双语畅销书·怦然心动 Chapter 01 下潜
Chapter 01
下潜
我只有一个愿望：让朱莉安娜·贝克别来烦我。快点给我走开！——我只想让她离我远点。
这一切都源于一年级暑假，从我家的卡车停在她家隔壁开始。眼下，我们都快上完八年级了，也就是说，整整五年，我不得不忍受着社交上的不便，对她实行“战略性回避”。
她可不只是闯入了我的生活，而且是千方百计地非要在我的生活里占领一席之地不可。难道是我们邀请她爬进搬家的卡车里，在箱子上爬来爬去的吗？才没有！可她就是不请自来，好像这是她的家，是她朱莉安娜·贝克的特权似的。
爸爸试图阻止她，“嘿！”她在车里跳来跳去的时候，爸爸喊道，“你在干什么？你把烂泥弄得到处都是！”没错，她的鞋上糊满了泥巴。
可她根本没想从车上下来。正相反，她一屁股坐在车厢里，开始用脚推起一个大箱子。“你难道不需要帮忙吗？”她朝我这边瞥了一眼，“我觉得你真的需要别人帮忙呢。”
我一点儿也不喜欢她的暗示。虽然我爸也整天用这种眼神看我，可我敢说，他也不喜欢这丫头。“嘿，别推了，”他提醒道，“箱子里有贵重物品。”
“哦，好吧。那我搬这个吧？”她挪到另一个贴着“LENOX（餐具）”标志的箱子旁边，又看了我一眼，“我们可以一起推！”
“不，不，不用！”爸爸把她抱起来，“你是不是应该回家看看？你妈妈也许正在担心你跑到哪儿去了。”
这是我头一次见识到这姑娘到底有多么不识趣，毫无自知之明。作为一个孩子，当别人礼貌地请她离开的时候，难道不是应该立刻乖乖地回家吗？她才不会。她说：“哦，妈妈知道我在哪儿，她说没关系。”然后她指着街对面说，“我家就住在那儿。”
爸爸看着她所指的方向，念叨着：“唉，上帝啊！”然后他看着我，边眨眼边说，“布莱斯，你是不是该回家给妈妈帮忙了？”
我马上明白过来，这是个甩掉她的小花招。可我从来没跟爸爸排练过这出戏。拜托，怎样甩掉盯梢可不是你平时能和爸妈讨论的话题。想想看，告诉孩子可以甩掉别人，这可是违背了做父母的原则，不管这个人有多讨厌或是身上沾了多少泥巴。
但是爸爸情急之下还是这么做了，而且，他真的不用一直冲我使眼色吧！我笑了，答道：“没错！”然后跳出车门，冲向我们的新家。
我听见她跟了上来，但我不敢相信。也许只是听上去很像她追上来了，也许她只是走向另一个方向。但是，在我鼓足勇气回头之前，她已经赶上来，猛地抓住我的胳膊。
这太过分了。我停下脚步，想告诉她快滚开，这时却发生了最最诡异的事情。我抡起胳膊想摆脱她，可是手臂落下来的时候却变成了挽着她的姿势。我简直不敢相信，我竟然挽了这只“泥猴”的手！
我想甩开她，但她把我的手攥得紧紧的，拉着我说：“来吧！”
我妈妈从屋里走出来，立刻摆出了一副最糟糕的傻笑着的表情：“嗨，你好！”她跟朱莉打招呼。
“你好！”
我还在挣扎着想摆脱她，但她死死地拽着我。看到我们握在一起的手，还有我又红又热的脸，妈妈笑了：“你叫什么名字，亲爱的？”
“朱莉安娜·贝克。我家就住在那儿。”她用那只空着的手指点着。
“哦，我想你已经认识我儿子了。”妈妈还在笑着。
“是的！”
我终于挣脱出来，做了一件七岁男孩唯一能做的充满男子汉气概的事——我躲到了妈妈身后。
妈妈用手臂环着我：“布莱斯，亲爱的，你是不是应该请朱莉安娜参观一下我们的新家？”
我用尽全身的力气向妈妈发出警告，可是她完全没有察觉。她推着我说：“去吧。”
朱莉没有马上被允许进入房间，因为妈妈注意到那双脏鞋并且要求她脱下来。等她脱下鞋子，妈妈又说她的脏袜子也不许穿进屋里。朱莉全然没觉得尴尬，一点儿也不。她只是拽下袜子，随手扔在我家门廊里。
我没有认真地带她参观，而是把自己反锁在厕所里。我冲她叫喊了将近十分钟的“不，我决不出来”之后，客厅里终于安静下来。又过了十分钟，我鼓足勇气从门缝里往外看。
没看到朱莉。
我蹑手蹑脚地走出来，看了一圈，没错，她走了！
这一手不算太高明，但我毕竟才七岁嘛。
