

## Norma L

### By Jeff Moberg

### Copyright © 2012 Jeff Moberg

### Smashwords Edition

### Acknowledgements:

### This book is dedicated to all of the wonderful people in my life:

### My three sons--Bryan, Travis, and Aaron

### Karen

### Mom and Dad

All of my family

### The staff, students, and families of Shrine of St. Anne's School

### Aaron Moberg – Cover Design

### A special thanks to Jerry Spinelli--you are the giant the rest of us aspire to be.

"So shines a good deed in a weary world."

\-- Willy Wonka (William Shakespeare)

## Chapters

### 1. Four Normas

### 2. Relentlessly Positive

### 3. The Positive Project?

### 4. The Parting of the Seas

### 5. Survival and the Agony of Defeat

### 6. Sacred Sleeping Time

### 7. Dan and Dot's Diner

### 8. The Red, White, and Blue Trailer

### 9. Bob and Bob Jr.

### 10. The Positive Project!

### 11. A Day of Rest

### 12. Progress Reports

### 13. Lunch of Doom

### 14. Just Another Day in Paradise

### 15. Breathless

### 16. The Trees are Planted

### 17. A Standing Ovation

### 18. The Trees are Unplanted

### 19. Showdown—Part One

### 20. A Hero

### 21. Closed?

### 22. Open!

### 23. A Bucket of Love

### 24. BIG Changes!

### 25. Still the Same

### 26. The Ginger Curse

### 27. The Positively (Not So) Great Party

### 28. Logic and the L Word

### 29. The Good News

### 30. Local, National, Global—or Oxymoron?

31. A True Hero

### 32. Payback's the B Word (Bummer)!

### 33. Dramarama

### 34. Doing Time

### 35. Real Drama

### 36. Heroes and Zeroes

### 37. The Importance of Being Anne

### 38. Being Norma L

### 39. Frozen in Time

### 40. The Best Presents in the History of the World

### 41. The Bad 7

### 42. St*rlight

### 43. The Final Showdown

### 44. Wanted Presence—Unwanted Present

### 45. Still Relentlessly Positive

### 46. Shooting Star

### 47. Who Knew? (How Could You?)

### 48. Broken... but Beautiful

### 49. Celebrity, Star, Helper

### 50. A Valentine Promise

### 51. The Worst Day Ever

### 52. Back to the Hospital

### 53. The Best Day Ever!

### 54. Paying it Back—Paying it Forward

### 55. Moving On Up

### 56. Who's Norma L?

### 1

### Four Normas

There were four Normas in Mr. Spinoza's seventh grade English class. One was the POPULAR Norma–you know the type–chews gum constantly, can't shut up, knows _everyone_. One was the ATHLETIC Norma–coordinated, graceful, _great_ at everything. One was the absolutely flawless and BEAUTIFUL Norma–thirteen going on nineteen. And one was the ODDBALL Norma–thirteen going on twelve. Guess which Norma I was?

Mr. Spinoza was a retired writer (a very successful one), who decided to teach middle school English as his way to give back to the world. He was kind and smart and nice, but he had two quirks that would make my life miserable for 45 minutes each day at Haywood Middle School. He had _paired_ desks-- _and_ a seating chart. So the first thing he said to me when I walked into his class on day one was, "Good morning! Check the seating chart, find your seat, and meet your new partner for the year!" Why would any teacher think that you _wanted_ to sit right next to someone for an _entire_ year?

Having no choice, I checked the seating chart for my name. I saw the popular Norma (Norma P)–she was sitting next to Amanda (who was also popular). That made sense. Then I saw the athletic Norma (Norma A)–she was sitting next to Derrick (the basketball star). I guess that made sense, too. Then I found the absolutely flawless and beautiful Norma (Norma B)–she was sitting next to Taylor ( _every_ girl at Haywood Middle School was in love with him). Lucky her. I kept looking for my own name and didn't see it until I looked at the _bottom_ of the chart. There I was—Norma L. I was sitting next to Luke. Luke Krattenmucker. The dorkiest kid in the universe. I quickly glanced back at the other Normas to see if I had read it wrong:

Norma P/ Amanda

Norma A/Derrick

Norma B/Taylor

Norma L/ Luke

Nope. No mistake. There seemed to be a pattern of how Mr. Spinoza arranged his seating chart and paired his students. I prayed that I could move to another seat.

Or another school.

Or another planet.

"Take a seat," Mr. Spinoza was saying. "And say hello to your new English partner for seventh grade."

I took my seat and tried to look straight ahead. Luke turned to me and smiled. "Yo," he said as I was blinded by flaming red hair and a million bright, shiny wires. "I'm The Lukester. What's your name?"

I tried to say it, but I couldn't speak. All of the other Normas–and everyone else in the class–was staring at me. I thought, _my name is Norma L_ – _and the only thing I ever wanted in life was to be normal_.

### 2

### Relentlessly Positive

Day two wasn't much better than day one. Mr. Spinoza told us that we would be doing a project with our new partners–and that it would take _several_ weeks to complete. He also told us that we would be spending _a lot_ of time together. Norma P and Amanda said "OMG!" at the same time. Norma A and Derrick high-fived. And Norma B sure looked happy sitting next to Taylor.

I looked over at who was sitting next to me— _my_ partner--the person _I_ would be spending _a lot_ of time with. Luke was wearing a Star Trek t-shirt that said, 'LIVE LONG AND PROSPER'. And there was a picture of Spock doing the weird hand thing with the fingers spread apart. I cringed.

Mr. Spinoza wrote the word POSITIVE on the front board. "What does this word mean?" he asked. Amanda's hand shot up. He glanced at the seating chart. "Let's see... Amanda. What do you think it means?"

"It means sure," she said confidently. "If you're positive about something, it means you're sure." She was sure she had the right answer.

"OK... good answer." Mr. Spinoza didn't seem so sure. He looked around the room of half-awake seventh graders. English was first period and it was an unmerciful 7:30 in the morning. Norma P was awake. She had a Starbucks Frapasomething on her desk. She raised her hand halfway. Mr. Spinoza looked at the seating chart again and nodded. "Norma... P. Go ahead."

"Isn't positive a blood type? Like O-Positive?" She also seemed sure that her answer was correct. Again, Mr. Spinoza didn't seem quite as sure. "Hmm... that's true I guess. I'll accept that. Anyone else?" Derrick's arms were stretched out above his head. "What about you, Derrick? What do you think?"

"Huh?" was Derrick's response. Apparently, he was just stretching.

I could see next to me that Luke's hand was barely lifted above his desk. Barely. I hoped and prayed that Mr. Spinoza wouldn't see it. I didn't want _any_ attention in our unfortunate direction. Unfortunately, Mr. Spinoza noticed. "Luke... I mean The Lukester (Luke had actually asked Mr. Spinoza to call him The Lukester). What do you think positive means?"

Luke cleared his throat. Everyone turned their heads to stare at us in the back of the classroom. I cringed again. This was going to be the worst answer ever. "Positive means to look at something in a good way. To see the glass as half-full instead of half-empty. To be kind and treat people good. To be a nice person."

Mr. Spinoza was stunned. "Thank you, The Lukester. I couldn't have said it any better myself."

The Lukester was smiling. And for the first time in our new seventh-grade year, I smiled too.

### 3

### The Positive Project?

Our project was to do a report on something 'positive' in the world. It could be local or national or global. It could be about something at home or a person you knew (or knew of). It could even be about a thing or an idea or a philosophy–as long as it was something 'positive'. Then, after writing the report (Ugg! I _hated_ writing reports!), we had to come up with some sort of display or demonstration or presentation to illustrate our idea.

We all sat there looking clueless as Mr. Spinoza explained.

"I don't get it," said Taylor as he yawned. Taylor was either constantly tired or constantly bored. I think he was too cool or too good-looking (or both) to care about real life. He seemed to know that things would just come easily to him. Twenty-two other tired seventh graders also yawned--and also didn't get it (including me). One student didn't yawn–and seemed to not only get it, but was genuinely _happy_ about it. Yep, you guessed it–my new partner. How could anyone be so happy and chipper at 7:30 in the morning?

Unfortunately, Mr. Spinoza was vague about specific directions or instructions–and there was no rubric to follow. "You figure it out," he said. "You're smarter than you think. Be creative."

That was easy for him to say. After all, he was a brilliant, award-winning author. It was kind of weird having a famous writer as a teacher. I remember checking out one of his books from the library in fifth grade. It was about this crazy kid who never stopped running and how he was able to change an entire community--in a _positive_ way–just by speaking his mind and standing up for what he thought was right. It was my favorite book ever. I couldn't stop reading it after the first page. My mom was amazed when I finished it in _one_ day. It was the first time that I had ever read a whole book without being nagged or bribed or threatened or tortured. Ever since that day, I had loved to read. I wanted to thank Mr. Spinoza for writing that book–but I was too embarrassed. Maybe someday I would.

"I know!" said Luke suddenly, breaking me out of my daydream.

"Huh?"

"I know! I know _exactly_ what we should do for our project!"

"Oh," I said, coming back to life. "What is it, Luke?"

" _The Lukester_. Not Luke. Only my mom calls me Luke. I am (he paused for dramatic effect)... _The Lukester_."

I looked at him like he was completely insane. And then a thought occurred to me. _You know, if that's all it takes to make you happy--just to call you a dorky name--then I guess I can do that_.

"OK (I also paused for dramatic effect)... _The Lukester_. What is your idea?"

I heard a nearby snicker from Derrick. "More like _The Dorkster_!" Norma A laughed.

"Or _The Geekster_!" said Taylor. Norma B laughed.

Mr. Spinoza cleared his voice--loudly. There would be no more "or's".

The Lukester ignored them and smiled a big smile. "Trees," was all he said.

### 4

### The Parting of the Seas

Several times a day--specifically during passing periods--an event occurred that was known to the students of Haywood Middle School as, 'The Parting of the Seas'.

All middle schools have certain essential elements:

  * Students

  * Teachers

  * Administrators

  * Classrooms

  * A gym

  * A cafeteria

  * A janitor

  * And a bully

You know the type--big, mean, _rotten_. I could never understand the mind of a bully. Why would anyone get up every morning and _want_ to make someone else's life miserable? I mean, didn't they realize that life was hard enough for some middle school kids without having their foreheads bounced off a locker before math class? Didn't they know it wasn't that fun to get a wedgie after climbing the rope and running 10 laps in gym class? Didn't they realize that it was difficult enough getting from one end of the building to another between classes without being tripped and sent sprawling down the hallway--with your backpack flying in one direction and your pocket protector in another?

Unfortunately, for all of the students at Haywood Middle School (nerds and normal kids alike), we didn't have _a_ bully. Oh, no--that would have been _way_ too simple. _Much_ too easy.

We had _two_ bullies.

That's right.

_Two_.

Sperry and McGurk.

They were _both_ big, they were _both_ mean–and they were _both_ completely rotten to the core. And to make things even worse, they worked _together._ They were inseparable. This made them doubly big, doubly mean, doubly rotten--and doubly unstoppable. They literally _ruled_ the hallways of Haywood. Whenever they came walking down the halls (slowly and ominously)–the sea of Haywood's other students quickly parted. Everyone would stand nervously to the side–hoping desperately that they wouldn't be noticed.

Being noticed by Sperry and McGurk was not a good thing. Every Friday, they gave out an award called, 'The Geek of the Week'. This was accomplished in four frightening steps. First, they would choose an unfortunate victim. Next, while Sperry would hold the poor soul from behind, McGurk would loudly proclaim, "Of all the nerds we've seen this week, you are by _far_ , the biggest geek!" Then, Sperry would deliver several stinging noogies to the back of the head. And finally, to finish the job, McGurk would punch the victim in the stomach. They would walk away laughing--leaving a wake of devastation and destruction behind.

No one ever dared to stop them.

No one ever dared to snitch on them.

And no one ever dared to stand up to them.

***

I asked my mom once about bullies and why they did what they did--and she told me about this thing called KARMA. According to my mom, if you were nice and kind and considerate to others, good things would happen to you. And conversely, if you were mean and rotten and horrible to others, _not-so-good_ things would happen to you. That made a lot of sense to me and I decided that it was a good idea to be nice to people.

Just to be on the safe side.

(Plus, I knew it was the right thing to do).

### 5

### Survival and the Agony of Defeat

Friday came and went without incident–at least for me. I was starting to think that maybe seventh grade wasn't so bad and that I might actually survive it.

In other local news, a poor kid named Mike Mulligan was named the 'Geek of the Week'.

### 6

### Sacred Sleeping Time

For some reason, my alarm was ringing on a Saturday morning. I never–and I mean _never_ \--set my alarm for Saturday morning. That time is sacred. Sacred sleeping time. Time to _not_ get up and go to school. Time to _not_ get up and do anything productive. Time to _sleep_ until noon. My eyes slowly peeled halfway open–and I could barely make out the numbers 6:00.

I was confused. How could my stupid alarm be going off at _6:00 A.M._? Then I got mad– _really_ mad. I hit the snooze button— _hard_ —and the small clock radio flew off my nightstand. It landed on the floor, and the battery fell out and rolled under my desk.

At least I could go back to sleep now.

But the alarm was still going off. My eyes peeled open again–this time _all_ the way open. I was even more confused now. The clock radio was on the floor–and the battery was under the desk. How could the alarm still be going off?

Then I realized I wasn't hearing an alarm sound. It was more like a _horn_ sound—a _car_ _horn_ sound—and it was honking steadily over and over. Honk. Honk. Honk. Suddenly, I remembered everything. The Lukester was going to pick me up at the ungodly hour of six o'clock in the morning, so we could drive 20 miles to his house and work on the mysterious 'tree' project.

Honk. Honk. Honk.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Uh-oh.

It was my mom. She was knocking on my bedroom door, but it wasn't the usual happy, 'Good morning honey, time to get up!' knock. It was the not-so-happy, 'Why the holy heck is someone honking their horn over and over in our driveway at six o'clock on a Saturday morning' knock. Apparently, this was sacred sleeping time for her also.

"OK, Mom. I hear it. I'm up." I threw on my purple Rockies hoodie, pushed aside the bedroom curtain and waved to The Lukester. He was sitting in the front seat of... hmm... actually, I wasn't sure what it was. It was sort of a Jeep-looking thing--with a pickup truck bed on the back. The Jeep part was blue and the pickup truck bed part was black and primer gray (and I thought I was embarrassed when my mom dropped me off at school in her beige Dodge Caravan). I remember when she bought it. "Are you _serious_?" I asked. "A _beige_ minivan? Do you know how _not_ cool that is? It's a solid 10 on the _not_ cool scale." She just laughed. "Well, honey," she said, unaffected by my insult. "First of all, I don't really care about the cool scale. And secondly, I _need_ a minivan–I deliver flowers." The Lukester waved back from the Jeep-truck thing and suddenly, the beige minivan didn't seem so bad.

I didn't have time to take a shower and eat breakfast, so I just put on a baseball hat and slipped on my most comfortable pair of jeans and sandals. "Bye Mom," I yelled as I grabbed two granola bars and slammed the front door behind me. "I'll be home later this afternoon. Call me on my cell if you need me."

The Lukester was now outside, holding the passenger door open for me. He was wearing a Yoda t-shirt that said, 'READY I AM!' "Good morning Sunshine," he said, making fun of my tired, scruffy-looking appearance.

"Yeah, good morning." I said, giving him a fake, happy to be up early on a Saturday morning smile. There was no back door or back seat in the Jeep-truck thing, so I sat in the middle of the front bench seat, next to The Lukester's mom.

She smiled and stuck out her hand. "Hi Norma. I'm Luke's mom. I've heard a lot about you." She seemed genuinely nice, so I shook her hand and gave her a real smile.

The Lukester had told me that he and his mom lived on a tree farm in Mosely. I thought it sounded kind of cool to live on a tree farm–anything would be better than the small, dumpy, drafty, two-bedroom house that Mom and I had lived in since she and dad had gotten divorced five years ago.

Mosely was a small, rural town about 20 miles east of Haywood. I had never been there, but it sounded kind of nice--I liked the idea of being out in the country. The Lukester said it was mostly boring. We drove for about 20 minutes without saying anything. Finally, The Lukester's mom broke the uncomfortable silence. "Did you have breakfast this morning, Norma?"

"Umm," I stammered. "Actually _this_ is my breakfast." I took out one of the granola bars and looked at the wrapper. FRUIT AND GRAIN. Yuck! I had told my mom to buy the chocolate with chocolate chips (apparently, she never listened to me). I checked the other one. FRUIT AND SUNFLOWER SEEDS. Double yuck!

The Lukester's mom saw the look on my face and laughed. "Well," she said in a sweet voice, "We better take care of that." She turned off at the next exit. There was an old, battered sign next to the highway that read:

### DAN & DOT'S DINER

### DANG good food!

### DANG good service!

### DANG good prices!

### 7

### Dan and Dot's Diner

A bell jingled above us as we walked in through the squeaky, faded, red door of the diner. "Well, well, well," cackled the biggest and oldest-looking lady I had ever seen. "Look what the cat dragged in. Dan, come in here–it's your girlfriend!" She laughed and gave The Lukester's mom a big, grandma hug. The Lukester was next–I wasn't quite sure he could survive it, since he was so small and frail. "Look at you," she said as she released him from her vise-like grip. "I swear you get bigger and more handsome every time I see you!" The Lukester smiled. I was starting to like this old lady--a lot.

Then she saw me. "Oh my stars in heaven! Who in the world is this _beautiful_ young lady?" Well, I can tell you it was my turn to give _her_ a big, grandma hug. I had been called a young lady before–once--but never had the word 'beautiful' been used to describe me. She hugged me back and I said, "My name is Norma–and I'm your new best friend!" She laughed again and said, "It's nice to meet you Norma. My name's Dorothy, but you can call me Dot.

"And my name is Daniel, but you can call me Dan." We all turned as Dan came from behind the counter. He was also big (even bigger than Dot) and also very old (even older looking than Dot)--practically ancient. He was in a wheelchair and his weathered face looked like it had been carved out of fossilized wood. But there was a kindness in his eyes that made you feel comfortable and like him right away. The Lukester's mom hugged him and introduced me.

Dot seated us in a cozy corner booth and gave us menus. Dan and Dot's Diner was a place right out of the past–complete with red and white checkered tablecloths, a stainless steel napkin dispenser, and _real_ Coca-Cola glasses.

"Breakfast is on the house today, so order anything that looks good." Dot leaned over and whispered to me, "try the strawberry pancakes–they're to _die_ for!" I wasn't about to pass up an offer of free strawberry pancakes, so I nodded in agreement. The Lukester ordered waffles with extra bacon and his mom said she would be happy with just black coffee and toast. I could see her eying the grape jelly packets in the middle of the table.

"I wish she wouldn't do that," said The Lukester's mom quietly after Dot left for the kitchen. "They are struggling to get by and yet they always insist on giving everyone they can a free meal."

"Why don't you just offer to pay anyway?" I respectfully asked. The Lukester's mom explained that that was a battle she had fought and lost many times. Dot returned after about 10 minutes with our breakfast and a big smile. And she was right–the strawberry pancakes _were_ to die for.

As we drove away and left Dan and Dot's Diner behind, I couldn't help but think of how nice they were--and how they had treated me like family even though we had just met. I decided that I would ask mom to drive us out there _every_ weekend for breakfast from now on. Besides, how could she resist? She liked toast with grape jelly too.

### 8

### The Red, White and Blue Trailer

When The Lukester said that Mosely was a small town, he wasn't kidding. We passed by the Mosely Post Office, the Mosely Town Hall, the Mosely Police and Fire Station, a Mexican restaurant called, ' _Casa Blanca'_ , the A Thru Z Grocery (We Have Everything You Need From A Thru Z!), and a Sinclair gas station--complete with a large, green dinosaur out front. After the dinosaur, there were only a few small, brick houses on each side of the street. At the end of town (which was the end of the block), we turned off onto a one-lane, dirt road and I saw a faded sign that said:

Eugene's Tree, Plant and Sod Farm

If You Need It -- We Grow It!

Only 3 More Miles!

I was surprised when we pulled into the parking lot and drove past the _very nice,_ blue and white, two-story farmhouse just inside the gates. We parked in front of a small–no, make that _tiny_ \--red, white and blue trailer. It was painted red on the top third, white in the middle third and blue on the bottom third. I figured The Lukester's mom must have needed something from the trailer.

I was even more surprised when The Lukester hopped out and said, "Welcome to our home!"

The Lukester's mom said she had to get to work right away, since Saturday was their busy day. She gave me a quick hug, grabbed some work gloves out of the back of the Jeep-truck and then disappeared into a small office. I looked over at the _very nice,_ blue and white, two-story farmhouse again and then back at The Lukester. He was now holding the door of the _tiny_ red, white and blue trailer open for me. "Entrez vous," he said, trying to sound French.

The entire trailer was about the size of my bedroom. "Follow me," said The Lukester as he gave me the grand tour. His room was in the back of the trailer and it consisted of a small twin bed, a small dresser, and a small desk in the corner. The middle of the trailer consisted of a small kitchen and a small table. And the front of the trailer was The Lukester's mom's room. It was _very_ small. I glanced around quickly, looking for more.

"Umm..." I asked hesitantly. "Where do you... you know... go to the bathroom... or take a shower?"

The Lukester, smiling like it was no big deal, pointed to the office across the parking lot that his mom had just gone into. "Over there. The office has a shower and a bathroom."

"Oh," was all I could say. He may have acted like it was no big deal to him; but for me personally, I couldn't _imagine_ getting up in the middle of the night and walking across a dirt parking lot to go to the bathroom. And going back and forth in the early morning--in my robe--to take a shower? I don't think so.

When I realized that this was how they actually lived, I wanted to cry. But for some strange reason--which I hadn't quite figured out yet--The Lukester was still smiling.

### 9

### Bob and Bob Jr.

During the next hour or so, I followed The Lukester around Eugene's Tree, Plant and Sod Farm. The plants were all near the office where The Lukester's mom was working. They had every plant, bush and beautiful flower that you could possibly imagine. The Lukester's mom waved to us as she walked in and out of the seemingly endless rows--watering, pruning, and trimming. We waved back and headed out past the fields of newly growing sod.

"How long have you and your mom lived out here?" I asked The Lukester as we walked toward the rows of trees in the distance.

"Ever since I was born, I guess," he responded happily. "I don't remember living anywhere else."

"And..." I swear I wasn't trying to be nosy or rude, but I had to know. "Have you always lived in... the trailer?"

"Yep," said The Lukester, unaffected by my question.

"Why is it painted red, white and blue?"

The Lukester laughed. "It used to be _beige_ –but we decided that was too boring."

It was my turn to laugh. "Yeah," I agreed, thinking of Mom's minivan again. "Beige _is_ pretty boring."

"Your house is really nice," said The Lukester as he picked up a rock and tossed it down the road ahead of us. "How long have you lived there?"

