“A sleepover?” I asked.
Marisol nodded and then sniffed.
Ouch. The situation was worse than I first thought.
“Hmm, okay, and then what happened?”
“I didn’t see Rachel for the rest of the summer. Every time we called to invite her over she was busy or out with Kelly, her neighbor. I don’t know what I did wrong …”
“Okay, thanks for that, Marisol.” I turned to face Rachel. “Rachel, what would you like to say?”
“I’m still Marisol’s best friend! But my mom and dad were working, and my sister, who is mean, wouldn’t drop me off anywhere. I got so sick of staying home all day that I played with Kelly next door.”
Marisol sat up straight, listening intently.
“And the sleepover?” I asked grimly.
“It was Mom and Dad’s anniversary and they were going out and my sister was going out and my aunt couldn’t babysit, so Mom and Dad let me stay at Kelly’s house. It was only the one time and it wasn’t even fun. I mean, Marisol, you wouldn’t believe it but Kelly doesn’t even like drawing. She just wanted to watch TV.”
“She doesn’t like drawing?” Marisol repeated, looking horrified.
“Nope. And she fell asleep at nine o’clock.”
“Nine?” Marisol shook her head in astonishment. “What a baby!”
“Yeah. Our sleepovers are so much better.”
I interrupted. “Marisol, why didn’t you ask to speak to Rachel? You could have explained how you felt and worked it out.”
Marisol shrugged. “Because I thought she had a new best friend, so there was no point.”
I turned to Rachel. “Why didn’t you call Marisol during the summer?”
“I tried a couple of times but the machine picked up. I figured she was out having fun, so I didn’t call again.”
“Well, can you see that it was just a misunderstanding and that you’re still best friends?”
They both nodded eagerly and stood up to give each other a quick hug. The crowd cheered.
I uncrossed my legs and sat up straight.
“Okay, everybody. The lessons from today’s FIMS are, first, when you’re upset with your friend, talk about your feelings—that way things won’t seem so confusing. Two, if you have a horrible sister or brother, find their diary or look up the text messages on their cell phone and blackmail them so they do what you say. Session dismissed.”
Marisol and Rachel skipped off. I stood up, feeling happy that I’d saved another friendship from disaster. As I slung my backpack on my shoulder I noticed Emily Wong standing at the edge of the courtyard looking over my way.
I wondered why she had a grin on her face.
RULES FOR THE SCHOOL BUS (PART 1)
1. If you take the same bus to and from school every day you’re probably stuck with the same people. They might not be in your class and you might ignore one another when you cross paths at school. But that’s cool because you’re Bus Only Best Friends.
2. Always prepare interesting conversation topics for your BOBF: “Did you see what happened last night on (insert mutually favorite TV show here)?”
3. Bring props like an iPod, if you have one, with earphones to share, Nintendo DS, or magazines.
4. Pack quality junk food (don’t be tempted to eat it at recess or lunch). Everyone’s starving after school, so no healthy stuff UNLESS your buddy is a health nut, in which case offering junk food is a BTFP (Bus Trip Faux Pas).
5. And, above all, always be ON GUARD! Keeping a friend is harder than making one. Remember the Make and Keep Rules (see later chapters for more details).
Chapter 4
I usually sit alone on the school bus. But when a TL needs a spot I’m okay with them sitting next to me as long as they don’t expect me to become their best buddy.
Everybody knew that I was too busy sorting out other people’s friendships to have time for friends of my own. (What they didn’t know was what had led to me becoming the Friendship Matchmaker, but the reasons for this are too disturbing to talk about just yet.)
On my way to school the following week I sat next to Fred Dudley, grade six, whose usual BOBF (Bus Only Best Friend) was sick. He didn’t have a backup so he needed me.
Fred was happy to read his book while I worked on my Manual, putting my glossary in alphabetical order, which I thought would impress Harry Potter’s publishers.
It had been a week since school started and I couldn’t get Emily Wong out of my head. I’d noticed her at lunch on her first day, already breaking three Rules.
She’d been alone.
She’d been eating home-cooked leftovers.
And she’d been reading a book (and it wasn’t even about fairies or vampires, which might have made it okay).
I really did pity her. Everybody knew that you didn’t spend the first recess of your first day at your new school by yourself, eating smelly food and reading a book. There were so many options for the bullies. It would be brutal.
And then there was the horrible scene outside class. We had to all line up in front of the classroom and Emily had been singing along with her iPod—to the SpongeBob SquarePants theme song, in fact.
And the more people laughed, the louder she sang.
How could Emily possibly recover from that? Who would be her friend now? I tell you, I had a duty. Emily had so damaged her chances of social success that even the school counselor couldn’t help her now. I was the only person qualified to fix this before it was too late.
So out of the goodness of my golden heart I decided then and there that I’d ignore Emily’s obvious mental problems and offer her a double-session induction seminar. I checked my calendar and shuffled my appointments. Adam, Edward, John, and Todd’s lunchtime FIMS would have to move to tomorrow. (The foursome had stopped talking after a fiery basketball game. Which, incidentally, was strange because they’d all been on the same team.)
