Everything I Know About You Read online

  Me? But we weren’t talking about me. And anyway, how could you know if you had changed, in a way that meant something real about you as a person? It wasn’t like watching yourself do jumping jacks in the mirror: You couldn’t see your own feelings jiggle.

  Although possibly you watched your feelings bounce off other people, or something.

  And as I watched Marco walk over to Spider, I could tell my feelings were bouncing off him at that exact moment.

  The Shovel

  AT SIX THIRTY, WE HEADED back to the hotel for dinner. The last thing I wanted was a meal with Sonnet and the clonegirls, or with Ava and her mom, so I sat at Mr. G’s table with Spider, Marco, and Trey. They were still discussing baseball—and now Mr. G was talking about getting tickets to see the Gnats play.

  “You mean tonight?” Marco asked excitedly. His eyes lit up.

  “Sure, why not?” Mr. G replied. “If we can get tickets. I’m thinking maybe some of you guys who didn’t get to go to the Kennedy Center deserve a special treat.”

  “Trey did the Kennedy Center,” Marco reminded him.

  “Yeah, well, plan B kids get dibs,” Mr. G replied. “Trey can go if there’s room.”

  “That’s fair,” Trey admitted, which kind of surprised me.

  Then Mr. G went around the restaurant to ask which Eastview kids wanted to come to the baseball game (if he could get tickets, he kept adding). When he returned to our table he reported that twenty-seven kids wanted to see the Gnats.

  “Plus you four, plus Mr. Melton and Mrs. Gilroy, equals thirty-four tickets all together,” Mr. G said, typing into his phone. “If we can get that many tickets, which is a big question, they’re going to be way up in the bleachers.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Don’t include me, Mr. G.” I tried to catch Spider’s eye, but he pretended to be fascinated by the mustard on his hot dog.

  “Ah, too bad,” Mr. G said. “You sure, Tally?”

  “Yeah, baseball puts me in a coma.” I swallowed. “And besides, I’m really not . . . feeling so well.”

  “Tally, you’re sick?” Spider asked, looking at me, finally.

  “Kind of.” I put down my fork.

  “Well, Ms. Jordan says that kids who aren’t going can watch a movie at the hotel. Let me talk to her.” He left the table again.

  “What’s wrong with you, Tally? You got your period?” Trey sniggered.

  “Shut up, Trey,” Marco snapped. “That’s not even funny.”

  Hearing Marco stick up for me made my heart skitter. So that I wouldn’t have to look at him, I glared at Trey. “I’d just rather not go to some boring baseball game,” I told him. “Is that so incomprehensible, you microbe?”

  “Whatever.” Trey took a ketchupy bite of burger.

  Spider was watching me with worried eyes. “Can I talk to you, Tally? In private?”

  “Absolutely.”

  We got up from the table and walked into the lobby, where Roy, Hipster Bonnet, and some other people were doing a minuet while some guy in a vest and knee socks played a fiddle.

  “Do you want me to stay here with you?” Spider asked. “Because I will.”

  That was so sweet. Immediately I forgave him for how he’d ignored me the whole time at the Air and Space Museum. And at the Thai restaurant at lunch. And also just now at dinner.

  “Only if you’d rather not go to this stupid baseball game,” I said.

  He shrugged.

  Then I thought about what Sonnet had said, how Spider was sick of me acting like his babysitter. So I added quickly: “You know, I don’t expect you to do anything. I mean, it’s totally your decision.”

  “Yeah, I know.” He stuck his hands in his pockets and stared at the dancers. “Well, as long as you don’t need me here, I guess I’ll go to the game.”

  Wait, what? He wasn’t supposed to say that.

  I stared at him. “Spider, you detest baseball.”

  “No,” he said, blinking. “I used to.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. I think I changed my opinion.”

  “Seriously? You’re standing here telling me that all of a sudden, now you actually like—”

  “Tally, you’re shouting.”

  “Sorry.” I took a breath. “This is really about hanging out with Marco, right? Why can’t you be honest and just admit it?”

