Confessions of a So-called Middle Child by Maria T. Lennon Page A

I’d been expelled from that school to a standing ovation. Her last words, You can run, but you cannot hide, Cooper.
    Trix saw my face. “Oh yeah, that’s my friend Roxy.” She went to Roxy’s page. “She’s the one who I told you about who went to your old school.” Then her face got all crinkled up. “It’s kinda weird that you don’t know her.”
    â€œYeah, well”—my face was getting hotter by the second—“I was in a special section, gifted—”
    Trix gave me the look. “Oh, please, don’t tell me you’re gifted.”
    I knew that look. It was the way I looked at my sister every day. “No, God no, the total opposite. They just put me in there because of the computer stuff.”
    Trixie clicked off and rolled onto her back. “Well, she’s a super cool girl, Rox.”
    The thought of her still made my heart hurt. I loved her, I did. I’d never forget that first day of kindergarten when we were five years old. I walked into the room, wearing the outfit I’d been planning all summer, and I saw her, and she saw me. Something passed between us, like we both knew at the exact same time that we were going to be best friends, with the whole world waiting just for us to team up and take it over.
    Cut to six years later. The friends you’d known all your life, the ones you locked eyes on all those years ago, split BFF necklaces with, had sleepovers at each other’s houses, could not live without , they ran away from you, lied about their birthday parties, crank called you from those very same birthday parties no one told you about. Horrible.
    Trix shook me. “Uh, hello. Earth to Charlie, come in, Charlie?”
    I took a deep breath, looked around the room, and remembered that was then and this was now. It was all over and would never be repeated again. Ever .
    She jumped up on the bed. “So team tryouts are coming up. There’s gymnastics, of course, and soccer; there’s even basketball.” She looked me over in a not-so-flattering way. “You’d be really good at basketball—”
    â€œI’m not into competition.” Truth was I never tried out for a team in my life. At my last school, everyone did surfing, which was one of the stupidest sports in the world besides golf. Freezing water, hungry sharks, and huge waves that dragged you along the rocky ocean floor. How stupid do you have to be?
    She stretched her legs over her head. “This year I’m making the team or I’ll kill someone, swear it.” She bounced. “There’s one spot open, and it’s mine. Lillian promised me, so I have nothing to worry about, right?”
    â€œYeah, right,” I said, but in all truth, she was looking a little creepy.
    Trixie got up, pulled open the double doors to her closet, found an entire basket of bathing suits, and tossed them on the bed. “You feel like swimming? The pool’s on the roof.”
    Pool—did someone say pool ?
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    When I got home, I was faced with a huge hole that took up the entire yard. Dad was hunched over his plans, all sweaty in his shorts and jean shirt. Not exactly Trixie’s house, that’s for sure. When he saw me coming down the driveway, he put aside his shovel and gave me this funny look.
    I laughed. “What?”
    â€œYou know you’re acting like you’re sixteen these days, with all this independence, walking to and from school and your friends’ houses.” He gave me a huge hug. “Your hair’s all wet, you smell like suntan oil, you’re smiling—where’s my kid Charlie?”
    â€œWhat can I say?” I gave him a kiss and opened the door. I was hit by a wall of odor so delectable, so wonderful, it made me stop cold. I sniffed the warm air like a hound. “Oh Mom, oh Mom. What is this ambrosia?”
    â€œPolenta with Gorgonzola. Happy?”
    â€œAh, thank God.”