The bus stopped at the next house. Toby, from fifth grade, hopped on. He approached a seat but another boy moved over, blocking him from sitting down. Toby looked like he was going to cry.
I noticed Fred’s book, A Complete Guide to Ponds. I remembered Toby liked frogs. So I stood up and told him to sit in my spot next to Fred.
It was moments like these that I understood why I was put on this earth.
Sitting behind Fred and Toby, by the time the bus arrived at school, I thought I’d heard everything I ever needed to know about ponds and frog spawn. I raced over to the seventh-grade corridor. I couldn’t wait to meet Emily and tell her the good news before the bell rang for assembly.
But when I arrived I couldn’t believe my eyes. She was surrounded by two girls, Claire and Jemma.
They were all laughing.
With Emily.
Not at her.
Then they linked arms and went off to the assembly area.
I was crushed.
Never had this happened before.
New kids needed me.
New kids with Dora hair clips who read alone at lunchtime and sang the SpongeBob SquarePants theme song did not make friends by themselves.
They needed an induction session with me first.
They needed to have the Rules explained to them.
They needed to be trained and prepared for battle.
They did not, within days of school starting, find two friends all by themselves.
I sat on the floor in the corner of the locker area.
Horrible thoughts began to fill my head. What if Emily started a trend? What if others caught on? What if … I was no longer needed?
The bell rang. My stomach felt funny. I walked slowly to assembly.
Chapter 5
I just couldn’t understand Emily. Maybe finding two friends by herself was a fluke. I watched her carefully during assembly.
She was wearing a T-shirt with a picture of a Barbie doll stuffing her face with a massive piece of cake and the words: “Get real, Barbie.”
Dora one day, Barbie
the next.
Also, she stood still and listened to the principal talking at assembly while Claire and Jemma whispered to each other. This was another mistake. It was a basic Rule of friendship groups: Never distance yourself from your friends, even when they are talking about something boring. You have to pretend to enjoy the conversation or you’ll be kicked out of the group.
My head hurt from how obvious these Rules were! Only a TL would choose to ignore them.
Later, at recess, I overheard Emily tell Claire and Jemma that she’d “catch up with them later” because she was “dying to finish her book.”
If it was a bestselling book about, say, vampires or fairies (which were on my List of Acceptable Books to Read in Public), I might have said okay. But it was a book about surviving in the wilderness. That was downright crazy. It would kill any hopes Emily had of fitting in and being liked.
The more I thought about it, the more worked up I got. It couldn’t be helped that I was a very kind person. I took my role as Potts County Middle School’s official Friendship Matchmaker very seriously. It was my duty to guide people, even ones who seemed to insist on being weird and different. On being individuals. That was a ticket to being a TL for the rest of your school life.
Emily needed me. Desperately.
Except the next day, before I could offer my services, something weird happened that made me think she was beyond help. I’d dealt with all types. I was multiskilled. All kids just want to fit in.
But Emily seemed to be in a world of her own.
At lunchtime she sat at the bench near the lunch line with a big poster propped against the wall. It read:
ATTENTION!
Help raise money
for trampolines on the playground!
Don’t use your allowance
to buy candy or juice;
donate your money to this great cause.
We want trampolines!
They will keep us healthy and maintain
the size of our jeans!
We’ll forget computer games and
sitting on our butts!
Because we’ll be too busy jumping
and having fun!
Only dollar bills accepted (or we’ll be in
high school by the time we can afford them).
I approached Emily as several kids gathered and deposited their bills in the money box she was holding.
“Can you imagine how cool recess and lunchtime would be if we got some of those super trampolines?” she was saying. “And the teachers can’t say it’s unsafe with the nets they have now. We could have jumping competitions. I’d kick your butts! I’m excellent and my somersaults rock!”
The kids were cheering, and fighting to put their money in the box first.
When Emily saw me she flashed a smile and pointed to her poster.
“Want to donate?” she asked and made a loud pop with her chewing gum.
I was amazed and actually a little impressed. It took guts to have an opinion or get behind a cause at any time, let alone in the second week at a new school. Most kids, the kids who came to me for my top-quality help, would never dream of trying to stand out. But here was Emily, wearing rainbow tights and yelling at kids in the line to skip a meal and donate their money to her cause.
I stepped toward her and put two dollars in the money box. As Friendship Matchmaker, I have a responsibility to be kind to everybody, as troubled and disturbed as they might be.
“Thanks!” She beamed at me.
Then she raised her hands in front of my face. “Look, no nail polish today,” she said with a grin. “Just Wite-Out. That’s how I was able to draw the smiley faces. It dries and isn’t as slippery as nail polish. Cool, huh?”
“Yeah, very cool,” I said, with a look that indicated I thought she was a weird science specimen. “By the way, you shouldn’t be listening to SpongeBob SquarePants on your iPod. Aren’t you too old for him?”
She blew a bubble. “SpongeBob? What are you talking about?”
“I heard you the other day, singing a song about a pineapple under the sea.”
