But I only have about a minute left until the tardy bell rings, so I quickly dial in the combination for my locker and switch out my Algebra textbook for my French one and jam both the book and the note into my bag.
Skipping down the hall to my class, I actually arrive and slide into my seat up front with time to spare. A thoughtful student, I organize my textbook, notebook, and number two pencil—white with the pink flowers—on my desk.
But Mademoiselle Parry isn’t in the classroom yet. Maybe I can read my note before she gets here. I look around again, and once I’m certain the coast is clear, I retrieve it and quickly unfold it.
Jenny, it reads in the same blue curly letters. I skip to the bottom of the page before reading the rest to see who it’s from. It’s from Maddie. The same tiny blue hearts that bordered my name on the outside of the note dot the i in her name. It’s cute. Maddie and I aren’t super great friends. We share a common friend in Sarah, but that’s pretty much it. I keep hoping we’ll become better friends, but it’s hard for me to reach out. I’m too shy and quiet. Maybe this is Maddie’s way of reaching out, I think just as I notice the phrase above her signature at the bottom: Just the messenger.
Not worrying what that means, I dive in.
Jenny,
I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Sarah and I don’t have time to be friends with you anymore.
My heart drops, and I scan the room again to make sure Mademoiselle Parry still hasn’t arrived. She hasn’t, so I keep reading.
Since Sarah and I both made the cheerleading squad and you didn’t, we have to focus on our practices, and it’s important that we become best friends with the girls in our squad.
The blue words cheerleading squad are double underlined with blue pen.
I’m sure you understand.
Tears prick my eyes. I wish I could talk to Sarah right now. There’s no way she would agree to this!
Sarah didn’t know how to tell you this, but the cheer girls won’t want to be our friends if Sarah’s still being friends with you.
I hastily wipe an escaped tear before my classmates can see it.
Sarah is getting really popular. She can’t have someone like you messing it up for her. You know, you are kinda a downer sometimes about your mom and all, and people don’t really like being around you.
Sarah really doesn’t want to talk to you about this, and she’s hoping that Matt will finally ask her out after school, so if you could just take this hint and not try to talk to us anymore, that would be great.
Mademoiselle Parry trots into the classroom, so I hurry and skim to the end.
Sarah might make cheer captain! Isn’t that exciting! All the boys will want to hang out with us if she does.
I’m sure Rebecca will still be your friend.
Go-o Mustangs! *high kick*
Just the messenger,
Maddie
“Bonjour, class!” Mademoiselle Parry says in her cheery voice.
“Bonjour, Mademoiselle Parry,” all of my classmates say in unison. All I can do is mouth the words, so that a sob doesn’t escape when I use my voice.
Why is Sarah doing this to me? I wonder as Mademoiselle Parry calls the roll. And why did she have Maddie write this note? My thoughts darken. If she really didn’t want to be friends anymore, why didn’t Sarah tell me herself? I mean, I get that I am sad sometimes. My thoughts turn to my mom and all of the chemo treatments she’s had over the past few months. Maybe I shouldn’t have talked about my mom so much. Maybe I should have been more happy and upbeat.
I want to cry. I want to hang my head as soon as I leave the classroom and crawl into a dark hole.
You can’t let them get to you. You can’t let them see how much this hurts, something inside me says. It’s me, but not me at the same time.
They want you to be upset about this. Don’t give them the satisfaction. I deliberately wipe my eyes and plaster a fake smile on my face at the front of the classroom and say “Here!” when my name is called, as if I hadn’t just read the worst note in my life. Just pretend like it doesn’t bother you at all.
I grit my teeth hard, pushing my emotions back. A hard lump in my throat hurts, but I force it down. I keep my smile broad and let it reach my eyes until I honestly chuckle at Mademoiselle Parry’s lame joke that I’m only half paying attention to.
I won’t let this affect me. I won’t let this affect me. I repeat the phrase to myself over and over throughout class so that when the bell finally rings and it’s time for lunch, I walk out with my head held high. Ready to face the eighth-grade.
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