  Spider’s eyes flashed. “Tally, are you accusing me of lying to you?”

  “No. Not exactly.”

  “Yeah, you are. First about liking baseball, then about Marco. And I’ve never lied to you about anything. In my whole life.”

  “I know that,” I admitted.

  His breathing was getting fast. “So I’m really mad at you for saying that just now.”

  Hipster Bonnet made a shh finger at us.

  “Sorry,” I said quickly. “Please calm down, Spider, okay?”

  His face was red. “Don’t tell me what to do!”

  “I’m not! I just don’t want you to lose it, all right? In public.”

  “You’re telling me to calm down, which is a thing to do. I’m really sick of it, Tally, you know that? And I wish you were happy I’d made a new friend!” Spider was shouting even louder than before.

  The minuet stopped. Now Hipster Bonnet and Roy were looking alarmed, whispering to each other, probably wondering if they should call the Minutemen. Or maybe a teacher or somebody.

  And then Derrick and Jamal walked out of the Thomas Jefferson, followed by Shanaya and Sydney.

  I tried to ignore them. “Believe me, I am happy for you,” I whispered fiercely. “I just wish you could be yourself with Marco, not pretend to be interested in something you actually hate.”

  “Tally, we’re not in the sandbox anymore! I don’t need you to protect my shovel.”

  Shanaya giggled behind her hands. “Protect my shovel” must have sounded kind of crazy, even without the shouting, but it wasn’t like I could start explaining.

  For an endless minute, Spider and I stared at each other. It was like I was watching a storm cloud pass in slow motion—as the seconds went by, I could tell he wasn’t going to fall apart, or have a panic attack, or have trouble breathing. But he was still furious at me. And I wanted to defend myself, but I had no idea how. Especially in the hotel lobby, with all these other people standing there, watching.

  Finally he shook his head. “Can I tell you something, Tally? Every day you come to school looking completely different—weird clothes, and all that other crazy stuff you put on. But it’s like no one else gets to change anything. Ever.”

  “What? What are you talking about?” My voice sounded strange. Really, it didn’t even sound like my own voice. “That doesn’t even make any—”

  “Marco is nice, okay? And I like baseball. Or, at least, I’m willing to give it a try. Why can’t you deal with that?”

  “Fine. Go ahead,” I snapped. “Does Marco know you’re completely ignorant about the game? Or maybe you lied to him about that fact too? So that he wouldn’t think you’re weird?”

  As soon as I said this, I thought: Bleep. How could you say something so mean to Spider, of all people? What’s going on with you, Tally?

  Although Spider didn’t even answer the question. He just crossed his arms on his chest like he was protecting himself from me, or maybe making a decision.

  “I hope you feel better, Tally,” he said quietly, and walked back into the restaurant.

  Black Hole

  AFTER THE WAY I’D JUST screwed up with Spider, I couldn’t face going back to the restaurant. So for a while I just sat in the lobby, waiting for Sonnet to finish supper. I knew she was at the clonegirl table—but there was an atom of a possibility that she’d walk out of the Thomas Jefferson on her own. She didn’t, of course, but she did exit with only Haley, so I felt okay about pouncing.

  “Hey, Sonnet, could I talk to you a minute?” I asked.

  She checked with Haley; I saw it.

  “No problem,” H
aley answered. “I’ll see you upstairs, Sonnet.”

  We watched Haley get into the elevator and wave at us in a bye-bye sort of way.

  “So,” I said to Sonnet. “I feel like I haven’t seen you all day!”

  “Just in the morning,” Sonnet replied. “And frankly, Tally, every time I tried to talk to you this afternoon, you walked away.”

  “That’s because you were hanging out with clonegirls!”

  “I wish you wouldn’t call them that word. It’s actually kind of mean. And they’re all very nice, once you get to know them.” Her brow puckered. “Especially Haley. We’ve been singing Hamilton together in the bathroom.”

  “Why the bathroom?” I didn’t care; it was just a way to change the subject.

  But Sonnet took the question seriously. “Acoustics. And she’s been coaching me about my stage fright. She knows all these cool relaxation techniques.”