Emily laughed. “I was listening to the top-twenty countdown but couldn’t get that song out of my head from the night before. My cousin, the Dora hair clip one, is obsessed with that cartoon.”
“Oh … well, try and avoid humming or singing toddler tunes. It’s dangerous.”
She gave me an odd look. I walked away quickly. It wasn’t the ideal time to teach her these things. It looked like Emily was going to be in an altogether different category from my other projects.
RULES FOR SITTING AT TABLES
1. Round tables = GOOD. A circle means everyone is equal, so you’re not left out.
2. Rectangular tables = BAD. If a rectangular table is the ONLY choice, try and sit in the middle. Don’t hesitate to push people out of the way to get there. Never sit at the end of a rectangular table—you’ll always be left out of the conversation and have to pretend to laugh at jokes you can’t hear. Sitting on the end of a rectangular table is a TFP (Table Faux Pas).
3. Square tables = UNSURE. I am still developing a policy for square tables.
Chapter 6
During art, Ms. Pria broke the class into groups of four that she’d prepicked (all the TLs in the class sighed with relief).
I was grouped with Omar (who likes speaking in rhymes in training for his career as a rapper), Terry (who thought he was the best thing since sliced bread), and Emily (need I explain?).
Thankfully, the art room had round tables.
Each group had to make something out of papier-mâché. My group had to make a piggy bank.
“Piggy banks are dumb,” Terry said as he started mixing flour and water for the papier-mâché paste.
“Why, pie?” Omar asked.
“Because nobody gets allowance in coins anymore. I get bills.”
Emily wrinkled her nose. “You sound like a spoiled brat.”
I was surprised. I didn’t think Emily had ever spoken to Terry. How could she risk insulting him so soon? How did she know if Terry was the bully of the class or the most popular?
Enough was enough. I turned to Emily. “Could you help me get the newspapers from the supply room?”
“Sure.”
“Get the sports page, cage,” Omar called out.
I followed Emily to the supply room, closed the door, and faced her. “Emily, you’re new here, right?”
She started picking up a pile of newspapers and then stopped, giving me a funny look. “Um … yeah …”
“Well, I’d like to offer you some friendly but professional advice. You’re lucky. I normally do an induction session where I interview new kids and get all the data I need before giving out my expert tips.”
I noted the dazed expression on her face and flashed her my winning smile. “Look,” I said enthusiastically, “I’m here to help you!”
“Help me with what?” Emily replied, looking very confused.
I took a deep breath, trying not to lose my cool. My problem was that I cared too much. It had always been my weak point. “You’re not going to survive school! You can’t read by yourself at lunchtime! It might be okay if it’s a bestseller, but even then it’s better to be with your group! And you can’t wear Dora hair ties and weird T-shirts with pictures of hungry Barbies on them! And you’re lucky Terry is normally an okay boy! If he was Mr. Popular you would have lost your chances of him liking you by insulting him like that!”
I felt my face redden. I knew I was talking with exclamation marks. But I couldn’t help myself. I went on. “This is what I live for! To help people like you who have no idea how to survive school! And you are doing everything against the Rules!”
“Why bestsellers only?”
I couldn’t believe it. This was her response? I tried to calm down and reminded myself that Emily had brain problems and needed to be talked through this.
“Because bestsellers are cool and popular,” I said, trying to disguise my annoyance at
having to state the obvious.
She folded her arms across her chest. “So I should only read what’s popular?”
“Well, at school, yes. At home you can read cookbooks or medical manuals if you like. But if you had done part two of my Induction Seminar you’d know that there’s a big difference between how to act at home and how to act at school.”
“Why? I think that’s dumb.”
My mouth dropped open. Everybody I’d ever helped had at least understood this Rule in a flash. And here was the new girl, arguing with me. “Because the Rules at home are different from the Rules at school,” I explained. “You don’t get teased by your mom and dad. The cafeteria is a war zone.”
I wished I could refer Emily to chapter one of my Manual, but I didn’t want anyone to read it until Harry Potter’s publishers had accepted it. I was imagining a book launch near the cafeteria where I’d hand out friendship bracelets with the Friendship Matchmaker logo (still in development) printed on them. But I was getting distracted …
“That’s a pretty sad way to think of school,” Emily said.
“Haven’t you ever been bullied?”
“Lara, this is my third school. We’ve moved twice since I was in kindergarten. Of course I’ve been bullied.”
“You’ve moved twice?”
That kind of track record was dangerous. No wonder she had no respect for my Rules. She was unsettled. Boy, did she need my help.
“Yep. First house we lived in was broken into twice so Mom insisted we move to another town, which meant changing schools.”
“Oh.”
“The burglars took a ton of stuff, including Mom’s computer. But I was kind of glad because then we finally got an upgrade!” She giggled. “Don’t tell her I told you that!”
“But why did you move again?”
“My grandpa died, so my nana moved in with us, but the house was too small. I’ve got triplet brothers.”
“Lucky you.”
“They’re feral. So we had to find a bigger house, which meant changing towns again. New school, new bullies. Big deal. I’ve learned to handle them just fine.”