"Five years." I thought about the day Mom and I had moved in and how much I hated it. It seemed so small and so plain and so _not_ like our old house–which was just my dad's house now. My Dad's house was built into the foothills near Chautauqua in Boulder. It was three stories tall--with an elevator, a movie theater, a gym, a sauna, and an indoor pool with a retracting roof on the top floor. The second floor was _my_ floor. Can you believe it? I had my own _entire_ floor.

My dad was a very successful doctor. Actually, he was a surgeon–a plastic surgeon no less. How was that for irony in life? The homeliest girl in school (that was me) had a plastic surgeon for a father. One time, I even made an appointment with his office to try and get him to fix my nose (it was sort of big and a little crooked). I made the appointment under a _mysterious_ woman's name--Gwendolyn de La Muthe. When he came into the waiting room and saw me sitting there, he just laughed and said, "Honey, your nose is just fine the way it is. Now run along home. I'm _extraordinarily_ busy." He was _always_ extraordinarily busy—and _never_ home--which is why things didn't work out with him and mom I guess.

When we moved out, I remember saying, "Why don't _we_ stay in the house with the pool?" Unfortunately, my mom had this weird thing about being independent and making it on her own; so there was no fancy house, no alimony, no support–just her and me in our small, plain, two-bedroom house in Haywood (which now seemed like a mansion compared to The Lukester's trailer).

"Well, here we are!" said The Lukester enthusiastically, bringing me back to reality.

I looked up and saw the most amazing sight. There were rows and rows and rows of the tallest, most beautiful trees I had ever seen. The Lukester explained what each kind was and how to take care of it.

"Do people actually _buy_ these trees?" I asked, still looking up.

"Yep--contractors, landscapers, homebuilders, homeowners, developers–you name it. They come from all over. These trees are considered the best in the state."

"Wow," I said reverently. "How do they get them out of the ground? They're huge!"

"Bob and Bob Jr.—the Burley brothers. They dig them out with a backhoe and load them on the flatbed trailer. They also deliver the sod and bushes."

"How can they be brothers if they're named Bob and Bob Jr.? Wouldn't that make them father and son?"

"Nope," said The Lukester. "Their father liked the first Bob so much, that when the little brother came along, he named him Bob Jr."

"What about the flowers?" I asked, thinking suddenly of Mom and the boring beige minivan she used to deliver flowers. "Who delivers the flowers?"

"Hmm..." said The Lukester, thinking carefully. "I don't think anyone does. I think people have to come and pick them up."

### 10

### The Positive Project!

"Actually," The Lukester said, as I was still thinking about the flowers. "These aren't the best trees in the state. The _best_ trees are back here."

The Lukester led me past the last row of pine trees to a small, fenced off area. There was a sign on the gate that read:

LUKE'S TREES! NOT 4 SALE!

"Are all these _your_ trees?" I asked in amazement. I quickly counted them–there were four rows of ten–40 in all.

The Lukester just nodded. He was looking at them like a proud father. They weren't quite as tall or as big as some of the other trees, but they had brightly colored leaves and they were sturdy and full.

"Where did you get them?" I wondered out loud.

"My mom planted them for me when I was born. They've been growing here ever since–for the past 13 years." Then The Lukester looked right at me. "That's why we're here. _These trees_ are our project."

We sat down on a soft, thick patch of grass and The Lukester explained to me how we were going to take 20 of his trees and plant them in front of our school.

"How in the world are we going to get _20_ trees to Haywood and plant them all?" I asked.

We both answered at the same time, "Bob and Bob Jr."

"Do you think the school will pay for them? Isn't that going to be _really_ expensive?" I was wondering if he had thought all of this through.

The Lukester had it all figured out. "The school won't have to pay a thing," he said matter-of-factly. "Mr. Scribner–Eugene–the tree farm owner–is going to donate the money to pay for Bob and Bob Jr. to deliver and plant the trees. He said it would be a good tax write-off. And _I_ am going to donate the trees."

I hated to ask my next question, but decided to anyway. "How much are 20 of these trees worth?"

The Lukester hadn't thought about that. "20 trees? I don't know... about two or three thousand maybe."

I looked at him again like he was crazy. "But why would you give away $3,000 worth of trees? You could buy your own car with $3,000 in a few years."

"I'm only giving away _half_ of them. I'll keep the other 20. Besides, I won't _need_ a car in a few years." He replied calmly. "Mom is giving me the Scrambler."

"What the heck is a Scrambler?" I asked, not knowing if I really wanted to hear the answer.

"The Jeep. It's a Jeep Scrambler. You know–a Jeep with a truck bed." He was having a hard time believing that I didn't know what a Scrambler was.

"Oh," I said, finally getting it." You mean the thing–I mean _car_ we came here in."

The Lukester nodded. "Yep. In four years, that baby will be _all_ mine."

I had to smile thinking of The Lukester driving the black and blue and gray Jeep Scrambler around town. He'd probably get a Star Trek bumper sticker for the tailgate.

"Let's head back," he said grabbing my hand. We need to get started on our paper."

I looked down at my hand in his and smiled.

### 11

### A Day of Rest

Sunday morning came and went without me--or my mom appearing before noon. Sacred sleeping time remained sacred and it was not interrupted. The battery for my alarm clock was still under the desk in my room–and no one honked their horn in our driveway at 6:00 AM.

### 12

### Progress Reports

Mr. Spinoza went through the list of partners in our class and each pair had to go up to the front of the room and give a progress report on their 'Positive Project'.

Norma A and Derrick told the class how they were working on improving their respective volleyball and basketball skills, so that they could have a more 'positive' impact on helping their school teams win.

Norma P and Amanda were throwing a 'positive party', where everyone in the class was invited--including The Lukester and I. When Mr. Spinoza asked them how their party was going to be positive, Norma P said, "We're not sure yet, but we are just _positive_ that it will be great!"

The Lukester and I looked at each other and both of us rolled our eyes (but I was secretly thrilled to know that I was going to be invited to a party thrown by Norma P and Amanda).

Eventually, Mr. Spinoza got to the bottom of the list. "Norma L... and The Lukester. You're up."

We walked up to the front of the classroom and The Lukester spent the rest of the period going over our project in excruciating detail. He talked about how we went out to the tree farm _together_ \--and how we walked around _together_ \--and how we were going to donate the trees and plant them out front to beautify and improve our school. Finally, _mercifully_ , the bell rang. I had hoped that The Lukester would be brief and not include all those details. I was mortified.

Mr. Spinoza was blown away. "That is, without a doubt," he said before everyone was dismissed. "The most generous--and definitely the most _positive_ idea for a project that I've ever heard. Nice job, _you two_."

That did it. As we were going out the door into the hallway, I heard Norma B say, "Bye bye, _you two_! Aren't they just the _cutest_ couple?" Taylor laughed.

I wished that I could crawl under the nearest rock. Unfortunately, I had to go to Science instead.

Suddenly, everyone walking down the hallway veered off to a side and either slowed way down or stopped. Sperry and McGurk were on their way to eighth grade PE.

"Time to kick some _butt_ in dodge ball," said Sperry loudly.

"Oh yeah," agreed McGurk, even louder. "I'm looking at my watch and it says time to kick some _major_ butt!"

I was very thankful that they were eighth graders and not in any of my classes. I couldn't imagine being in a class with them for 45 minutes–especially PE–especially playing dodge ball. I felt sorry for the other eighth graders who were heading to PE. As Sperry and McGurk walked by, I noticed that there was one lone student in the middle of the hall, who hadn't moved to the side. It was The Lukester. He was so happy that Mr. Spinoza had liked our project, that he forgot rule number one at Haywood.

Rule number one was simple–if Sperry and McGurk were in the vicinity, GET OUT OF THEIR WAY!

The Lukester noticed at the last second and tried to step aside, but McGurk clipped his shoulder and sent him sprawling onto the floor. "Watch it, _geek_!" he said as stopped and stared down menacingly. He emphasized the word geek.

The second bell rang and Mrs. Floogle came out of her classroom. "Alright," she said in a high-pitched voice. "Let's get going. You're all going to be late for your next class."

The Lukester's books had spilled out all over the floor and he was trying to stuff them back into his Battlestar Gallactica backpack. I helped him finish as Norma P and Amanda walked by. "Just look at the _cute_ couple! They work so well together–and they are so _adorable_!" They giggled all the way to Science.

Where was that rock when I needed it?

### 13

### Lunch of Doom!

Later that night, just before going to bed, I remembered that tomorrow was Tuesday. _Thank God,_ I thought as I grabbed a paper lunch sack and opened the pantry door. Last Tuesday I had forgotten and was fated to face the 'Lunch of Doom'.

Mom walked in the kitchen and noticed the things I was packing for my lunch. "Are you _serious_?" she asked as she sorted through the pile on the counter. She picked up each item, one by one, and inspected them like they were contaminated by radiation. "Let's see," she said sarcastically. "Mmm... a bag of Flaming Hot Cheetos, a Chocodile, a half package of stale Ritz crackers, a foot long Super Spicy Slim Jim, and three Jolly Ranchers... apple flavor. _Very_ nutritious!" Then she stared at me like she was interrogating a prisoner. "OK--what in the _world_ is a Chocodile anyway?"

"Mom," I said, knowing what was coming next. "It's a chocolate-covered Twinkie." She gave me the look I was expecting. "I got it at Dad's house the last time I was there. He gave me a whole box of them. He said they were like _gold_." Then she gave me the next look I was expecting—the 'I cannot believe your dad' look. I didn't go to my Dad's house very often (since he was usually _extraordinarily_ busy).

"Honey," she said, taking a few dollar bills out of her purse. "Instead of eating this _junk_ , why don't you just buy a lunch at school?"

"Mom," I said for the _millionth_ time since I had been at Haywood Middle School. "What day is today?"

She looked at me like I was crazy. "Monday."

"And what day does that make tomorrow?"

She was starting to get irritated. "Tuesday--so?"

She wasn't remembering. "Mom," I said as I pointed to the school lunch calendar on the refrigerator door. "See for yourself."

She walked over and read it out loud. "Tuesday... _meatloaf_." She slowly turned her head, looked at me, and said in a sincere voice, "Oh, I'm sorry honey. I forgot."

She used to think I was exaggerating about how bad the meatloaf was until the day I brought home a leftover piece in a napkin from school.

She was sick for a week.

I finished packing my 'interesting–but not very nutritious' lunch and hopped in bed. My last thought before falling asleep was, _maybe I could make some interesting trades_.

### 14

### Just Another Day in Paradise

When you lined up for lunch at the Haywood Middle School cafeteria, there were five rules:

  1. Line up in a straight line!

  2. No talking!

  3. No messing around!

  4. Clean up after yourself!

  5. Be respectful!

There was also an unspoken, unwritten, never talked about or discussed rule number _six_. It was the 'Don't throw food in the cafeteria at lunch, because if you do, you will surely die or possibly meet a fate _worse_ than death!' rule. You see, at Haywood, we didn't have a nice, sweet, old, lunch lady. We had a lunch _man_. Mr. Murdock.

Mr. Murdock was no ordinary man. He was at least six foot ten, he had military tattoos on his muscles--and he had a flattop crew cut that seemed to say, 'Don't mess with me!' Our lunch _man_ was a retired U.S. Army Special Forces drill instructor. That meant that he had trained soldiers to shoot guns, fight in hand to hand combat, and jump out of airplanes. The last thing he was afraid of was a bunch of goofy middle school kids. When you walked into his lunchroom, you said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Murdock." And when you left his _clean_ , _orderly_ lunchroom, you had better remember to say, "Thank you, Mr. Murdock."

Nobody messed with Mr. Murdock. And nobody messed around in Mr. Murdock's lunchroom. Even Sperry and McGurk were afraid of him.

Today was no different than any other day at lunch. Most of the kids had sack lunches on Tuesday; and a few unfortunate ones, whose mother's had forgotten it was Tuesday, got in line for the 'Lunch of Doom'. I secretly hoped--for their sake--that they all had huge bottles of Pepto-Bismol waiting for them when they got home.

If you had a sack lunch, you lined up in the cold lunch line. I said good afternoon to Mr. Murdock and took my rightful place at the 'misfit' table. Each table had an unspoken theme. There was the 'popular' table. If you were Norma P or Amanda or Taylor or one of the privileged few, you could sit there. Then there was the 'jock' table–types like Derrick, Norma A, and the Hoolik Brothers sat there. In the middle was Sperry and McGurk's table. They were the only ones who ever sat there–and no one ever dared to join them.

Lastly, down at the dork--I mean _dark_ \--end of the cafeteria, was the 'misfit' table. The 'misfit' table–or as the eighth graders called it, 'Dork Central'–consisted of people like Herman Smellnick (he was the president of the Chess Club), Lidia Hanrahan (she was the _only_ member of the Accordion Club), Mike Mulligan, Henry Hathaway, The Lukester, me–and various other square pegs. You get the picture.

All of us 'misfits' were sitting there eating quietly, minding our own business, when an amazing thing happened. Someone touched me on the shoulder. I turned, a little startled since no one ever tapped me on the shoulder, and looked up, expecting to see _anyone_ except the person I actually saw. It was Taylor. Taylor Johnson. Yeah, _that_ Taylor.

He spoke to me. _Me_. "Hi... um... it's Norma, right? Norma L?"

I tried to speak, but nothing came out, so I just nodded.

"Well, I hope I'm not bothering you, but I noticed that you have a _Chocodile_. I had one of those two summers ago in California and it was the best thing I ever ate. Man, I've been trying to get my mom to buy them, but she says she can't find them _anywhere_. My dad says they're like _gold_."

I sort of heard what he was saying, but I was literally lost in his eyes. They were blue-green, with silver stars in the middle. I nodded again.

"So... I was wondering," he said in a voice that sounded like an angel. "I was wondering... if you would consider trading."

I could not believe that Taylor Johnson– _the_ Taylor Johnson—was actually talking to me. _Me_. And he wanted _my_ Chocodile. I still couldn't speak, so I just stuck out my hand with the Chocodile in it.

He wasn't sure what I was doing, so The Lukester helped him out. "I think she's giving it to you, Taylor. She wants you to have it."

I nodded again.

He took the Chocodile. _My_ chocodile.

"Thanks, Norma," he said in that heavenly voice again. "I _owe_ you one."

I decided from that moment on, that no matter what ever happened, I would always love my dad for buying me that Chocodile.

Just then, another amazing thing happened. Actually, an _unthinkable_ thing happened. Maybe it was the full moon last night... or maybe the planets and stars suddenly fell out of alignment... or maybe it was just the Tuesday meatloaf Lunch of Doom. Whatever it was, there was no logical explanation for what occurred at that moment.

Someone broke rule number _six_.

Someone threw food in Mr. Murdock's lunchroom.

The same Mr. Murdock who had once led troops into battle. The same Mr. Murdock who had jumped out of an airplane at 10,000 feet. The same Mr. Murdock who had landed behind enemy lines, with only a knife and a canteen of water. Yes–someone threw food in _that_ Mr. Murdock's lunchroom.

The Lukester said later that he had seen it all. First, someone from the 'jock' table–he thought it was Mitch Murphy--tried to throw a Fudgesicle at a friend of theirs over at the 'popular' table. There were three big problems with this plan:

  1. Sperry and MrGurk's table was _in between_ the 'jock' table and the 'popular' table.

  2. The person at the 'jock' table didn't take into account that the Fudgesicle was half-eaten and therefore slimy and _slippery_.

  3. This was _Mr. Murdock's lunchroom_.

The Lukester said that the errant Fudgesicle landed directly on the top of McGurk's shaved head. It had been unwrapped and licked already, so it was wet and sticky and it stuck to his head. He grabbed it off the top of his head, stood up, turned around with a look of complete disbelief and yelled, "Who the _hell_ threw this Fudgesicle?" When he spotted the likely suspect–Mitch Murphy--he promptly picked up his half-eaten, ketchup-covered piece of meatloaf (which he actually liked)–and threw it–hard. Mitch ducked and it hit one of the Hoolik Brothers (they were the identical, insane, hockey-playing triplets) right in the face.

There was no stopping after that. It was _on_.

Someone yelled, "FOOD FIGHT!" and all three of the Hoolik brothers returned fire with various sack lunch items. The Lukester said he saw chips and cookies and sandwiches flying, a Hostess cupcake with a bite out of it, carrot sticks, a Tupperware container full of egg salad, and even an untouched apple that bounced off Herman Smellnick's forehead. The eye of the storm seemed to be centered around Sperry and McGurk–who were loving every minute of it. It was like lunchroom dodge ball to them. They picked up anything that wasn't nailed down and threw it in every direction. Within a few short minutes, the lunchroom looked like a war zone. And for those brief, few minutes, everyone forgot _whose_ lunchroom they were having a food fight in.

The food fight ended abruptly when an open-faced, peanut butter and jelly sandwich landed on Mr. Murdock's arm–directly on top of his Uncle Sam tattoo. It was the weirdest thing I had ever seen. In that instance, the lunchroom went from absolute pandemonium–to library silence. By the time everyone had realized what had happened, it was too late.

Mr. Murdock slowly stood up (all six foot ten of him). He then peeled the open-faced, peanut butter and jelly sandwich from his arm, and spoke in an eerily quiet voice. "Who..." he barely whispered. It was like a death-whisper. "I repeat, who... is _responsible_ for this?" He looked slowly and carefully around the battlefield (lunchroom) and everyone looked down or away--suddenly wishing they were far, far away in a distant galaxy.

He walked past the 'popular' table as he wiped his arm with a napkin. No one looked up. He walked on. He walked past the 'jock' table and looked suspiciously at Mitch Murphy and the three Hoolik Brothers. They all looked down. He walked on. Then he walked up to Sperry and McGurk's table.

He stopped.

"Well, well, well," he said as they tried their best to look as innocent as newborn babies. "Where's _Larry_ , gentlemen?"

_Larry? Who's Larry?_ Thought all 99 of us at the same time. Sperry and McGurk were confused. So was I.

Mr. Murdock continued. "Well I see _two_ of the Three Stooges–Curly and Moe–so I was just wondering where the other Stooge was? You know– _Larry_."

I suddenly remembered watching the Three Stooges at my dad's house. He was obviously making a reference to their looks. Sperry had the same dark hair and bowl cut that Moe had--and McGurk had a shaved head like Curly.

"Well, I guess we just have the _Two_ Stooges today." He grabbed them both by the back of their shirts and yanked them out of their seats like they were two little kids. "Let's take a trip to the office, gentlemen. I think Mr. Looney will want to discuss this matter _extensively_." Mr. Looney's office had a sign over the door that said:

WELCOME TO THE LOONEY BIN!

ENTER IF YOU DARE!

It was never a good thing to go to the Looney Bin on undesirable terms. Mr. Murdock walked slowly to the lunchroom door with his two unhappy prisoners and then turned to the rest of us. "I sincerely hope," he said in the death-whisper again, "that this _entire_ lunchroom is _spotless_ by the time I get back." He walked out.

You have never seen 97 middle school kids clean up a lunchroom so fast in your life. It must have been a Guinness World Record. When we were done, The Lukester looked at me sideways and said, "So... I guess Taylor _owes_ you one, huh?"

I looked around at the lunchroom that had recently been a war zone. Now, only a few minutes later, the whole place was spotless, clean and orderly. Sperry and McGurk, barely escaping certain death, had been hauled off to see Mr. Looney (our principal). The rest of us—also hoping to escape the wrath of Mr. Murdock--were sitting quietly and patiently, waiting to be dismissed.

And Taylor Johnson _owed_ me one.

_Just another day in paradise_ , I thought to myself.

### 15

### Breathless

Later that night, when Mom got home from work, she asked me the usual, "How was your day, honey?"

Usually, I gave the typical kid response to such obligatory parental questions, "Fine." But today was different. She got much more than she bargained for. I spent the next hour or so actually _telling_ her about my day. First, I told her about the food fight and how Sperry and McGurk were hauled off by Mr. Murdock to the principal's office. Then, I told her all about what had happened with Taylor. I told her, in great and _immensely_ important detail, how he had tapped me on the shoulder and asked about trading for my Chocodile. And I told her how I just gave it to him and that he had said he _owed_ me one. That's the part I was _dying_ to get to. I was _dying_ to tell her about it—and I was _dying_ to know what she thought. "What does that mean... he _owes_ me one?" I asked, now completely out of breath.

Mom gave me that 'Uh oh, I'm worried about my little girl falling in love and getting hurt.' look. "Honey, it could mean _anything_ , really. Like..." She was searching for the right thing to say–or not to say. "He probably just meant that he owed you a favor. Since you had done something nice for him, he wants to do something nice for you." She looked at me funny, like she was wondering if I had any idea what she had just said to me.

I heard what she said, and I understood what she was saying–I just didn't want to believe that it could be that simple. I _hoped_ it meant more than that. So I blurted it out. "Do you think he _likes_ me?"

She gave me that look again. Mom _knew_ who Taylor Johnson was. And she knew that _every_ girl at my school was in love with him. And she knew I had no shot. But she was my mom, so she said, "Well, honey... it _could_. I mean... why wouldn't he like you? You're smart and funny and beautiful."

There was that 'beautiful' word again. She tried her best to convince me that I had a shot.

I knew I didn't.

In my dreams, Taylor Johnson _did_ like me. But in reality–and I knew the reality option was much more likely--I didn't think it was even remotely possible.

Still...

### 16

### The Trees are Planted

The next morning, when mom dropped me off in front of the school, I saw The Lukester waving to me. It wasn't a 'Hi, how are you?' wave. It was a 'Hey, come over here! I've got something to show you!' wave.

"Isn't this _great_?" he asked excitedly as I hurried over.

I noticed right away what the big deal was. There was an old, green, Ford pickup truck parked in front of the school. On the driver door it said:

Eugene's Tree, Plant and Sod Farm

If You Need It -- We Grow It!

There was a long, green flatbed trailer behind the truck. On the front half of the trailer, there were 20 of the most beautiful trees in the world. These were The Lukester's trees. I realized then, as I looked at him watching Bob and Bob Jr. carefully take the first tree off the trailer, that these trees were his most prized and valued possession. And he was _giving_ them away. I wondered how many of us would really give away the most valuable thing we owned. I wasn't sure that I could do it.

A small crowd of students gathered in front of the school and watched as Bob and Bob Jr. lowered each tree into a hole in front of the school. After all the trees were in the ground, they filled around them with extra dirt, and finally, spread bark around each trunk.

The Lukester and I stepped back to admire our 'Positive Project'. On each side of the Haywood Middle School sign, there were now 10 incredibly beautiful trees. All the students watching clapped when Bob and Bob Jr. finished the last tree and loaded the backhoe onto the trailer. Bob and Bob Jr. waved and then ceremoniously bowed to the crowd before getting into the pickup. The Lukester and I waved to them as they drove off and I noticed The Lukester mouth the words 'thank you' to Bob. Bob smiled and gave him the thumbs up sign.