不过，我的麻烦还远远没有结束。她一次又一次地来找我，每天都来。“布莱斯能出来玩吗？”我藏在沙发背后，听见她这样问道，“他准备好了吗？”有一次她甚至穿过院子从窗户往里看。我恰好观察到她的动向，马上潜伏到床底下。不过朋友，我得告诉你一些关于朱莉安娜·贝克的事。她完全不知道“私人空间”为何物，不尊重别人的隐私。全世界都是朱莉的地盘，当心——她只会越来越过分！
幸运的是，我爸爸希望保护我。他徒劳地试了一次又一次，他告诉朱莉说我很忙，说我在睡觉，或者说我不在家。他真是我的大救星。
作为对立面，我的姐姐却逮住一切机会陷害我。利奈特就喜欢这样。她比我大四岁，从她身上我学会了不去和命运抗争。她是个浑身上下写满了“抗议”两个字的家伙。只要谁看了她一眼——不用斜着眼睛，或是吐着舌头看——仅仅是看她一眼，就能让她跟你吵起来。
跟她在一起，我一向采取消极抵抗的态度，但是这也没有用。女孩子从来不搞公平竞争。她们拽你的头发、抠你、掐你，明明是你挨了打，她们却率先跑到妈妈面前告状。然后你被关了禁闭，凭什么？不，我的朋友，诀窍在于千万不能上当，不要跟她们正面交锋。你得不慌不忙地四处迂回，对她们的挑衅一笑置之。过不了多久她们就会放弃了，把注意力转移到别人身上。
起码这套伎俩在利奈特面前行得通。有这么一个让你如芒在背的姐姐，唯一的好处就是，在她身上试验成功的方法，多半对于别人也适用，比如老师、学校里的怪胎，甚至是爸爸妈妈。真的。你永远吵不赢父母，为什么不能学着放松点呢？与其时不时地被父母修理一通，不如下潜到自己的世界里，别在他们眼前出现。
好笑的是，利奈特在对待父母的态度上依然很幼稚。她总是直接进入战斗状态，把精力全放在争执上，却来不及深吸一口气，潜入冷静的水中。
而她还认为我是个傻瓜。
不管怎么说，和往常一样，起初利奈特想用朱莉引我上钩。有一次她甚至背着爸爸带朱莉进入我家，到处搜捕我。我蜷成一团躲在壁柜最上面一层，幸好她们谁也没想起往上看一眼。没过几分钟，我就听见爸爸大喊着让朱莉离那些古董家具远一点儿，她又一次被赶走了。
头一个星期，我记得自己根本没出过家门。我帮忙拆箱，看电视，在爸爸妈妈摆放家具、争论着帝国风格的靠背椅和法式洛可可餐桌是否能放在一个房间里的时候四处闲逛。
所以，请相信，我那时候疯了似的想出去。但每次把目光投向窗户，我都看到朱莉出现在她家院子里。她要么在练习头球，要么是在高抬腿跑，或是在车道上盘球。假如她没有在那里卖弄，就是坐在路边，把足球夹在两脚中间，望着我们家的房子。
妈妈完全不理解为什么被“那个可爱的小姑娘”拉了手，是件糟透了的事。她认为我应该跟朱莉交朋友。“我以为你也喜欢足球呢，亲爱的。为什么不出去在附近踢一会儿呢？”
因为我可不想被人当球踢。在七岁半这个年纪，我也许嘴上说不出来，却已经本能地意识到，朱莉安娜·贝克是个危险的家伙。
而且她一旦出现，就是个躲不掉的危险。当我走进叶尔逊夫人的二年级教室，我就开始任人宰割了。“布莱斯！”朱莉尖叫着，“你也在这儿。”接着，她冲过整间教室按住了我。
叶尔逊夫人想把这次袭击解释成“用拥抱欢迎你”，可是，那根本不是什么拥抱，明明是个真刀真枪、硬碰硬的抢断动作。虽然我把她挣开，但已经晚了，我就此打上了一生的烙印。人人都嘲笑我，“布莱斯，你的女朋友呢？”“你结婚了吗，布莱斯？”课间休息，当她追着我、试图亲吻我的时候，全校学生都唱起了拉拉歌，“布莱斯和朱莉坐在树梢上，K-I-S-S-I-N-G……（kissing，接吻）”。
我搬到这里的第一年，简直是一场灾难。
三年级也好不到哪儿去，她坚持到处堵着我。四年级也是一样。到了五年级，我终于决定反击。
这个主意来得并不突然——有些想法，你明知道它不对，却总是盘旋在你脑海里。不过，它出现的次数越多，我就越觉得，要想摆脱朱莉、明确地告诉她“你不是我喜欢的类型”，没有更好的办法了。
于是，我策划了一个方案。
我和雪莉·斯道尔斯约会了。
要知道，朱莉和雪莉有不共戴天之仇，所以你明白这个办法有多聪明了吧。朱莉一直看雪莉不爽，我始终想不通这是为什么。雪莉是个好姑娘，待人亲切，头发又长又密。她有什么缺点呢？但朱莉就是不喜欢她，而我要用这件事解决我的问题。
