How to Outswim a Shark Without a Snorkel (17 page)

He shook his head, waving me off. “No, no, juff gib be a binnit,” he said. His words were muffled behind the napkins. “Dun burry. I'be fide.” He started toward the door. “Dun wanna beed on de books,” he said.

Ten minutes later, the bleeding had finally stopped. We sat on the curb outside the store, with the warm breeze tickling our faces.

If it wasn't for the pile of blood-stained napkins twitching in the breeze
beside
us on the curb, I would have said it was kind of romantic. But nope. On the list of nonromantic things, dirty tissues and head-butting are probably at the top. Right next to parasites.

“Ana,” Kevin said for the thirty-fourth time, “it's okay. Really, it was an accident.”

“It's not okay, Kev,” I said, my voice muffled by my sleeve. “I made you
bleed
.”

I stared at my shoes, trying to dig up the courage to even look at him. Did he know I'd been trying to kiss him? Could he see how freaked out I'd been? Did that mean he'd think I was some loser kid who wasn't ready to get a kiss? A million thoughts swam through my head, like an ocean full of angry sharks.

“I do have a question, though,” he said. I looked over as the grin spread over his face.

I grimaced. “Yeah?”

“Why the heck do you smell like that?” he asked, sniffing the air.

If I lived to be a hundred, I would always remember this moment and how colossally stupid I felt. This wasn't just regular embarrassment. This was “congratulations-you-get-the-award-for-biggest-screwup-of-all-time” embarrassment. People of the future would probably read
books
about how dumb I was.

“I do reek,” I admitted. “I was trying to smell like s'mores. It was kind of an accident.”

He snorted. “S'mores?! You think you smell like
s'mores
?!” He looked back at the bookstore. “I'm surprised they haven't issued a warning in there to other customers to watch out for air pollution!”

My shoulders hunched. How had the plan gone so wrong? Not only had I head-butted a guy I liked, but now I
really
had no idea what he was thinking. You can't exactly ask a guy if he likes you after you made him bleed, you know? In fact, pretty much
anything
you have to say after that point is going to sound stupid and wrong. All I wanted to do was disappear.

Or ask that old lady in the bookstore if she needed a quilting buddy, because I sure as heck didn't feel prepared to hang around the opposite sex anymore.

The sound of nothing was deafening.

“Really though. Why did you want to smell like s'mores?” he asked finally.

I bit my lip.

Maybe the least I could do was tell him the truth. On account of the bleeding and all. Or maybe, I didn't have the energy to lie about stuff anymore. My head was heavy and swimmy.

“I was trying to, um.” There was no way I could say this. Especially not while he was
staring
at me. I willed the words out of my mouth as I avoided eye contact. “I was trying to kiss you,” I said. I let my eyes drift slightly over to him to see his reaction.

He stared ahead into the parking lot. “Oh.”

If he was thinking something, it sure as heck wasn't obvious on his blank face. That couldn't be good. Instantly, I wished I'd kept my mouth shut or made up something about having a muscle spasm that had sent me barreling into his face.

His nonreaction made me antsy. “Liv and I had a pact,” I blurted. “We wanted to kiss someone before high school. Only I'm not going into high school next year, but
she
is!” I let my head fall into my hands.

Kill. Me. Now.

Kevin shook his head, but his eyes were twinkling. “So she roped you into it,” he said. The dimple appeared on his cheek. “Sounds like Liv.”

I shrugged. “I guess so? And what do you mean, it sounds like her?”

He crumpled the pile of tissues into a ball and stood up, making his way for the garbage can. “It's just that Liv was always sort of…pushy,” he said. “I don't mean that in a bad way. Like, remember that time in fourth grade when Liv wanted to open a dog-sitting business and you wanted to do a snow-cone shop instead?”

I snorted at the memory. Liv and I had spent the whole summer picking up dog poop in her backyard. “Yeah,” I said.

“You always went with what she wanted,” he explained. “I think it's nice of you, but it always seemed like she sort of…took advantage of it, you know? Like she expected you'd always pick
her
over you.”

A small prick of embarrassment niggled away at me. Was it true? Did I always give in to her? When she had mentioned that she was going to high school early, did I actually
say
that I didn't want to go through with the kiss pact? Or had I let her convince me, even though I knew it made me feel all kinds of squiggly wrong inside?

I knew the answer to that.

