Once Was a Time by Leila Sales Page A

make them on the grill.” He paused, then added hastily, “I mean, only if you want to.”
    â€œOf course I want to, silly,” I said.
    He smiled widely, showing off crooked teeth and too much gum. “Hey, whose class are you in?”
    â€œMrs. Vasquez’s,” I replied.
    â€œMe, too!” Jake jumped up and down twice, then stopped abruptly. “I mean, that’s cool that we’re in the same class. Yeah. Noah had Mrs. Vasquez for fifth grade, too, and he liked her. Well, he’s Noah, so he’s never actually liked a teacher. But he said she let them play Seven-Up sometimes at the end of the day, and she never assigned weekend homework, so that’s good, I guess.”
    â€œProbably,” I agreed.
    â€œHey,” Jake went on. “When you come over, we can also play . . .”
    He faded to silence, staring at something behind me. I turned around.
    It was Dakota.
    â€œHullo!” I said, pleased to see another familiar face. Maybe starting school would be better than I’d thought.
    As promised, Dakota was wearing the same lollipop shirt, though I could tell that she hadn’t picked any of the glitter off hers. She wrinkled her nose at Jake, then said to me, as if he wasn’t even there, “Hi, Charlotte! Oh my gosh, you look adorable . Come on, let me introduce you to Sydney and Kianna. They’re totally dying to meet you.”
    She grabbed my hand and pulled me away. “Good-bye, Jake!” I called behind me. He did not reply.
    â€œLook,” Dakota said in a low voice, slowing the pace once we were far enough away from Jake, “I get that you’re new here, so you probably don’t know this yet, but—don’t hang out with Jake Adler.”
    â€œWhy not?” I twisted my head around to look back at him. He was still standing in the spot where I’d left him, staring down at the grass.
    â€œHe’s not cool,” Dakota explained.
    â€œHow can you tell?”
    â€œI don’t have to tell,” Dakota said. “I just know.”
    We stopped at a tree where two girls in matching lollipop shirts were already standing. “This is Sydney, and this is Kianna,” Dakota introduced them.
    â€œHullo.” I waved.
    â€œLook at you!” Sydney shrieked. “You are exactly as cute as Dakota said you were.”
    â€œSay something!” Kianna demanded.
    My eyes darted from Kianna to Dakota, hoping for some more guidance than that. At last I said, “Something?”
    â€œSay something British ,” Kianna explained. “Like ‘bangers and mash.’”
    â€œBangers and mash,” I repeated, and the three girls squealed in unison.
    â€œWhy can’t I hang out with Jake Adler?” I asked.
    â€œ So cute,” Sydney commented.
    â€œEw,” Dakota said.
    Sydney blushed. “I meant her accent, not Jake Adler! He’s gross.”
    â€œWhy?” I asked again.
    â€œHe talks to himself sometimes,” Dakota explained. “He keeps a collection of action figures in his desk, and he majorly freaked out last year when he couldn’t find one. He plays on the swing set during recess. By himself. Like we’re in kindergarten.”
    â€œAnd his favorite class is art ,” Kianna added. “He’s always drawing little pictures or doing watercolors or gluing colored paper on to things. Like he’s a girl .”
    â€œAnd I don’t think he ever learned to tie his shoes,” Sydney contributed.
    â€œAnd his mom leaves him notes in his Star Wars lunchbox,” Dakota said, and the three girls howled with laughter. “I took one off his desk once when he wasn’t looking,” Dakota added. “It said, ‘May the Force be with you today, Jake! Love, Mommy.’” They collapsed into giggles again.
    I stared at these girls, these girls who wore the same shirt as me but seemed so different. I tried to laugh with them, but I