iron and the moment when you screamed.
"What," Lizzie said, turning to Carly, "are you even
talking
about?"
"Everyone knows that cool people do sports and weird people do music," Carly said. When she saw Lizzie's mouth drop open, she added, "But it's okay. Singing is much cooler than
band.
Band people are really weird. I mean,
tubas?
What kind of a normal person plays the
tuba?
"
"What about the flute?" Lizzie asked sarcastically. "Can you be normal and play the flute?"
Carly considered this seriously.
"I guess so," she said. "If you're doing it to get into college or because your parents are making you."
"So you mean," Sarah said, "it's normal to play the flute if you don't want to, and weird if you do?"
"Hey, I'm not making this up," Carly said. "It's common knowledge. Ask anybody. Music people are weird."
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Sarah said. "If it's common knowledge, how come Lizzie and I never heard it?"
"Look, it doesn't matter," Carly said. "I like you even if you're weird. It's not like I'm not going to be your friend or anything. I'm just telling you. I'm just trying to
help.
So you can get into a sport before it's too late."
"When is it too late?" Lizzie asked. Sarah could tell by her eyes that she felt as though Carly were jabbing her with a fork.
"By next year, everyone already knows how to play everything," Carly said. "So when you try out, you never get picked. You have to start a sport by seventh grade or it's hopeless."
Even though Sarah didn't like sports so far, she thought it was possible that she might like them someday. She didn't want to think that she couldn't change her mind about sports in high school, that there was a deadline that the people in charge had neglected to mention.
"How do you know all this?" she asked suspiciously.
"Everyone knows," Carly said.
"
I
didn't," Lizzie said.
"It's because you're singing all the time," Carly said. "If you're not hanging out with cool people, you miss a lot of information."
The night before their trip to L.A. they had Cotillion. Sarah and Lizzie got to the gym early. Lizzie looked glum.
"I can't stop thinking about what Carly said," she admitted as they stood by the back wall watching everyone else surge toward the refreshment table. "Do you think we're weird?" she added, her voice a whisper.
"No," Sarah said. She watched a few boys stuff some cookies into the pockets of their suit jackets. You were only supposed to take two. "Well, not weirder than anyone else. I mean, everyone is a little weird. Don't you think?"
Lizzie shook her head. "Not Alison Mulvaney. Not Steve Birgantee."
"Maybe they are," Sarah said. The mom at the refreshment table was holding out her hand, waiting for the boys to give back the cookies. "Maybe Alison secretly listens to fifties music. Maybe Steve is afraid of the dark and sleeps with a night-light. Things that, if
we
did them, would be weird. But because they do them, they're not."
"I don't understand why Alison and Steve get to decide what's cool," Lizzie grumbled. "They run the school, and no one else gets a say."
Gloomily they watched the crowd.
"I don't think Carly's my best friend anymore," Lizzie said.
Sarah could tell she was about to cry. "I'm sorry," she said.
"I can't stand what she said about singing being weird," Lizzie said. "If she doesn't get it about the singing..."
"I know," Sarah said.
"Don't say anything when she gets here," Lizzie said. "Just pretend everything's okay. I don't want to have a big conversation about everything here."
Sarah nodded, but she had stopped paying attention. Marjorie had entered the gym. She was wearing
another crazy old dress. This one had puffy sleeves and a bustle. She wasn't wearing a hat this time; her hair was in a bun, held in place by a black knit snood. Kids were staring and pointing at her, but she was pretending not to notice. She looked out over the crowd, as though she was waiting for someone.
"At least we have each other,"
"What," Lizzie said, turning to Carly, "are you even
talking
about?"
"Everyone knows that cool people do sports and weird people do music," Carly said. When she saw Lizzie's mouth drop open, she added, "But it's okay. Singing is much cooler than
band.
Band people are really weird. I mean,
tubas?
What kind of a normal person plays the
tuba?
"
"What about the flute?" Lizzie asked sarcastically. "Can you be normal and play the flute?"
Carly considered this seriously.
"I guess so," she said. "If you're doing it to get into college or because your parents are making you."
"So you mean," Sarah said, "it's normal to play the flute if you don't want to, and weird if you do?"
"Hey, I'm not making this up," Carly said. "It's common knowledge. Ask anybody. Music people are weird."
"That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard," Sarah said. "If it's common knowledge, how come Lizzie and I never heard it?"
"Look, it doesn't matter," Carly said. "I like you even if you're weird. It's not like I'm not going to be your friend or anything. I'm just telling you. I'm just trying to
help.
So you can get into a sport before it's too late."
"When is it too late?" Lizzie asked. Sarah could tell by her eyes that she felt as though Carly were jabbing her with a fork.
"By next year, everyone already knows how to play everything," Carly said. "So when you try out, you never get picked. You have to start a sport by seventh grade or it's hopeless."
Even though Sarah didn't like sports so far, she thought it was possible that she might like them someday. She didn't want to think that she couldn't change her mind about sports in high school, that there was a deadline that the people in charge had neglected to mention.
"How do you know all this?" she asked suspiciously.
"Everyone knows," Carly said.
"
I
didn't," Lizzie said.
"It's because you're singing all the time," Carly said. "If you're not hanging out with cool people, you miss a lot of information."
The night before their trip to L.A. they had Cotillion. Sarah and Lizzie got to the gym early. Lizzie looked glum.
"I can't stop thinking about what Carly said," she admitted as they stood by the back wall watching everyone else surge toward the refreshment table. "Do you think we're weird?" she added, her voice a whisper.
"No," Sarah said. She watched a few boys stuff some cookies into the pockets of their suit jackets. You were only supposed to take two. "Well, not weirder than anyone else. I mean, everyone is a little weird. Don't you think?"
Lizzie shook her head. "Not Alison Mulvaney. Not Steve Birgantee."
"Maybe they are," Sarah said. The mom at the refreshment table was holding out her hand, waiting for the boys to give back the cookies. "Maybe Alison secretly listens to fifties music. Maybe Steve is afraid of the dark and sleeps with a night-light. Things that, if
we
did them, would be weird. But because they do them, they're not."
"I don't understand why Alison and Steve get to decide what's cool," Lizzie grumbled. "They run the school, and no one else gets a say."
Gloomily they watched the crowd.
"I don't think Carly's my best friend anymore," Lizzie said.
Sarah could tell she was about to cry. "I'm sorry," she said.
"I can't stand what she said about singing being weird," Lizzie said. "If she doesn't get it about the singing..."
"I know," Sarah said.
"Don't say anything when she gets here," Lizzie said. "Just pretend everything's okay. I don't want to have a big conversation about everything here."
Sarah nodded, but she had stopped paying attention. Marjorie had entered the gym. She was wearing
another crazy old dress. This one had puffy sleeves and a bustle. She wasn't wearing a hat this time; her hair was in a bun, held in place by a black knit snood. Kids were staring and pointing at her, but she was pretending not to notice. She looked out over the crowd, as though she was waiting for someone.
"At least we have each other,"
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