Suddenly, we realized that someone was yelling at us--loudly. It was Mr. Jenkins, the Assistant Principal. He was waving his arms like crazy and yelling, "Come on! Hurry up! You're late!" Apparently, we hadn't heard the bell ring about 20 minutes ago and we were all late for first period. Considering the circumstances, I was sure that Mr. Spinoza would understand.

"Doesn't it look _awesome_?" The Lukester asked me as we were walking in. I stopped and looked back. "It's _more_ than awesome. It's awesome to the _max_!" He raised a hand for me to high five, but I left him hanging and gave a big, grandma hug instead. And I didn't even care if anyone was watching.

### 17

### A Standing Ovation

The first voice we heard in Mr. Spinoza's class this morning was not Mr. Spinoza. It was Mrs. Wilma, the 89-year-old school secretary. Her full name was Wilma Stinson, but everyone just called her Mrs. Wilma. She couldn't see or hear very well anymore, but she was as sweet as she could be--and no one in the district had the heart to get rid of her. Each morning, about 20 minutes or so into first period, her sweet, but scratchy voice would come over the classroom loudspeaker with announcements.

It was quite a challenge to understand what she said each day. First, there was the lunch menu. Something about lima bean casserole. _What? Are you kidding me?_ I thought. Asking a kid to eat lima bean casserole was like asking someone if they wanted to hike across the Sahara Desert in a winter parka. Everyone groaned. Then came the afternoon schedule of extra-curricular activities: Sewing Club in Mrs. Floogle's room, Drama Club in Mr. Spinoza's room ( _Hmm..._ I thought to myself), and football practice on the football field. A couple of the football players knuckled and said, "You got _that_ right!"

After Mrs. Wilma had finished, we all heard Mr. Looney, the school principal, say, "Thank you Mrs. Wilma." When Mr. Looney came on to speak, it could only mean one of two things:

  1. Someone had been suspended. Mr. Looney liked to announce school suspensions. He felt like it kept the rest of the law-abiding school population from also becoming criminals.

  2. Someone had done something great. He also liked to acknowledge when someone had done something _extraordinary_.

Today, it was both. First, he announced that our good friends, Sperry and McGurk, along with Mitch Mitchell and all three Hoolik brothers, had been suspended for one day (today), for their willing participation in the now infamous Haywood Middle School Food Fight. In fact, a few of the eighth graders were referring to it as World War Three. Mr. Looney added that throwing food in the lunchroom, or anywhere else for that matter, would not, and he repeated _not_ , be tolerated at Haywood. There were several snickers, mostly from the boys, and Mr. Spinoza cleared his throat to get them back on track.

Then I heard The Lukester's name–Luke Krattenmucker. And _my_ name–Norma L. Mr. Looney thanked us for our hard work and dedication to the betterment of our school, by donating and planting the beautiful trees that now adorned our entrance. He went on to say that we were _shining_ examples of what all students at Haywood should _strive_ to be. I knew that comment was going to be trouble down the road. Oh well, I might have been embarrassed, but I was also proud. The Lukester and I gave each other the 'way to go' nod.

Mr. Looney also thanked Mr. Spinoza for his guidance and insight in coming up with such a wonderful project. He ended his part of the announcements by saying his usual, "Remember... (he paused for dramatic effect between statements) you the students of Haywood... make our school... the _great_ school it is... that is all... have a good day."

Mr. Spinoza echoed what Mr. Looney had said about us, and he even had the rest of the class stand and applaud for us. Wow, I never thought I would get a standing ovation–for anything.

The rest of the day was oddly calm and serene. There was no parting of the seas between classes, no fear or apprehension of accidentally getting in Sperry or McGurk's way (and possibly getting on the 'Geek of the Week' short list). After all, tomorrow was _Friday_ \--and Sperry and McGurk would be back from their suspension. And I was still a little concerned about McGurk calling The Lukester a geek on Monday.

### 18

### The Trees are Unplanted

The next morning, while I was getting ready for school, I got a text from a girl in my history class. Her name was Samantha and she had gotten a text from Emily, who had gotten a text from her boyfriend, Ryan, who had gotten a text from a guy he knew named Double G.

According to Double G, Sperry and McGurk had heard about Mr. Looney announcing their suspensions--along with a feel-good story about some do-gooders donating and planting trees in front of the school. And apparently, Sperry and McGurk didn't like feel-good stories _or_ do-gooders. So they decided to do something about it. And that something, according to Double G, involved chainsaws at midnight.

_Why would they need chainsaws?_ I thought at first.

Then, suddenly, I knew why.

Chainsaws cut down trees.

### 19

### Showdown--Part One

I grabbed my backpack and yelled upstairs. "Mom, we need to go _now_. Something's happened at school."

Mom asked me a lot of questions, but I didn't say anything on the five-minute drive to school. All I could think of was the look on The Lukester's face after he saw what those idiots did to his trees.

When Mom dropped me off in front of the school, she saw what I had been dreading. There were no beautiful trees on each side of the Haywood Middle School sign. On the left side of the sign, was a huge pile of broken, twisted and cut branches. And on the right side, someone had taken all of the tree trunks and larger branches and spelled out a message. From the drop-off lane curb, I could see clearly what it said:

TRIES R 4 GEKES!

My first thought was, _how could those morons do something like that?_ My second thought was, _how could they be such bad spellers?_

There was a Haywood police car parked in front of the school sign and two officers were talking with Mr. Looney and Mr. Jenkins. I didn't see The Lukester anywhere. As I walked up to the officers, one of them took out a digital camera and took several pictures of the crime scene.

I heard Mr. Looney ask Mr. Jenkins, "What does tries r 4 gekes mean?"

"I think it's supposed to say _trees_ are for _geeks_ ," I said quietly, trying not to cry. "And I think I know who did this."

Mr. Jenkins told me to go ahead and go to first period, and that the office would call me down later this morning to see what I knew.

"By the way," asked Mr. Looney as I walked away. "Have you seen Luke Krattenmucker this morning?"

I could only shake my head. I wondered where he was and what he was thinking.

The Lukester was already in Mr. Spinoza's first period class when I walked in. He was sitting in the back, no expression on his face, eyes staring straight ahead.

I cautiously sat down next to him. "Hey," I almost whispered. "Did you see the trees?"

He just nodded.

"I'm _really_ sorry."

He nodded again.

"Are you OK?"

He shook his head no.

Mr. Spinoza told us that what had happened with the trees was–well, I can't really repeat it here. Let's just put it this way, it was the first time I had ever heard a teacher use swear words (he meant to say it was BS—but he didn't abbreviate). And The Lukester and I, and no one else in the room, could blame him at all.

The Lukester didn't say a word during the rest of the class. Mr. Spinoza tried his best to go over adverbs and subjunctive clauses, but his heart just wasn't in it. He gave us free reading time until the bell rang.

As we started to walk toward science class, I noticed The Lukester doing something very odd. He walked to the middle of the hall, put down his backpack and rolled up the sleeves on his shirt. Then I noticed a couple of other things. He was wearing a _normal_ shirt for the first time. It didn't have any goofy sayings or pictures on it. And he had a _new_ backpack. A plain, black backpack had replaced the old Battlestar Gallactica one.

He was looking down the south end of the hall–like he was waiting for something.

Or _someone_.

All the kids started moving around him, to the sides of the hall. Then I realized what was happening. They weren't moving for The Lukester–the sea was parting–for Sperry and McGurk.

Before I could say or do anything, I saw them. Sperry was wearing a South Park t-shirt with Cartman on it, saying, "RESPECT MY AUTHORITY". McGurk was wearing a Slayer t-shirt that said "REIGN IN BLOOD". _Nice_. They were both laughing and punching each other in the arm, looking every bit like the cats that swallowed the canary, thinking they had gotten away with their heinous crime.

Suddenly, several of the kids walking by saw The Lukester–standing _right_ in the middle of the hall. Sperry and McGurk's hall. Sperry and McGurk hadn't noticed him yet–they were too busy being complete jackasses–but they were heading toward him full steam. And The Lukester wasn't budging.

_Oh my God_ , I thought. _He's going to get killed_.

There was a small crowd gathering now, apparently noticing and thinking the same thing I was. I started to move toward him--to try and somehow save him–but it was too late.

Usually, if Sperry and McGurk were walking down the hall on a Friday, you might hear the beginning of the 'Geek of the Week' award being presented. But instead of hearing McGurk proclaiming, "Of all the nerds we've seen this week, you are by _far_ , the biggest geek!"--it was The Lukester doing the talking.

"In all my life, I've seen some _jerks_ ," he said slowly and loudly. "But none have been worse than Sperry and McGurk!"

Sperry and McGurk stopped dead in their tracks. And every kid in the hall felt his or her jaw drop all the way to the freshly waxed, black and white tiled floor. This scene was _unprecedented_. No one, and I repeat– _no one_ \--had ever had the nerve to stand up to Sperry and McGurk.

Sperry looked at McGurk and said, "You've _got_ to be kidding me."

McGurk shook his head in complete disbelief. "Should I kill him? Or do you want to?"

"Hmm..." Sperry looked at The Lukester, standing defiantly in front of them. "Let's both kill him."

But before either one of them could do anything, The Lukester punched McGurk right in the nose. Hard. It stunned him.

Stunned wasn't the correct word for how the onlookers felt. It was more like _complete and total shock_. Not only had The Lukester stood up to the biggest, meanest and rottenest bullies on the face of the earth–but he had also just punched the _bigger_ of the two right in the nose.

Now The Lukester was about to be truly annihilated. Sperry grabbed The Lukester from behind and McGurk raised his huge, balled-up fist. It looked like a sledgehammer. He had blood streaming down his face. But just as he was about to land the fatal blow, someone grabbed his arm.

It was Mr. Looney. "Well, well, well," he said in a oddly calm voice. "Mr. Sperry and Mr. McGurk. I was _just_ coming to look for you two. It seems we have a _problem_. A problem that involves the _police_. And some cut down trees. And some _very poor_ spelling skills."

Sperry and McGurk gave each other that quick, "Oh crap, we're busted!" glance. Then McGurk pointed at his newly flattened, bloody—and quite possibly broken nose. "Whadda bout dis?' he demanded. "Whadda bout my dose?"

Mr. Looney looked at The Lukester and winked. Then he looked back at McGurk. "Well, Mr. McGurk, I guess you'll have to learn to be more careful. I saw you walk _right_ into that open door--and it hit you _right_ in the nose. That's a shame."

Mr. Jenkins came running down the hall and promptly joined Mr. Looney. Everyone was still in shock as the two of them escorted Sperry and McGurk toward the office.

It was completely silent for a few seconds and then a couple of eighth graders, who were watching the events unfold, began clapping slowly. It was a clap of respect and honor--and thankfulness. Everyone joined in because we all knew that this was probably the last we would ever see of those two idiots in our school. I guessed that they would be expelled and maybe even end up in juvie.

" _Holy freakin cow_ ," said Tommy Hoolik (one of the insane, hockey-playing Hoolik Brothers). "I've seen a lot of brawls in hockey–but that punch was _ridiculous_. Way to go little man." He looked around at everyone in the hallway and then raised The Lukester's hand above his head, like a boxer who had just won a championship fight. "I guess we have a new sheriff in town!"

### 20

### A Hero

I texted The Lukester that night after dinner to see how he was doing.

Me: Hey, are you OK?

The Lukester: Yeah, I'm fine. A little bummed about the trees still.

Me: Me too. I was amazed how you stood up to those morons, Sperry and McGurk!

The Lukester: Thanks. I wasn't sure I had it in me–but I couldn't just let it go. Hey, I was thinking about something...

Me: Yeah, what about?

The Lukester: Well, I still have another 20 trees. Maybe I could get Eugene to let Bob and Bob Jr. bring them out to school to replace the others.

Me: Wow, that's very sweet of you, but you wouldn't have any left. Your legacy would be gone!

The Lukester: Ha ha. I hope there's more to my legacy than just a bunch of trees.

Me: I guess you could ask. What if they destroy the new ones, too?

The Lukester: Sperry and McGurk? I don't think so. They're in BIG trouble. My mom said that they would probably get charged with felony vandalism--and be expelled.

Me: That's good. I think everyone will be happy that they're gone. You're a hero, you know.

The Lukester: Well, I don't know about that (blushing). Sometimes you just have to stand up for yourself–and for what's right.

Me: Well, I'm proud of you.

The Lukester: Thanks (blushing again).

The Lukester: Hey... guess what else?

Me: What?

The Lukester: I went to the hospital today--actually, the ER.

Me: What for? I thought you said you were OK.

The Lukester: Oh I'm fine. I just broke my hand on McGurk's face, that's all. I have a cast. Will you be the first person to sign it for me?

Me: I'd be honored.

And I knew exactly what I was going to write.

### 21

### Closed?

Mom and I had a new tradition on Sunday mornings. We still had our sacred sleeping time on Saturday mornings, but on Sunday, we got up at exactly 8:00 AM. Ever since I had told Mom about Dan and Dot's Diner, we had been going out there for Sunday brunch. It was the grape jelly that eventually talked her into it.

We both noticed something was wrong as soon as we turned into the parking lot. It was empty. And that just wasn't normal for Dan and Dot's Diner on a Sunday morning.

"Look, there's a note on the door," I said as I hopped out to investigate. I had to read the notice twice to understand what it was saying:

County of Mosely

***Official Notice***

On this date of September 13, 2011, this establishment–known as Dan and Dot's Diner–is officially closed due to a lack of adhering to new county landscaping guidelines.

I waved Mom over so she could read it also. "What does that mean?" I asked. "What is "a lack of adhering to landscaping guidelines"? Why would they close them for that?"

She read the notice and then took a look around. "I guess it is a little barren... and dreary looking... and messy..."

Mom was right. The only 'landscaping' was a gravel parking lot, a few crooked railroad ties, some washed out river rock, a couple of dead bushes–and lots and lots of weeds.

"I guess they're just too old to keep up on the outside appearance," I suggested. "I mean, they must be in their eighties or nineties."

Mom nodded and I thought of poor Dan in his wheelchair. "Maybe we could help them clean things up--pull the weeds, pick up the trash."

There was a lot of trash scattered throughout the parking lot. Old pop cans, broken beer bottles, fast food wrappers, empty cups, lids, and straws. It looked like this was where the local high school kids hung out at night.

Suddenly, I had a _great_ idea. "Can we drive over to Luke's?" I asked. I gave her the kid look that wouldn't take no for an answer.

When we got to the tree farm, we could see that The Lukester and his mom were already a step ahead of us. Bob and Bob Jr. (I suddenly wondered if they _ever_ got a day off) had loaded The Lukester's last 20 trees onto the flatbed trailer and they were tossing bags of decorative red and brown bark into the bed of the old, green Ford pickup.

The Lukester's mom was talking to Eugene and he was smiling and nodding and patting her on the shoulder. She came over and gave me a hug and shook my mom's hand. "You must be Maggy," she said with a big smile. "I've heard so many good things about you from Norma."

Mom shot me a quick glance. " _Really_? _Good_ things--from _my_ Norma?" She seemed genuinely surprised. "And you must be Abby. I've heard wonderful things about you–and also Luke. You have quite a kid there."

The Lukester's mom smiled as he came over with a handful of large, black trash bags.

"You must be Luke," my mom said as she reached out to shake his hand. His shaking hand was in a purple and silver cast (our school colors).

The Lukester smiled and said, "Hi. It's nice to meet you."

"You guys must have been over at the Diner," The Lukester's mom said. "We just found out this morning. Luke is donating his other trees and Eugene has been kind enough to pay for Bob and Bob Jr. to help out."

As the two moms loaded some plants and bushes and flowers into the back of the Scrambler, The Lukester ran back to the trailer to get a Sharpie–so I could be the first to sign his cast.

Two minutes later, on the very front, where everyone could see it, I wrote:

Way to go Rocky! YFFL, Norma L

The Lukester looked closely at his newly signed, purple forearm with the silver message. Then he looked up at me. " _Rocky_?"

I smiled. "You know... _Rocky_... Rocky Balboa." He wasn't getting it. I kept trying. "Rocky... the fighter... from the boxing movies... Sylvester Stallone... " I even sang the song. "Da da da da... da da da da da da..." Then he got it.

"Oh yeah! _Rocky_!" He seemed to like the comparison. "So what does YFFL mean?"

Suddenly, I was embarrassed. It was in silver sharpie--right on his arm--for the world to see. I couldn't take it back now. "Your Friend Forever." I was hoping he wouldn't ask about the L.

He asked about the L. "What does the L stand for?"

I gave it a shot. "It's my last name. Norma L."

He didn't buy it. "Not the L _after_ your name. I know what that means. The L _before_ your name. A _fter_ Your Friend Forever. What does _that_ L mean?"

He _knew_ what it meant. It was the BIG L word. The L dash dash dash word. I wasn't going to say it. "You're a smart guy," I said finally. "You figure it out!"

### 22

### Open!

The rest of that day, I worked harder than I ever had in my life. Word of what had happened and we were doing traveled quickly, and soon about half of the town of Mosely was in Dan and Dot's parking lot–cleaning, planting, raking, shoveling, and hauling. People brought in more bushes and more flowers and more trees. Every weed was pulled, every piece of trash was picked up–and within one day–Dan and Dot's Diner was transformed into the most beautiful spot in all of Mosely County (maybe even the _entire_ world).

Dot pitched in by bringing everyone glasses of ice-cold lemonade and homemade cookies–and Dan rolled around in his wheelchair, holding a large trash bag open for the little kids to fill up. I looked around and was amazed by what I saw. I saw The Lukester, with his broken hand in a cast, doing the best he could to help Bob and Bob Jr. plant what remained of his legacy. I saw our two moms, working together on their day off. And I saw neighbors, friends, and even complete strangers giving their precious time, energy, hard work, sweat, and resources–all just to help Dan and Dot.

Someone called the Mayor and within five minutes, he drove into the parking lot in his shiny, black, brand-new Cadillac. He got out slowly, looked around (even more slowly), and then walked over to the front door of the diner and took down the closed notice. He then walked over to Dan and Dot, smiled his big politician smile, crumpled up the vile piece of paper--and tossed it into the trash bag that Dan was holding.

Everyone cheered and I saw Dot lean over and give Dan her biggest grandma hug ever. They both had tears in their eyes. I knew that I had seen a truly amazing thing happen today–and I was proud that I had been a part of it.

That evening, Dan and Dot threw a celebration barbecue and party for everyone who had helped out. There was a long, long table with chicken and ribs, bowls of potato and macaroni salad, bags of chips, plates of cookies, and every kind of pie you could imagine. I had never seen such a happy group of people. Everyone shared the same smile and content look of having helped someone in need. It was a good feeling.

Later that night, as it started to get dark, the local (and previously famous) Mosely band, The Darlings, showed up and played their 1961 number one country hit, "I Got a Bucket of Love for You". Normally, I didn't really like country music, but I thought this song was sweet and it seemed to fit the situation well.

The Lukester (and a few of the older people) knew the words, and they sang along loudly:

I got a bucket to warsh all my dishes

I got a bucket to mop the floor

I got a bucket to paint the fence out back

But that aint all, I got one more...

I got a bucket of love for you

I got a bucket of love for you

I aint got much

But this I know is true...

I got a bucket of love for you

Grandma had a bucket for warshin

Grandma had a bucket for chores

Grandma had a bucket to paint the fence out back

But that aint all, she had one more...

She had a bucket of love for you

She had a bucket of love for you

She didn't have much

But this I know is true...

She had a bucket of love for you

Now you and me we got our own bucket

A bucket for warshin and for chores

A bucket to paint the fence out back

But that aint all, we got one more...

I got a bucket of love for you

You've got a bucket of love for me too

We may not have much

But this I know is true...

I got me a bucket

A great big bucket

A bucket of love for you!

Woo hoo!

There was a big cheer as they finished the song, and the leader of the band, Darrel Darling, handed the microphone to Dot. She tried to speak, got choked up, waited a minute to regain her composure, and then spoke as she looked around at the hundred or so people who had helped re-open the diner. "Dan and I want to say a _great_ big thank you to everyone here." She had to stop again for a few seconds and wipe some tears from her cheeks. "We can never express how much all of this means to us. We also want to thank The Darlings for coming down to play for us." There was another big cheer and she smiled at Mr. Darling as he nodded his appreciation. "But most of all," Dot said as she looked directly at The Lukester, who was suddenly standing right beside me. "I want to thank Luke and Norma. Without these two young people, this never would have happened."

Everyone cheered again and then Dot came over and gave us each a great big grandma hug. She seemed to hang on to each of us for an eternity. The Lukester smiled and said to Dot, "Ah, it was nothing. Just paying it forward."

I looked sideways at him and thought to myself, _Oh, it was a lot more than nothing. It was something special._

### 23

### A Bucket of Love

Later that night, just as I was about to climb into my soft, warm, comfortable, and greatly missed bed, I got a text from The Lukester:

The Lukester: Hey, are you there?

Me: Yep.

The Lukester: Are you awake?

Me: Barely, what's up?

The Lukester: Well, I just wanted to say thanks for all your help today--you were great.

Me: Thanks--so were you.

The Lukester: Thanks. Oh, I also wanted to tell you something else...

Me: OK, go ahead.

The Lukester: Well...

Me: What? Come on–the suspense is killing me. Plus, I'm about to fall asleep.

The Lukester: Well... OK... here goes...

Me: I'm waiting...

The Lukester: Well, Norma L... I just wanted to tell you... that I have a _whole_ bucket for you.

Me: Oh yeah? A whole bucket of what???

The Lukester: Hey--you're a smart girl–you figure it out!

_Touché_ , I thought as I climbed into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin. I smiled a _very_ big smile. It had been an amazing day. We had helped save a diner, people had cheered for me--and now someone (a _special_ someone) even told me that he had a _whole_ bucket for me.

### 24

### BIG Changes!

Things were different on Monday morning at school.

_Very_ different.

First of all, _everyone_ seemed much more relaxed, easy-going and happy. I guess removing the daily threat of being humiliated, pummeled and possibly pulverized by Sperry and McGurk had a positive effect on our environment.

Secondly, The Lukester's social status had suddenly changed. No longer was he known as the Dorkster or the Geekster–a veritable lowlife and bottom feeder. Now, _all_ the cool guys–popular guys _and_ jocks–seventh graders _and_ eighth graders– _all_ wanted to high-five The Lukester, walk down the hall with The Lukester, eat lunch with The Lukester, and hang out with The Lukester.

At first, I thought it was pretty cool. The Lukester was a great guy and he deserved to move up the Haywood Middle School ladder of popularity. Actually, skyrocketed would be a better way to describe his ascent. I could handle him being more popular than me (After all, who wasn't?). But then something happened that I wasn't sure I could handle.

And that something had a name.

