else's were made especially for them. He couldn't even show them to anyone! He'd had to hide them away or throw them in the trash. And it was
Megan
who had done such a mean thing? He had thought they were friends. He had liked her.
Like
-liked her.
Megan wasn't crying now. She looked like she was going to punch him in the nose. "Those messages
were
just for you. You were the only one who got them. They were the most special of all."
Evan stopped. What was she saying? He thought back to the three boxes of candy hearts he'd received. FOR YOU. BE MINE. I YOU .
Suddenly, Evan's stomach dropped down to his ankles. "Oh," was all he said. Then he crossed his arms and stared off at his friends playing soccer.
"What's going on?" Jessie looked first at Megan and then at Evan. "Why are you both so mad at each other? I thought you
liked
each other!"
"I guess not," said Megan sharply.
"Well," said Evan. But he couldn't think of a thing to say. It was as if every word in his brain had packed up and headed south to Florida for the winter.
"Show her the poem," said Jessie, reaching into her grocery bag.
Evan lunged for the bag and ripped it out of Jessie's hands so that she was left holding a single paper handle. "Hey! You can't do that!" she shouted, waving the torn handle, but Evan had already pulled out one of the newspapers and stuffed the grocery bag under his arm. He turned his back on the two girls and scanned the front page.
There it was.
Out in the open.
For everyone to see.
His poem. His love poem to Megan Moriarty.
Chapter 20
Copyright
copyright (n) the exclusive legal right of the author of a work to publish the work or allow someone else to publish it
Â
Jessie took off after Evan. He was a much faster runner than she was, and he'd gotten a head start, so when she rounded the back of the school, he was out of sight. Jessie kept running until she came to the kindergarten playground, which was all the way on the other side of the school. The big kids weren't allowed on the kindergarten playground, but Jessie spotted Evan tucked into a corner of a wall, protected from the wind and out of sight of anyone in the school. He was reading one of her newspapers, with the grocery bag full of papers at his feet.
Jessie marched up to him and said, "Give me back my newspapers!"
"You're not handing these out," he said.
"Yes, I am!"
"No. You're. Not."
"You're not the boss of me, Evan Treski!" Jessie reached for the bag, but Evan grabbed it and pivoted, just like he did on the basketball court, and avoided her attack.
"Yeah, but I'm bigger and taller and OLDER. So too bad for you."
Jessie lunged at her brother. "They're mine, and I want them back!" Evan stiff-armed her and held the bag and the paper higher so that she couldn't get it.
"Quit it!" he said. "Let me
read!"
Suddenly Jessie realized that Evan was her first reader. She stopped grabbing for the papers and instead watched him. This is what she had wanted all along: to write something that people couldn't put down.
Evan placed the bag of papers on the ground between his feet. He was a slow reader, and it took him a long time to get all the way to the end of the frontpage article. Jessie watched as he flipped the paper over to the back page and read the answer to the mystery of the candy hearts. Then he looked at her, and the look on his face was one she knew well. He was about to explain something to her.
"Look, Jess," he said. "I should be really mad at you, and I am, but I know you just don't ... get this. Here's the thing: You can't hand this paper out." He shuffled his feet together so that the grocery bag of newspapers was more safely wedged between his legs.
"Why?" she asked. She had the sinking feeling that she had done something that wasn't right. Something that other kids would have understood, but somehow she didn't. "Isn't it good?"
"Well, yeah, it's good," said Evan. "You did a great job writing up the mystery with all the clues." Evan nodded his
Megan
who had done such a mean thing? He had thought they were friends. He had liked her.
Like
-liked her.
Megan wasn't crying now. She looked like she was going to punch him in the nose. "Those messages
were
just for you. You were the only one who got them. They were the most special of all."
Evan stopped. What was she saying? He thought back to the three boxes of candy hearts he'd received. FOR YOU. BE MINE. I YOU .
Suddenly, Evan's stomach dropped down to his ankles. "Oh," was all he said. Then he crossed his arms and stared off at his friends playing soccer.
"What's going on?" Jessie looked first at Megan and then at Evan. "Why are you both so mad at each other? I thought you
liked
each other!"
"I guess not," said Megan sharply.
"Well," said Evan. But he couldn't think of a thing to say. It was as if every word in his brain had packed up and headed south to Florida for the winter.
"Show her the poem," said Jessie, reaching into her grocery bag.
Evan lunged for the bag and ripped it out of Jessie's hands so that she was left holding a single paper handle. "Hey! You can't do that!" she shouted, waving the torn handle, but Evan had already pulled out one of the newspapers and stuffed the grocery bag under his arm. He turned his back on the two girls and scanned the front page.
There it was.
Out in the open.
For everyone to see.
His poem. His love poem to Megan Moriarty.
Chapter 20
Copyright
copyright (n) the exclusive legal right of the author of a work to publish the work or allow someone else to publish it
Â
Jessie took off after Evan. He was a much faster runner than she was, and he'd gotten a head start, so when she rounded the back of the school, he was out of sight. Jessie kept running until she came to the kindergarten playground, which was all the way on the other side of the school. The big kids weren't allowed on the kindergarten playground, but Jessie spotted Evan tucked into a corner of a wall, protected from the wind and out of sight of anyone in the school. He was reading one of her newspapers, with the grocery bag full of papers at his feet.
Jessie marched up to him and said, "Give me back my newspapers!"
"You're not handing these out," he said.
"Yes, I am!"
"No. You're. Not."
"You're not the boss of me, Evan Treski!" Jessie reached for the bag, but Evan grabbed it and pivoted, just like he did on the basketball court, and avoided her attack.
"Yeah, but I'm bigger and taller and OLDER. So too bad for you."
Jessie lunged at her brother. "They're mine, and I want them back!" Evan stiff-armed her and held the bag and the paper higher so that she couldn't get it.
"Quit it!" he said. "Let me
read!"
Suddenly Jessie realized that Evan was her first reader. She stopped grabbing for the papers and instead watched him. This is what she had wanted all along: to write something that people couldn't put down.
Evan placed the bag of papers on the ground between his feet. He was a slow reader, and it took him a long time to get all the way to the end of the frontpage article. Jessie watched as he flipped the paper over to the back page and read the answer to the mystery of the candy hearts. Then he looked at her, and the look on his face was one she knew well. He was about to explain something to her.
"Look, Jess," he said. "I should be really mad at you, and I am, but I know you just don't ... get this. Here's the thing: You can't hand this paper out." He shuffled his feet together so that the grocery bag of newspapers was more safely wedged between his legs.
"Why?" she asked. She had the sinking feeling that she had done something that wasn't right. Something that other kids would have understood, but somehow she didn't. "Isn't it good?"
"Well, yeah, it's good," said Evan. "You did a great job writing up the mystery with all the clues." Evan nodded his
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