“I didn't notice,” I admitted. I stood up, trying to brush off the dirt from the curb, along with the embarrassment that seemed to cling to me like sticky spiderwebs. Something about what Kevin was saying felt right. Like he had turned a flashlight on inside my head to light up a whole part of my life I'd never thought about. Did that mean Kevin thought I was some weakling then? Someone who couldn't stand up to her friends?

That's not someone I'd want to kiss.

That's not even someone I wanted to
be
.

The wind picked up, and suddenly I felt exposed. Wrapping my arms around myself, all I wanted to do was forget this whole night had ever happened. I wanted to pluck the memory of the head-butting and my stupid confession from Kev's head, so I didn't have to wonder what he thought about me anymore.

I wanted to go back to normal, before kiss pacts and summer bookstore dates were even a thing. I wanted to know if Kevin liked me, but this?

This was like the
worst
way of trying to find out.

Maybe Daz had perfected his time machine by now and I could erase this whole evening? Or better yet, maybe I could zap myself to twenty years old and skip the whole “teenager” thing? So far, the lead-up to it had sucked.

Kevin must have noticed the shift. “Hey, don't worry,” he said. “I have an idea.”

I sniffed, looking down at my sandals. A few rogue Nair spots were still healing around my ankle. Another huge Ana fail. “What?” I asked.

He touched his nose, double-checking for blood again. “Let's just forget about the whole thing, okay? We can get out of here and go grab some ice cream or something.”

My doubt grew as his words swirled around in my mind.

Forget about the whole thing, like “forget-the-nosebleed-happened-and-have-some-fun-elsewhere-because-maybe-I-like-you-too”? Or forget about the whole thing, like “forget-about-the-kissing-and-let's-go-back-to-normal-and-please-don't-try-to-kiss-me-again-because-I-don't-like-you-that-way-and-this-is-super-awkward”?

Which was it?

And
why
didn't he have anything to say when I told him I was trying to kiss him anyway? Isn't that something you
should
respond to? Or maybe by not saying anything about it, he actually
was
saying something about it?

This night was getting more confusing by the minute, but one thing was for sure: this jumbled mess of feelings inside of me would definitely pair well with a banana split.

“Sure,” I said, resigned.

How is it that spending
more
time with someone can leave you even more confused? Am I just at the tip of the getting-to-date-boys iceberg here? Why do I get the feeling that I'm the only girl in the history of the world that can't figure this stuff out?

Ana's Official Advice for Girls Who Want to Get Their First Kiss without Ruining the Entire Night

1. Do not wear your father's cologne. Even if it comes in a super-girly bottle. And while you're at it, do not try to fix perfume mistakes by adding more perfume. You
cannot
undo
perfume. It is like beet juice on a white rug. There is no turning back.

2. If it's on the Internet, it's probably a lie.

3.
Do not head-butt him.

The anglerfish has a bioluminescent lure dangling from its face to attract prey.

—Animal Wisdom

“Everyone ready for the big show today?” Grandpa rubbed his hands together with excitement while Sugar checked her teeth in her spoon. Saturday was turning out to be one of the weirdest days of my life. It was the grand opening of the Adventure Zone exhibit, and for once, it wasn't
me
doing the presenting. Grandpa and Sugar were back from Los Angeles for the celebration, and because he missed us so much, Grandpa wanted to celebrate with a big family brunch.

Daz helped himself to a massive scoop of eggs, piling them into a mountain on his plate.

“I was born ready,” he said, throwing some bacon on top.

Sugar reached over to squeeze my hand. “Well,
I,
for one, cannot wait to see it all put together!” She giggled. “Those sharks, and those cute little jellies, and the sweetheart hermit crabs! People are going to love it!”

I poked at my pancakes. I would have been excited too, if it wasn't for the smarmy thick feeling in the back of my throat. I kept picturing Ashley, getting ready this morning, not even knowing the notebook in her locker was actually
mine
, filled with horrible things.
That image should make me happy, right? So what gives?

I spread some butter on my pancakes and poured a well of syrup next to my bacon. “Will we get to see you present, Ana doll?” Sugar continued, sipping her orange juice.

I chewed my mouthful of pancakes before answering. “Not this time,” I said, keeping my eyes down. I had the distinct feeling that if I talked too much, my sharky notebook revenge plan would erupt out of me like a volcano of guilt and syrup.

Mom smiled at Sugar. “There's another girl who has been helping out this month,” she explained. “Ana has helped her get ready.” She lifted her chin proudly.

Hah. “Helped” indeed.