  “Cool,” I said super enthusiastically.

  “She says I have a really good voice.”

  “Because you do! Haven’t I told you that a million times?”

  “Yeah. But Haley’s always the lead in everything. So coming from her, you know? It means a lot.” She turned pink. “She wants me to audition again. She says she’ll help me rehearse.”

  And therefore I’m losing Sonnet for good, I thought. Well, it was probably inevitable.

  “What about the moose?” I asked, trying to sound playful.

  “The what?”

  “That pink stuffed animal you were spying on, remember? So does Haley sleep with it?” I made my face look interested.

  “I forgot to check. But it’s really cute, so I wouldn’t be surprised.” Sonnet glanced at her phone. “Tally, we should go change now.”

  “For what?”

  “The baseball game. Mr. G just said he got the tickets.” She glanced at my bowling shirt. “You’re going to the game, right?”

  “Actually, no,” I said. “I’m staying here.”

  “At the hotel? What for?”

  “To wash my hair.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I never joke. I’m an extremely serious person, as you know.”

  Sonnet didn’t even smile at that. “Well, I wish you were coming with us.” She paused. “I also wish you sat with us at supper.”

  Us. As if Haley and Nadia and all those other girls wanted me to join them.

  “I’ll definitely sit with you guys for breakfast,” I lied. “Anyway, have fun tonight! Go, Bugs!”

  She gave me a funny look, then a speed hug, then ran into the open elevator.

  I counted to sixty for her to get into her room, then took the stairs back to Lexington 06. As soon as I was inside our room, I spied a plastic container of uneaten food on the dresser and heard the sound of water in the bathroom.

  I flopped on my bed. Was this the worst day of my life? Possibly it was. Anyway, as I stared at the battle pattern on my comforter, I couldn’t think of a worse one.

  “Hey,” Ava said as she came out of the bathroom. “Going to that baseball game?”

  “Nope,” I said.

  She gave me a look. “How come? Aren’t your friends going?”

  I shrugged.

  “Oh, I get it. It’s weird for you that they have new friends, right?”

  I decided not to respond. But it shocked me that she’d picked up on this. Obviously, she’d been spying more than I’d realized.

  I watched nervously as she opened her drawer and pulled out the pink tank I’d tried on. She went into the bathroom to put it on. A minute later she came out wearing her bathrobe and tossed the tank into the trash.

  My heart pounded. Why didn’t she want it anymore? Had I stretched it out? I couldn’t have; the material was superhero stretchy. Maybe she’d decided she was anti-pink.

  I watched her take off her bathrobe. Underneath was a clingy blue T-shirt. How come she wore clothes that showed (almost) how skinny she was? You’d think she’d be embarrassed.

  “So are you going to the game?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

  Ava shook her head. “No, I’d rather work out in the gym tonight. Afterward I’ll probably go to that movie they’re showing downstairs. And Mom will be here, so.”

  As she bent over to tie her sneaker laces, I could count every bone in her spine through the T-shirt.

  And once again I couldn’t stop myself. “Ava, can I please say something?”

  “Maybe.” She kept tying. “What about?”

  “You,” I blurted. “You aren’t eating. I see you brought a doggy bag back from supper just now, and you didn’t eat any lunch at the Thai place. And at breakfast you made me lie to your mom about that muffin—”

  She sat up. “For your information, I eat a perfectly healthy diet. Lots of fruits and vegetables. And protein—”

  “But no actual calories.”

  Her face was red. “Tally, what I eat has nothing to do with you, all right?”

  “But it’s not all right, that’s the thing. I don’t think you’re healthy. You look bad.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh, and I suppose you think you look so cool in that ridiculous bowling shirt with those stupid glasses—”

  “I told you I think they’re funny. And I’m not hurting myself by wearing them.”

  She grabbed her hair and made a ponytail, this time with an actual rubber band. “Well, thanks for being so nosy, but I’m fine.”

  “I don’t think you are, though.” I swallowed. “I think something may be wrong. I mean, with you.”

  Ava stared at me. Her chin trembled, as if she was fighting tears.