我本来指望，雪莉只需要跟我一起吃个午饭，也许还可以散散步。顺利的话，只要朱莉出现，我要做的只不过是和雪莉表现得更亲近一点儿，剩下的事情就会顺其自然地发生。可惜，现实毕竟是现实，雪莉太认真了。她跑去告诉每一个人——包括朱莉在内——说我们在恋爱。
结果，朱莉和雪莉立刻上演了一场女孩子之间的火并。一架打完，雪莉还在喘息的时候，我所谓的挚友加利特——这个主意的幕后策划者——却把实情跟她交了底。他从来不肯承认，可我从此明白了他就是个重色轻友的家伙。
那天下午，我受到了双重考验，可我没那么容易被击败。我不断地向她道歉，说自己根本不知道事情会闹成这样。最后，她终于放过我了。
雪莉哭了好几天，在学校里追着我，搞得我像个真正的怪胎，比身后有朱莉这个盯梢还要糟糕。
整出闹剧在一个星期后渐渐烟消云散，雪莉正式宣布抛弃我，开始和凯尔·拉森出双入对。朱莉又朝我抛来了媚眼，而我又回到了原点。
进入六年级，状况又变本加厉了，这很难用语言描述。我记得六年级时朱莉并没有再追着我，而是变成嗅我。
没错，我说的就是嗅我。
一切都得归罪于我的老师——马丁斯先生。是他促使朱莉黏上我的。马丁斯先生对于安排座位很有些心得，他翻来覆去地研究我们应该各自坐在哪里，然后顺理成章地把朱莉安排在我的邻座。
朱莉安娜·贝克是那种一心要展示自己聪明才智的人，因此特别惹人讨厌。她总是第一个举手；她回答起问题总是长篇大论；她的作业永远交得最早，永远被老师拿来打击其他人。老师们经常举着她的作业说：“同学们，这才是我想要的。这是篇A+的模板。”她做了这么多，生怕自己还不完美，我敢说她门门功课都没有低过120分。
但是，自从马丁斯先生安排朱莉坐在我旁边，她的各项知识就变得有用了。忽然间，朱莉把课堂提问的完美答案，都写成一张字迹潦草的小字条，转瞬之间经由过道转移到我手里。这件事我们不知道干过多少次。我开始门门功课不是得A就是得B了！这太棒了！
不过，马丁斯先生又开始换座位了。他的“优化定位学”又有了新的理论。当一切尘埃落定，我被安排坐在朱莉安娜·贝克的前座。
她就是从这时开始嗅我的。这个疯姑娘向前靠过来，闻我的头发。她把鼻子架在我的头皮上，就那么嗅——嗅——嗅。
我试过用手肘撞她，回身踢她；我试过把椅子往前拽，把书包夹在后背和座位之间，不管用。她还是会凑上来，或者离得稍微远一点儿，然后嗅——嗅——嗅。
终于，我忍不住去找马丁斯先生换座位，但他说什么也不肯。理由似乎是“不希望打破教育能量的微妙平衡”之类的话。
不管怎么说，我被她闻定了。并且，由于再也看不到她完美的小抄，我的成绩急转直下，尤其是拼写课。
有一次听写的时候，她正在闻我的头发，忽然发现我拼错了一个词。不止一个，是很多词。忽然，她不再闻我，而是跟我说起悄悄话。起初我不敢相信自己的耳朵。朱莉安娜·贝克作弊？没错，她真的帮我拼出了那些词，就在我耳边。
朱莉嗅我的时候确实很隐蔽，从来没被人发现过，这让我非常困扰。不过她帮我作弊的时候也同样隐蔽，关于这一点我倒是很满意。不过它的坏处在于，我开始依赖她在我耳边的提示。说实话，当你不用学习就能拿到好成绩，干吗还要努力呢？不过，她帮了我那么多次，我总有种受惠于她的内疚感。当我还欠着人情的时候，怎么能把对方赶走或是让她别再嗅我呢？你想想就知道，这是不对的。
于是，在别扭与难受当中，我度过了整个六年级。我总是忍不住想，明年，只要到了明年，事情就有转机了。
明年我们将升入初中——那是个大学校——我们会进入不同班级。那是个全新的世界，有太多的人和事等着我去探索，再也不用担心遇到朱莉安娜·贝克。
我们之间终于要画上句号了。
Chapter 01
Diving Under
BRYCE
All I've ever wanted is for Juli Baker to leave me alone. For her to back off — you know, just give me some space.