“Ooh, that sounds like fun!” Sugar said. “It's so sweet of you to help out other kids wanting to learn about all those creatures,” she drawled. She handed the ketchup bottle to Dad. “What was the most interesting thing you've learned there?”

“I got one!” Daz piped up, mumbling through his mouthful of bacon. “I learned that a sea cucumber breathes out of its butt!” He cackled.

“Daz…” Dad warned, shaking his head. There was a smudge of syrup next to his mustache. “Don't be disgusting at the table.” He wiped his face with a napkin. “Save it for dessert,” he added under his breath.

“It's true! They can also make their guts
explode
if they're in trouble!” He smashed his fork into his pile of eggs. “
Ppchhheewww!
” he wailed, making explosion noises. His impression of a sea cucumber was, not surprisingly, pretty disgusting.

Grandpa shook his head and blinked at Mom. “He's not wrong, you know,” he acknowledged.

“What about you, kiddo?” Dad asked. “You've spent more time there than anyone.” Everyone at the table turned to me. My fork dropped to my plate with a clang.

“Um.” I struggled to think, but only one thing popped into my head. “I liked learning about sharks,” I said. “I think it's cool that they're such awesome predators, I mean.” I darted a quick look at Dad as my stomach rumbled angrily.

Maybe I had food poisoning. I shoved my plate away, cringing at the sight of my home fries doused in goopy ketchup.

“Hey,” I said, looking to Mom. “You guys mind if I excuse myself? I think I'm just nervous for the opening. I'm going to go get some air.” I shoved out of my chair and bolted for the bathroom as everyone carried on chattering away about sea cucumbers and hermit crabs.

Alone in the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. I had my trademark ponytail and lime-green zoo shirt on with the sea-blue straps of the new swimsuit I'd gotten with Ashley peeking slightly out of my collar. I looked exactly the same as I did every day.

But I didn't
feel
the same.

I
wasn't going to be the one on display today, so why did I feel like a thousand eyes were already watching me?

Forty-five minutes later, the crowd inside the Adventure Zone was packed, and I was having a
serious
case of déjà vu.

People filed through the exhibit, pointing out all the animals and taking pictures next to the life-sized set of great white shark jaws by the door. The horseshoe-shaped tank in the middle of the room was a huge hit, with people bending right down to see the sharks and rays up close. The room looked like a magical marine wonderland come to life, with animals of every color of the rainbow swimming, floating, or scuttling in their tanks.

My heart swelled a teensy bit to see it all. Grandpa had been so right.

Bella and Kevin waved to me from by the door, causing a rush of gratitude to surge through me. Bella had been supersweet about me missing her bake sale, but I knew I didn't deserve it. She was a great friend, and I was going to make sure I tried a
lot
harder to be a better friend to her.

And Kevin? Well, I can't have everything figured out, now can I? He hadn't told Daz about the Great Head-Butting Incident, so I was taking that as a win.

I shoved my way through the growing crowd into place at the left-hand side of the tank, where Patricia had asked me to be on the lookout for any kids that get too rambunctious for the touch tank while Ashley led her presentation. It was nice for once not to be the center of attention, but I still couldn't stop the grumbly nerves in the pit of my stomach. Was I nervous for Ashley or what?

I shoved the thought down.
Think
like
a
shark, remember?

Soon, Patricia appeared to rein in the crowd, waving her arms to get everyone's attention.

“Hello and welcome!” she announced. Her usually frizzy hair was tamed for the day, wrangled together in a long braid down her back.

The crowd cheered in response, then quieted again as she spoke. The first few minutes were dedicated to Grandpa, as this whole exhibit was his idea in the first place. Cameras flashed nonstop as he took a bow from the side of the room and gave a little speech with shining eyes. It would have been a cool moment, if I hadn't been so distracted gawking around the room like a jumpy ostrich looking for Ashley.

Where was she?

My question was answered a moment later, when Patricia took the microphone again. “I'm happy to announce that we have a new student volunteer for the Adventure Zone, and she will be leading our marine presentation!” She beamed to the audience, who clapped excitedly.

Ashley appeared beside her, giving the crowd a wave. Another pang of déjà vu swam through me as I remembered the feeling of my own big presentation a couple months ago. The clammy hands. The roiling stomach. The endless sets of eyeballs eagerly waiting for you to mess up.

Was Ashley feeling the exact same way I was back then?

I sucked in a breath as she took the microphone.

