horrible to consider.
When I got to Gran’s, I skipped checking in with Lew and made a beeline for my room. Carefully I closed the door, and then I stood in front of the bread box for the first time in almost a week. I stood there, wondering what might make me popular again. I asked myself, what was the awesomest thing I could think of? What would make people think I was
cool
?
Then I had a thought. I patted the bread box and said, “I … I want a jacket just like Hannah’s.”
The box would know which one.
Hannah’s jacket was special. It was her most favorite item of clothing. Her “signature item,” she called it. As she’d explained to me several times, it was a riding coat, and it was made of soft tan leather, the color of caramel, but it had red flowers stitched on it in a kind of country-western style that wasn’t too country-western. Everyone loved Hannah’s jacket.
She didn’t keep it in her locker but carried it with her through the day, hanging it on the back of her chair in each class. She was extra careful with it, always dusting it offwhen there wasn’t any dust on it. It wasn’t a seventh-grade kind of jacket. It was an older-sister kind of jacket, or maybe even a college-kid jacket.
I opened up the bread box. There
was
a jacket just like Hannah’s, exactly like Hannah’s, folded neatly. I pulled it out and slipped it on. It fit perfectly. Like it had been made for me, which probably it had been.
I turned to admire myself in the mirror. The sleeves touched my palms. The lines of the coat hugged my shoulders. It felt rich—thin but heavy.
I pushed my hair aside with my hand so that the front swooped into pretend bangs. I didn’t look like myself at all, I thought, with my hair that way. Mary Kate would barely recognize me if I went home looking like this. I looked better than me, older than me. I got butterflies staring in the mirror. Maybe it wasn’t all bad to be cool. I patted the bread box again and wished for a headband. I fixed my hair so that the swoop stayed.
I made another wish and filled my pockets with the Starbucks gift cards from the bread box.
C HAPTER 12
T he next morning, after watching Lew arrange raisins in a circle on top of his oatmeal and feeling a little bad that I hadn’t played with him the day before and that I didn’t have time for him now, I locked myself in the bathroom. I got dressed very, very carefully. I pulled on my skinny jeans and slipped into new red ballet flats. I picked out my favorite black shirt. Then I did my hair in the swoopy new way. When everything looked perfect, I went to my bedroom and put the jacket on. It all felt just right.
I picked up my backpack, ran down the hallway, and shot out the front door, shouting, “Off to school!” before my mom or Gran could catch a glimpse of me. I knew the jacket was too much. I knew they’d ask questions if they saw it.
I also knew I looked really good. Each time I caughta glimpse of myself reflected in a car window, I couldn’t help smiling. I felt pretty. I knew where I was going. I didn’t feel like
Becky
, exactly. I felt like someone else. Maybe someone older. Or someone richer. Or
something
. I wasn’t sure. I felt
new
in my jacket, and I was pretty certain that, just like Megan had said, soon everyone would forget about what had happened at the lunch table. They’d be too jealous to ignore me, too impressed to make fun. I figured I’d begin with Megan. I’d get myself an ally.
Before I could say hello to
anyone
, before I could even make it inside the doors of the school,
they
saw me. Or I should say, they saw the jacket.
“Oh. My.
God
!” Maya called out when I neared the front steps. She was standing, facing me, in a tight little circle with a few other girls. When she spoke, the circle opened and turned to see what she was talking about.
“Hi,” I said, walking over like there was no reason I shouldn’t walk over to them, like there was nothing wrong at all, like they
When I got to Gran’s, I skipped checking in with Lew and made a beeline for my room. Carefully I closed the door, and then I stood in front of the bread box for the first time in almost a week. I stood there, wondering what might make me popular again. I asked myself, what was the awesomest thing I could think of? What would make people think I was
cool
?
Then I had a thought. I patted the bread box and said, “I … I want a jacket just like Hannah’s.”
The box would know which one.
Hannah’s jacket was special. It was her most favorite item of clothing. Her “signature item,” she called it. As she’d explained to me several times, it was a riding coat, and it was made of soft tan leather, the color of caramel, but it had red flowers stitched on it in a kind of country-western style that wasn’t too country-western. Everyone loved Hannah’s jacket.
She didn’t keep it in her locker but carried it with her through the day, hanging it on the back of her chair in each class. She was extra careful with it, always dusting it offwhen there wasn’t any dust on it. It wasn’t a seventh-grade kind of jacket. It was an older-sister kind of jacket, or maybe even a college-kid jacket.
I opened up the bread box. There
was
a jacket just like Hannah’s, exactly like Hannah’s, folded neatly. I pulled it out and slipped it on. It fit perfectly. Like it had been made for me, which probably it had been.
I turned to admire myself in the mirror. The sleeves touched my palms. The lines of the coat hugged my shoulders. It felt rich—thin but heavy.
I pushed my hair aside with my hand so that the front swooped into pretend bangs. I didn’t look like myself at all, I thought, with my hair that way. Mary Kate would barely recognize me if I went home looking like this. I looked better than me, older than me. I got butterflies staring in the mirror. Maybe it wasn’t all bad to be cool. I patted the bread box again and wished for a headband. I fixed my hair so that the swoop stayed.
I made another wish and filled my pockets with the Starbucks gift cards from the bread box.
C HAPTER 12
T he next morning, after watching Lew arrange raisins in a circle on top of his oatmeal and feeling a little bad that I hadn’t played with him the day before and that I didn’t have time for him now, I locked myself in the bathroom. I got dressed very, very carefully. I pulled on my skinny jeans and slipped into new red ballet flats. I picked out my favorite black shirt. Then I did my hair in the swoopy new way. When everything looked perfect, I went to my bedroom and put the jacket on. It all felt just right.
I picked up my backpack, ran down the hallway, and shot out the front door, shouting, “Off to school!” before my mom or Gran could catch a glimpse of me. I knew the jacket was too much. I knew they’d ask questions if they saw it.
I also knew I looked really good. Each time I caughta glimpse of myself reflected in a car window, I couldn’t help smiling. I felt pretty. I knew where I was going. I didn’t feel like
Becky
, exactly. I felt like someone else. Maybe someone older. Or someone richer. Or
something
. I wasn’t sure. I felt
new
in my jacket, and I was pretty certain that, just like Megan had said, soon everyone would forget about what had happened at the lunch table. They’d be too jealous to ignore me, too impressed to make fun. I figured I’d begin with Megan. I’d get myself an ally.
Before I could say hello to
anyone
, before I could even make it inside the doors of the school,
they
saw me. Or I should say, they saw the jacket.
“Oh. My.
God
!” Maya called out when I neared the front steps. She was standing, facing me, in a tight little circle with a few other girls. When she spoke, the circle opened and turned to see what she was talking about.
“Hi,” I said, walking over like there was no reason I shouldn’t walk over to them, like there was nothing wrong at all, like they
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