didn't look that good.
He was just opening his locker after the last bell when Velveeta came skidding up.
"Listen to this," she said. "You'll never guess who just asked me out."
Travis's stomach dropped.
"Bradley Whistler." Velveeta nodded. "To the dance.
Can you believe that?"
"What'd you say?" asked Travis.
"What should I have said?"
"I don't know. Whatever you want, I guess."
Travis turned back to his locker. He took as much time as he could, straightening his books and pens, and then pulled his hoodie out and put it on. Velveeta stood there with her hands on her hips, watching him. She fired a direct gaze into his eyes, like a super- power telescope.
He looked down so she wouldn't see his face getting red.
"I told him I'd think about it," she said. "Are you coming to the library with me?"
"What for?"
"Words! Come on, we'll go over the ones I passed you this morning."
A new wave of September heat radiated up from the sidewalk. Travis didn't really feel like doing words, but he wanted her to make him laugh, and call him Travasaurus.
He wanted her to say she'd never go to a dance with Bradley in a million years.
He kicked a rock in front of them, hoping she'd kick it next. She didn't.
Once they got to the library, Velveeta was all business. "Let's see the book."
Travis handed it over.
"Look, the whole first paragraph is uncircled! You're ready to read it."
He shook his head. Going down a list, one word a time, that was one thing. But to read a sentence out loud, thrashing through wave after wave of those words?
He was not ready for that.
"Shut up!" said Velveeta. "You know every word here.
Come on, read it!"
Travis shook his head harder.
"Okay, wait. I know. We'll do it a line at a time. I'll read it, then you read it back. You can do that."
The last part sounded like Mrs. Keatley. Come on, Travis. You can do THAT.
Velveeta read the first line, bubbling the words out like liquid candy, easy easy.
She handed the book to him.
He looked at that first line and didn't see any words. Just a stream of black marks. He closed the book.
"Travis, come on. You didn't even try."
Try. That word torched fire- hot. He took the book and shoved it into his backpack.
"I've got to go."
"I can't believe you're not even going to try."
Travis stepped back, away from her, away from the table, away from everything he wanted to hit or throw. He snatched his backpack and walked out. Her words and the way she said them burned through his chest.
Try. Stupid bluefish, that's all he'd ever be. Thought a few words meant he could read. TRY, Travis. Can't you at least try? He never should have told her about the lists of words. It would just give her and Bradley something to laugh about when they went to the dance.
on MONDAY
I was mad before we even got to the library because when I told Travis about Bradley asking me to the dance, he acted like he couldn't care less. Not like I thought he'd say, "No, go with me instead," because that would be un- Travis-like. But I did think he'd say something, or at least make a face.
Because of how it was at lunch when I almost smacked him chin side with my tray. I thought he was reaching out to touch my hair. Like in a romantic- movie way. I get it now why people say someone is hot because all of a sudden Travis made me have a fever. Kawoof, furnace on.
Look, bottom line, I gotta get real here. Travis would never like me in a romantic- movie way. Not Vida Wojciehowski, Russet Lowlife Trailer-Trash Loser and half sister of Jimmy the butt. You know what Travis was doing when I thought he was reaching for my hair? He was flicking away a trailer-court cootie.
Still, on TUESDAY MORNING
Jimmy came over for dinner, so I spent the night here at your place. I hate my life. I especially hate how I feel when Jimmy's around, like the scummiest of scum- sludge bottom- feeder bad.
It stormed all night. I tried to remember what you used to say about how storms are magical and beautiful and
He was just opening his locker after the last bell when Velveeta came skidding up.
"Listen to this," she said. "You'll never guess who just asked me out."
Travis's stomach dropped.
"Bradley Whistler." Velveeta nodded. "To the dance.
Can you believe that?"
"What'd you say?" asked Travis.
"What should I have said?"
"I don't know. Whatever you want, I guess."
Travis turned back to his locker. He took as much time as he could, straightening his books and pens, and then pulled his hoodie out and put it on. Velveeta stood there with her hands on her hips, watching him. She fired a direct gaze into his eyes, like a super- power telescope.
He looked down so she wouldn't see his face getting red.
"I told him I'd think about it," she said. "Are you coming to the library with me?"
"What for?"
"Words! Come on, we'll go over the ones I passed you this morning."
A new wave of September heat radiated up from the sidewalk. Travis didn't really feel like doing words, but he wanted her to make him laugh, and call him Travasaurus.
He wanted her to say she'd never go to a dance with Bradley in a million years.
He kicked a rock in front of them, hoping she'd kick it next. She didn't.
Once they got to the library, Velveeta was all business. "Let's see the book."
Travis handed it over.
"Look, the whole first paragraph is uncircled! You're ready to read it."
He shook his head. Going down a list, one word a time, that was one thing. But to read a sentence out loud, thrashing through wave after wave of those words?
He was not ready for that.
"Shut up!" said Velveeta. "You know every word here.
Come on, read it!"
Travis shook his head harder.
"Okay, wait. I know. We'll do it a line at a time. I'll read it, then you read it back. You can do that."
The last part sounded like Mrs. Keatley. Come on, Travis. You can do THAT.
Velveeta read the first line, bubbling the words out like liquid candy, easy easy.
She handed the book to him.
He looked at that first line and didn't see any words. Just a stream of black marks. He closed the book.
"Travis, come on. You didn't even try."
Try. That word torched fire- hot. He took the book and shoved it into his backpack.
"I've got to go."
"I can't believe you're not even going to try."
Travis stepped back, away from her, away from the table, away from everything he wanted to hit or throw. He snatched his backpack and walked out. Her words and the way she said them burned through his chest.
Try. Stupid bluefish, that's all he'd ever be. Thought a few words meant he could read. TRY, Travis. Can't you at least try? He never should have told her about the lists of words. It would just give her and Bradley something to laugh about when they went to the dance.
on MONDAY
I was mad before we even got to the library because when I told Travis about Bradley asking me to the dance, he acted like he couldn't care less. Not like I thought he'd say, "No, go with me instead," because that would be un- Travis-like. But I did think he'd say something, or at least make a face.
Because of how it was at lunch when I almost smacked him chin side with my tray. I thought he was reaching out to touch my hair. Like in a romantic- movie way. I get it now why people say someone is hot because all of a sudden Travis made me have a fever. Kawoof, furnace on.
Look, bottom line, I gotta get real here. Travis would never like me in a romantic- movie way. Not Vida Wojciehowski, Russet Lowlife Trailer-Trash Loser and half sister of Jimmy the butt. You know what Travis was doing when I thought he was reaching for my hair? He was flicking away a trailer-court cootie.
Still, on TUESDAY MORNING
Jimmy came over for dinner, so I spent the night here at your place. I hate my life. I especially hate how I feel when Jimmy's around, like the scummiest of scum- sludge bottom- feeder bad.
It stormed all night. I tried to remember what you used to say about how storms are magical and beautiful and
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