It all started the summer before second grade when our moving van pulled into her neighborhood. And since we're now about done with the eighth grade, that, my friend, makes more than half a decade of strategic avoidance and social discomfort.
She didn't just barge into my life. She barged and shoved and wedged her way into my life. Did we invite her to get into our moving van and start climbing all over boxes? No! But that's exactly what she did, taking over and showing off like only Juli Baker can.
My dad tried to stop her. "Hey!" he says as she's catapulting herself on board. "What are you doing? You're getting mud everywhere!" So true, too. Her shoes were, like, caked with the stuff.
She didn't hop out, though. Instead, she planted her rear end on the floor and started pushing a big box with her feet. "Don't you want some help?" She glanced my way. "It sure looks like you need it."
I didn't like the implication. And even though my dad had been tossing me the same sort of look all week, I could tell — he didn't like this girl either. "Hey! Don't do that," he warned her. "There are some really valuable things in that box."
Oh. Well, how about this one? She scoots over to a box labeled LENOX and looks my way again. "We should push it together!"
No, no, no! my dad says, then pulls her up by the arm. "Why don't you run along home? Your mother's probably wondering where you are."
This was the beginning of my soon-to-become-acute awareness that the girl cannot take a hint. Of any kind. Does she zip on home like a kid should when they've been invited to leave? No. She says, "Oh, my mom knows where I am. She said it was fine." Then she points across the street and says, "We just live right over there."
My father looks to where she's pointing and mutters, "Oh boy." Then he looks at me and winks as he says, "Bryce, isn't it time for you to go inside and help your mother?"
I knew right off that this was a ditch play. And I didn't think about it until later, but ditch wasn't a play I'd run with my dad before. Face it, pulling a ditch is not something discussed with dads. It's like, against parental law to tell your kid it's okay to ditch someone, no matter how annoying or muddy they might be.
But there he was, putting the play in motion, and man, he didn't have to wink twice. I smiled and said, "Sure thing!" then jumped off the liftgate and headed for my new front door.
I heard her coming after me but I couldn't believe it. Maybe it just sounded like she was chasing me; maybe she was really going the other way. But before I got up the nerve to look, she blasted right past me, grabbing my arm and yanking me along.
This was too much. I planted myself and was about to tell her to get lost when the weirdest thing happened. I was making this big windmill motion to break away from her, but somehow on the downswing my hand wound up tangling into hers. I couldn't believe it. There I was, holding the mud monkey's hand!
I tried to shake her off, but she just clamped on tight and yanked me along, saying, "C'mon!"
My mom came out of the house and immediately got the world's sappiest look on her face. "Well, hello," she says toJuli.
Hi!
I'm still trying to pull free, but the girl's got me in a death grip. My mom's grinning, looking at our hands and my fiery red face. "And what's your name, honey?"
Julianna Baker. I live right over there, she says, pointing with her unoccupied hand.
Well, I see you've met my son, she says, still grinning away.
Uh-huh!
Finally I break free and do the only manly thing available when you're seven years old — I dive behind my mother.
Mom puts her arm around me and says, "Bryce, honey, why don't you show Julianna around the house?"
