He stumbles and belly flops into the pool. The guys laugh, and I feel somewhat vindicated. When Jack resurfaces, he snarls, “That was so lame, Annemarie. I’d like to see you do better.”
“No problem,” I say coolly. And it isn’t. I know what I can do in the water, and I know I can take down Jack or anybody else any day of the week without breaking a sweat. I’ve always been a great swimmer, but last summer I went to day camp at the YMCA and I learned all kinds of dives. The swim coach taught me everything, even the flashy stuff. “I might be as flat as a board, but at least I can dive off of one. Ape.”
Everyone hoots and hollers, and Jack’s face burns red with indignation. He pushes his dark hair out of his eyes. “Let’s see it then.”
“What’s the wager? You better make it worth my while.”
“Whatever you want, Wilcox. Name it,” Jack says, his confidence returning.
“J, she’s pretty good,” Mark breaks in. He looks uneasy, and I throw him a dirty look. Where was he ten minutes ago? He should have been sticking up for me back there. He should have been defending my honor. Instead he was busy guffawing with his pals.
“You’d better listen to your buddy, J,” I taunt. “You’re mouth is writin’ checks your butt can’t cash.” I heard Daddy say that on the phone once, on a long-distance business call.
“Just tell me what you want,” he snaps.
What do I want? What do I want? I’m frantic, and I say the first thing I think of. “If I win, you carry my books to every class, every day the first week of school.” I think I saw that on a Brady Bunch rerun on Nick at Nite.
“Carry your books to class?” Jack snorts. “What is this, the 1950s? We have book bags for that, Einstein. Hey, if you wanted to go steady, you should have just said so, Annemarie.”
Everyone laughs. My cheeks are on fire. Stupid Nick at Nite! But I manage to say, “Dream on, rat boy. If you’re too chicken, you should just say so.”
He rolls his eyes. “Fine. And if I win, you carry mine.”
“Spit shake.” I spit into my hand and hold it out. Jack produces an extra-phlegmy wad of spit, and we shake. I hear Mairi and Hadley squeal, “Ewww.”
“The rest of these guys will judge who’s the best,” Jack says, all business now. “And that’ll be me. Don’t cry too hard when you lose, Wilcox.”
I roll my eyes. We hoist ourselves out of the water and walk over to the diving board. “Ladies first,” Jack says magnanimously. “Oh, wait, I forgot, you’re no lady.” He snickers.
“Quit stalling and dive,” I snap.
Jack struts up the ladder, and he waits until all eyes are on him. “Watch and learn.” He somersaults off the board and lands in the water with a big splash. The guys clap. Mairi and Hadley cheer loudly, and Elaine yells, “Booo!”
He swims over to the side, and waits for me to go next. Smirking, he calls out, “Good luck, Wilcox.”
“You don’t need luck when you’ve got skills,” I say.
I may sound fierce and brave and sure of myself, but my heart is pounding triple time. I’ve got to nail this dive; I can’t let Jack Connelly humiliate me twice. A full gainer would blow his puny somersault out of the water. A full gainer is basically a forward dive where the diver executes a complete backward somersault before hitting the water feetfirst. It’s impressive, and it’s no easy feat. The hard part is making sure you don’t hit the board. It took me most of the summer to get it right, and even then, it’s not perfect. Still, me on a bad day is better than Jack Connelly on the best day of his life.
Climbing the ladder slowly, I go through all the pointers Coach Stewart gave me. At the top of the board, I look down and see everyone watching me. I put my hands behind my back to make sure that the hole is still sewn up, and it is, no problems there. Elaine and Sherilyn shout words of encouragement. (“Yeah, Annemarie! Show ’em!”) The boys are all standing in the shallow end, and Jack is smirking, but I can see that he is nervous. This makes me feel strong, and I close my eyes and let myself fly.
Magic. That dive was magic. I know I will always remember this moment as golden, my shining moment where I didn’t flub anything up, didn’t make a fool of myself. It was the stuff of dreams. Under the water I can hear the cheering, and I take my sweet time coming back up. When I do, the applause is deafening. I am a star!
