walked back to the doorway I heard a bunch of laughing, and I still remember feeling excited, quickening my step so I could see what was so funny.
When I turned the corner, I saw Big Mike standing on a chair. We all called him that because he was big like a high schooler already. He had my diary open, and was holding it up and gesturing as he read out loud. The class stood around him, faces up like little birds waiting for food, laughing and laughing.
“ ‘I think I’m growing breasts!’ ” he read in a falsetto, overemoted voice. “ ‘There definitely seemed to be more roundness than before when I checked this morning, turning sideways in the mirror so I could get a good look. I can’t wait until I have a true woman’s body, then maybe I can get Tyler to look at me! Tyler is so handsome, I just want to melt every time he says hello to me . . .’ ”
At this point no one had yet seen me. I felt sick like on a ride at the fair, nauseous and out of control. In the time he was reading that paragraph I saw Tina, my friend, hopping pathetically up toward his thick arm as he leaned out of her grasp. I saw Tyler pull his shirt up and bury his head inside, turtle fashion. From inside his shirt he made retching noises.
Then someone saw me, and one by one they stifled their laughter, but their faces were still flushed and pink from the glee of my exposed secrets.
Big Mike looked not at all ashamed. He hopped down from the chair, my own chair I could see now, and tossed my diary carelessly down on my desk, making kissy noises. Kids started shoving Tyler toward me, and he was backpedaling with his feet. Big Mike grabbed me, and he smushed me into Tyler, shouting, “Does she have a real woman’s body? Does she?”
“Enough,” shouted Mrs. Thomas from the doorway, walking in as the bell rang. “Everyone to your seats.”
Her stern demeanor was for everyone at once. She always regarded her class as one organism, behaving or misbehaving as a unit. It never occurred to me to tell her what had happened.
I slunk into my chair and glanced at the lock before I buried my diary back in my binder. The flimsy thing had simply been busted open.
I later heard from Tina that she’d mentioned my diary to Jenny, something about how she heard I had a cool purple one and I’d brought it to show her, and Big Mike had overheard and run right to my desk.
For weeks afterward it was the cool thing to do, to grab Tyler and shove him at me. Once Nick Allen smashed me up against a locker, feeling my chest for a woman’s body, declaring it not there yet.
If Tyler happened to glance my way, he always looked like he might vomit and he’d scurry away as fast as possible. All things considered, I couldn’t blame him.
I threw away the purple diary in a Dumpster at the grocery store. I eventually bought a plain notebook and hid it between the mattress and box spring in my room, publicly declaring that diaries were lame anyway.
Because if I learned nothing else in seventh grade, I learned that one flimsy lock is hardly enough to protect your secrets.
Chapter 28
Angel
It’s kind of nice doing dishes with my mom. It’s so . . . normal.
When my phone bleeps in my pocket, I dry my hands and reach for it. I have to hold the phone out of my mom’s view because she’s stretching her neck to see.
It’s Scott. I’ve been trying to get his attention for weeks now.
Ru OK? Found him?
I hadn’t told him about Dylan, but word gets around. And he’s concerned! It’s sweet. I feel a little guilty being happy about his concern, considering the reason.
Yeah. He ran away, he’s fine.
Cool. Coming 2 the party?
I hadn’t even had a chance to ask my dad about Hannah’s party. It’s not the kind of thing he normally lets me go to. It’s not chaperoned, and there will be booze there. Not that I’d be up-front about that, but he’s not an idiot and he’d figure it out on his own. I pause, my thumbs over the buttons, not wanting to say “My dad won’t let me go” because that makes me sound like a baby.
Sure, I type in. I’ll figure out a way