Janet Janikowski.

Janet Janikowski wasn't as popular as Norma P–but she was more popular than Norma L.

Janet Janikowski wasn't as graceful as Norma A–but she was more graceful than Norma L.

Janet Janikowski wasn't as beautiful as Norma B–but she was more beautiful than Norma L.

And worst of all, Janet Janikowski was suddenly _very_ interested in The Lukester. _My_ Lukester. The Lukester that I had assumed (apparently incorrectly) no one else would be interested in. The same Lukester who had just told me last night that he had a _whole_ bucket of 'you know what' for me.

When I came into Mr. Spinoza's classroom for first period, _she_ , meaning Janet J, was in _my_ seat, leaning close to The Lukester. She was whispering something in his ear. And he didn't look too unhappy about what she was saying. She saw me approaching and said, "Bye bye, Lukey." Then she walked by me and gave me the "Oh, I am _so_ hotter than you" look.

I sat down next to The Lukester and stared straight ahead. There was a very awkward five seconds or so of silence until he finally said, "Hey Norma." He didn't sound unhappy.

Well, I sure was. I didn't look at him. I just answered back, trying my best to mimic Janet J, "Hi _Lukey_." I wanted to call him "Pukey Lukey", but then I realized that he hadn't actually done anything wrong (except for maybe looking a little _too_ happy when Janet J was whispering something in his ear). I decided then and there that I wasn't really mad at The Lukester. I was madder at Janet J. Then I also realized that I absolutely _had_ to know what she had whispered in his ear.

"What was Janet J whispering to you?" I asked out the side of my mouth.

"I'll tell you after class," The Lukester answered back in the same way.

Mr. Spinoza was definitely my favorite teacher. He was fun and interesting and super nice, but he did have one pet peeve as a teacher. He didn't like students talking when he was going over class notes on the overhead. If you talked while he was talking, then he assumed that you knew the material _better_ than he did–and you were invited to go up to the front of the class and teach the lesson. Well, I had _no_ desire to teach a lesson on the difference between relative and reflexive pronouns–and apparently neither did The Lukester–so we sat quietly until class was over.

I was surprised at the weird feeling I had in the pit of my stomach. It was burning me up inside. This was a new experience for me. I was actually _jealous_. I had never been jealous of _anything_ before. Well, maybe jealous of someone's house or car or something dumb like that, but never a person--especially a boy. I kept looking over at Janet J, desperately trying to find _something_ wrong with her. Anything. I hoped that maybe she was missing a front tooth like the oldest Darling sister. Nope. Maybe she had bad breath or smelled bad. Probably not. Maybe her clothes were stupid and she looked dorky. Definitely not. She looked great. Dang!

At the end of the period, Mr. Spinoza announced that Norma P and Amanda were going to pass out invitations to everyone in class for their 'Positively Great Party' on Friday night. "Remember," said Amanda as she handed each person a purple and silver envelope. "The party is at my dad's country club and they have a strict dress code—so dress up—and also, you may invite _one_ person to go as your date."

Just then, Janet J glanced back at The Lukester and winked. And about a millionth of a second after that, I realized what she had been whispering to him before class started. She had asked _him_ to be _her_ date for the party. _My_ Lukester.

I stormed out of class as the bell rang. The Lukester caught up with me quickly. "Hey," he said, grabbing my arm (softly). "It's not what you think."

"Oh really?" I was _trying_ not to be mad at him, but I couldn't help it. "Did she or did she not ask you to the party?"

"Yes," said The Lukester. "She did."

"Then it's _exactly_ what I thought!"

He started to say something, but suddenly all three Hoolik Brothers appeared directly in front of him, pushing me off to the side.

"Yo, my man!" said Tommy, high-fiving him.

"What it is, bro!" said Timmy, knuckling him.

"The Lukesterino!" said Teddy, slapping him hard on the back. I couldn't tell the three of them apart–at all. They were all tall--they all had long, dark, stringy hair--they all had thick, black, plastic glasses with tape in the middle--and they were all completely insane. Before they left, they all yelled, "Hockey rules!" and did a triple head butt together.

The Lukester responded by saying, "Yeah... right... hockey rules... see you guys later." I turned and started to follow them down the hall, still mad, but not sure who I was mad at. The Lukester caught up again and grabbed my arm again (softly again).

"Hey," he said, looking me in the eyes. "I didn't say yes. There's someone _else_ I'd rather go with."

### 25

### Still the Same

Later that day, at lunch to be exact, The Lukester asked me if I would be his date for the party. Well, I was over being mad at him (although I was still _steaming_ mad at Janet J for trespassing on my turf), so I said, "Yes. I would _love_ to."

_Uh oh_ , I thought quickly, _the L word again_.

Besides, he passed up on sitting at the popular table with Taylor and Norma P _and_ the jock table with the crazy Hoolik Brothers and Norma A. Instead, he sat next to me– Norma L--at the misfit table.

And that meant a lot to me.

### 26

### The Ginger Curse

The week passed quickly and soon it was Friday. There was no 'Geek of the Week' award and no Sperry and McGurk. Mr. Looney had announced Monday morning that Mr. Sperry and Mr. McGurk would no longer be with us at Haywood. He seemed to take _great_ pleasure in telling us that they had been officially expelled for the destruction of The Lukester's trees. He also announced that the PTO had donated some money from their emergency fund to replace the trees. All was well at Haywood Middle School.

Unfortunately, all was _not_ well with me.

That's because it was now five o'clock.

Friday _evening_.

And it was only an hour until The Lukester and his mom were picking me up in the Scrambler.

And I was looking in the mirror.

Normally, I avoided looking in the mirror like the Plague. I had _no_ desire to see what might be looking back at me. But tonight I _had_ to know. I knew that Janet J would be at the party, looking her _best_ , so I had to _somehow_ look my best too. It wasn't going to be easy.

Why?

Because I had _the_ _ginger curse_.

_Normal_ people have black or brown or blond hair. Or some shade in between. Well, I wasn't lucky enough to be that normal. I had _red_ hair–no, make that _bright_ red hair. Actually, it was sort of a blinding reddish-orange. People with black or brown or blond hair didn't stand out. They blended in. Unfortunately, people with blinding reddish-orange hair didn't blend in. They stuck out--like a sore thumb. A _very_ sore thumb. That was me--Norma L--the walking, sticking out, not blending in, sore thumb.

And then I thought, maybe that's why The Lukester liked me (since he had red hair also). Or maybe he was just legally blind and I didn't know it. I also had glasses, and I was afflicted with crooked bottom teeth. I secretly hoped that my mom wouldn't ever notice my teeth, because the _last_ thing I needed to complete my 'look' was braces. There were two other things I didn't like about my appearance. One was my nose (which my plastic surgeon father was far too _extraordinarily_ busy to fix). And the last, but certainly in no way, shape or form least, were my freckles--also part of _the ginger curse_.

Granted, some people have a few freckles that actually _enhance_ their appearance. Sure, five freckles on your nose or cheeks are cute. That wasn't the case with me. I had about a _million_ (trust me, I counted them one day), and unfortunately, a _million_ freckles was a little overboard on the enhancement factor.

I tried desperately to fix what I could at the mall last night with my mom. First, I needed a dress for the party. I heard _all_ the other girls at school talking about _all_ the beautiful dresses they owned—or the beautiful dresses they might buy:

"Should I buy the pink dress at Macy's or the black dress at Nordstrom?" Norma P had asked Amanda.

"What do you think? Norma B had asked Norma A. "Do I look more beautiful in the lavender dress I have or the purple dress I have?"

They all agreed that it would be a tough decision to pick from one of the beautiful dresses they already owned or if they should go out and buy a different, new beautiful dress.

Well, I didn't have that problem. First of all, I didn't already have two beautiful dresses to pick from. I had zero. Actually, I did have one dress, but it wasn't a beautiful dress _or_ a party dress. It was more like a "going to church or Grandma's house" dress. Mom finally agreed to buy me something new, but it certainly wasn't going to be a beautiful dress from Macy's or Nordstrom. Those were _way_ too expensive.

"That's _crazy_ ," she said after I asked her to _just look_ in case Macy's or Nordstrom had a sale. "I refuse to pay over $100 for a dress that you'll only wear once."

So Mom and I went to the mall Thursday night to find me a "nice" party dress. First, we went to The Dress Barn. I cannot tell you how depressing it is to look at dresses at The Dress Barn, when you know dang well that Janet Janikowski is over at Macy's or Nordstrom looking at beautiful dresses.

Mom would say, "What about this one?" as she held up something incredibly plain or outright hideous.

I would either say, "OMG, Mom. I cannot possibly be seen in public with that thing on." Or I would just give her the look and eye roll that clearly meant, "I don't think so."

After checking out everything that The Dress Barn had to offer, we decided to take a break at the food court. Mom had a cousin who worked at Superdog, so we got foot long Coney chilidogs and free extra tater tots. Her cousin's name was Kletch. He had been injured in Iraq when he was a Marine in combat. According to Mom, he had a brain injury, so he couldn't think too well or remember things clearly. She said he was the kindest and bravest guy ever–and that he had actually saved his _entire_ platoon and had been awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. He was a real hero. He was a little scary looking, because he was really big and he had a long, jagged scar that ran along the right side of his bald head. He also had a mechanical hand. I liked him because he always gave me a shoulder hug and called me "Normy".

After our break, Mom and I looked and looked and looked for dresses again. Everything _I_ found or liked was, according to my mom, either _way_ too expensive or _way_ too inappropriate. I decided that she must have just been promoted to the Chief of the Appropriate Dress Police. Here's how the dress possibility conversations went:

Scenario Number One:

"Hey Mom, how about this one? This is nice."

"OMG Norma, no! That is _way_ too expensive!"

Scenario Number Two:

"Hey Mom, how about this one? This is cute."

"OMG Norma, no! That is _way_ too inappropriate!"

At 8:45, fifteen minutes before all the stores closed, I finally talked Mom into going to Nordstrom—just to see if they had any nice dresses on sale. And at 8:50, I found the dress of my dreams. It was black, short, fitted—and it had delicate, silver, lacy sleeves. It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I found my size and quickly tried it on. It fit beautifully and it was _incredible_. I had desperately hoped that if I found a dress that was beautiful enough—or at least cute--that no one would notice what the person looked like who was wearing it.

There was only one problem.

The dress of my dreams was at Nordstrom.

I looked at the price tag and groaned.

It was expensive.

_Very_ expensive.

$150 expensive.

But wait--it was on sale!

20 percent off!

I quickly calculated (using my middle school math skills)--$150 expensive minus 20 percent equaled... $120 expensive.

I groaned again.

It might as well have been on sale for $120 million.

My mom almost had a heart attack when I showed her the price tag and pleaded, "Please, please, please? I'll forfeit my allowance for a year--and pay you back in babysitting money."

"You don't have a babysitting job," she reminded me.

"Oh," I said, trying to think quickly. "I'll get one, then."

Well, now it was 8:55--and Nordstrom was about to close.

"Attention Nordstrom shoppers," a lady suddenly said on the loudspeaker. "Please make your final selections and take the items to the nearest register for checkout. The store will be closing in five minutes."

We argued until 9:00.

I put the dress back on the rack.

The store closed.

The gate went down.

And we left.

Without the dress of my dreams.

As we walked out to the car, we were both frustrated and exhausted, so I decided to give up and just wear my boring, old "going to church or Grandma's house" dress. But I made one last attempt on our way home to salvage the evening. There was one other issue that I could try to fix for the party. It was my hair again. Not the red part. It was the _other_ thing that bothered me about my hair. You see, not only was my hair blinding reddish-orange--it was also _curly_. People with straight hair _don't_ stand out. People with curly hair _do_. I wanted straight hair.

Here's how that conversation went:

"Hey Mom, can we stop at Walgreens on the way home and get a flat iron to straighten my hair?"

"OMG Norma, no! You have the cutest, curly, red hair!"

"Mom," I said, completely exasperated. "Curly, red hair is cute when you're two–not when you're thirteen."

I didn't get the flat iron either.

So here I was, in front of the mirror, with one hour to go before my first party date, and all I could think of, instead of feeling confident and beautiful, was all the things I _didn't_ like about myself. Red hair was number one on my "Top Ten Things I Don't Like About Norma L" list. Here is the complete list:

  1. Red hair

  2. Freckles

  3. Red hair

  4. My nose

  5. Red hair

  6. Glasses

  7. Red hair

  8. Crooked bottom teeth

  9. Red hair

10. Curly hair

A knock on the door brought me out of my self-induced misery. It was the newly appointed Chief of the Appropriate Dress Police– _and_ the President of the All Beautiful Dresses are Too Expensive Club (my mom).

"Hey, honey," she said in a suspiciously _way_ too happy voice. "I _have_ something for you. Actually, I have _two_ things for you." She was talking in a weird sing-song voice.

I cautiously opened the door. She handed me a Walgreens bag. It had the flat iron in it. Then she handed me a Nordstrom dress bag. It had my dream dress in it.

I was speechless.

"Well," she said, talking normally again and breaking the happy silence. "Let's straighten your hair--and then you'd better get dressed. Luke will be here soon."

I still couldn't speak, but I gave her the tightest hug ever.

***

55 minutes later, there was a knock on the door, and _OMG_ , I thought to myself as I looked at the new Norma L in the mirror, _I don't look half bad_.

When The Lukester saw me, he used the words _extraordinarily_ _beautiful_.

### 27

### The positively (Not So) Great Party

After the moms took about a gazillion pictures, The Lukester and I finally escaped from the living room and made it outside. It was then, that I had my _third_ big surprise of the evening. First, it was the flat iron. Then, my dream dress. And now, instead of seeing the beat up, black and blue and gray Jeep Scrambler parked out front, there was a man in a black suit and tie. He was also wearing a black cap. And he was standing in front of a shiny, black stretch limo. He opened the rear door, tipped his cap and said, "Good evening, ma'am."

I looked back at The Lukester, who was grinning from ear to ear. He was obviously pleased with his surprise. We stepped into the back of the limo and I gave him a wide-eyed, "OMG, this is so amazing!" look. I was expecting to be riding in the middle seat of the Scrambler and here I was, sitting in pure luxury.

The chauffeur shut the door and we waved goodbye to the two smiling moms.

"How in the _world_ did you swing this?" I asked, looking around at the inside of the limo.

The Lukester just smiled and said, "I have my ways."

I smiled back and decided to let it be his little secret.

He opened the door to a small refrigerator and offered me a Coke. "A toast," he said as he poured Coke into two crystal champagne glasses that were filled with ice. "To the most _beautiful_ girl in the world." There was that word again.

I raised my glass and said, "Thank you. And also to the most handsome, brave and kind person I know." We clinked glasses, took a sip and then each looked out our own window as we headed toward Boulder to our "positively great party". The party was being held at the Southern Hills Country Club, which was at the Southern Hills Golf course, just south of Boulder. I had never been there, but I had heard that it was really nice. My parents used to go there when they were still together.

I wondered if the party was really going to be "great". I wondered if the other girls would look a lot prettier than me. I wondered if there was going to be a DJ--and dancing. I wondered if The Lukester and I would dance. Then I wondered if we might _slow_ dance. Then I wondered the biggest question of all. I wondered about the BFK question.

BFK stood for three words:

Big.

First.

Kiss.

You see, this was especially important because, not only would it be the Big First Kiss for The Lukester and I, it would be my first kiss _ever_.

I wondered if The Lukester was wondering the same thing.

It was a 20 minute ride to the country club, but it seemed like only 20 seconds. I guess time does fly when you're having fun. We stopped in front of the main entrance and the chauffeur opened the door. As we climbed out, I could see a few of our classmates stopping and pointing at us. They were obviously impressed and that only made our current smiles even bigger.

The inside of the country club was _amazing_. There were plush, maroon and gold carpets, and fountains everywhere with statues of exotic animals and birds. The ceilings were at least 30 feet high and there were beautiful paintings on the walls, with small, gold tables below them. Each table had a huge bouquet of bright, colorful flowers. A man in a black tuxedo approached us and said, "Welcome to Southern Hills. I believe your party is in Ballroom A." We said thank you and The Lukester grabbed my hand as we walked down the immense hallway.

When we reached Ballroom A, there was a welcoming committee at the doorway. It was Norma P and Amanda (of course). They both looked at me, looked at each other--and then looked at me again. It was like they didn't believe what they were seeing. "Norma? Norma L? Is that _really_ you?" asked Amanda. I just smiled and nodded. Norma P handed me a nametag that said, NORMA L.

"And Luke—I mean _The Lukester_ ," said Norma P.

She started to write The Lukester and he said, "Actually, you can just write Luke. I go by Luke now."

Now it was my turn to not believe what I was seeing—or hearing. We walked into Ballroom A and I had to look again to be sure. Yep. His nametag said, LUKE. _Wow_ , I thought, _this night was just a never ending string of surprises_.

The ballroom was gigantic. There were elaborately decorated tables in about half of the room. Several of our classmates were already sitting down and we waved at them as we walked by. I heard one of the girls say, "OMG, did you see Norma L's dress? I saw that at Nordstrom and my mom told me it was too expensive." I thought I recognized the sing-songy voice, so I glanced over my shoulder to check. Then I smiled my biggest smile of the night. It was Janet J—and I was wearing the dress that she wished she had. _It just doesn't get any better than this_ , I thought as I squeezed Luke's hand a little tighter. In the middle of the ballroom, there was a large dance floor, with a DJ station, tall speakers and even a giant, glittering disco ball hanging from above. At the far end of the room, there was a long buffet table.

"Are they serving dinner?" I asked Luke as we stopped to take a look.

"I don't think so," he said quietly. "I think it's just party snacks. _Fancy_ party snacks."

There were stainless steel trays filled with steaming chicken wings and taquitos. There was also a nacho bar, silver plates with all different kinds of cheese and crackers, silver dessert and cookie trays, and finally, a huge punch bowl.

"Wow," I said. "Pretty fancy for just a party. I wonder who paid for all of this?" Luke just shrugged his shoulders. I figured that it was probably Norma P and Amanda's parents. They were both very wealthy. Norma P's father was a Colorado Supreme Court judge and Amanda's parents owned a radio station. It was kind of funny. I used to care—a lot—about going from being rich like they were, to sort of poor like I was now. But for some reason, ever since I had met Luke, I stopped caring about that. I was starting to see things that were more important than money. _Oh no_ , I thought suddenly, _maybe I was finally starting to do that horrible thing that my mom kept wanting me to do--mature!_

Luke and I sat down at one of the tables and Norma P's voice came over the sound system. "Welcome to our ' _positively_ great party'!" There was a loud cheer from all of our classmates. "The DJ will start the music in a few minutes, so if you have any song requests, let him know. There is food at the other end of the room and our party will go until 10 PM. Have fun!" There was another cheer and the DJ put on the song Celebrate by Kool and the Gang. Pretty soon, we were all dancing and singing along, "Cel-e-brate.. good times... come on! It's a celebration!"

I looked at Luke looking at me and I had to admit—I was having the time of my life.

Then everything changed.

It was all very confusing, and I'm not quite sure how it happened--but it happened _quickly_. We had just returned to our table and Mr. Spinoza, who was at the party as our chaperone, stopped by to say hi. After he left, two people suddenly appeared at our table. One was Janet J and the other was Taylor Johnson. I should have known right away that something was wrong.

At the same time, before either of us could think or react, Janet J was grabbing Luke's hand and asking him to dance, while Taylor Johnson was grabbing my hand and asking me to dance. And worst of all, it was a _slow_ song. Now, if someone had ever told me that I would be upset if Taylor Johnson had asked me to slow dance, I would have said, "What? Are you out of your mind?"

But this was different. It wasn't that I was upset about slow dancing with Taylor—I mean he was still Taylor Johnson—it had more to do with what was happening at the other end of the dance floor. A lot more. Specifically, it had to do with Janet J slow dancing with Luke. I kept turning my head left and right to see if I could get a glance at what was going on with the two of them. Taylor tried his best to keep me from looking around and he kept saying things to me like, " _Wow_ , you look _great_ tonight." And, " _Hey_ , what do you think of the party?" But I was solely focused on Janet J and Luke.

Then I saw them.

And it wasn't good.

She had her arms around his neck and she was saying something to him.

Then it got worse.

_Much_ worse.

Luke got his BFK.

Right then and there on the dance floor.

Right on the lips.

But it wasn't from _me_.

It was from _Janet J_.

I broke away from Taylor and ran to the bathroom.

And I stayed there until I heard the song end.

Luke apologized to me 17 times in the next hour (I counted). And nineteen times in the hour after that (I counted again). He told me that Janet J had told him to close his eyes and she would give him a _big_ surprise. He told me that he had no idea she was going to kiss him. I didn't know if I should believe him. What else was she going to do with his eyes closed? Steal his wallet? I didn't know if Taylor was in on some sort of plan to get me away from Luke, so Janet J could make her move. I didn't know who to trust or who to believe. All I knew—was that I didn't know anything.

And then a thought popped into my head.

I looked over at the clock. It was now 9:55. Only five minutes left. Then I looked over at Janet J. She was laughing and having a _great_ time. I remembered how happy I was that she had wanted the black dress that I had instead. Then I noticed that she was not wearing a black dress at all. She was wearing a _white_ dress. A _clean_ , white dress with pink ribbons. I slowly stood up and began walking toward the fancy party snack table.

"Where are you going? Asked Luke.

"I need some _punch_." I said matter-of-factly.

It was true.

I wasn't thirsty—but I did need some punch.

I filled my cup to the top.

It was cranberry grapefruit.

And it was _bright_ pink.

But it didn't stay in my cup long.

I walked right up to Janet J.

I smiled.

And I poured it all over her clean, white dress.

_How nice_ , I thought, _the pink punch matches her pink ribbons_.

For the first time in her life, Janet J was speechless.

"Today's lesson," I said as I glanced down at my handiwork. "Is keep your hands—and your _lips_ —to yourself."

I was pretty sure that Mr. Spinoza saw what happened, but for some reason, he didn't say anything to me about it. Maybe he saw what happened before I poured the punch on Janet J. And maybe he knew that had she deserved it.

As I was walking away, I heard an infuriated Janet J say, "I'll get her for that. I _swear_ \--if it's the _last_ thing I do."

Despite the threat, I decided that it was worth it.

Definitely worth it.

***

The ride home in the limo was quiet. The moms thought we were just tired when we got back to my house. Luke tried to smile and give me a hug when he left, but I just couldn't smile or hug back. I was sad that such a wonderful night had turned out so bad. And I was sad that I didn't get my BFK. And I was mad that Luke _did_ get his BFK—from someone else. And I was mad at Janet J for giving him that surprise kiss.

Madder than mad.

Madder than... well, you know what.

But I was secretly happy that I had ruined her dress.