“Annemarie, that was awesome!” from Hugh. A high five from Kyle, who shakes his head and says, “Unbelievable.” Even Tommy says, “Where’d you learn to do that?” The girls, even Mairi, ooh and ahh. Beaming, I turn to Mark. But he just says, “Nice job.” Last of all, I face Jack, who looks sullen.
“Okay, you win,” he says.
I could be gracious about this triumph. I could be generous and let him off easy. But then I wouldn’t be me. I crow, “Jacky, was there ever any doubt? You’re dealin’ with a pro, and you should’ve known better than to mess with a pro. Go back to the kiddy pool, Jacky. And don’t you go tryin’ to welch on our little bet like the welcher you are. You lost that bet fair and square. You’d better—”
“I said you win! Geez. You win, okay, Annemarie?”
“And don’t forget to meet me at my locker before homeroom.”
“We don’t need books for homeroom.” His ears are pink. I almost feel sorry for him. Almost.
“Who knows? I might want to study before first period. It’ll be the first day of junior high and all. But that’s not for you to worry about. You just do as you’re told, Jacky.”
Then Kyle asks me to teach him how to dive, and I would pay big bucks to see that sour look on Mairi’s face again. I feel like Mohammed Ali, float like a butterfly, sting like a bee. Winning the mathathon in third grade didn’t even come close to how good this feels. I’m glowing from the inside out, like lightning bug guts.
After the party, Mark and I walk home together alone. Elaine’s dad picked her up from Sherilyn’s house (we planned it out that way), and it’s just the two of us. My limbs are sore, and I’m thinking about how good a peanut butter sandwich will taste when Mark says, “Why’d you have to show off like that, Annemarie?”
“WHAT?” I squawk. “What are you talking about?”
“You know you’re a good diver. You didn’t have to show up Jack. You embarrassed him in front of everybody.” Mark’s mouth is set in a stubborn line.
“I embarrassed him? Is that what you think happened today? Because gee, I was remembering how he humiliated me. And how you didn’t even stick up for me. Thanks heaps for that, by the way.”
He can’t even look at me. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, shut up. You know what I mean. You were there. You heard what he said.”
At this Mark finally has the decency to look guilty. “Jack was just being a jerk. He didn’t mean it.”
“You still should have said something.”
“What could I have said? He was kidding around. I didn’t want to make it into a big deal. Anyway, it’s not like you care what anybody thinks.”
I do care. I care what people think, and I care that Mark tossed me to the wolves today. I care that he picked his buddies over me, his oldest and most loyal friend. I care a lot.
“You’re right, I don’t care. I couldn’t care two licks what Jack or anybody else has to say about me. But he is a jerk.”
“Nah, he’s a good guy. He just says dumb stuff sometimes. I’m just sayin’ you didn’t have to rub his nose in it when he lost.”
“And I’m just sayin’, Jack Connelly got what he deserved today.”
Mark shrugs and smiles. “You were pretty good.”
Everything inside me tingles when he looks at me like that.
We’re standing in front of my house, and I throw my towel over my shoulder and start to walk up the driveway. It’s been a good day. “See ya, Mark.”
“See ya, Annemarie. Oh, hey, you have something on your bathing suit.”
“Huh? Where?”
“On your butt.” I twist around to see.
Oh Go
d oh God oh God. It’s the hole. It’s back. How long has it been here? Oh God oh God. Panicked, I tie the towel around my waist and quicken my pace.
“Hey, what was it?” Mark calls after me.
“Mind your own business!”
I storm into the house. The TV is blaring in the family room, and I storm in there too. Mama’s lying on the couch. Panting, I run over to the TV and turn it off.
“Shug, you’d better have a good reason for cuttin’ into my show.”
A good reason? I’ll show her a good reason! I rip off my towel and spin around. “It’s all your fault, Mama!”
Her lips are pursed, and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. “Darlin’, it’s not so bad. Maybe no one even saw.”
“This is all your fault! You said you could sew!”
“I said I could sew, I never said I was a miracle worker. When you left this house, that hole was sewn up.”
“Yeah, well, obviously not very well! Thanks for nothing! Every other girl at that party had a brand-new two-piece, and what did I have? A tore-up, holey one-piece from two summers ago!”
