Katie Friedman Gives Up Texting! by Tommy Greenwald Page B

Timmy yelled.
    â€œYeah!” everybody answered.
    Charlie Joe cupped his hands to his mouth. “1 … 2 … 3!”
    On “3,” everyone pushed a button, and a song began to play. On everyone’s phones. At the exact same time. Loudly.
    â€œShow Me Your Moves,” by Plain Jane.
    Definitely her dance-iest song.
    Show me your moves
    And I’ll show you mine
    We can decide
    Whose moves are more fine
    Show me some style
    Show me finesse
    And I’ll show you how good
    I can look in this dress.
    Show me the right stuff
    And leave out the wrong
    And I’ll show you I love you
    â€™Til the end of the song.
    Suddenly, the blacktop was covered with people. And they were all dancing. People who think dancing is the dorkiest thing in the world were dancing. People who think dancing at recess is even dorkier were dancing. Even Charlie Joe Jackson was dancing.
    Everyone was dancing.

    And it turns out fifty cell phones playing the same song can make a pretty loud racket.
    Charlie Joe came over to me and smiled. I tried to smile back.
    â€œI thought you were way too cool to ever dance!” I shouted. “Especially at recess!”
    â€œIt’s a special occasion!” he shouted back. “This is my favorite Plain Jane song! It doesn’t have one of her preachy messages. It’s just plain fun!” And he danced away.
    Meanwhile, the only people not dancing were the Cavemen. We watched, not sure what to do. We all looked at each other.
    I walked over to Becca. “Can you believe this?”
    She shook her head. At least, I thought she shook her head. But then it kept shaking, and I realized that she was actually moving to the beat.
    â€œBecca!” I said.
    She looked at me. “What? I love this song!” And in the next instant, she ran out to the blacktop and joined the dance party.
    The rest of the Cavemen followed in two seconds.
    I was the last one standing on the sidelines. Even Eliza, my cofounder of the Cavemen, was out there, dancing up a storm. “Sorry,” she mouthed to me, while slithering up to Charlie Joe.
    I watched, wanting desperately to join in, but I couldn’t. I was either too proud or too annoyed. Probably both. After a few seconds, I felt someone come up beside me. It was Ms. Ferrell, my guidance counselor.
    â€œYou guys should play this at the talent show,” she said.

 
    34
    WHAT THE HEART WANTS
    That night we hit the halfway point—which meant the Halfway Point Barbecue.
    I was getting ready to go to Tiffany’s house when my mom knocked on my door.
    â€œYou have a phone call.”
    I could tell who it was by the amazed smile on her face.
    I raced to the kitchen to pick up the phone. “Hello?”
    â€œWell, hey there,” came that familiar, rock ’n’ roll voice. “Just checkin’ in. Glad to hear you’re holding up your end of the bargain.”
    â€œYou got my note?” I stammered.
    â€œYes, ma’am!”
    My heart was racing in the usual I-can’t-believe-I’m-talking-to-Jane-Plantero way. “I was really hoping to talk to you again. We’re halfway through the week.”
    â€œAnd how’s it going?”
    â€œWell, it’s been pretty interesting so far.”
    Jane let out a raspy chuckle. “I’ll bet. Yup, Nareem’s Papa gave me the note. How are things with ole Nareem, anyway?”
    I took a deep breath. “Well, I should probably tell you—Nareem and I broke up. After the whole text thing. He’s such an incredible person, though.”
    â€œWell,” Jane said, “the heart wants what it wants.”
    I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “The funny thing is, there’s this other boy, who I have kind of a complicated relationship with. And he didn’t give up his cellphone for the week. And in fact, it’s become this thing at school, the kids who gave up their phones against the kids