After I said goodnight to my mom, I went to my room and closed the door. Then I sat down on the edge of my bed and peeled the nametag from the front of my dream dress. It said:

### Norma L

It seemed like there was _nothing_ normal about me or my life--and there was nothing normal about what had happened that night.

As I was getting ready for bed, I got a text from Luke.

I didn't read it.

### 28

### Logic and the L Word

I had always dreamed about the L word. You know, the L dash dash dash word. It sounded so romantic... and so special... and so fun.

I had no idea it would be so hard.

I still cared about Luke. No matter how mad I was about what had happened at the party, or whose fault it was, I couldn't stop thinking about him. He was a unique person and he seemed to like me too-- _despite_ all my faults. I thought it was the weirdest thing. It was almost as if he didn't even _see_ my faults--like he saw a completely different person than the one _I_ saw in the mirror every day. He actually saw me as beautiful. _Me_. And I knew there was something _extraordinary_ about that.

But I was too mad to talk to him.

If he sent me a text, I ignored it.

If he called me, I didn't answer my phone.

If he talked to me in class, I didn't respond.

If he tried to talk to me in the hall, I just kept walking.

I found out later that Taylor Johnson _was_ in on the sinister plan to get me away from Luke. And it worked _perfectly_. At first, I was also mad at Taylor, and then I remembered something. Janet J's best friend was Norma B. And Norma B was Taylor Johnson's girlfriend. So when Janet J asked Norma B to ask Taylor to help, he was basically powerless to resist. And how could anyone really blame him? After all, Norma B wasn't just beautiful—she was _beyond_ beautiful. Nature had been good to her. _Real, real_ good. So I forgave Taylor.

But I didn't give him any more Chocodiles.

It wasn't as easy for me to forgive Luke. I just couldn't forget the image of Janet J's lips on his. I kept thinking that he could have done _something_ to prevent that awful kiss (awful for me) from happening. He could have faked fainting. Or he could have had a sudden, near-fatal heart attack. Or he could have defended himself (and my honor), by giving her a karate chop or a judo flip. But he didn't do _any_ of those things. He just stood there and let himself be kissed.

Reason told me that it wasn't really his fault. But I wasn't being reasonable.

Logic told me to forgive and forget. But I wasn't being logical.

That was the problem with the L word. There was nothing reasonable or logical about it.

### 29

### The Good News

September crept by and soon it was October. I still hadn't talked to Luke, despite his best efforts to achieve the contrary. Mom told me to just forgive and forget. And I tried-- _really_ I did. But the more I tried, the harder it seemed. It was like going in a vicious circle. I would _finally_ decide to forgive him and then move on to forgetting—but then I would remember what had happened, and I wouldn't want to forgive him anymore. I was hopelessly stuck.

One day, in English class, Mr. Spinoza announced that there would be a new project for us. Everyone groaned—except Luke. He looked at me hopefully, and I got the idea that he thought if we worked together on a project again, that maybe things could go back to the way they were. I gave him a snotty, " _I don't think so_ " look. He kept smiling anyway.

Then Mr. Spinoza wrote the word NEWS on the front board. "Who can tell me what the news is?"

Amanda's hand immediately shot up. "Yes, Amanda, go ahead." said Mr. Spinoza as he sat on the edge of his desk.

"The news is how we get our information about the world. It tells us what's going on around us."

Mr. Spinoza smiled and nodded. "Good answer, Amanda. That's correct. The news tells us what's happening."

Amanda smiled her confident "I told you so smile". I envied that smile, and sometimes I wished that I had that kind of confidence, where I could raise my hand and know that my answer was correct and that I wouldn't be laughed at or ridiculed for a probable stupid response.

Mr. Spinoza continued. "And who can tell us where we get our news?" Amanda's hand was up again, but he looked around for someone else to chime in.

This time it was Derrick (which was kind of a surprise, until I heard his answer). "ESPN man. That's where I get all my important info." The football players all knuckled and said, "Sportscenter rules!"

Mr. Spinoza tried not to crack up. "Alright," he said, barely maintaining a straight face. "That's a good point. A lot of us get our news on TV—whether it's sports or local news or national news or global news. What else?" He was still scanning the room.

Norma B raised her extraordinarily beautiful hand (it's true – even her hands were beautiful).

"Yes, Norma B." said Mr. Spinoza. "Go ahead."

Whenever Norma B was in the spotlight, she paused and took her time answering. She knew everyone (especially the boys) was looking at her and she _loved_ the attention. I also wished that I had _that_ kind of confidence. With the way I looked, I hated any kind of attention at all.

"The internet," she said in a way too soft and sultry voice for a thirteen year old. "I get all of my information online."

Mr. Spinoza nodded again. "Yep. The internet is a _great_ resource for information. You can find news about any possible subject—past or present."

None of the boys in the class heard a word Mr. Spinoza had just said. They were all still looking in Norma B's direction. I even heard a couple of sighs.

"There's _one_ more important source for _news_ and information. Anyone know what it is?"

Norma P raised her hand and waved it back and forth in a "Call on me, I know the answer!" gesture.

Mr. Spinoza nodded. "Norma P. Enlighten us."

"Magazines!" she said proudly. "You know... like People... and US... and Star... and of course, CGW... Celebrity Gossip Weekly... it's the _bomb_!"

Mr. Spinoza looked like he was trying not to laugh again. "OK, I _guess_ those do provide a certain type of news."

One of the football players, Matt Mattingly, groaned. "What? Those are _terrible_! My mom reads those. The only _good_ magazine is Sports Illustrated."

Taylor added his two cents, "Yeah, especially the _Swimsuit Issue_!"

The football players all knuckled again and Mr. Spinoza had to clear his voice loudly to get us all back on track. "I'm a little disappointed," he said. "You're still missing a _big_ one."

Luke raised his hand confidently.

Mr. Spinoza let out a sigh of relief, knowing that he probably wouldn't get a typical goofy girl or guy middle school answer this time. "Yes, Luke. Please help us out."

Luke said one word. "Newspapers."

Mr. Spinoza raised his hands in the air and said, "Hallelujah! Thank you Mr. Krattenmucker!"

Luke smiled and glanced sideways at me, hoping I would acknowledge his correct answer. I didn't. But I did admire his confidence also.

"Now," said a rejuvenated Mr. Spinoza. "Who can give me an example of a new story?"

As a class, we spent the next 20 minutes or so, going over all of the terrible, horrible, and awful news stories we had recently heard about:

Wars.

Poverty.

Famine.

Disease.

Accidents.

Crime.

Natural disasters.

And every other possible type of tragedy and destruction known to man.

It was all very depressing.

Mr. Spinoza could see the looks on our faces. "News of all kinds is important. Unfortunately, most of the news we hear about is the negative kind." He walked over to the front board and picked up a purple marker. "And that is why we are going to start our _own_ newspaper."

He erased the word NEWS, and then rewrote, in bigger, bolder letters:

### THE GOOD NEWS!

"Welcome to our class newspaper," Mr. Spinoza said as the bell rang. And before we were dismissed, he added, "Think about what job you might want. You and your partner will be reporters, working together for the next month."

Luke and I walked out of the classroom, with _completely_ different looks on our faces. The look on my face said, clearly, "Why in the _world_ do we have to be partners with the same person for the entire year?" Luke's face said, also clearly, " _Yes!_ This is my chance to break through Norma L's wall of defense."

### 30

### Local, National, Global—or Oxy Moron

The next day in class, Mr. Spinoza assigned jobs for the newspaper project. "Remember," he said as he explained our duties as reporters, "no matter what story you are working on, it _must_ be about something positive or good in the world. "

Norma P and Amanda wanted to be 'gossip' reporters. The look on Mr. Spinoza's face was simple. It said, "no, pick something else". But Norma P and Amanda were persistent (as usual). I also admired that. " _Come on_ ," pleaded Amanda. "We're only going to report on _good_ gossip."

"Isn't that an oxy moron— _good_ gossip?" asked Herman Smellnick.

Mr. Spinoza wasn't sold either. "Give me an example... of _good_ gossip."

Norma P had done her homework. "OK," she said, with a look of assurance on her face. "There was a rumor—or some _gossip_ that Mrs. Wilma might be retiring after this year, so Amanda and I thought we might do a story on what a _positive_ impact she has had on our school over the years."

I had to admit it was a pretty good answer. And apparently Mr. Spinoza agreed. He reluctantly said, "OK... but make sure you keep things positive."

Norma A and Derrick wanted to be sports reporters (big surprise). Ditto for several of the football players. They all high fived and knuckled and man hugged. Norma B and Taylor were going to be entertainment reporters. That left local, national and global news for the rest of us. Boring. Beyond boring. And boring beyond belief.

Mary Mattingly (Matt's non-identical twin) and Lucy Simpson decided to do national news. Claudia Ziffle and Janet J wanted to do cooking--regional. And Herman Smellnick and Lidia Hanrahan settled on global medical research and disease control. Mr. Spinoza was impressed. Pretty soon, it was down to just one pair of partners left. Guess who? You got it. Me and Luke.

Mr. Spinoza looked at the list he had so far. Then he looked at the two of us—clueless in the back row. "We still need someone to do a local story."

Before Luke could say anything, I spoke for both of us. "We'll do local."

"What kind of a local story are we going to do?" whispered Luke.

"Don't worry," I whispered back. "I have the _perfect_ story."

### 31

### A True Hero

At lunch, I made things crystal clear to Luke. "This project," I said in a very business-like voice, "will be on a _strictly_ professional basis."

Luke nodded. I think he was just happy that I was actually talking to him again. "OK," he said. "Agreed."

During the next 15 minutes, I told Luke all about my mom's cousin, Kletch. I told him about his service in the Marines and how he had saved his _entire_ platoon--16 men--by picking up a live grenade that had been thrown at them as they were on patrol in Iraq, and throwing it out a nearby window. The explosion blew off his right hand and a piece of shrapnel hit him in the side of the head, causing some permanent brain damage. He was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor, the highest distinction in the U.S. military.

Luke was blown away. "Wow," he said reverently. "That's an incredible story. So how do we get in contact with him to do the article?"

"He works at the mall," I said as I finished my lunch.

" _Our_ mall? Right here? The Mega Mall?"

"Yep. The Haywood Mega Mall. In the foodcourt. At Superdog."

"That's _perfect_ ," said Luke. "When do you think we could go there?"

"I'll have my mom call him and ask if there's a time we could interview him—like maybe on his lunch break or something. And if he can't remember all the details of what happened, we'll have Mom fill in the blanks."

"That sounds _perfect_ ," Luke said again.

I wasn't sure if he was really listening or not. He was giving me an odd look. I realized it was that hopeful look. I also realized that my defenses were starting to weaken, so I added, "Remember, this is all _strictly_ professional between us."

"Oh yeah," he said as he shook his head a little. " _Strictly_ professional."

***

Mom called Kletch that night and he said that he would be happy to talk to us on his lunch break Saturday at 1:00. "Anything for Normy," he had told my mom.

***

The Haywood Mega Mall was an amazing place for such a small town. Usually, only larger cities or towns had malls, but a local developer (a very _rich_ local developer) decided he wanted a nice mall close to home for his daughter, so he was able to put together the money to bring in all the big stores and get it built. The mall itself was four stories tall and it was in the shape of a figure eight. The foodcourt was on the top floor, right in the middle.

I met Luke in front of Superdog at 12:55. Kletch saw us and gave us the hand up with five fingers spread to indicate that he would join us in five minutes. We sat at a nearby table and I took out a pad of paper and a pencil. Mr. Spinoza had told us to remember the five W's and one H of good reporting, so I had written down questions to hopefully answer the who, what, when, where, why and how related to our story.

Luke also took out his list of questions. He gave me the hopeful look again and said, "You look nice today," just as Kletch walked up.

We stood up and Kletch gave me a big, side shoulder hug. He said, "Hey Normy!" I introduced Luke, and without even flinching at Kletch's outwardly scary appearance, he shook his mechanical hand and said, "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Kletch smiled and said, "You two _match_."

At first I wasn't sure what he meant, and then I realized he was looking at Luke's red hair. Then I smiled back. "You're right, we _do_ match." That seemed to make Luke happy.

As we sat down, a thin, older man with thin, gray hair and a thin mustache came over to our table with three trays of Superdogs (with extra tater tots!). "These are on the house," he said. "Any friend of Kletch's is a friend of mine." He had a Superdog nametag that said, "The Top Dog". I figured that he must be the owner. We all said thanks at the same time and then Kletch added, as he walked away, "That's Hank. He's the _top dog_." I agreed silently as I watched Hank go back behind the Superdog counter. I knew that it took someone special to hire a person like Kletch.

During the next hour, Kletch told us everything he could remember. He remembered being in the Marines and he remembered being deployed to Iraq. He remembered being on patrol in a city called Mandali on the day of the accident. He even remembered picking up the grenade. "We were searching a warehouse and someone threw a live grenade into an open doorway. It rolled along the dirt floor and stopped near our feet. All I could think of, was that if I didn't do something right away, some of my men might get hurt. So I picked it up and threw it toward the nearest window." He looked down at his mechanical hand. "But I don't remember anything after that."

He didn't remember being in the hospital for the next six months, and he didn't remember how or when he got home. But he did remember two very important things. He remembered getting the Medal of Honor from the president at the White House—and he remembered every single person who was in his platoon that day being at the ceremony and shaking his new, mechanical hand. Sixteen men thanked Kletch that day for saving their lives.

"Anyone would have done the same thing," he said as he finished. I had tears in my eyes and I could see Luke fighting back his own. We both knew that _not_ everyone would have done the same thing.

Luke asked Kletch if we could take his picture for our story, and he said, "Sure. Do you want me to put on my medal?"

I think both of our jaws dropped considerably. Luke said in a near whisper, "You mean, you have it with you?"

Kletch nodded. "I thought you might want to see it."

We both just nodded in complete astonishment.

Kletch took the medal out of a box that had been in his pocket. He put it around his neck as Luke activated his cell phone camera. The ribbon holding the medal was blue and the medal itself was a bright, gold star with the word "VALOR" above it. Luke took a picture of Kletch with the medal around his neck and then a close-up of the medal. I knew that this was a medal that very few people had _ever_ gotten. And I think both Luke and I felt very lucky—and honored to get such a close look at it. We thanked Kletch for meeting us on his break and helping us with our story. And then I thought, after we hugged and said our goodbyes, _we're lucky to know someone like Kletch_.

At the end of our newspaper article I wrote, "The definition of a hero is someone who puts the safety and wellbeing of others ahead of their own. This is what James Anthony Kletcher did that day in Iraq. He lost his right hand and also part of his capacity to function mentally and have a normal life. He is an extraordinary person and a _true_ hero."

### 32

### Payback's the B Word (Bummer)!

Halloween came on a Friday this year. And it looked especially scary as I checked my daily planner.

First of all, I had to get up at 6:00 AM and dress up as Wonder Woman. Luke had talked me into going to school together as Superman and Wonder Woman. I told him that I would dress up as a couple _only_ to win the costume contest (first prize was a gift card to Starlight), but that we were _not_ in any way, shape or form an official couple. Then, I had to have the final copy of our newspaper story (including pictures) ready for today's deadline. And finally, we had our first school dance scheduled for the afternoon. It was a lot to think about, worry about, and get ready for.

The one thing that I _didn't_ plan on, was getting as sick. Sick as a dog.

I actually felt fine when I left for school. And I felt fine when I met Luke out front, so we could go in together as man (Super) and woman (Wonder). And I even felt fine when English class started. Luke and I handed our newspaper story (including pictures) to Mr. Spinoza as we walked into the room. When we sat down in the back, I noticed there was a red paper plate on each of our desks.

I looked around and saw that there was a plate on every desk—including Mr. Spinoza's. And on each plate, there was what looked like a burrito. Further inspection proved it to be a _breakfast_ burrito. A Cajun breakfast burrito to be exact, Mr. Spinoza explained. They were our special treat for the day—made by our two "regional" reporters, who had done their newspaper story on Southern cooking. _Wow, that's great!_ I thought. I had skipped breakfast trying extra hard to look like Wonder Woman (believe me, it wasn't easy–especially for someone as _not_ wonderful as me). I had eaten almost all of my burrito when the first coherent thought of the morning popped into my head. It said, _"Wait a minute, wasn't Janet J one of those two "regional" reporters?"_ The second thought, which followed very quickly after the first thought was, _"And wait another minute, didn't Janet J say she'd get me back if it was the last thing she ever did?"_

I slowly put my mostly-eaten Cajun breakfast burrito down and glanced over in Janet J's direction. She was looking _right_ at me. She smiled a "told you so" smile and mouthed the words, "Bon appetite!"

My stomach gurgled.

Then my stomach cramped—bad.

I had been had.

Luke asked me if I was OK when I suddenly got up and started to run out of the room. I didn't have time to answer. I didn't have time to write my name on the bathroom sign out sheet on Mr. Spinoza's desk either—or take the wooden bathroom pass. And I certainly didn't have time to see the look of immense satisfaction on Janet J's face.

I may have had Wonder Woman's speed as I ran out the door and literally flew down the hall, but unfortunately, I didn't have her stomach of steel.

I missed the rest of first period, but Mr. Spinoza seemed to understand when I returned to class to get my backpack. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well, Norma. Do you want to go to the office and call home?"

I slowly shook my head. "No, I think I'll be OK. Thanks." I didn't really feel much better, but I was determined to go to the dance. And I was doubly determined to win the costume contest. I wanted the gift card to Starlight—bad. Starlight was a _very_ cool restaurant at the Mega Mall. It was designed to look like you were at an old drive-in theater, where you ate in your car and watched a movie on an outdoor screen. I had never been there, and since it was _very_ expensive, I knew the only way for me to get there, was to win the gift card. There was _no way_ that I was going to go home.

Luke caught up with me in the hall and asked if I was OK. I nodded and went to Science. He—and everyone else in class (including Mr. Spinoza)—seemed to be fine, so I assumed that I had been the only target.

As I sat in Science and learned about the human digestive system, I wondered what in the _world_ Janet J had put in my Cajun breakfast burrito that made me so sick.

I found out at lunchtime.

Herman Smellnick told me that he had heard that someone else had heard that a friend of theirs had heard that Janet J put something called ex-lax (maximum strength no less) in my burrito. He said that the effects were almost immediate (which would explain my _very_ immediate trip to the bathroom), but that they would wear off soon and that I should be fine for the rest of the day. I was happy to hear that, since the dance and costume contest would be right after lunch.

Before the dance started, we had a 7th and 8th grade meeting in the gym. Since this was the first dance, Mr. Looney wanted to make sure we understood a few of the rules. "First", he said in his ever principal-like sounding voice, "participate and have fun! Don't stand on the sidelines and be a wallflower!" Well, I wasn't about to be a wallflower—after all, I was freakin Wonder Woman today! "Secondly", he added, "be considerate and respectful. If someone is _brave_ enough to ask you to dance, just say yes. It's not a lifetime commitment."

I heard one of the football players snicker and say under his breath, "Dancing with some people might _seem_ like a lifetime."

Then the lights went down and the DJ put on the song, "Tonight's Gonna be a Good Night". Soon, there was a sea of 7th and 8th graders jumping up and down. I went to the snack table and got a cup of punch. I was wondering what I should do about Janet J making me sick and then I remembered pouring the bright pink punch all over her beautiful, new, white dress at the "positive" party. I was fully expecting to get in trouble at school or at least get a bill to pay for dry cleaning or a new dress. But nothing happened. That is, until today. Maybe I would do the same thing to her—just lay low for awhile and let her sweat out when I was going to strike next. Then a _really_ strange thought crossed my mind--I could just let it go, be the bigger person and call it even. That thought didn't last long. I may have been freakin Wonder Woman, but I wasn't _that_ big of a person.

All of a sudden, Luke was at my side. He asked me to dance. It was a slow song. I reminded him that I only agreed to go as Superman and Wonder Woman if we were in no way, shape or form considered a couple. Then he used his loophole on me. He quoted Mr. Looney, "Come on Norma. It's only one dance. It's not a lifetime commitment."

He had me there. "OK," I said reluctantly.

We walked out to the dance floor and there was that awkward few seconds of how to start. Luke finally put his hands on my waist and I put my arms around his neck. The only other time that I had actually slow danced was when Taylor asked me—just to get me away from Luke, so Janet J could dance with him. And kiss him.

Luke saw the look on my face. "Come on Norma," he said again. "You can't still be mad at me. That was a long time ago. And it wasn't really my fault."

I thought about it and realized something. I wasn't really mad at him (although I was still mad at Miss Kiss My Boyfriend and Make Me Sick). "I'm not mad, Luke. But I don't want to get hurt again. I felt awful after that night. For a long time."

"I'm really sorry," he said, with that hopeful look on his face.

I smiled.

Then he smiled.

Then I gave him a hug as the song ended.

I thought, again, that all was well with the world.

It was--for awhile.

When they held the costume contest, Luke and I, AKA Superman and Wonder Woman, got the loudest cheers. I wasn't sure if it was because we really had the best costumes—or if it was the fact that the Hoolik Brothers and Matt Mattingly were going crazy. They absolutely idolized Luke.

Well, whatever the reason, I was happy when Mrs. Floogle, one of the dance chaperones, declared us the winners and gave us the gift card to Starlight. Then I realized a problem.

There was only _one_ gift card—and _two_ of us.

"I guess we'll have to go together," said Superman.

I might have been OK with that. Until the last dance of the afternoon. Before I could ask Luke to dance, Herman Smellnick asked me to dance. I hesitated, saw the look on his face (it must have taken a _ton_ of courage for him to walk across the gym and ask Wonder Woman to dance), and then I said, "Sure."

As I was dancing with Herman, who by the way knows a lot about molecular biology and was telling me everything he knew, I saw something _astounding_.

_Truly_ astounding.

_Incredibly_ astounding.

_Astonishingly_ astounding.

After everything that had happened—before, at the "positive" party, and earlier today, when I thought I was going to die in the girl's bathroom, and just recently, when I thought Luke and I might actually be a "couple" again, I saw it.

_It_.

_It_ , was Luke.

_It_ , was Luke _dancing_ with, OMG I _cannot_ believe my eyes, of all the people in the _entire_ world, Janet J.

I looked again carefully, to be sure.

Yep.

I looked again for a third time, in case I was hallucinating.

Nope. I was not hallucinating. It was really the two of them dancing together.

It was the biggest, "You've _got_ to be kidding me!" of all my life.

I told Herman I wasn't feeling good and said thank you for the dance and the information on atom structure. Then I started to walk out of the gym. The dance would be over in just a few minutes anyway. I got to the door and stopped. No, I thought. This is what Norma L would do. And then I asked myself the most important question of the day.

WWWWD?

Translation: What Would Wonder Woman Do?

I wasn't just dressed up as Wonder Woman today.

I _was_ freakin Wonder Woman.

