingers on the stack of
books in front of her and noticed the edge of a blue folder sticking out from
between the two books. Mom must have left this for me to bring back to Mr.
Bell, mused Christie, pulling it out and laying it on top. I'll have to stop at
his office after the tryouts.

Finally they came to the math category, and Christie was
able to pull ahead of Melissa and Whitney. Now she was only a few points behind
Curtis.

The questioning had been going on for nearly an hour, and the
stage was very quiet except for Mr. Neal's voice as he asked the questions, the
buzzer, and the voice of the answering student.

Christie saw that Tim was pulling ahead of the other
eighth-graders. It looked as if he would make the team easily. He has looks
and
brains, thought Christie.

Then came the current events questions. Christie was amazed
that she knew most of them, and she pulled into a tie with Curtis.

Mr. Neal held up an index card. "Okay, this is the
final question. Who is the number one ranked women's tennis player in the
world?"

Christie slapped at the buzzer as quickly as she could and
saw Curtis's hand hit his buzzer at the same time. Her number lit up.

"All right, Christie. You and Curtis are tied in
points. If you give the right answer, you win first place. What is your answer?"

Christie couldn't believe the question was about tennis. She
knew just about everything there was to know about tennis without even
studying. She pulled herself up confidently and said as clearly as she could, "Steffi
Graf."

"That's right," Mr. Neal said with a smile.
Christie sank back in her seat with a sigh of relief. She had made the team.

"Good going," said Curtis. "Congratulations."
She thanked him and looked across to the other table. Tim was smiling at her
and Melissa was frowning. Melissa had come in third and wouldn't be on the team
that played Trumbull. When Laura McCall found out that Christie would compete
against Trumbull, and Melissa wouldn't, she'd probably be furious.

"Congratulations, everyone," said Mr. Neal. "You
all did great. Those of you who didn't make the team for the Trumbull match
will get another chance for our next competition. If any of the players who
have been selected for the Trumbull match gets sick or for some reason can't
compete, then one of you will take his or her place as an alternate. Lots of
luck, everybody."

The kids rose from their seats and Christie picked up her
books. As she tried to squeeze between the podium and Whitney, who was talking
to Air. Neal, her elbow was bumped and her books tumbled onto the floor. The
blue folder fell open and a stack of index cards spilled out.

"Let me help," Curtis said. As he bent down to
pick them up, Melissa pushed him aside.

"What are these?" she cried. "They're
questions!" The room was totally silent as everyone looked at the cards
and then at Christie.

Mr. Neal took the cards from Melissa and then picked up the
blue folder from the floor. His face looked very grim. "Okay, everyone,
the tryouts are over. Christie, could I talk to you in my office?" The
others left quietly. Christie saw Tim glance back at her. He gave her a weak
smile and a thumbs-up.