  “Tally, I know you’re smart,” she said, and now her voice wobbled. “We all know you’re smart, okay? But that doesn’t give you the right to judge people all the time.”

  “Me?” My mouth dropped open. “I’m not judging you, Ava! I swear I’m not!”

  A tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away. “You said I ‘look bad,’ Tally. That’s not a judgment?”

  “I didn’t mean it that way,” I said quickly. “I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings. It’s just that I’m getting worried—”

  “Well, don’t. Worry about yourself, and why everyone thinks you’re such a freak.” She grabbed a gym bag and fled the room.

  Bleep, I thought. Why did I say all that? I didn’t accomplish anything. In fact, I just made everything between us even worse. And while I was on the subject of Stupid Negative Comments I’d Made Lately, I took out my phone to see if Spider had texted. No, but why would he? I owed him a major apology, but that should happen in person. After he got back from this boring baseball game he couldn’t possibly care about, whatever he’d pretended with Marco.

  Then I wondered: Did I owe Sonnet an apology too? I couldn’t think what for, but I was starting to wonder if I was capable of talking without causing weirdness. What was wrong with me, anyway? It was like since we got to DC, or maybe to this crazy hotel, I couldn’t stop wrecking everything with everybody. Maybe this place was like some alternate dimension where you couldn’t shut up and made people hate you. Some kind of eighteenth-century black hole, where you messed up with everyone you cared about, and came out the other end totally friendless. With nothing but an ugly green T-shirt and some stupid pirate Band-Aids that didn’t even stick.

  Spiffy

  A MINUTE LATER THERE WAS a soft knock at the door.

  “Hello?” I called.

  “Tally, it’s me, Ms. Jordan. Can I see you, please?”

  “Sure,” I said, jumping up to open the door.

  She was wearing faded gray sweatpants and a baggy SPCA tee. Non-teacher clothes. This was how she looked when she wasn’t at work, and wasn’t all scrubbed and perfect and shiny.

  I could feel my face relax into a smile. “You look nice,” I said.

  “Well, thank you, Tally.” I could tell she was surprised I’d said a compliment. Who knew, maybe the teachers also thought I was judgy and insulting. I wondered what they thought a
bout Ava.

  Ms. Jordan was looking me over. “Mr. G said you weren’t feeling well?” she asked kindly.

  “I’m okay. Just, you know.” I stared at her flip-flops.

  “That time of the month?”

  “Yeah, I guess,” I answered vaguely. “I really just feel like resting tonight.”

  “A bunch of kids are watching a movie in the Martha Washington conference room. Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Have you seen it?”

  I shook my head.

  “Well, it’s hilarious, and knowing you, I think you’d love it.”

  Knowing me? What a funny thing for her to say. “Maybe later,” I said. “Right now, I just feel like resting.”

  “Okay.” She made teacher eye contact. “And I guess I don’t have to tell you, do I, that you should stay in your room and not open the door for anyone but Ava or Mrs. Seeley.”

  “Right-o.” I saluted her.

  She didn’t smile. “Tally, you’re sure you don’t want to see the movie? Because I’d really love for you to join us.”

  The funny thing was that I believed her. I could tell Ms. Jordan was trying her best to make me part of the group—not to make things easier for her, but because she actually wanted to rescue me, for some reason. Also, I was starting to think she didn’t hate me.

  But I still didn’t change my mind about going. “Thanks, but no, I’d rather stay here. I promise I’ll be fine.”

  She hesitated. For a second the thought flickered in my mind that I should tell her about Ava. But what would I say, exactly? Ava hadn’t admitted anything to me; I had no specific data to report. And if I did tell Ms. Jordan about the eating, or rather the not eating, this wouldn’t be the right time, anyway. Not when a bunch of kids were waiting for her to show a movie.

  Ms. Jordan was studying my face. “Hey, I really like those glasses, Tally. They’re spiffy.”

  I grinned. That was exactly what they were: spiffy. I took them off. “Thank you. They belonged to my grandma Wendy, but they’re not prescription.”