So Wonder Woman (me) walked slowly over to where Luke and Janet J were dancing. Luke saw me coming and had a look of "Oh, crap!" on his face. Janet didn't see me. I walked right up to her, right in the middle of "What a Wonderful World", and tapped her right on the shoulder.

She turned around and before she could say or do anything...

Wonder Woman punched her right in the jaw.

And within about five minutes, Wonder Woman was in the Looney Bin.

### 33

### Dramarama

Explaining why you just punched someone is not an easy thing to do. Especially when there is a long history involved—well, a long month or so of long history.

I wasn't quite sure why Mr. Looney was looking at me the way he was. Was it because of the way I looked? Or was it because of what I had done? He didn't really look mad. But he didn't look happy either. It was more like shock. Complete shock. And that was a good way to describe how my mom reacted when she received a call from Mr. Looney, Principal of Haywood Middle School, because her daughter, AKA Wonder Woman, had just punched another girl at the Halloween dance. Here's what the conversation sounded like from my end:

"Good afternoon, Mrs. L. This is Leonard Looney, Principal over at Haywood. How are you today?"

My mom was so loud that I could clearly hear her voice from the other side of Mr. Looney's desk. "Is something wrong? Is Norma OK?"

"Norma is fine, Mrs. L. Unfortunately, we do have a problem."

When Mr. Looney explained to her that Wonder Woman, AKA Norma L, AKA me, was in his office because I had punched Janet Janikowski at the dance, her response was too garbled for me to understand. It sounded like the adults in Charlie Brown when they talked, "Wah wah wah? Wah wah wah wah wah... wah wah wah."

Mr. Looney hung up the phone. "She'll be right over, Norma. Why don't you take a seat outside my office until she gets here."

I nodded and left. As I sat down on the small, purple and silver loveseat, I thought, _this is new territory for me. I've never been in trouble at school before. Ever._ I could just imagine what my mom was thinking or what she would say when she got here.

Just then, Mr. Looney's voice came over the speaker phone at Mrs. Wilma's nearby desk. "Mrs. Wilma, could you please send Miss Janikowski and her mother in?"

" _Huh_?" Mrs. Wilma practically yelled back.

Mr. Looney repeated his request—a little louder this time. "Miss Janikowski and her mother—could you please send them in?"

Mrs. Wilma finally responded, "Will do," and I had to endure the stares of both Janet and her mom as they both walked by and gave me the evil eye. I noticed that Janet had tears in her eyes (I wondered if they were real or recently manufactured) and a small red spot on her left cheek where I had nailed her. I sort of felt bad about what I had done until I remembered the wonderful (NOT) 30 minutes I had spent this morning in the bathroom, courtesy of Miss Janikowski.

Five minutes later, when my frazzled-looking mom walked into the office, I was strong. No tears. She sat down by me and said, "Hi honey." The "honey" part didn't sound quite as sweet as she usually said it—and she was giving me a "Are you serious--you punched another girl at the dance--are you completely crazy?" look.

When Janet J and her mom came out of the office and gave us the icy walkby, I was still strong. No tears. When I followed my mom into Mr. Looney's office and we both sat down opposite his desk, I remained strong as ever. Mr. Looney looked me straight in the eyes and said, "Norma, could you please tell your mom, in your own words, why you're here, and what happened this afternoon?"

I had a fleeting thought to blame the whole thing on Wonder Woman. "It was the costume!" I said in my daydream. "The costume _made_ me do it." But I didn't say that.

I just burst into tears.

Not manufactured ones, either.

The real thing.

_So much for being strong_ , I thought between my sobs.

For the first few minutes, I couldn't get anything coherent out of my mouth. Now I was talking like the adults in Charlie Brown.

Mr. Looney calmly said, "Calm down, Norma. It's OK. We just want to know what happened."

My second attempt at telling the whole story sounded sort of like this: "Positive... party... kiss... punch... the grapefruit cranberry kind... not the fist kind... breakfast... Mr. Spinoza's class... Cajun burrito... sick... bathroom... Janet J... ex-lax... dancing... with Luke... punch... the fist kind." I took a huge breath, let it out and finally stopped crying.

There was one word that Mr. Looney had latched onto during my recitation of the day's events. And that word was ex-lax. He asked me to tell him that part again—much more slowly—and then he just said, "I see." He flipped the switch on his speaker phone. "Mrs. Wilma?"

" _Huh_?" she yelled back again.

Mr. Looney spoke a little louder again. "Mrs. Wilma, could you please send Miss Janikowski and her mother in?"

There was a slight delay and then the response, "Will do!" Hard of hearing and all, you had to love Mrs. Wilma. And I guess you had to love Mr. Looney for keeping her around.

When Janet J and her mom came in, Mr. Looney introduced the moms to each other and then said, "Everyone take a seat. It's time to hash this thing out."

And hash we did.

Janet J sat there with her, "Oh, you are in _so_ much trouble!" look until Mr. Looney asked the first question of the Norma L vs. Janet J inquisition. "Janet, can you tell me what you know about ex-lax being put in a breakfast burrito?"

Mr. Looney's question was like a dagger in her heart. Her "Oh, you are in _so_ much trouble!" look changed instantly to "Oh (you-know-what), I guess were _both_ in so much trouble!

She admitted it and I had to give her some credit for that. Then I admitted that I had ruined her new, white dress at the "positive party" by pouring punch on her. Then she admitted her plan to get Taylor to ask me to dance to get Luke away from her. Mr. Looney was beginning to look like he was regretting the whole "let's hash this out" idea.

And the moms were going from one extreme to the other. At first, my mom was mad at me for punching Janet J, then, she was mad at Janet J for giving me the spiked burrito, then she was mad at me again for pouring punch on Janet J's new, white dress. Janet J's mom seemed to feel the same way, in reverse.

Finally, Mr. Looney gave us the lecture on how getting revenge was such a bad idea and that things always seemed to escalate—and that it was a _much_ better idea to talk things out.

_Wow_ , I thought, _only a lecture for punching someone. Not bad_. I could tell that Janet J was thinking the same thing.

Then he suspended us both for three days.

### 34

### Doing Time

The next three days were the longest days of my life. I figured it was just like being in jail. When I complained about being suspended and having to stay home, my mom gave me the old cliché, "You do the crime, you do the time." Now I understood what "doing time" meant. Mom got me up early and I had to do my homework first (she picked it up for me at school each day). I didn't have my phone (Mom told me that prisoners didn't get cell phones), and my TV privileges were also taken away. I quickly mentioned that I was pretty sure that people in jail were allowed to watch TV, but she just gave me that 'Don't mess with me young lady when you're the one who got suspended!" look, so I let it go.

I even marked off the days on my prison cell (bedroom) wall with a tally mark like a real convict.

Each morning, after I finished my homework, at around 9:30AM, I had the rest of the day to do nothing—except think. And write (in my diary). And think I did. And write I did.

Dear Diary (yes, I actually wrote the words, Dear Diary):

Day One.

Morale is low. No TV. No cell phone. No texts. No calls. Shut off from the outside world. It's only been _one_ day. It seems like a year. Do I regret my actions? Do I feel remorse for my crime? Hmmm... that's a good question. Do I feel bad about punching Janet J? Sort of. Sort of not. I still _kind_ of blame it on Wonder Woman. I'm not sure if I would have hit her if I hadn't been wearing that costume. Hmmm... maybe if I had asked myself WWNL do, instead of WWWWD, I wouldn't have gotten myself in to this predicament. And maybe also, it would be a good idea for me to always think for myself from now on. One last hmmm... I wonder what the warden is making for dinner?

Dear Diary:

Day Two.

Morale is at an all-time low. The warden made tuna noddle casserole for dinner last night—and there's a good chance that there will be leftovers for tonight's dinner. Things are looking bleak. Question (reflection/therapy) for the day: Am I still mad at Luke? Answer: Yep. Dang right I am. _Really_ mad. I still can't believe that after _everything_ that had happened, he _somehow_ ended up dancing with Janet J. _Again_.

Then I remembered Mr. Looney's rule about not saying no to someone if they asked you to dance. So maybe it wasn't really his fault--again. Dang, now I was confused--again. At least she didn't kiss him--again. Then I thought (for a very brief moment) that it was Herman Smellnick's fault. After all, if he hadn't asked _me_ to dance then Luke wouldn't have been available for Janet J to pounce on him again. No, I couldn't be mad at Herman Smellnick. He may not have been my type, but he was a sweet kid.

Dear Diary:

Day Three.

Morale is better. Things are looking up. The warden ordered pizza last night, and we watched a girly movie together—you know, the kind where it's super sad at first and you cry like crazy—and then it's super happy at the end and you cry like crazy even more. One more day at home and then I get to go back to school. I never really thought I liked school that much until I wasn't _allowed_ to go. I've actually missed it a lot. And despite all of the trauma and drama involved, I also miss Luke. A lot.

Then, as I was thinking about Luke, I thought, _Wait just a flippin minute!_ _Why did Luke get away scott free with punching McGurk--and I got suspended for three days for clobbering Janet J?_ That didn't seem fair. But I knew the answer to that question. Everybody—including Mr. Looney—knew that McGurk had it coming to him after terrorizing literally hundreds of victims over the years. If they could have, the school would have had an appreciation assembly in the gym for Luke.

My final thought, late that night, as I made my third, and hopefully, last tally mark on my cell (bedroom) wall, was simple. I shouldn't have hit Janet J. Period. There had to be another way to solve my problems. And I needed to be smart enough to figure that out.

### 35

### Real Drama

When I returned to school the next morning, the first thing I noticed was a poster in the school's entrance. It said:

### Are you dramatic?

### Try out for this year's fall play,

### The Diary of Anne Frank

### Informational meeting:

### Friday, November 7 at 3:00 in Mr. Spinoza's room.

_Well,_ I thought, _I certainly have had a lot of drama in my life lately!_ And I had always wanted to try acting, so I decided to at least go to the meeting and check it out.

### 36

### Heroes and Zeroes?

Mr. Spinoza's room was packed at 3:00 on Friday. As I made my way through the small crowd of thespians (otherwise known as drama nerds), I nervously glanced around to check out the competition. There were the usual people I would have expected to be there: Herman Smellnick, Claudia Hanrahan, Mike Mulligan, Henry Hathaway, the _entire_ chess club, and unfortunately, Norma B. She didn't have to _be_ good—she just had to _look_ good to get onstage. And look good she did. The rest of us would have to rely on actual talent or ability (or something remotely resembling one of those things).

Then I saw her.

Yep— _her_.

My old buddy and pal.

Janet J.

She was sitting next to Mabel Mulligan (Mike Mulligan's twin sister). Mabel was built like a middle linebacker—she was big, and tall, and wide, and strong—and she had a better mustache coming in than any of the seventh grade boys (including her brother, Mike). Mabel might have been a _little_ on the scary-looking side, but she was _a lot_ on the sweet-sounding side. She sang at all of our school assemblies and she had the most _beautiful_ singing voice I had ever heard. I smiled and said hi to Mabel as I walked by. She smiled back and said hi in that incredibly angelic, heavenly voice that positively did _not_ match her linebacker body. Janet J just stared straight ahead and acted like I was invisible.

Luke saw me and waved for me to join him in the back, but I quickly detoured to the left and sat in the nearest empty seat.

"Hey dude!"

I cringed and then slowly turned my head. It was Herman Smellnick. He was smiling and holding up his hand for a high five.

I smiled back weakly. "Isn't a dude a guy?" I wasn't trying to be a smart aleck, I just always thought it was odd when someone called a girl a dude. And I thought it was especially odd when girls called each other dudes.

He looked confused for a second. "Oh... yeah... right." He finally said, nodding. "Sorry. Hey... Dude-ette."

I gave in and high fived him back.

***

During the next 30 minutes or so, Mr. Spinoza told us the true story of Anne Frank. He told us about World War Two and the Holocaust and how she was persecuted by the Nazi's because she was Jewish. He told us about the millions of Jews, like her and her family and friends, who were dragged off to concentration camps--where they were starved, worked to death, tortured, and even murdered. Mr. Spinoza saw the looks on our faces. He then told us that during this horrible, awful time—arguably the darkest time in human history--she was able to maintain a positive, hopeful attitude and outlook on people and life in general.

I wasn't sure how to feel. I was sad, horrified, inspired, and motivated all at the same time. I didn't know how I was going to pull this off. I had no experience. No training. No idea what to do. But I did know _one_ thing. I knew that I just _had_ to get the part of Anne.

I looked around the room—the room full of other potential Annes. First and foremost, there was Claudia—a well-known drama geek who had taken acting classes and appeared in several professional productions in Denver. She would be tough to beat. There was Norma B—not exactly the Anne Frank type (unless Mr. Spinoza wanted Anne to be a total babe)—but serious competition none the less. Who else, I wondered as I continued to survey the rows. Then I gasped out loud. Janet J. And she had a _serious_ look of sheer determination on her face.

Before we left, Mr. Spinoza briefly told us about all of the characters in the play. He wrote a list of their names on the board:

  1. Anne Frank

  2. Mr. Frank—Anne's father

  3. Mrs. Frank—Anne's mother

  4. Margot Frank—Anne's older sister

  5. Mr. Van Daan—A family friend

  6. Mrs. Van Daan—his wife

  7. Peter Van Daan—their son

  8. Mr. Dussel—a dentist

  9. Mr. Kraler—a brave Dutch man who helps them

  10. Meip—a brave young woman who helps them

Mr. Spinoza explained that this play was based on a true story, about real people--who were _real_ heroes in an incredibly tragic setting. We would all treat the play, the characters, and the subject matter with the utmost respect.

Then he told us about the _kiss_.

Near the end of the play, Anne and Peter, who have fallen in love, share a kiss before they are captured. There was a hush in the room and everyone—absolutely _everyone_ —looked back at Luke. Luke was, by far, the best actor in the school, and everyone assumed he would get the part of Peter. So it was not just a question of _who_ would kiss _who_ in the play—but _who_ would kiss _Luke_.

At first, I thought, _Well it will probably be Claudia, since she is the best actress._ That wouldn't be too bad. But then I thought, _No, she might make a better Mrs. Frank or Mrs. Van Daan._ Then I thought, _Uh-oh, what about Norma B? I definitely didn't want Luke to kiss her._ Then I saw Janet J--looking back at Luke. She was smiling. Then she winked at him.

That was it. There was only one solution to this potential firestorm of kissing. The only person in the room who could _possibly_ play Anne Frank—and therefore kiss Luke--was _me_. Norma L.

### 37

### The Importance of Being Anne

"You want to go _where_?" Mom was very surprised at what I had announced when she walked through the front door from work.

"The _library_ , Mom... you know... that quiet place with all the books."

"Very funny, Norma. I know all about the library." She was looking at me suspiciously, wondering if I had some non-libraryish secret ulterior motive.

"I just need to do some research—and the internet is down." Our internet connection was not very reliable. The cable company told us that the lines to our house were very old and that it was not cost effective to replace them for another year or two.

Mom was still a little suspicious. I guess that came from my recent WWWWD transgressions at school. She looked at my laptop on the kitchen table. The screen had a big, red exclamation point in the middle. A message said:

!

Page not found! Please check your connection and try again!

She tried again:

!

Page not found! Please check your connection and try again!

I gave her the 'told you so' raised eyebrows look. Then I explained to her all about the play, Anne, the fact that Luke would most likely play Peter, _the kiss_ , the competition, and finally, how incredibly important it was for _me_ to be Anne in the Haywood Middle School production of "The Diary of Anne Frank". Mom seemed impressed that I was so motivated to be involved in this new, creative endeavor. Then she asked me a question that I didn't know how to answer. "So... I thought you said you were still mad at Luke... and I thought you _also_ said that you and Luke were over for ever and ever and all of eternity and a million years after that. So... if all of that is true... why do you care if someone else kisses Luke in the play?"

She had me there. "Well..." I began, trying to come up with an equally smarmy answer to her obviously smarmy question. "I _am_ still mad at Luke... and we _are_ over for ever and ever and all of eternity and a _billion_ years after that. And it's not that I _want_ to kiss him... it's just that I don't want any of those _other_ girls to kiss him... especially you know who". Mom knew who. But she was smiling that 'Sure, honey... I believe you... NOT!' smile.

"Plus," I said as a final exclamation point to my side of the argument. "I've decided that I want to be an actress when I grow up!"

Mom held back from commenting on the growing up part, and 15 minutes later, I was at the Haywood Public Library, up to my elbows in information about World War Two, the Holocaust, and my new best friend, Anne Frank. The more I read about World War Two, and especially the Holocaust and the concentration camps, the more truly horrified I was at what had happened. And the more I read about Anne (I read her diary and the entire play), the more I admired her spirit and positive outlook on life. I spent the entire weekend—Friday night, all day Saturday, Saturday night, and all day Sunday—researching, studying, and preparing.

And the next Monday afternoon, even though I was tired and worn out and exhausted, I was _ready_ when I stepped onto the cafeteria stage (our stage was actually in the cafeteria of our school) at 3:00 to audition. Most of the girls read for several different parts. Claudia read for Mrs. Frank and Mrs. Van Daan. Norma B read for Margot and Miep. And Mabel Mulligan read for Mrs. Frank, Mrs. Van Daan, _and_ Miep. But only two girls read for Anne more than once.

Me.

And, yes of course, you guessed it, Janet J.

We both read with Henry Hathaway (as Peter). And we both read with Herman Smellnick (as Peter also--I wasn't sure that I wanted my BFK—Big First Kiss—to be with Henry or Herman). And then we both read with Luke (as Peter). And then we read again with Luke. And again. Scene after scene after scene. Luke was good. _Really_ good. He was confident and comfortable and believable.

And then, suddenly it was 5:00 and Mr. Spinoza was saying, "Thank you everyone for coming to the audition today! Thank you for your time and effort and hard work. All of you did _very_ well. And all of you are _very_ talented! The cast list will be posted on my door first thing tomorrow morning."

And thus began the longest night of my life. It was longer than Christmas Eve or the night before my birthday. I knew that I had done _everything_ I could have possibly done to get the role of Anne. I was prepared, and focused, and confident (sort of—for me anyway), and I could tell that Mr. Spinoza had noticed my hard work and effort. But I also noticed that Janet J was pretty good when I watched her read with Luke. And she seemed more like Anne's type. She didn't have my goofy red hair or freckles.

I had two nightmares that night:

  1. I was watching Janet J kiss Luke at the end of the play.

  2. _I_ was kissing Herman Smellnick at the end of the play.

I wasn't quite sure which one bothered me more. Probably

number one.

The next morning, after practically zero sleep, I was too nervous to eat breakfast. And I hardly said a word as Mom drove me to school. She knew I had worked hard, but she didn't want me to get my hopes up too much. "Good luck, honey," she said when she dropped me off in front of the school. "And remember, _any_ role you get will be _wonderful_." I smiled weakly and nodded—but I didn't believe it. Only _one_ role would be wonderful. Anything else would be a huge disappointment—and a huge potential problem.

As I walked down the hall, an amazing thing started happening. People were smiling at me. A girl from the chess club said, "Congratulations!" Herman Smellnick raised his hand for a high five and said, "Way to go, Dude! I mean, Dude-ette!" And Mabel Mulligan just walked right up to me and gave me a big, linebacker hug. I wasn't quite sure what all of this meant. I could be a _good_ sign—maybe that I just got a part. Or it could be a _great_ sign—maybe that I got _the_ part. There was a small crowd in front of Mr. Spinoza's classroom door, and they magically parted as I came walking up. They were all smiling. Especially Luke.

I could hardly bear to look. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. _Be brave_ , I thought to myself. Then I looked at the list. The top part read:

"The Diary of Anne Frank"

Cast List

Then I looked at the next two names. They were together—next to each other:

Anne Frank—Norma L

Before I could even react, I quickly looked down the list for the next two important names:

Peter Van Daan—Luke Krattenmucker

I breathed a huge sigh of relief and then all at once everyone was patting me on the back and saying 'Congratulations!' and 'Good job!' and 'Way to go!' Then the bell rang and I heard Mr. Spinoza saying, "All right, people. Let's go. We have lots to do today!"

Before I went in, I had to see one last set of names. Right under Anne was:

Mr. Frank—Herman Smellnick

And right under Mr. Frank was:

Mrs. Frank—Janet Janikowski

_OMG_ , I thought as I couldn't help smiling to myself. _I get to kiss Luke—and Janet J is my mom!_

### 38

### Pretending to be Anne—Being Normal L

The _first_ thing I did, the _first_ minute of our _first_ rehearsal, was walk right up to Mr. Spinoza and say a deep down, heartfelt, and very much relieved thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you _so_ much for casting _me_ as Anne--and not letting that 13-year-old barracuda with perfect teeth and shiny blond hair (AKA Janet J) get her clutches on a certain Peter Van Daan (AKA Luke Krattenmucker).

Mr. Spinoza looked up from his script of the play and smiled. "No need to thank me," he said matter-of-factly. "You earned it."

I smiled back. He might have been right--I _had_ worked incredibly hard to get the role of Anne. I studied and read and did research and practiced (mostly to my guinea pig, Pickles)—and then I studied some more and read some more and did some more research and practiced some more (Pickles was a good captive audience).

Rehearsal would be for the next six weeks—every day after school—from 3:00 to 5:00. Most of the kids in the play were able to do their homework when they weren't up on stage. And most of the kids just had a few lines to learn. Unfortunately, I didn't have either of those luxuries. Since I was playing Anne Frank in "The Diary of Anne Frank", I was on stage practically _all_ the time—so I had very little time to do homework—and, oh yeah, I had roughly somewhere between a bazillion and a gajillion lines to learn—make that _memorize_.

During the next six weeks, my mother was a saint—actually, a savior. She would practice lines with me every night. And she played every part—Mr. Frank, Mrs. Frank, Mr. Van Daan, Mrs. Van Daan, Peter, Dussel, Mr. Kraler, Margot, and Miep. The only character she didn't play, was Peter's cat, Mouchi. So I practiced and practiced and practiced—and I memorized and memorized and memorized. I didn't want to let Mr. Spinoza down for taking a chance on casting me, and most of all; I didn't want to let Anne down. Somehow, I had this odd feeling that Anne was looking down on our rehearsals--watching me play her. I felt like I knew her and I wanted to honor her. I wanted to make her smile.

Although rehearsing the play could be tiring and difficult at times, I thoroughly—and I do mean _thoroughly_ \--enjoyed watching Janet J play my cranky, frustrated mother. And Janet J was _perfect_ for the part. She was always cranky and frustrated now. In the play, she was supposed to be very frustrated with her daughter Anne (Me!). And frustrated she was—but not with her daughter Anne in the play—she was frustrated with her rival Norma L (Me again!) who got the part she was _dying_ to get! Mr. Spinoza just thought Janet J was a great actress. " _Good job_ , Miss Janikowski," he would say after she had a scene with me. "That's _perfect_! You're playing the part _just_ right! Keep being cranky and frustrated!" Then Janet J would smile weakly at Mr. Spinoza--and glare not so weakly at me.