I flash her help and warning signals with every part of my body, but she's not receiving. Then she shakes me off and says, "Go on."
Juli would've tramped right in if my mother hadn't noticed her shoes and told her to take them off. And after those were off, my mom told her that her dirty socks had to go, too. Juli wasn't embarrassed. Not a bit. She just peeled them off and left them in a crusty heap on our porch.
I didn't exactly give her a tour. I locked myself in the bathroom instead. And after about ten minutes of yelling back at her that no, I wasn't coming out anytime soon, things got quiet out in the hall. Another ten minutes went by before I got the nerve to peek out the door.
No Juli.
I snuck out and looked around, and yes! She was gone.
Not a very sophisticated ditch, but hey, I was only seven.
My troubles were far from over, though. Every day she came back, over and over again. "Can Bryce play?" I could hear her asking from my hiding place behind the couch. "Is he ready yet?" One time she even cut across the yard and looked through my window. I spotted her in the nick of time and dove under my bed, but man, that right there tells you something about Juli Baker. She's got no concept of personal space. No respect for privacy. The world is her playground, and watch out below — Juli's on the slide!
Lucky for me, my dad was willing to run block. And he did it over and over again. He told her I was busy or sleeping or just plain gone.He was a lifesaver.
My sister, on the other hand, tried to sabotage me any chance she got. Lynetta's like that. She's four years older than me, and buddy, I've learned from watching her how not to run your life. She's got ANTAGONIZE written all over her. Just look at her — not cross-eyed or with your tongue sticking out or anything — just look at her and you've started an argument.
I used to knock-down-drag-out with her, but it's just not worth it. Girls don't fight fair. They pull your hair and gouge you and pinch you; then they run off gasping to mommy when you try and defend yourself with a fist. Then you get locked into time-out, and for what? No, my friend, the secret is, don't snap at the bait. Let it dangle. Swim around it. Laugh it off. After a while they'll give up and try to lure someone else.
At least that's the way it is with Lynetta. And the bonus of having her as a pain-in-the-rear sister was figuring out that this method works on everyone. Teachers, jerks at school, even Mom and Dad. Seriously. There's no winning arguments with your parents, so why get all pumped up over them? It is way better to dive down and get out of the way than it is to get clobbered by some parental tidal wave.
The funny thing is, Lynetta's still clueless when it comes to dealing with Mom and Dad. She goes straight into thrash mode and is too busy drowning in the argument to take a deep breath and dive for calmer water.
And she thinks I'm stupid.
Anyway, true to form, Lynetta tried to bait me with Juli those first few days. She even snuck her past Dad once and marched her all around the house, hunting me down. I wedged myself up on the top shelf of my closet, and lucky for me, neither of them looked up. A few minutes later I heard Dad yell at Juli to get off the antique furniture, and once again, she got booted.
I don't think I went outside that whole first week. I helped unpack stuff and watched TV and just kind of hung around while my mom and dad arranged and rearranged the furniture, debating whether Empire settees and French Rococo tables should even be put in the same room.
So believe me, I was dying to go outside. But every time I checked through the window, I could see Juli showing off in her yard. She'd be heading a soccer ball or doing high kicks with it or dribbling it up and down their driveway. And when she wasn't busy showing off, she'd just sit on the curb with the ball between her feet, staring at our house.
My mom didn't understand why it was so awful that "that cute little girl" had held my hand. She thought I should make friends with her. "I thought you liked soccer, honey. Why don't you go out there and kick the ball around?"
Because I didn't want to be kicked around, that's why. And although I couldn't say it like that at the time, I still had enough sense at age seven and a half to know that Juli Baker was dangerous.
Unavoidably dangerous, as it turns out. The minute I walked into Mrs. Yelson's second-grade classroom, I was dead meat. "Bryce!"Juli squeals. "You're here."Then she charges across the room and tackles me.
Mrs. Yelson tried to explain this attack away as a "welcome hug", but man, that was no hug. That was a front-line, take-'em-down tackle. And even though I shook her off, it was too late. I was branded for life. Everyone jeered, "Where's your girl friend, Bryce?" "Are you married yet, Bryce?" And then when she chased me around at recess and tried to lay kisses on me, the whole school started singing, "Bryce and Juli sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G..."
My first year in town was a disaster.
Third grade wasn't much better. She was still hot on my trail every time I turned around. Same with fourth. But then in fifth grade I took action.
