Totally Middle School Read online

  I can’t help turning around and staring at him. He really ate my lunch?

  Tony smiles again.

  “Just kidding. Here. It fell on the floor while you were snoring.” He holds out the bag.

  “Did I snore?” My face grows warm.

  “Kidding. Relax. It’s so loud on this bus I wouldn’t know if you were. I can’t believe they said no headphones.”

  I don’t have an answer, so I turn around again. This is the first time Tony or any boy at school has really talked to me. Spencer rides my bus and says hi sometimes. He told me we missed the bus when it came early one day. Soniya called him my “friend” and Abbu quickly corrected her. “He’s her classmate,” he’d said.

  “You forgot something.” I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn. The lunch bag is waving in my face.

  “Thanks.” I grab it as someone gets on the bus. It’s Heather, a counselor at Skycroft.

  “Listen up, everyone. We’re hiking for the next hour. Leave your lunches in that bin and we’ll bring them to the dining hall. Your bags will be brought to your cabins.”

  We file off the bus, and it’s much colder than it was at home. As I slept, we traveled to a mountainous part of Maryland. Trees are everywhere, and the ground is covered in leaves. My hat and gloves are packed in my bag, so I shove my hands into my jacket and join the kids trailing Heather and Ms. Wehrle.

  I look at the ground, trying to keep mud from getting on my white tennis shoes. A pair of red sneakers is staying near mine and I look up. It’s Tony again.

  “I was in ESL for a while too,” he volunteers. “I’m from El Salvador. Where are you from?”

  “Pakistan.” I say it the way we do THERE, “Pock-iss-TAAN,” and can tell he doesn’t understand.

  “PACK-iz-stan,” I offer again, and now Tony nods.

  “Right.” He is quiet for a while, and I wonder if he knows anything about THERE. Abbu says most Americans have only heard bad things about our country, like the evil terrorists that made us leave. He thinks it’s our job to tell people about all the beautiful things THERE, and what millions of real Muslims believe. But no one’s ever asked me anything about that. I hope Tony doesn’t either.

  “Well, see you later.” Tony catches up to another boy, who has blond hair. I’m suddenly warmer than before and glance around me. A girl from my math class is looking at me, and a little smile forms on her lips. Her name is Eva. I keep walking.

  We finally get to the dining hall and I find my lunch and sit on a bench while Heather explains the rest of the day. Everyone groans when she says there’s another hike and cheers about something called s’mores. Tony catches my eye from another bench as I bite into my sandwich. I can’t help smiling, and hold out half in his direction. He smiles back, shakes his head, and takes a bite of his own.

  “You have forty-five minutes to get organized in your bunks and rest,” Heather announces.

  I’m assigned to the Laurel Cabin, and my group heads along a path to a box-shaped building. Inside are a bunch of bunk beds, and everyone rushes to grab them. I start to worry that I’ll be sharing with Ms. Wehrle, when I spot Eva alone next to a set of beds. I grab my bag from the pile and walk over to her.

  “Can I share with you?” I ask.

  “Sure. But can you take the top? I’m afraid of heights,” she says.

  “Okay.”

  “Nice sleeping bag.” Eva points at her own, which is identical to mine.

  “Yeah.” I smile.

  The other girls are chattering and some are changing their clothes. I never change in front of anybody, even Ammi and Soniya. But HERE, we change our clothes for gym class every day. And girls undress in front of each other like it’s no big deal. I’ve learned to change so fast, no one sees anything.

  “You’re in my math class,” Eva continues. “You’re new, right?”

  “Yeah.” I wait for her to ask me where I’m from, but she doesn’t.

  “I moved here from France in the middle of fifth grade,” she continues.

  “Really?” I’m surprised. Eva speaks just like the other kids.

  “We lived in France for three years because my dad’s in the navy. We move around a lot.”

  “Oh.” That’s why she doesn’t sound French.

  “You’re lucky you started here in sixth grade.”

  “Lucky?”

  “The end of fifth grade had parties and a promotion ceremony with a slide show. I wasn’t in any of the pictures, and I didn’t know anyone.”

