Pink & Green is the New Black by Lisa Greenwald Page B

in high school.
    I planned for it all to be perfect and the best time ever, yet it’s a box of assorted emotions, changing every other day.
    â€œGreat idea,” Zoe says. “Now, where’s Gavin?”

Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
    Try to think about things from other people’s perspectives.
    Everyone starts to shuffle into the “man cave”—which is pretty much just a game room. Someone wheels the foosball table in there too. Some boys are playing pool, and the AGE girls are involved in an intense game of foosball. I can’t tell if they know how to play or if they’re just goofing off.
    I spot Gavin coming down the stairs carrying a tray of mini hot dogs. “There he is,” I whisper to Zoe. He looks like a waiter at a fancy party, only he’s not wearing a black bow tie.
    Zoe straightens her hair and folds her arms across her chest.
    â€œDon’t stand like that,” I whisper. “It looks like you’re closed off and unapproachable.”
    â€œHuh?” she whispers.
    â€œI read it in a magazine once.”
    Erica whispers something into Zoe’s other ear that I can’t hear.
    â€œI’ll go get a mini hot dog and tell Gavin to come hang with us,” I suggest. “Just wait here. Look like you’re involved in a conversation and Erica’s saying something really funny.”
    As I carefully walk over to where Gavin’s standing at the foot of the stairs, I try to avoid eye contact with anyone. At the same time I’m trying to spot Travis, so that he can’t swoop in and suggest we hang out alone again.
    â€œI love mini hot dogs,” I tell Gavin when I get to him.
    â€œTake a plate!”
    There’s something about this party that makes it seem like Travis and Gavin are professional party throwers. There have to be at least seventy-five kids in this basement, but no one seems stressed. Not even their parents.
    â€œErica and Zoe want some too. I can’t carry that many.” I make a sort of damsel-in-distress face, which is a little lame, but I think it’ll get Gavin over to where Zoe’s standing. “Will you bring the tray over there?” I smile.
    â€œAt your service, madam!” He follows me over to the corner behind the pool table.
    â€œDon’t worry, guys, I’ve brought the hot-dog man over to you!” I say, and laugh, but no one else does. Maybe it wasn’t that funny.
    â€œLucy is the hot-dog expert,” Erica says. “You know how she won that hot-dog-eating contest last summer. Right, Gavin?”
    People bring up that hot-dog contest way more often than I thought they would.
    â€œYeah. Pretty impressive.” Gavin nods. “I’d high-five you, but I’d probably drop the tray.”
    â€œThanks. If the party gets slow, we can always start an impromptu mini-hot-dog-eating contest,” I suggest. “Just an idea.”
    â€œThen people will barf all over their basement.” Erica totally shoots down my idea.
    I ignore her comment. “So, Gavin, are you and Zoe in any classes together?”
    He thinks for a second. “Hmm. Maybe chorus?”
    â€œOh yeah.” Zoe smiles.
    â€œBut social studies too. Remember the rap?” I realize it probably seems odd that I know about that, so I add, “Sunny thought it was so funny. She had to tell me about it.”
    â€œDuh!” Gavin puts down the tray and hits himself on the head. “Obviously. How did I forget?”
    Soon they’re involved in a conversation about their rap performance, and I say loudly, “Erica, come with me for a second. I want to show you something in the other room.”
    At first she looks confused, but then she gets it.
    â€œZoe cannot have a boyfriend or date for the Masquerade before I do,” Erica says on our way to the other room. “Donot let that happen. Do you understand how serious this is?”
    â€œI do.” But