It started out slow — one of those Nah-that's-not-right ideas you get and forget. But the more I played with the idea, the more I thought, What better way to ward Juli off? What better way to say to her, "Juli, you are not my type"?
And so, my friend, I hatched the plan.
I asked Shelly Stalls out.
To fully appreciate the brilliance of this, you have to understand that Juli hates Shelly Stalls. She always has, though it beats me. why? Shelly's nice and she's friendly and she's got a lot of hair. What's not to like? But Juli hated her, and I was going to make this little gem of knowledge the solution to my problem.
What I was thinking was that Shelly would eat lunch at our table and maybe walk around a little with me. That way, anytime Juli was around, all I'd have to do was hang a little closer to Shelly and things would just naturally take care of themselves. What happened, though, is that Shelly took things way too seriously. She went around telling everybody — including Juli — that we were in love.
In no time Juli and Shelly got into some kind of catfight, and while Shelly was recovering from that, my supposed friend Garrett — who had been totally behind this plan — told her what I was up to. He's always denied it, but I've since learned that his code of honor is easily corrupted by weepy females.
That afternoon the principal tried cross-examining me, but I wouldn't cop to anything. I just kept telling her that I was sorry and that I really didn't understand what had happened. Finally she let me go.
Shelly cried for days and followed me around school sniffling and making me feel like a real jerk, which was even worse than having Juli as a shadow.
Everything blew over at the one-week mark, though, when Shelly officially dumped me and started going out with Kyle Larsen. Then Juli started up with the goo-goo eyesa gain, and I was back to square one.
Now, in sixth grade things changed, though whether they improved is hard to say. I don't remember Juli actually chasing me in the sixth grade. But I do remember her sniffing me.
Yes, my friend, I said sniffing.
And you can blame that on our teacher, Mr. Mertins. He stuck Juli to me like glue. Mr. Mertins has got some kind of doctorate in seating arrangements or something, because he analyzed and scrutinized and practically baptized the seats we had to sit in. And of course he decided to seat Juli right next to me.
Juli Baker is the kind of annoying person who makes a point of letting you know she's smart. Her hand is the first one up; her answers are usually complete dissertations; her projects are always turned in early and used as weapons against the rest of the class. Teachers always have to hold her project up and say, "This is what I'm looking for, class. This is an example of A-plus work."Add all the extra credit she does to an already perfect score, and I swear she's never gotten less than 120 percent in any subject.
But after Mr. Mertins stuck Juli right next to me, her annoying knowledge of all subjects far and wide came in handy. See, suddenly Juli's perfect answers, written in perfect cursive, were right across the aisle, just an eye-shot away. You wouldn't believe the number of answers I snagged from her. I started getting A's and B's on everything! It was great!
But then Mr. Mertins pulled the shift. He had some new idea for"optimizing positional latitude and longitude,"and when the dust finally settled, I was sitting right in front of Juli Baker.
This is where the sniffing comes in. That maniac started leaning forward and sniffing my hair. She'd edge her nose practically up to my scalp and sniff-sniff-sniff.
I tried elbowing and back-kicking. I tried scooting my chair way forward or putting my backpack between me and the seat. Nothing helped. She'd just scoot up, too, or lean over a little farther and sniff-sniff-sniff.
I finally asked Mr. Mertins to move me, but he wouldn't do it. Something about not wanting to disturb the delicate balance of educational energies.
Whatever, I was stuck with her sniffing. And since I couldn't see her perfectly penned answers anymore, my grades took a dive. Especially in spelling.
Then one time, during a test, Juli's in the middle of sniffing my hair when she notices that I've blown a spelling word. A lot of words. Suddenly the sniffing stops and the whispering starts. At first I couldn't believe it. Juli Baker cheating? But sure enough, she was spelling words for me, right in myear.
Juli'd always been sly about sniffing, which really bugged me because no one ever noticed her doing it, but she was just as sly about giving me answers, which was okay by me. The bad thing about it was that I started counting on her spelling in my ear. I mean, why study when you don't have to, right? But after a while, taking all those answers made me feel sort of indebted to her. How can you tell someone to bug off or quit sniffing you when you owe them? It's, you know, wrong.
So I spent the sixth grade somewhere between uncomfortable and unhappy, but I kept thinking that next year, next year, things would be different. We'd be in junior high — a big school — in different classes. It would be a world with too many people to worry about ever seeing Juli Baker again.
It was finally, finally going to be over.