  “I don’t know anyone,” I say.

  “Yeah, but four elementary schools feed into our middle school. So everyone doesn’t know some people.”

  “I guess.” I don’t see how that is the same as not having any friends, but I don’t say so.

  “I can’t believe we have to go on another hike! I’m so tired.” Eva rummages through her bag.

  The second hike is better because I have my hat and gloves and Eva with me. Heather and Ms. Wehrle take us on a trail to the original Washington Monument. It’s nothing like the tall, pointy white tower my family saw in Washington, D.C., the first week we arrived in America. This one is made of gray stones and looks like a giant barrel.

  “What are s’mores?” I finally work up the nerve to ask Eva.

  “Oh, you’ll see.” Eva smiles mysteriously.

  After the hike, we return to the dining hall. The Frogs have dinner duty, so we have to set the tables. I see Tony walk into the dining hall with a bunch of boys. He grabs a handful of forks and drops them next to the plates I put down.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “Hey,” I answer.

  Eva comes over and motions to me. “They want us to bring out the drinks.”

  I give Tony a half smile and as we walk away I can feel him watching us. Eva grips my arm.

  “You like Tony,” she says in a hushed voice.

  “What?”

  “I can tell. I think he likes you too.”

  “He found my lunch on the bus.”

  “I saw him talking to you before, and now he came right over to you.”

  It feels like Eva wants me to say something, but I don’t know what it is.

  “So?” She looks at me like we’re sharing a secret, and I feel a pang of missing Deena.

  “Yes?” I ask.

  “Do you like him?”

  “Yes. He’s my classmate.” I’m happy he didn’t really eat my lunch and that he’s being nice to me.

  Eva tilts her head a little and looks at me like she’s trying to decide something. Then she hands me a pitcher of water.

  I learn what s’mores are after we eat cheeseburgers and fries. We go outside to a big fire and put big fluffy squares called marshmallows on long sticks to cook. They catch fire and we blow them out, and they turn black on the outside and gooey on the inside. Then we make a little sandwich with them on sweet crackers and pieces of chocolate.

  Eva is sitting next to me and also talking to another girl named Laurie. Tony and his blond friend come over to us with a huge stack of s’mores on a paper plate.

  “We’re making a s’mores tower—the biggest ever. Wanna get in the Guinness Book?” Tony says.

  “That’s not very big.” Eva looks unconvinced. “It’s like six s’mores stuck on each other. I bet the world-record s’mores are bigger than a car or something.”

  “That’s why we need yours,” Tony says.

  Eva starts to hand him the squares she just finished assembling. Midway, she stops and shoves them into her mouth instead.

  “Mmmm.” She laughs as the marshmallow oozes through the sides.

  “Fine!” Tony says. “Forget it. Let’s just eat this thing.”

  We all tear into the s’mores tower, making it topple over and catching the pieces before they fall to the gr
ound. My fingers are covered in melted chocolate and sticky marshmallow goo, but it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted in America.

  “AHHH! SNAKE!” someone screams from the other side of the fire. Tony runs to see it while Eva, Laurie, and I run away and huddle near the door of the dining hall.

  “Just a twig, people!” Heather holds up a small branch and throws it into the fire. “Relax!”

  My heart still pounding, I tell Eva and Laurie about when Abbu picked up the hose in our garden THERE to water our jasmine bushes.

  “It wasn’t the hose! It was a long black snake,” I say.

  “Did it bite him?” Eva’s eyes are huge.

  “No. He dropped it and it slithered away.”

  “I would’ve died right there.” Laurie shivers.

  “Me too,” I agree. This is the first thing I’ve told anyone HERE anything about my life THERE.

  It’s chilly outside, but it’s nice by the fire, and with my classmates. I feel the warmth of the flames on my face, and in my insides. Tony is back on the other side of the circle now, but I feel him watching me. When I look back at him and our eyes meet, he smiles a little and then looks away.

  At nine o’clock we head back to the cabins for bed. It’s funny to see Ms. Wehrle in a robe and slippers, and everyone giggles. Ms. Wehrle does a little dance and turns around with her hands in the air and then she says, “Lights out, girls.”

