Trying to Float by Nicolaia Rips

deli.”
    The message of the Look, also known as the evil eye, is something like: “Oh yeah? You think you’re going to go and leave your friends? Well, you can bet that when you come crawling back to us, we’re not even gonna look at you! Yeah, and we’re gonna have a lot of fun without you! Ha!”
    Maria and I needed to find Janie as quickly as possible so that we could deliver the Look and get to the deli before class started. We searched the school.
    As soon as we caught sight of Janie’s group, Maria started to speak out of the side of her mouth.
    â€œ Uno, due, tre  . . . go!”
    Nearing the center of Janie’s posse, we began to strut and then, in unison, whipped our heads toward Janie, delivering the Look. But alas, Janie had turned away. We were giving the Look to the back of her head.
    I figured this was the time to assert myself.
    â€œMaria, I’m going to get my chocolate.”
    â€œOnce more,” Maria pleaded. “Then we can go.”
    â€œMaria, this has gone far enough. I need my chocolate!”
    â€œPleassssse! You’ll be my best friend.”
    Wasn’t I already her best friend?
    Back in formation, we marched toward the group.
    â€œUno, due, tre.”
    We snapped our heads. The Look.
    Again, the back of Janie’s head.
    At this point, we could not stop. Over and over again, we marched, until we were doing nothing but circling Janie, snapping our heads and grunting. Rather undignified.
    And I swear that Janie had a radar for the two of us, for every time we threw the Look, it missed.
    The bell rang.
    I was furious.
    As Maria and I were leaving the cafeteria, I glanced back at Janie and to my horror noticed that Janie was now staring at us. But the horror came not from Janie’s eyes but from her mouth. She was chewing what should have been mine. A chocolate bar.

GRETA RETURNS
    THE FIRST FEW months of middle school went well. The change of environment had washed away my stench from elementary school, and though I’d lost Janie, I still had Maria and a couple other friends.
    So here I was, the kid who, just a year before, no one wanted to have anything to do with, walking down the hallway with friends, greeting people at their lockers, and, best of all, going to birthday parties.
    I was strolling into this happy reality one November morning when I caught sight of Maria and others crowded around a curly haired figure, who was, from nothing more than the top of her head, unmistakably Greta, my former friend from elementary school. Though she and I had ended up at the same middle school, because she hadn’t been in Rebecca’s class, I’d seen little of her.
    Her friends were pretty, stylish, and involved in many school activities (dance, athletics, theater); mine were unattractive and liked anime. But to me, none of this mattered; my friends had the one quality that made them superior to anyone else at the school: they wanted to be with me.
    â€œNicki!” Maria greeted me, stepping away from the group surrounding Greta.
    â€œMaria!” I responded, throwing my arms around her.
    â€œYou have to hear this,” Maria whispered excitedly, pulling me into the group.
    Greta had just begun the story.
    â€œThe other day . . .”
    Greta dropped her voice. Everyone moved closer to hear.
    â€œ. . . Oscar asked if I would meet him after school.”
    Oscar was a sweet, cute (though chinless), but not particularly smart boy. He was a friend of Greta’s, and she had a crush on him.
    â€œWhen we met, Oscar told me that he needed to tell me ‘a secret.’ ”
    Now we were getting to the good stuff.
    â€œ ‘Greta, I did something terrible,’ Oscar told me, ‘and I don’t know what to do about it.’
    â€œ ‘There is nothing so bad that we can’t handle it,’ I said to Oscar. But I was worried. Oscar’s parents were always busy and had no time for