And I loved every minute of it.

***

Four weeks into rehearsal, we finally got to the scene.

_The_ scene.

The scene where Anne (AKA Norma L) gets her BFK (Big First Kiss) from Peter (AKA Luke).

I was still mad at Luke. Janet J's presence at rehearsal was a daily reminder of what had happened and for some crazy reason (probably the L word reason); I just couldn't get over it. Luke would ask me every day if I wanted to get together and practice our lines. "No thanks," I would say. "I've got Mom and Pickles to practice with."

But today I was more than just mad at Luke. I was also worried and nervous and uneasy and... dare I say... interested? Yes, I dare say it. Interested. Actually _very_ interested. I hoped that no one noticed when I brushed my teeth in the bathroom after lunch. Twice. And I hoped that no one noticed when I went through an entire roll of Breath Savers (wintergreen).

And then, when the moment came, the moment that me, and the rest of the cast (except for maybe Janet J) had been anticipating for the last several weeks, Mr. Spinoza simply said, "OK people, that's good for today. We won't be rehearsing the kiss. I want it to be a first time experience for the night of the performance only."

I was stunned. Luke looked sort of stunned too at first, but then he tried to be all cool about it. "Oh yeah," he said to Mr. Spinoza. "That's a good idea. Then it will seem more spontaneous." A few of the girls sighed their disappointment and a couple of the football players on the stage crew booed. Mr. Spinoza just laughed.

As Luke walked away, I noticed what looked like a roll of half-eaten Breath Savers in his back pocket. And there was some green and silver foil poking out of the top.

Apparently he liked wintergreen, too.

***

During the last two weeks before the performance, we spent our afternoons at school rehearsing--and our weekends building and painting the set.

Luke still tried to talk to me.

I still refused.

I would happily talk to Luke when we were on stage and he was Peter and I was Anne. But when we were Luke and Norma L in real life, I wanted nothing to do with him.

But in the back of my mind, I couldn't stop thinking about and wondering about our kiss the night of the performance.

My BFK.

### 39

### Frozen in Time

Friday, December the 19th finally came. I had rehearsed and practiced and memorized until I thought I would go completely insane. But the transformation was now complete. I _was_ Anne. I thought like Anne, acted like Anne, talked like Anne, and even reacted like Anne. Now I wanted to _look_ like Anne. And that meant having hair like Anne. So I had begged and begged and begged my mom to let me dye my hair dark brown. At first she was adamant. " _No way_ ," she said, shaking her head back and forth like a rag doll. "No way are we going to change your beautiful red hair anymore." She was still a little upset that I had been using the straightener ever since the 'Positive Party'. Curly was cute when I was a kid, but now I liked myself better with straight hair. And I had been literally dying to dye my hair for the last year or so. This was my big chance and I knew it.

After I reminded her of all the reading and researching and practicing and memorizing I had done during the last six weeks, she couldn't possibly hold back the last and final piece of the Anne Frank puzzle. She looked at me and I gave her my best, 'Please Mom, can I , can I, can I, can I, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease?' look. She finally relented and said the two letters I was waiting desperately to hear: "OK."

When we left for the performance at 5:30 (the play started at 7:00), it had already begun to snow. _Well_ , I thought, _this is Colorado, and it's almost Christmas, so I guess bad weather is always possible._ I hoped and prayed that it wouldn't get too bad at least until the performance was over. My mom had invited everyone she knew within a 100 mile radius. My grandma and grandpa were coming (from my mom's side), and my other grandma and grandpa (from my dad's side) were coming, and all of my aunts and uncles, and a few cousins--and even Kletch. The one person who wasn't able to come was my dad. Unfortunately, he had already made plans a long time ago, and he was in Maui on a vacation with his newer, younger girlfriend, Andrea. My mom was furious. "I'm sorry, honey," she said with a sad and mad look on her face. "It's his loss."

"It's OK, Mom. I'm used to it. No big deal."

But I was lying. It _was_ a big deal.

When we got to the school, I was so nervous I thought I was going to drop dead—or at the very least, throw up. Fortunately for me, and the rest of the cast and crew, I didn't do either. How could I possibly remember all those lines and all that blocking and everything else? Mom noticed. "Honey," she said calmly. You are going to be _wonderful_ tonight. You've worked hard and your hard work will pay off. And you are talented and you look beautiful. Anne would be proud." I smiled and looked in the vanity mirror on the passenger side of the beige minivan. It was true. I did look _sort of_ beautiful. And I did _sort of_ look like Anne now. And I _had_ worked hard--and I _was_ prepared.

I stepped out and looked up into the quietly beautiful, snowy, night sky. I knew that Anne would be watching me.

***

I heard more OMGs than I had ever heard before when I walked into the backstage area. All the girls were coming up to admire my new, dark brown hair (except for Janet J, who had temporarily tinted her hair with a little gray so she would look older and look more like my mother). A few of the girls said, "Wow!" And one of the football player crew guys said, "Whoa... check out Norma L!" Both comments made me smile.

Mr. Spinoza gave us a big pep talk about how hard we had worked and how talented we were and how proud of us he was. Then Luke walked up to me, handed me a dozen red roses, and hugged me. He held on tight for a couple of seconds and whispered, "Good luck Norma L. I love you."

***

The play was surreal. It was like a dream. All of my lines were there when I needed them. I knew where to go, what to do, and what to say. I knew how to feel, too. I felt Anne's joy and wonder--and I also felt her apprehension and fear and terror. But most of all, I felt Anne's hope. The play was alive and I was a part of something bigger and more special than I had ever experienced. Then came the line before the kiss.

_The_ kiss.

And for a few seconds, I was frozen in time.

In all the world, there was only the two of us.

And even though there were over a hundred people watching in the audience, including all (well most) of our family and friends, it was like Luke and I were the only two people on the planet.

Luke leaned over to kiss me.

My BFK.

Then the lights went out.

And the fire alarm went off.

It took me a second or two to realize what was actually happening. The power had gone out and the fire alarm was ringing. Fortunately, the emergency lights came on so there was enough light to be able to see and find our way off the stage and out of the cafeteria. A few people screamed, but Mr. Looney was soon up on the stage, calmly giving instructions. "Everyone remain calm. Please go quietly and calmly through the south doors and continue down the hall to the outside exit."

Soon we were all outside. The Haywood Fire Department was there within a few short minutes and after going inside to check things out, they soon returned telling Mr. Looney that it had just been a false alarm and that there was no fire.

The power being out was another problem. With the storm getting worse and the Haywood Power and Light already busy checking out other outages in the city, Mr. Looney decided to cancel the rest of the performance. Everyone groaned and complained, but we all knew that there was really no alternative.

And to make things worse, The Pancake Hut had closed early, so the after-the-show party was cancelled too. My mom and my four grandmas and grandpas and six uncles and aunts and five cousins and Kletch all hugged me quickly and said congratulations and goodnight in the cold, snowy, December air.

Mom gave me a shoulder hug as we got into the car and said, "I'm sorry honey. I know how hard you worked. But at least you got through _most_ of the play. And you did a _wonderful_ job playing Anne. I'm really proud of you." I gave her the, 'Thanks, Mom' smile and put on my seat belt. It was true. I _had_ worked really hard and it didn't seem fair that we didn't get to finish the play.

And it _especially_ didn't seem fair that I still didn't get my BFK with Luke. I had been trying immensely hard to stay mad at him for the last couple of months, but when he told me that he loved me, I just couldn't be mad anymore.

Claudia Hanrahan had asked Mr. Spinoza if we could just do the play again tomorrow night, but since we did finish _most_ of it, Mr. Looney and Mr. Spinoza felt like it would be too hard to re-schedule. Plus, the weather was terrible—and Christmas break was starting tomorrow. I sighed out loud and Mom gave me that worried mom look. I _was_ a little sad and disappointed that we weren't able to finish the play. And I was _more_ than a little sad and disappointed that the power had gone out _before_ my BFK. But I also knew that something important had happened that night--something more important than power outages or missed BFK's. We had told Anne's story in a positive and respectful way. And I knew that _somehow_ , Anne was looking down on me. And _somehow_ , I also knew that she was proud of me.

Mom looked at her watch suddenly and said, " _Hey_... I know what we can do... let's drive around and look at all the Christmas lights in town!"

I glanced at her sideways and said, "Are you _serious_ , Mom? It's a _blizzard_ out here."

"Yeah... well... come on... it'll be fun! And we can make some hot chocolate when we get home!" I kept looking at her sideways. She was acting _awfully_ suspicious, but the hot chocolate part _did_ sound good, so I rolled my eyes and nodded OK.

As we were driving around, I got a text from Samantha. She had gotten a text from Emily, who had gotten a text from her boyfriend, Ryan, who had gotten a text from Double G.

She forwarded Double G's text to me. It said:

TheoneandonlydoubleG: It was Sperry and McGurk. They cut the power lines and pulled the fire alarm.

### 40

### The Best Presents in the History of the Whole World

After about 20 minutes or so of driving around in the snowstorm in Mom's beige minivan, her phone beeped. It was a text. She glanced down at it and said, "Well, that's enough for me. We better head home." Then she did the _highly suspicious_ fake yawn. I knew that she had been stalling for some reason and that she was up to something, but I was _way_ too tired to try and figure it out.

Then I got a text from Luke. I hadn't read a text from Luke in months. If I saw his name on my phone, I just deleted the message right away. But I didn't delete this one. It said:

LukeK: Merry Christmas, Norma L.

Me: Thank you, Luke. Merry Christmas to you too.

LukeK: I got you a present.

Me: Really? When are you going to give it to me?

LukeK: I already did.

I smiled and thought of what he had told me right before the performance.

Me: Thank you. What you said to me was very sweet.

LukeK: Huh?

Me: You know. The _L_ word.

LukeK: Oh yeah. No, not that. You'll see. Look out your window.

Just then, we pulled into our driveway—and I saw right away what had been going on. There was a HUGE Christmas tree, right in the middle of our front yard. It was tall and straight and full—and it had been decorated with red and green and blue and orange and yellow and white lights from top to bottom. It was the most spectacular, beautiful thing I had ever seen.

I looked at my mom, who was smiling from ear to ear. Then I _slowly_ got out of the car and _slowly_ walked over to Luke, who was standing next to the tree, also grinning from ear to ear. I looked up at the magnificent tree and then back at Luke and then up at the tree again. "OMG Luke," I half said, half whispered. "It's beautiful! How did you do that?"

He was still smiling. "Bob and Bob Jr. came by and planted it during the performance. I was worried that they wouldn't be able to do it with the bad weather and all. But you know them—once you ask them a favor, they'll do anything to help.

"And what about those two suspicious characters?" I pointed at the smiling moms over by the Jeep/truck/Scrambler thing. "I suppose they were in on the whole thing?"

"Yep. I couldn't have done it without my two accomplices."

I looked back up at the tree. "Thank you, Luke. It's the best present in the history of the whole world. I wish I could give you a hug right now."

" _Really_?"

"Yep."

"You mean... you're not mad at me anymore?"

"Nope."

Before he could say another word, I grabbed him and hugged him tight.

"Alright, you two," my mom said as she passed us and walked up the front step, with Luke's mom following. "Let's go inside and have some hot chocolate before we all freeze to death."

Luke watched them go in, and then, before _I_ could say another word, right there, in the middle of a blizzard, in the middle of my front yard, and next to the best present in the history of the whole world, Luke kissed me.

My BFK.

And I was truly frozen in time.

***

One hour later, after hot chocolate in our warm, cozy house, by the warm, cozy fire, I was under the covers in my warm, cozy bed. I could see the soft, comforting glow of the lights outside my window now. I smiled and sent Luke a text:

Me: I just wanted to say thank you again for the _best_ present in the history of the whole world.

LukeK: (Smiling) You're welcome.

Me: I love you Luke.

LukeK: (Blushing) Wow. Now it's my turn.

Me: For what?

LukeK: To thank _you_. Thank you, Norma L--for the _two_ best presents in the history of the whole world.

Me: _Two?_

LukeK: Yeah, you know. The _L_ word... and the kiss.

Me: (Smiling and blushing) You're welcome... _twice_.

### 41

### The Bad 7—The Good 7

The next morning, at 7AM (Sheesh!), I got another text message from Luke:

LukeK: Hey pretty girl. I have 2 questions for you.

Me: Hey handsome guy. OK. Go ahead.

LukeK: Question number 1. Do you still have that gift card we won for the Halloween costume contest?

I wasn't fully awake yet, and I had to think for a second.

Me: You mean the one for Starlight?

LukeK: Yep. That's the one.

I quickly started digging under a pile of school papers on the top of my desk. It was under a math assignment I had forgotten to turn in two months ago (Dang!). At the top of the card it said, "St*light!" Underneath the name, there was a picture of a happy, smiling couple at an old drive-in movie theater. They were sitting at a table that looked like an old, convertible car, and they were eating hamburgers and watching a movie on an old outdoor movie screen. It said, "Dine under the stars... at St*rlight!"

Me: Yep. I got it right here. What's question number 2?

LukeK: Would you like to go there for dinner? Tonight? With me?

Me: Actually, that was 3 more questions. But my answers are... yes... yes... and yes.

I had never been to a _real_ drive-in movie theater. Mom told me that they used to be all over the place back in the 70's. They were practically extinct now. To me, the 1970's were like the Mesozoic Era. I mean, come on. Disco dancing? Bell bottom pants? Leisure suits? Mustaches? All of those things were like dinosaurs now. _Extinct._ But seeing a movie outside, while sitting in your car, did sound like fun. And I had heard that Starlight was an amazing place.

LukeK: Great! I'll make reservations. How about 7:30?

Me: That sounds perfect!

LukeK: OK. I'll pick you up at about 7.

Me: OK. I'll be ready! Hey... by the way... what's with you and 7?

LukeK: 7??? I don't get it.

Me: Do you happen to have a watch? Or a working clock of some kind?

LukeK: Of course. I still don't get it.

Me: What time does your watch or working clock say right now?

LukeK: 7:07... so?

Me: And what _day_ is today???

LukeK: Saturday. _Ohhh_. I get it now. Sorry. We get up early around here. There's always lots to do.

Me: But Luke, it's _Saturday_. Don't you guys _ever_ get a day off?

LukeK: Of course. Once in awhile. Sometimes. At least I think so.

He didn't sound so sure. I thought of how hard they all worked out there and I thought of the tiny red, white, and blue trailer Luke and his mom were living in. And I thought of the snow and the cold and the Colorado winters. I hoped he was warm, and I wanted to ask him if he was—but I didn't want to draw attention to his situation or insult him.

Last night, when we were all sitting by the fire, drinking hot chocolate, I realized how lucky Mom and I were to have a nice, warm house to live in. We didn't really need the four-story mansion with the indoor swimming pool. Just warmth and love. Before I had gone to sleep, I had looked out the window at the best present in the history of the whole world, and I thought of everything that Luke and his mom always did for other people. And I wished with all my heart that they could have what mom and I had.

LukeK: Hello? Are you still there?

Oops. The beep of my phone brought me out of my daydream.

Me: Sorry. I was just thinking.

LukeK: What about?

Me: Oh you know... just things. Actually, I was thinking about how much fun we'll have tonight at Starlight! I can't wait!

LukeK: Me too! See you at 7!

Me: 7??? Ugg!

LukeK: Sorry. Not the _bad_ 7—the _good_ 7!

### 42

### St*rlight

Luke's mom dropped us off at the Haywood Mega Mall at about 7:15. We walked toward the east end of the mall on the lower level until we saw the Starlight sign. There was a line of people waiting to get in. A _long_ line. And the line was only for people _hoping_ that someone didn't show up on time for their reservation. I was glad that Luke knew you needed reservations for Starlight, because if you didn't have a reservation, chances were, you weren't getting in. We happily walked past the unhappy hopefuls to the front entrance.

Above the entrance was a huge, brightly lit sign that looked like a movie marquee. It had blinking arrows that seemed to travel in a circle around the outside of the sign, and in the middle it said, 'St*rlight... dine under the stars... at St*rlight'. There was a bright blue star where the 'a' should have been. A girl in a pastel green and pink skirt and sweater was standing at the entrance. There was a velvet rope behind her. "Good evening," she said in a friendly voice. "Welcome to Starlight. My name is Lois. Do you two lovely people have a reservation?" She smiled at us like she thought it was cute that a young couple like us was out on a date. Luke smiled back. "Krattenmucker," he said proudly. "Two for seven-thirty."

"Krattenmucker... Krattenmucker... Krattenmucker..." She repeated over and over as she looked down her long list of names. I was starting to get a little nervous. I was all dressed up and I didn't want to join the line of unhappy hopefuls who didn't have reservations. Or even worse, end up at Superdog. Not that I had anything against Superdog—I _loved_ Superdog—it's just that I had my heart set on "dining under the stars... at Starlight. Lois finally found us. "Ah yes, Mr. Krattenmucker. Here you are. Two for seven-thirty." We both let out a sigh of relief.

As amazing as the outside entrance was, the inside of Starlight was _beyond_ amazing—it was like another world. Literally. Walking through the entrance was like walking back in time. Luke and I both looked at each other and whispered, " _Wow_..." at the same time. Above us was a warm summer evening sky at dusk. The stars were just coming out, twinkling brightly, and the mountains were silhouetted against the fading light of the horizon. It wasn't like a restaurant painted to _look_ like a night sky—it was like a _real_ night sky.

Another girl in the same pastel green and pink skirt and sweater took us to our table. Our _table_ was an old, red, convertible car—and it was in the front row. Directly in front of our table/car was an outdoor movie screen. There was a trailer for an old horror movie playing. A gorilla wearing a space helmet was chasing a girl in a bikini. Then across the screen it said, 'Robot Monster! Run for Your Lives!' We sat in the front seat of our car, and the girl handed us each a menu. "Welcome to Starlight! My name is Mary Ann. Have you been here before?" We were both speechless, so we both just shook our heads no. She smiled and explained the special for the night. Then she gave us a basket of popcorn and told us she would be back in a few minutes to take our order.

When she was gone, I smiled at Luke and said, "Thank you. This is the most awesome place I've ever been!"

Luke smiled back. "No, thank _you_. If you hadn't agreed to go to the Halloween party as Wonder Woman, we never would have won the gift card!"

I couldn't help but laugh, as I thought of that horrible day. First I got sick, then I got mad and punched Janet J at the dance (well, actually Wonder Woman punched Janet J), and then I got suspended. But we _did_ win the costume contest, and we _did_ get the gift card to Starlight--so I guess it was all worth it.

For the next two hours, we laughed, and talked, and ate the best bacon cheeseburgers ever; and we snacked on onion rings and fries with lots of ketchup. While we stuffed ourselves silly, we watched trailer after trailer of old 50's black and white horror and sci-fi movies. We saw _The Brain that Wouldn't Die_ , and _The Screaming Skull_ , and _The Giant Leeches_ , and _The Thing_ , and _The Thing that Wouldn't Die_ , and _Robot Monster_ , and my personal favorite, _Attack of the 50-Foot Woman_! It was the most fun I had ever had. Luke agreed.

That is, until we went to the food court after dinner for dessert.

Dinner, including the tip for Mary Ann, came exactly to the amount of our gift card—fifty dollars. We both felt very fortunate, because we knew that neither one of us would have ever have fifty dollars to spend on a dinner out. As we were leaving (there were still people waiting in line to get in—and now I knew why), Luke said that he had an extra five dollars for Blizzards at Dairy Queen. I thought that sounded great, so we walked up to the top level to the food court. Before we ordered, we both decided to go to the bathroom.

I waved to Luke as we went our separate ways—and then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed two familiar faces following _right_ behind him. Two big, ugly, creepy, scary-looking faces. It took me a second or two to realize who it was—and then the names came to me--Sperry and McGurk.

### 43

### The Final Showdown

All I could think was, _OMG, they're going to kill him!_

I started to run into the bathroom to warn him, but quickly decided that was a bad idea. Then I turned around and practically sprinted back to the food court. I was out of breath when I got to the counter at Superdog. Hank, the Top Dog, remembered me. "Hey, I know you. You're Kletch's cousin's daughter. Norma, right? Norma L?"

I was too scared and too out of breath to chat. I just nodded quickly and said, "Kletch... where's Kletch?"

Hank looked over his shoulder and said, "Hmm... I _think_ he just went on break. Is everything OK?"

"Yeah, yeah." I lied. I was getting desperate. "Where does he take his break?" Obviously, everything was _not_ OK, but I didn't want to get Hank involved. He must have been at least eighty years old.

"He usually goes to the Pet Stop to look at the guinea pigs. He _loves_ guinea pigs."

_Oh no_ , I thought. The Pet Stop was on level two and pretty far away. We would never make it back in time to save Luke. I quickly said, "Thanks," and started to run, looking back and forth for a security guard. There had to be one close by--the Haywood Mega Mall had _tons_ of them.

But before I got more than ten feet away, Hank called after me, "He usually goes to the bathroom first."

I stopped suddenly and breathed a huge sigh of relief. I didn't need to find a security guard now to save Luke. It was Sperry and McGurk who would need saving.

When I turned the corner to the bathroom hallway, I found _exactly_ what I expected to find. And it was quite a sight. Kletch, my mom's cousin, the ex-Marine, war hero, Medal of Honor recipient, had a hold of Sperry in his good hand, and McGurk in his mechanical hand. Their heads were both wet. Soaked, actually. Luke was walking right behind them. Dry as a bone.

A Mega Mall security guard met Kletch, and after a brief, one-sided discussion (Kletch did all the talking and Sperry and McGurk didn't say a word), the security guard took the two very unhappy and wet campers off Kletch's hands. We all watched as they made their way across the food court and were met again shortly by two Haywood police officers. And after another brief one-sided discussion, Sperry and McGurk were handcuffed and taken away.

Luke and Kletch told me the whole story as we had Oreo Cookie Blizzards at a food court table next to the Dairy Queen.

"OMG Luke," I said, still trying to catch my breath. "I saw those two idiots follow you into the bathroom, and I thought they were going to kill you! I ran back to Superdog to get Kletch and Hank said he was on break. I was _so_ worried. Then Hank told me that Kletch had gone to the bathroom. What happened?"

Luke looked like he had just seen a ghost. "Well, I was walking into the bathroom, when I heard someone say really loudly, 'Well, well, well... look what we have here. I do believe it's our old friend the _Geekster_!' I turned around and saw Sperry. Then McGurk said, 'Yeah... I do believe you're right... it's our old buddy and pal... the _Dorkster_!' Then Sperry said, 'Hey... wasn't he the guy who punched you and broke your nose?' And McGurk said, 'Yeah... your right. He _did_ break my nose!' Then Sperry said, 'I think it's time we taught him a lesson... swirly style.' So then, they both grabbed me and pushed me through a stall door. They were about to put my head into the toilet when I heard the toilet in the next stall flush. They stopped for a second, and before I knew what had happened, Kletch burst into our stall, grabbed them both by the back of their shirts, and dunked both of _their_ heads in the toilet!"