  As I climb onto the top bunk and get into my sleeping bag, Eva settles into hers.

  “That was pretty fun. Tomorrow we’re playing Predator and Prey. And there’s a reptile guy.”

  “Yeah, it was fun.” I don’t ask what a reptile guy is. I hope it’s another good surprise. And that it has nothing to do with snakes.

  “Good night, Raniya,” she says.

  “Good night, Eva.”

  We lie in our beds and the room falls quiet. Then someone sneezes really loudly and we all start giggling. Someone on the other side of the room snorts, and that makes us laugh even harder.

  Suddenly I realize this is the first time I haven’t kissed my parents goodnight. I say my prayers in my head and pause before I ask to go back THERE, to Pakistan—like I do every night. I still want to go back, but maybe not just yet.

  And if we stay HERE, in Maryland, Outdoor Ed might end up being my favorite part of the year too. Maybe there are some things you can’t learn in a classroom. Like how to make s’mores.

  Hena Khan is a Pakistani American writer who was born and raised in a quiet neighborhood outside Washington, D.C., with two younger brothers and an older sister. Like many writers, she grew up reading constantly and playing imagination games. Her unfulfilled desire for a pet (her parents didn’t want animals in the house) compelled her to gather a huge collection of stuffed animals and to adopt furry caterpillars. She enjoys writing about her family’s culture, as well as subjects ranging from spies to space travel. Hena lives in Maryland with her husband and two sons, less than two miles from where she grew up. “How to Make S’mores” is inspired by her own amazing Outdoor Ed experience, which back then was a full week of living in the jungle with strangers.

  Cassie bent her head over the blank sheet of paper on her desk. After staring at it intently for several minutes, she removed the pencil from her mouth and wrote in large, strongly slanted letters, On this, the first day of January, I, Cassandra Martin, resolve that I will never wear lipstick or nail polish. I will never cut my hair. I will ride my bike to school even if no one else does. I will climb trees and explore the woods. I will NEVER grow up.

  Cassie leaned back and scrutinized her New Year’s resolutions. She nodded slowly. Thirteen was old enough—not that she meant to die before her fourteenth birthday, only that she’d stay as she was right now, the Cassie she’d always been.

  Let her friends hang out in the drugstore choosing lipstick and talking about boys and spending their babysitting money on fashion magazines. For some mysterious reason, they couldn’t wait to grow up. Hadn’t they ever noticed how boring adults were?

  With a slightly smug smile on her face, Cassie slipped her resolutions into a folder marked Personal. Outside her bedroom window, the cold January sun touched the winter trees with bluish light. She still had time to ice-skate before dark.

  Downstairs, her mother was sitting at the kitchen table talking to Mrs. O’Neil, one of those adults who had a knack for making Cassie uncomfortable.

  Mrs. O’Neil watched her enter the kitchen. “You’re taller every time I see you, Cassie. Does your mother feed you growing pills?” She smiled as if to say she was only joking.

  Cassie recognized meanness when she heard it. Without returning the smile, she shrugged and reached for her jacket.

  But Mrs. O’Neil wasn’t finished. “Isn’t it about time to get rid of those braids?” She tweaked one. “Julie has her hair done at Vera’s Salon. Maybe your mom could take you there.” Turning to Cassie’s mother, she added, “Wouldn’t she look darling with a perm and a nice cut?”

  Cassie’s mother sighed. “I’ve tried, but Cassie won’t cut her hair until Ellie cuts hers.”

  “Ellie Boyd?” Ms. O’Neil sipped her coffee and frowned. “She’s a strange one. Julie says—”

  Cassie grabbed her skates. Julie hated Ellie and Cassie. And they hated her. Mrs. O’Neil probably thought she was just as strange as Ellie. Imagine, girls their age still wearing braids.

  Interrupting Mrs. O’Neil, Cassie said, “I’m going skating, Mom.”

  “Have fun and be careful.” Her mother sent Cassie an apologetic look to say she knew what was going on between her and Mrs. O’Neil.