“You’re in a right tizzy and you’re lookin’ for someone to blame, but don’t look at me. I did the best I could, Shug.” She reaches for the remote control and that’s that. Conversation over.
We’ll just see about that.
“If Daddy was here, he’d have made sure I had a new suit,” I say.
“Well your daddy’s not here now, is he?” She turns on the TV and away from me. She always has to have the last word.
“I wish he was here,” I mutter. Then I tie the towel around my waist and retreat to my room. After I slam the door nice and hard (but not too hard), I hurl myself onto my bed. It’s a good thing Mark was the only one who saw that hole. If Jack had seen it, I never would have heard the end of it. But wait, what if someone else did see it? What if everyone saw it? Was that a smirk I saw on Mairi’s face as I was saying good-bye? Did everybody know all along? No, Elaine would have told me. Thank God for Elaine.
I learned two new things today. Lesson number one: The mere threat of junior high is changing everything. Annemarie and Mark as I knew them are a thing of the past. The old Mark would never have let me down today. He’d have fought like a pit bull for me, just like I would have for him. Instead he rolled over on me. Lesson number two: Mama’s best just doesn’t cut it. It never does; things always end up a big ol’ mess.
When Celia comes home, she asks me how the pool party was. I tell her what happened, and she shakes her head. “Mama isn’t that great at sewing, Shug. You should have known better. Bring your bathing suit to me.” I retrieve it from the wastebasket, and Celia sews the hole up tight. If Celia had been home last night, this never would have happened. I don’t know if I’ll ever wear my one-piece again, but I feel better knowing that it’s back to the way it’s supposed to be. Almost.
chapter 8
The first time I ever saw Elaine Kim, she was standing at the bus stop wearing a white parka. She had on a fuzzy white hat, and her hair was sleek and hung straight down her back. Her boots were the kind I wanted, tall with furry white trim. I knew right away we were meant to be friends.
I said, “I like your boots.”
She smiled at me and said, “Thanks. I’m Elaine. I just moved here from New York.”
Then I said, “New York? Wow. You must really hate Clementon.”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
I said, “Me too.”
She said, “Really? Where are you from?”
“Clementon.”
She laughed.
We sat together on the bus, and by the time we got to school, we were like long-lost sisters.
I will always be grateful that I was the first one at the bus stop that day, that it wasn’t Hadley Smith or Mairi Stevenson who saw her first. If they had seen her first, they would have recognized her inherent coolness and snatched her away. They would have plucked her off the tree like perfect fruit and made her one of them before she even had a chance to see me.
I’ve never been one of the supercool girls at school. In sixth grade I was allowed to sit at the cool lunch table, and I was even invited to Mairi’s Friday night sleepovers, but only because Mairi’s mom always made her invite us girls from the neighborhood. Now that we’re gonna be in junior high, I doubt the old rules will apply. Mairi will invite whomever she wants to invite. I know she’ll want to invite Elaine. This is because Elaine is special; she is clearly one of them. But she chooses to stay by me.
Some days it feels too good to be true. It’s like my days are numbered, like one day soon, she’ll realize that I’m a nobody just like Sherylin. One day Elaine will realize that she made a colossal mistake picking me, that she should have chosen Mairi and Hadley after all. But today is not that day.
Today we are buying new school supplies. I look forward to shopping for school supplies all summer. There is something thrilling about fresh notebooks with blank pages and brand-new Magic Markers and clean erasers and fancy fountain pens. Mama lets me buy one new fountain pen per school year because she knows how important it is to me. If you want to write well, you need a fountain pen. You just do.
Mama gives me twenty dollars for school supplies and warns that I’d better bring back the change. I try to battle for twenty-five, but she tells me I’d better hush before she turns that twenty into a ten. I hush up quick. Before she can change her mind, Elaine and I ride our bikes over to the drugstore.
Elaine has her mother’s credit card. Money is a funny thing. I never really think about it until I am standing in a store with a crumpled-up twenty and Elaine has a shiny silver credit card and can spend to the high heavens. Not that she would, and not that her parents would let her, but the point is, she could if she wanted to.