She was wearing the green shirt we'd bought at Aviana's together, and her hair had little starfish pins in it. She looked like a star, but it didn't take a genius to see that she was super nervous. Her eyes were blinking double time, and her smile was pinched at the sides even though she was trying to look relaxed.

“Hi, everybody!” she said, her voice sounding strained. The crowd seemed happy to listen to her and were starting to quiet down again.

“Welcome to the new Marine Adventure Zone,” she said. She was speaking clearly and slowly now, just right. “As you can see, there are lots of amazing creatures here. Today I'm going to tell you about some of them.” She pointed to the surrounding tanks and started to name them for the audience. She breezed through the moon jellies, the sea horses, and the species in the tide pool, giving the audience an interesting nugget of info about each one.

She was doing a good job, despite the nerves.

The heat in my cheeks began to cool, just a touch.

Then she moved on to the big mangrove tank in front of her, filled with rays and epaulette sharks. “As you can see, these animals are safe to touch, as long as you're very gentle.” She demonstrated the proper way to reach into the tank as the little kids in the crowd looked stunned.

“These are epaulette sharks,” she said. “They're named that because they have big marks on their shoulders, like they're wearing a military uniform.” The audience reacted loudly to the word
shark,
despite the fact that the ones in the tank were smaller and harmless. Ashley didn't miss a beat.

“I know,” she said, nodding to the crowd. “When I first started working here, I was afraid of sharks too. I thought they were all nasty man-eaters.” She leaned over to stroke one of the sharks in the tank. “But sharks have bad reputations that started years ago. Once you've got a bad reputation, it's hard to get rid of it. Sharks are actually quite harmless, and only a few species have ever hurt people. Really they want to live their lives in peace, like any other animal.”

Just then, I felt a strange twinge.

No, it wasn't Nair this time.

It was like two puzzle pieces clicking together in my head.
Ashley
had
a
reputation
as
a
Sneerer, just like sharks had horrible reputations as man-eaters.
Sure, she
was
mean sometimes. And sometimes, she sort of wasn't. Nice people don't call other people “Scales,” you know?

But then…technically, don't I call her a “Sneerer”? Which was worse?

I gripped my cold hands together as another dark question grew inside me.

I'd wanted to teach Ashley a lesson by switching the notebooks, but did that mean
I
would start to have a bad reputation too?

Instinctively, I looked to the table set up behind her, searching for the blue notebook. It was there, sitting on top of a pile of books, next to Ashley's bottle of water. Two halves of my brain seemed to be battling each other as I stood there, riveted on that innocent-looking notebook that held some of the worst things I'd ever written.

I
wanted
Ashley to see it because maybe then she'd realize how much of a jerk she was. But what if she did?

That's when the horrible truth hit me: switching the notebooks wasn't acting like a shark. It was acting like a
Sneerer
.

Sharks were just going around being themselves, which
happened
to be sharks. It wasn't like they set out to be mean or steal people's notebooks. No matter
what
Ashley had done to me, being more
like
her
was the last thing I wanted to do. In fact, I realized with a pang of regret, I'd practically spent the whole summer trying to deal with everything by acting like
someone
else
.

Someone mean.

I hadn't adapted to all these crazy changes at all. I'd just become someone I didn't even want to
be
.

My vision tunneled as the past few weeks came rushing back, forcing me to lean against the wall for support. I wasn't even
sure
if I wanted to kiss Kevin yet, and I had gone ahead and tried to act all aggressive and sharky to do it because of Liv, and what had happened? Head-butting, that's what.

Then
I get stuck with Ashley here, and how do I deal with her trying to sabotage me? By acting like a Sneerer!

None of those things are
me
.

The sinking feeling finally settled into my feet, cementing me to the floor. Desperation clawed at me with its tiny, sticky fingers.

Oh no.

Surrounded by dozens of people, shark tanks, and a television crew, my “act like a shark plan” was unraveling by the second, biting me in the butt. My heart hammered in my ears as I checked the table again, with Ashley's voice sounding more and more muffled as I panicked. She still faced the crowd. And she hadn't used the notebook yet or seen my horrible list.

And now I knew the truth: I didn't
want
her to.

I
didn't want to be known as a Sneerer. I didn't want to have anything to
do
with mean bullies that ruined people's presentations. I wanted to be
me
, and I might not know everything about what that means, but I
did
know I wasn't a horrible jerk who ruined people's days on purpose.

How
had
I
been
such
a
colossal
idiot?!