  Mrs. O’Neil refilled her cup and lit a cigarette. “You won’t believe this, Loretta, but Julie told me…”

  Cassie shut the kitchen door behind her. The air was so cold it almost took her breath away. She jumped over a frozen puddle and let the wind push her straight to Ellie’s house.

  Ellie had been sick a lot this year—bad colds, sinus infections, coughs. Sometimes Cassie wondered if Ellie was really sick or just didn’t want to go to school.

  At Ellie’s house, Mrs. Boyd welcomed Cassie with a smile and a hug. “Ellie’s upstairs in bed. She’d love some company.”

  “Is she still sick?”

  Mrs. Boyd sighed. “Maybe you can persuade her to go skating with you. Fresh air would do her good.”

  “Cassie, is that you?” Ellie called. “I’m in bed. Come on up.”

  She found Ellie under a pile of blankets, reading. The bed was littered with comic books, scattered playing cards, used tissues, a Clue game, a checkerboard, and a spilled box of dominoes.

  Ellie didn’t look sick. She was no paler than usual. But when Cassie asked her how she felt, she coughed and said, “Not too good.”

  Cassie shifted her skates from her right shoulder to her left. “Do you feel well enough to go skating with me?”

  “It’s too cold out there.” Ellie slid farther down on her spine. She coughed again. Harder this time.

  “Lots of kids will be there. Arlene—”

  “Arlene!” Ellie suddenly straightened. “Do you know what she wore to church last Sunday?”

  Cassie shook her head. She went to Our Lady of Sorrows, but all the other girls went to the First Baptist on Main Street. How would she know what Arlene wore?

  “Lipstick,” Ellie continued. “She had on lipstick. And so did Julie and Janet and the rest of them. It looked like a lipstick club.”

  Cassie sat down at the foot of the bed and started an avalanche of dominoes. They clattered to the floor, but when she leaned down to pick them up, Ellie told her not to bother.

  Ellie twirled a braid around her finger and scowled. “Julie gave me such a look—and then she whispered something to Janet. They stared at me and giggled.”

  “I hate Julie.” If she’d been that m
ean to Cassie, Cassie would have run home in tears. “What did you do?”

  “I told her she was a fat stuck-up snot.”

  “You said that in church?”

  “Not in church, dummy. This was after church, when we were walking home.”

  Cassie felt stupid. Of course Ellie wouldn’t have said that in church. To hide her embarrassment, she switched the subject back to Arlene. “Are you sure Arlene was wearing lipstick?” Just last week she and Arlene had agreed that only cheap girls wore lipstick. In fact, both of their mothers said they were too young to wear lipstick.

  “Didn’t I see her myself?” Ellie lay back on her heap of pillows and contemplated the bony hill of blankets covering her knees. “Next she’ll be smoking cigarettes behind the gym.”

  The certainty in Ellie’s voice irritated Cassie. “Arlene would never do that.”

  “She certainly smoked most of the cigarettes when we tried it last summer.”

  “Well, they were her mother’s.”

  “The second pack was my mother’s, and she smoked most of those, too.”

  The wind rattled the glass in the window and Cassie longed to be outside. She hadn’t taken off her jacket, and Ellie’s room was so warm she was perspiring. Soon it would be too late for skating. “So do you want to skate or not?”

  “Good grief, Cassie, can’t you see I’m sick? Do you want me to catch pneumonia?”

  “I thought maybe you were just resting—”

  “Maybe nothing.” Ellie scowled. “Don’t you care how I feel?”

  “I just—”

  “You just want to go skating with Arlene, that’s what you want to do. Well, go on, what are you waiting for? Don’t think about me lying here all alone.”

  Cassie toyed with the cover on her skate blade. “It will be dark soon, and—”

  “We could have some hot chocolate, and I’ll loan you my new Terhune dog story. You haven’t read Lochinvar Luck yet. It’s really, really good. The best one yet.”

  “I’ll come see you tomorrow after school.” Cassie felt guilty, but she wanted to feel the wind on her face and the ice under her skates.

  “You like Arlene better than me,” Ellie said. “You want to be just like her and wear lipstick and curl your hair and do all that dumb stuff.”