5 nerves

The day before school started I went over to Alexa's and her mom gave us a ride to the drugstore. "I'm so glad your parents bought the turret house," Alexa said as we walked inside. "That would completely reek if you had to go to a different school."

"I know, right?" I agreed, looking around the crowded store. "I can't believe tomorrow is—"

"Middle school!" Alexa grabbed my arm. She was even more nervous than I was. We walked down the wide center aisle, heading for the makeup department.

"Have you been practicing sign language?" I asked. A hearing-impaired boy in my summer school class had taught me some signs, and I'd loved watching the interpreter translate during class. I taught myself the fingerspelling alphabet from a chart I found online:

When I got back from Shadow Hills I watched sign language videos on YouTube, and then taught the signs to Alexa so we could tell secrets in school and no one would know what we were talking about.

She nodded, bouncing her fist twice. YES.

I touched my lips with my right hand, and then lowered the back of that hand into my left palm. GOOD.

Alexa looked at me and tried to fingerspell S-E-C-R-T L-A-N-G-U-G. I figured out that she meant secret language, and we both smiled.

I love the stationery aisle, and we spent a long time in it debating over the spiral notebooks and different kinds of pens. I finally chose a pink binder, paper with college-ruled lines, and dividers so I could make separate sections for taking notes in my classes. Alexa put a pocket dictionary in our basket, and I got a fresh blank pad like the kind my grandfather always kept handy. I could never have enough pads of paper to fill up with ideas and notes on things I planned to investigate. We spent a long time in the candle aisle because it smelled so good. Like vanilla, rose, and cinnamon. Then I picked up a lockable file box for storing clues.

We saved the makeup aisle for last, since this was the first year we were allowed to wear any. "Light colors only, and no lip liner, mascara, or eye liner," my mom had warned. "If I can tell you're wearing makeup you've got too much on."

Alexa and I compared many different pale-colored lipsticks and glosses. We opened one tester after another, twisting the product out of each tube and examining each color. She picked up a spicy red Cover Girl lipstick and showed it to me. "With your dark hair and fair skin you would look so glam in this."

"Like my mom would ever let me wear a dark color like that." Alexa shrugged and put it back. She ended up buying a light peach-colored lip gloss that was also peach scented and flavored, and I got shimmering cherry pink. We bought little makeup mirrors and breath mints, in case there were any cute boys in our classes. Most importantly, Dustin Coles for me, and Brendan Tadman for her. Every time I thought about Dustin my heart sped up. When Alexa saw him and he asked where I was, that meant something important: Dustin Coles cared what I was doing over the summer! I'd waited almost three months to see him again, and middle school was finally about to start.

Alexa was nervous too. She liked his BF Brendan, and so did all the popular girls in school who weren't crushing on Dustin. Brendan was really cute and a total crack-up. He'd make these crazy comments that were so hilarious you just about wet your pants laughing. Brendan had thick blondish-brown hair and amazing light brown eyes. They were kind of golden, like a tiger's. The only bad thing was, he didn't pay any attention to Alexa. He was the cutest boy in elementary school besides Dustin, and neither one of them were interested in us in sixth grade. This semester we were determined to change their minds.

That night I raced back and forth between my bedroom and my office, trying to get my backpack ready. I kept forgetting things I needed for my notebook pouch, and ran up and down the spiral stairs several times to grab a ruler or my new calculator. When I finally thought I had everything I needed, I realized I hadn't packed anything to write with.

When I thought about bedtime, sleep sounded impossible.

Could I find my way around Pacific and get to my classes on time? Would my teachers be cool—or not? Then a hideous thought hit me: Would a certain blonde bully who had hated my guts since fifth grade be in any of my classes? Thinking about her made my temples hurt. I called Alexa and she picked up instantly like she was hoping I'd get in touch.

"Hi Lex. It's almost here. Are you ready?"

"I have a stomachache."

"Probably just nerves. I'm nervous too."

"You don't have nearly as much to worry about," Alexa said softly. "You don't have a giant secret you're trying to keep from three-hundred other kids—or a thousand. Who could figure it out at any second, point, laugh, and make you the fool of the school."

"They won't," was all I could think of to say. Hoping I was right, and knowing I wasn't.

Alexa barked a fake laugh. "You know how to read."

"You do too," I tried to reassure her, as if she was being silly.

Alexa knew I was lying. She exhaled into the phone. "Barely."

When she started school in a tiny town in Texas, Alexa's first grade teacher told her parents she had Attention Deficit Disorder and wasn't paying attention, and that's why she was having trouble learning how to read and spell. Her teacher said she wasn't trying hard enough. Then she moved to California. Our second grade teacher noticed Alexa had trouble recognizing and writing letters, and suggested she get tested for a learning disability called dyslexia.

He was right: Alexa was dyslexic. She got some tutoring after school but she said it didn't help much, and her father never forgot what her first grade teacher said. "You have to try harder!" her dad would insist. Alexa told me more than once that if I hadn't been in her class, helping her study and explaining our assignments, she would have failed English.

"I'll help you," I said, realizing it wasn't enough.

"I know, but you can't take my tests or do my homework for me. And Ronnie told me I'd better be ready. Middle school is way harder than sixth grade." Alexa's big brother would rather be rock climbing or hiking up a mountain than doing homework, so maybe middle school had been hard for him. But he still shouldn't have scared her like that. "I have to get at least a C in English. My dad keeps telling me I need to apply myself more. He still doesn't understand that I'm trying as hard as I can." Her voice caught and she got quiet. "I just hope I can understand the textbooks. And I'm so afraid I'll make a fool of myself if we have to read out loud."

Stumbling over easy words made her feel stupid, and she was anything but dumb. Her brain just couldn't process what was written on the page. "We probably won't have to," I said. "Not in seventh grade, right?"

"Yeah, they probably figure we should be able to read by now," Alexa mumbled, and my heart sank.

I hadn't meant to hurt her feelings. "Want to share our lockers? Then we'll always see each other between classes," I said, hoping to cheer her up. "And you can help me find my way around Pacific." Maybe the thought of us helping each other would make her feel better.

"OK," Alexa agreed, knowing how easily I got lost. "That's a great idea. Tomorrow I'll meet you in first period, then we can find our lockers at the break."

"I better finish getting my stuff ready. See you in the morning. If I can find the building," I said, picking the corner of my pillow.

"You will. I'm more worried about what'll happen once we go inside." I heard Alexa take a deep breath.

I took one too. "See you tomorrow."