I know exactly what I want to buy: one blue fountain pen, two black pens, five binders (one for every class), two packs of college-ruled loose leaf paper, one box of watercolor markers, one box of mechanical pencils, and if there’s enough money, one bottle of Wite-Out.
Elaine doesn’t care about school supplies, and she gets restless as I debate the merits of felt tip pens versus roller ball. As soon as we came in, she threw a pack of ballpoint pens and a couple of notebooks into our cart and proceeded to follow me around with a bored look on her face.
“The roller balls are thirty cents more, but they really do write smoother. And the felt tips tend to run out of ink faster. Elaine, are you listening?”
She’s leaning against our cart, and she straightens up. “Huh? Uh, yeah, the felt tip. Get the felt tip.”
I roll my eyes and throw the roller balls into the cart.
As we move through the check-out line, Elaine says, “Hey, what do you think of Hugh Sasser? He’s pretty cute, right?”
“Yeah, he’s pretty cute. Why? You like him?” This is a new development. Elaine has yet to find one boy from Clementon worthy of her affection.
She smiles. “I don’t know. Maybe. Depends.”
We pay for our school supplies, and I have sixty-seven cents in change.
Tying our bags to our bike handles (Elaine has to take one of mine), we ride slowly down Grove Street. That’s when we see them: boys. Jack and Hugh and Mark horsing around in front of the ticket booth at the Minnie Sax 99-Cent Movie Theater. It’s Clementon’s historic theater, and it only plays old movies.
“Be cool,” Elaine whispers to me. Now the boys have seen us too, and they wave, except for Jack. We take our time riding over.
Mark’s wearing a sky blue polo shirt, and his hair is sweaty. He looks terrific, really terrific. “Hey guys,” he says. He grins at me and kicks my bike, and I kick his shin.
“What are y’all up to?” Hugh asks, but he only looks at Elaine.
“Back-to-school shopping,” she says.
“We’re about to watch a movie,” Hugh says. “Do you guys wanna come with us?”
At this Jack rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath.
Elaine and
I look at each other, pretending to think it over. She shrugs, I shrug. “Yeah, sure, why not?” she says at last.
After we pay for our tickets (Elaine spots me the thirty-two cents), the five of us file into the theater. Now, I know that Elaine wants to sit by Hugh, and I of course want to sit by Mark, and neither of us want to sit next to Jack. It’s like walking a tight rope—we have to fix it so that we walk behind or in front of the boy we want to sit next to. Elaine and I figure all this out in one desperately determined look.
Elaine shouldn’t have worried, because Hugh makes a beeline for her. I don’t have the same kind of luck.
Mark’s toward the back, and I stoop down to tie my shoelace to buy time. But while I’m busy tying, he whizzes right by me. I run to catch up, and say, “Hey, have you gone back-to-school shopping with your mom yet?”
“Nah, she’s just gonna go pick out the stuff I need.” I remember when Mrs. Findley used to take the two of us. We’d sit in the back of the station wagon and compare erasers and pencil cases.
We walk into the theater together, and to my good fortune, I get to sit next to Mark. Elaine is next to Hugh, then Mark, then me, and then Jack, unfortunately. You win some, you lose some.
It’s hard to concentrate on a movie when the boy who possesses your heart is sitting mere inches away. I feel hyperaware of all my senses, like I never really knew my own body until this very moment. I wish he would hold my hand. I wish I could hold his hand. But I’m afraid. I’m afraid he can hear my heart beating extra fast when we bump elbows, I’m afraid that what I feel for him shows all over my face. I’m afraid of everything.
Sitting there in the dark, I close my eyes. I imagine that we’re on a real date, that it’s just the two of us, that—
Jack pokes me on the shoulder, hard. “Wake up, butthead.”
I slap his hand away and try to pay attention to the movie.
The movie is over too soon. Walking out of the theater, I feel like a real teenage girl who goes to the movies with boys, and I’m scared but I’m excited, too. As Elaine and I are mounting our bikes, Jack says, “Why do you always wear your hair up, Annemarie?” Before I can answer, he yanks the ponytail holder out of my hair and a few strands come out with it.