“Really? I mean, thanks,” I said. How did she know about my humor dilemma? Nash must have said something to her. And whatever he said had helped, because she was going to the dance with me!
“Did you really think I looked put together last week in study hall?” she asked as we walked toward the front of the library.
“Very put together,” I said. I just knew my face was reddening from my goofy attempt to sound like a ladies’ man.
We cut across a line of sixth graders checking out books at the circulation counter. I told her I’d buy our dance tickets tomorrow during lunch, since the dance was Friday. Nothing like waiting until last minute.
“Sure,” she said, distracted. Then she grabbed my arm—not exactly a yank, but firm enough—and pulled me into the side room where the microfiche viewers are kept.
Our faces were inches away from each other, so close I could count her eyelashes. I half expected her to tell me a dumb riddle, but she didn’t say a word.
Instead, she grabbed my chin and kissed me.
“That was no joke,” she said. And she strolled away, the alligator tail on her mini-pack bopping up and down behind her, leaving me standing in the library as limp as a rubber band.
I walked into Spanish, my last period class, feeling higher than the world’s tallest man on stilts. Happier than a dog with a T-bone. I was the luckiest guy in Nutley, New Jersey. Robyn and I would have a blast at the Farewell Formal. Not that I had to daydream about her or anything, since she was sitting three desks over.
After class I was still in a daze and nearly ran into Mrs. Peroutka in the hallway. She asked if I’d come to her classroom.
I followed her, and she pulled a paper out of a folder. “Here’s your makeup essay, Joseph. I wanted to talk about it privately.”
Privately? Did that mean more trouble? My eyes zeroed in on the top of the first page. All I saw was a big fat A.
Yowza!
“Thanks,” I said, reaching out to shake her hand.
“Describing yourself as an ethnic sandwich was funny and honest, Joseph. You seem to understand your layers better than most people.”
“I’m trying,” I said, shrugging.
“And I would agree that being adopted, as you wrote, must raise a ‘boatload of questions that don’t have easy answers.’ You’ve shown insight that, for some, takes a lifetime to discover.”
Mrs. Peroutka was spreading the compliments so thick I felt bad for all the times I’d slept in her class. I vowed never to doze off in social studies again—at least not in the remaining two weeks.
Just as I charged out of the room so I wouldn’t miss the bus, Mrs. Peroutka called me back.
“One more thing, Joseph. I’d like to display your essay on the bulletin board, if you’re okay with that. The unit is over, but I think your classmates would enjoy reading what you wrote.”
“Sure.”
“Your writing showed courage and honesty. Even Sohn Kee Chung would be pleased,” she added with a smile.
“Hey, Mrs. Nash, is Pete home?” I shouted from the driveway after school. He hadn’t been on the bus, and I really wanted to talk to him.
Mrs. Nash was watering the flowerpots on her front stoop. She was still dressed in her nurse’s uniform. “He’s out back, cleaning the pool.”
I unlocked the gate. “What’s up, bro?” I called.
“I’ve got strange but true news, Joseph,” he said with a grin.
“What, did Frankie get a date for the dance?”
“Believe it or not, he did. Molly Palanski said yes on a dare, poor girl. But that’s not it.”
“I give up.”
He was grinning. “I just got back from a doctor’s appointment. I cracked the case of what’s causing my migraines. Even my neurologist thinks I’m right.”
“What is it then?”
“Potatoes! Plain old potatoes. Can you believe it?”
I thought about all the gallons of mashed potatoes that he’d eaten over the years. I could only imagine his mom’s shock at the news.
“Talk about a cruel twist of fate,” I said. “But it could have been worse. What if you’d been allergic to candy?”
Nash said he was registered for summer baseball for the first time in two years. “And I might even be able to play hockey next year if I lay off the taters.”
“Awesome! I’ve got news too. You and Ok-hee better save room on the dance floor for Robyn and me.” I jumped on the picnic table and started doing my best macarena moves.
“You won her over?” Nash’s eyes twinkled.
“Yup. And I didn’t use one single joke,” I said, patting my own back. “I owe you, too, man. For talking me up with Robyn.”