Kletch joined in the story, "I told them two knuckleheads that they weren't supposed to be at the mall since they got arrested here before. The police told us to call them if we ever saw those two knuckleheads at the mall again." Kletch paused for a second, trying to get his thoughts in order. "Oh yeah," he finally continued. "Then I told them two knuckleheads if they ever bothered my friend Luke-- _ever_ again--that them two knuckleheads would have to deal with me instead of that toilet." Kletch smiled. "So I don't think you'll have anymore trouble with them two knuckleheads."

I was scared and relieved and laughing all at the same time. What an amazing stroke of luck that Kletch just happened to be in that same bathroom right when Sperry and McGurk were about to kill Luke. _Or maybe_ , I thought, _maybe someone was looking out for Luke_. Just then, my phone beeped. It was a text from Mom saying that she was waiting for us outside the west entrance. I looked at the time on my phone. I couldn't believe it was already ten. "Time to go," I said to Luke. He nodded OK and I gave Kletch a tight, grandma hug. "Thank you, Kletch. You were a life saver tonight."

Kletch hugged me back and said, "Anything for you and Luke, Normy. You two are special."

Luke shook Kletch's mechanical hand and said, "Thank you for your help tonight, Mr. Kletcher. You are the special one, sir."

### 44

### Wanted Presence--Unwanted Present

Christmas was wonderful. Well, sort of. I saw all of my family--except for my dad, who was still in Maui with freakin Andrea! I could _not_ believe that he would miss seeing my play and miss seeing me at Christmas, just so he could sit on the beach with some bimbo named Andrea. My mom just said, "I'm _so_ sorry, honey." Then, two days after Christmas, I got a card in the mail. There was a picture of Bing Crosby on the front. He was wearing a red Santa hat. It said, 'Melikalikimaka!' On the inside, there was a picture of my dad and Andrea (she looked _a lot_ younger than him). They were standing by the ocean, waving. He had written, 'Merry Xmas Punkin! Buy yourself something nice! Luv, Dad and Andrea'.

There was also a check for one thousand dollars. I rolled my eyes. He always tried to make up for messing up by buying me something or giving me money. Well, I was still mad about the play _and_ Christmas, so there was no way in 'you know what' that I was going to spend that money. It was blood money to me. I'd _much_ rather have a dad who cared about me and wanted to spend time with me than a bunch of money.

Then I had a great idea. A wonderful, awesome, amazing idea! I'd give it to Luke to replace all the trees that he had given away and lost! I knew that it wouldn't cover the cost of replacing all of them, but it would be a good start. Mom had invited Luke and his mom over for Christmas dinner, so when we had a chance to get away from all of the family for a few minutes, I gave him a red envelope.

"What's this for?" he asked as I handed it to him.

"It's your Christmas present. You got me a present, the best present in the history of the world, so I decided to get one for you." I had made a card that said, 'Merry Christmas to one of the good guys! LNL'

He smiled and slowly opened it. He read the card and smiled again. "Thanks, Norma. That's sweet." Then he noticed that there were several one hundred dollar bills inside (I had cashed the check from my dad and put the cash inside the card). He gave me an odd look. "What's this for?"

"It's some money... to replace your trees."

He slowly counted the bills. "Norma, this is a _thousand_ dollars. Where did you get this much money?"

I told him about my dad missing the play and being in Hawaii with freakin Andrea, and how he tried to make up for it by giving me the money. "I could never spend that money, Luke. I want you to have it so you can plant some new trees out back."

He still had an odd look on his face. "Norma... that is so sweet for you to think of me. But I could _never_ take this kind of money from you. If you don't want it, maybe you could give it to your mom."

I laughed out loud, and then quickly covered my mouth with my hand. " _OMG_ Luke. My mom would rather die a horrible, painful, awful death, than take a penny from my dad. _Please_ Luke, take the money so you can buy some new trees... that would make me _so_ happy. I want you to have your own trees again out back at the tree farm."

For the next several minutes, we had our first non-Janet J related fight. Well, it wasn't really a fight--it was more like an argument. Actually, it was really just a discussion--a friendly, polite discussion. Finally, we came to the unalterable conclusion that we had absolutely no idea what to do with the money.

He handed the money back to me and said, "You keep the money for now... until we decide what to do with it. We'll think of something. But I'll keep the card. I'm glad you think I'm one of the good guys... thanks!"

I hugged him and smiled, thinking, _Well, Luke, you just proved it again_.

### 45

### Still Relentlessly Positive!

Before I knew what had happened, it was Monday, January the 2nd, and I was sitting in Mr. Spinoza's class at 7:30AM. Glorious, wonderful, restful Christmas break was over. When my alarm went off that morning at 6:00 AM, I felt like crying. And when my mom came into my room at 6:01AM and said, "Come on, honey! Time to rise and shine! Time to get ready for school!", I felt like sobbing. _School?_ How could it possibly be time to go back to school?

Luke came in and sat next to me. "Hey Norma!" He sounded happy and cheerful. How could someone actually be happy and cheerful when you were at school at 7:30 AM? It defied all reason and logic.

Then Mr. Spinoza came in. "Good morning everyone! I hope you all had a restful and wonderful break! Welcome back!" _Oh no,_ I thought _, now there are two happy and cheerful people in the room!_ Mr. Spinoza had told us at the beginning of the year, that he _loved_ teaching, and because of that, he would be in a good mood every single day of the school year. Well, we were halfway through and he had been true to his word.

At the end of class, Mr. Spinoza announced that there would be one more important 'positive' project for the year. He wanted us to think about a worthy 'cause' that we could somehow figure out a way to draw attention to, so that the community could rally around and support it. "Any ideas? Anything just off the top of your head?" he asked. I could see Norma P and Amanda whispering and plotting already. Mitch Mitchell, one of the crazy football players, raised his hand.

"Yes, Mitch. What do you think?" Mr. Spinoza was hoping for something good to end the class on.

Mitch cleared his throat. "Well, what about the retired NFL players who have brain injuries from too many concussions and poor equipment?" Mitch had a grandfather who had played in the NFL and he had Alzheimer's now.

Mr. Spinoza was nodding in agreement. "That's a _great_ idea, Mitch. Back then, a lot of those players didn't make very much money—and with their health problems now and medical costs soaring, they could sure use some help. Thanks Mitch. Anyone else before we go? We have one more minute."

Norma P had her hand up, but I did didn't hear what she said because Luke was elbowing me in the side. I glanced in his direction and gave him my, 'It's _way_ too early to be elbowing me in the side' look. He wrote three initials on a piece of paper and pushed it onto my desk. They were, 'DAV'.

"Who's Dave?" I whispered out the side of my mouth.

He rolled his eyes, took the paper back and then wrote out three words, a name, another word and a number. He passed the note back. It said:

### Disabled American Veterans

### James Anthony Kletcher

### Statue

### $1000

I read the note, smiled at Luke, and mouthed the words, 'You're a pretty smart guy.'

He nodded and mouthed the words back, 'Thanks. I know.'

Then I rolled my eyes and the bell rang.

### 46

### Shooting Star!

The only thing possibly worse than being back in class at 7:30AM the first morning after Christmas break, was finding yourself in PE, with the teacher saying way too loudly, OK girls, today we start our basketball unit. Norma A high fived Mabel Mulligan. With the two of them on our school varsity team, we wouldn't lose a game this season. I wasn't high fiving anyone—and nobody was high fiving me. The truth is, I might have been the absolute worst basketball player of all time. I couldn't dribble, I couldn't make a lay up, I couldn't pass the ball with any accuracy whatsoever, and I couldn't shoot a free throw to save my life.

After we changed into our gym clothes, Ms. Marshall, who was also the varsity basketball coach, put us into three groups to test our skills. First, my group had to dribble and shoot ten lay ups. I was 0 out of 10. The girls in my group tried not to laugh. Janet J was smiling. Then we moved to free throws. Again, I was 0 out of 10. And again, the girls tried hard not to laugh. Mabel was in my group. "It's OK, Norma," she reassured me as she put a large, hairy arm around my shoulder. "We can't all be good at everything. You were _great_ in the play!"

I just nodded and whispered, "Thank you."

Then we moved on to the much feared and dreaded 3-pointer test. _Good grief,_ I thought as I got into line _, I can't make a flippin lay up. How in the world am I going to make a shot from this far away?_ Most of the girls only made 3 or 4 out of the 10. At least that was a whole lot better than the zero I was going to make. Then Janet J, who was right in front of me in line, made 7 out of 10. She was considered the varsity team's best long-range shooter. After her last shot, she threw that ball hard at me and said under her breath, "Let's see what you can do, loser. Oh and... don't worry... no pressure... only _everyone_ is watching." I couldn't believe her. She was _still_ mad about Luke and I being together, and she was obviously still mad about me getting the part of Anne over her. I guess basketball was now her way of getting back at me.

Suddenly, Ms. Marshall was yelling, "Come on, girlfriend! Let's go! We haven't got all day!"

Janet J was smiling from ear to ear when I took my first 3-point shot.

She wasn't smiling after it went in.

Mabel jumped up in the air and came down with a loud thud! "Alright Norma! Great shot! Nothing but net! Way to go!"

Janet J scoffed. "One in a million... lucky shot... it'll never happen again."

Mabel turned to Janet J. "Oh yeah? Back it up! Put your lunch where your mouth is! I'll bet you lunch that she can make 5 out of 10!"

Inside, I was thinking, _Wow, Mabel is standing up for me! That's great!_ Then I thought, _Oh, no! Mabel will be furious with me if she loses her lunch_. And then I thought, _Wait, Mabel doesn't get mad. She may be big and hairy and scary-looking, but she was sweet._

Janet J scoffed again. "Whatever. You're on! She won't make another shot."

But somehow, amazingly, astonishingly I did make another. And another. And another. And another. In fact, when I was done, I had made 10 out of 10! Suddenly, Mabel and Norma A and the rest of the girls were mobbing me and high fiving me and congratulating me and pounding me on the back. I felt like the guy who made the half-court shot at a Nuggets game to win a new car.

New friends were better than a new car any day!

After class, Ms. Marshall came over to me and said, "Girlfriend, you _will_ be trying out for the varsity basketball team after school today. Three o'clock. Sharp. In the gym. See you then."

The bell rang and I realized that I had just been on the receiving end of the most one-sided conversation of my entire lifetime. _OK_ , I thought, _I guess I'll be trying out for the girl's varsity basketball team this afternoon._ I wondered if it had just been pure luck that I had made all those shots in class today. Then I thought, _Maybe someone is looking out for me also._

### 47

### Who Knew?

Janet J was sluggish at basketball tryouts, since she didn't have any lunch. And Mabel Mulligan was also moving a little slow, since she had had lunch _twice!_ Ms. Marshall wasn't happy with either one of them, and she yelled at them constantly, "Come on girlfriend! Pick it up! Get your slow behind moving!" She yelled at the rest of us, too, for our various shortcomings related to the game of basketball.

The only one of us she didn't yell at, was Norma A. Norma A was ridiculously good at everything. She could dribble well, handle the ball well, pass well, and shoot well. She was a basketball machine, and she would be the starting point guard. During tryouts, Ms. Marshall would have Norma A drive the lane, and then either make a lay up or pass it out to me behind the 3-point line. If she passed it to me, I was instructed to shoot it. So shoot it I did. And every time I shot it, the ball went in. It was the weirdest, strangest, oddest thing that had ever happened to me. After tryouts, Ms. Marshall came up to me again and said, "Girlfriend, you are going to be my _shooting star_!"

***

After Mom came home from work, I told her all about my unusual day. "Mom, I woke up this morning thinking I was the worst basketball player of all time, and tonight, I'm going to bed as a star! Who knew?"

My proud mom smiled and hugged me. "It's true what they say, honey... you never know until you try."

### 48

### Broken but Beautiful

The next morning, when I got to PE class, several girls were crowded around Ms. Marshall's office door. They were all trying to see the list of who had made the girl's varsity basketball team. But before I could take a look, Mabel came up from behind me and gave me a huge bear hug. "Good job, Norma! I knew you could do it!" When she finally put me down, I saw my name on the list. Under the list, written in purple sharpie, was a note from Ms. Marshall:

Varsity Girls Basketball Team

First practice: Today! 3 O'clock! Sharp! In the gym!

My first girl's varsity basketball practice was going great—until I got knocked out. After a brief introduction meeting, Ms. Marshall had the starters (which amazingly included me) scrimmage against the second team (which unfortunately for her, included Janet J). Because of my unusual shooting ability, Ms. Marshall made me the starting shooting guard over Janet J.

During the scrimmage, Ms. Marshall kept yelling, "Rebound! Rebound girls! Rebound like your life depended on it!" I had been kind of hanging back by the 3-point line, so when I went running in full speed for a rebound after Mabel had missed a close shot, Janet J grabbed the ball first, and then swung her razor-sharp elbows back and forth. Her right elbow caught me square in the nose—and I was out cold.

The next thing I remembered was Mabel carrying me and putting me in the front seat of my mom's car. I had a terrible headache and I couldn't see very well--and there was blood all over my Haywood PE t-shirt. Then I could hear my mom having a very heated discussion with the doctor on her cell phone. "I don't care if you're busy or if you have appointments! Break them! She is your..."

I was in surgery for four hours. I had a broken nose and a cracked cheekbone. When I woke up, my mom was sitting next to me, holding my hand. "Hey honey," she said softly. "How are you feeling?"

"OK," I lied. Actually, I felt awful. I could also see Luke and his mom in the room. They were waving at me. I tried to wave back, but I was too weak. Then I saw another familiar face. Where had I seen her before? I just couldn't put a name with the face. Then she came over to me and took my blood pressure and temperature. She was wearing a nurse's uniform. As she fussed over me, I glanced at her nametag. It said, 'Andrea'. _OMG_ , I thought. _It's freakin Andrea! My dad's new girlfriend! Why in the world is she here?_

Then I heard an oddly familiar voice. "Alright, everyone... visiting hours are over... let's give our little patient here some peace and quiet so she can rest." I knew that voice. It was my dad.

My mom kissed my forehead and said, "I'll be back later, honey. I'm just going to get some dinner." I nodded.

Then Luke and his mom said goodbye. Luke had the 'I'm trying to not act worried so I won't scare you, but you look terrible!' look on his face. He mouthed the words, "Love you Norma L." I nodded again. My face was numb, so I really couldn't say or mouth anything back.

Then I was out again.

***

When I woke up the next morning, Andrea was taking my vital signs again. "Hey, sleepyhead," she said softly. "How are you feeling today?" I didn't think it was possible, but I actually felt worse than I had the day before. I smiled weakly. It was a lying smile. Mom was in a chair next to my bed, sleeping. I knew that she had been there all night and I wondered if she had gotten any sleep at all.

During the next three days, I slowly healed, I slowly recovered, and I slowly felt better—little by little. I had many visitors, including Luke and his mom every day after school. Family members brought flowers and cards, and the entire girl's varsity basketball team, including Ms. Marshall, came by with a bunch of balloons that said, 'Get Well Soon!'. Mabel squeezed my hand and whispered, Coach M kicked Janet J off the team—and Old Looney suspended her for five days!"

My dad came in every morning to check on me and he said I was doing great. I had to admit that Andrea had been super sweet to me and I was starting to feel OK about her. On the last morning of my hospital visit, Mom and my dad both came in. My mom sat down next to the bed and said, "Your father has something to tell you honey."

I was a little worried by the way she was acting. "Is something wrong?" I had had bandages on my face and my nose and cheeks felt swollen and numb, but everything was starting to feel better.

My dad stood on the other side of the bed and leaned close to me. "No, no, Punkin. Nothing is wrong. You are doing great and everything is healing up just fine." He looked over at Mom. I couldn't tell if she was happy or not. I knew it was hard for her to be around Andrea, since she was so young and cute, but she seemed to be handling things OK. My dad continued, "When they brought you in here, honey, you had a badly broken nose and a cracked cheekbone. I had to do surgery to fix the cheekbone and I also had to clear your breathing passageway. So... since I was already working on your nose, I just figured that I might as well fix it like you had asked me to before." He glanced at Mom again. "I hope you're OK with that honey."

Suddenly, I had tears streaming down my face. But they weren't tears of sadness. When the best reconstructive and plastic surgeon this side of Hollywood tells you that he just fixed your bent, crooked nose, you're not sad. I was crying tears of joy. At first, he was worried that I was upset, but then I hugged him and whispered, "Thank you Dad. I love you."

***

Later that afternoon, before I checked out and went home, my dad removed the bandages, so I could see my new nose. He held up a mirror to my face and I was _stunned_. My face was still a little swollen and I had two black eyes, but I was a completely different person. Ever since I was a kid, I had had this bent, crooked nose. And even though my dad was a very accomplished surgeon, he never wanted to operate on me because it would have been voluntary surgery—not required. And sometime anesthesia could be dangerous, so they just left my poor nose the way it was. But luckily for me, Janet J's elbow had changed that.

And my father had changed my face.

He had made me beautiful.

### 49

### Celebrity, Star, Helper

When I went back to school, you'd have thought I was a celebrity. Every person in school--from friends, to strangers, to teachers, to administrators, to parents, and even Mrs. Wilma—wanted to see my new nose. My dad had done an _incredible_ job. It was one thing to have cosmetic surgery, but my dad was the _best_ —he had operated on movie stars--and the result was that I was suddenly stunning. And other than Norma B (who was in a class by herself), I was getting more attention from the guys in school than anyone else. At first, I was really enjoying my new fame and soaking it up, but then I remembered how I had felt when Luke had become suddenly popular after punching McGurk. And how much trouble Janet J had been ever since. I didn't want any more trouble, and besides, Luke was the one who had thought I was beautiful _before_ the nose job; so tons of attention or not, I was sticking with Luke.

In English class, Luke told me about his idea for the money I had gotten for Christmas, and how it related to our new 'positive' project. "We can raise money to support the Disabled American Veterans—and we can use the money from your dad to make a statue of Kletch. We could put it in front of the school! How many middle schools have an alumni that is a Medal of Honor recipient?"

"Boy, you are more than pretty smart, Luke. You are a genius! That's the best idea I've ever heard! What's your idea for raising money?"

He hesitated for a second and I knew that he wasn't sure that I would like his idea. "Well," he said. "It's related to your new _gift_."

"My new nose?" Luke laughed out loud and Mr. Spinoza gave us _the look_. We paid attention for a few minutes and then Luke whispered, "No, not your nose. Your shooting ability."

I gave him a weird look. "My shooting ability? You mean basketball?"

He nodded. "We'll have people pledge to donate money for every 3-point shot you make? We'll make a fortune!"

"Are you _crazy_?" Oops. Too loud.

"OK, Mr. Krattenmucker. Miss Norma. Please join me up front." Mr. Spinoza was motioning for us to come up to the front of the class. I quickly remembered his rule for talking too much or being disruptive in his class--you had to come up to the front and take over teaching the lesson. Luke and I slowly got up like condemned prisoners and walked forward. Several of the football players were going, "Ohhh... you guys are in Tr-uh-ble!" They were dead on--we _were_ in trouble if we had to teach the class, because I had _no_ idea what was going on today. Luckily, I had Luke with me. He was a good guy to lean on when you were in a jam.

"So," Mr. Spinoza said as we joined him up front. "How can the two of you enlighten us before class is over today?"

Everyone was quiet and staring at us. "Well," Luke began, "Norma and I were just discussing how we were going to raise money for our new 'positive' project." Mr. Spinoza nodded and waved his hand as if to say, 'Go ahead, continue...'. "And we decided that we would have people pledge money... for every 3-point shot that Norma makes during the basketball season."

Mr. Spinoza was still nodding his head. "That's a _great_ idea. I _love_ it. Do it. Make it happen."

Just then, the bell rang and I whispered to Luke, "OK wise guy, Mr. Spinoza might _love_ the idea, but I sure don't. What if I miss all of my shots? Did you ever think of that?"

Luke smiled that reassuring smile of his. "Don't worry, Norma L, I have faith in you."

***

Basketball season was amazing. I wore a protective mask to keep from breaking my beautiful new nose again—and Norma A kept driving the lane and kicking the ball out to me. I still couldn't dribble or make a lay up or pass the ball to save my life, but for some completely unknown reason, I could make 3-point shots. And it didn't matter where I was on the court. If I threw up a three, it went in. And, of course, I didn't make _all_ of them, but I made _a lot_ of them. Mabel told me that a good NBA player could make about 40 percent of his 3-pointers. Ms. Marshall kept track of our stats, and according to her, I was shooting over 80 percent.

With Norma A playing the point, and Mabel playing tough D in the paint and rebounding—and my absolutely _uncanny_ ability to hit the long ball, our team, the Haywood Middle School girl's varsity team went undefeated. And with all of the pledges that Luke had gotten for my 3-pointers, we made a small fortune for the Disabled Vets.

At our end-of-the-season banquet, we presented a check for over five thousand dollars to the commander of the local chapter of the Disabled American Veterans. He was a tough, old guy, but he had a tear in his eye as he accepted the check—and so did every girl on the team. Mom took a picture of all us girls with the commander--and we hung it in the trophy case in the lobby of our school— _right_ next to our conference championship trophy.

### 50

### A Valentine Promise

The week after the basketball season ended was Valentine's week. My nose and face had healed up completely and I was ready to have a nice, happy, and _especially_ low-key Valentine's Day and dance. Several guys had asked me to the dance, but I politely said, 'no thanks' to each one. Taylor Johnson and Norma B had broken up last week, and when _he_ asked me to the dance it took a second or two longer to say no, but I did. I couldn't believe how different my life had become during the last few months. I wasn't the goofy, awkward 13-year-old that I used to be. I actually had a little confidence to get me through each day. And that was a nice edge to have.

Three important things happened on Valentine's Day:

  1. Luke and I were able to dance together without any other major interruptions, distractions, deceptions, tricks, misunderstandings, arguments, problems, fights, or all-out school brawls.

  2. Luke gave me a beautiful gold ring with an opal stone. He said it was a promise ring--and he promised to love me always.

  3. I gave Luke a small, stuffed elephant named Otis. I told him that elephants never forget—and I would never forget him.

***

When Mom came home from work that evening and saw the ring on my finger, she almost had a heart attack. I said, " _Relax_ , Mom. We're not getting married. It's just a promise to always care about each other." She gave me a suspicious, worried mom look, but didn't argue about it anymore. I was glad I didn't mention the L word to her—that could just be between Luke and I.

### 51

### The Worst Day Ever

Spring passed quickly and smoothly. Things were good with school. Things were good at home. And things were good with Luke and I. I was _extraordinarily_ happy. Spring break came and we all decided to spend a day cleaning and sprucing up the Diner for Dan and Dot. It was a beautiful, late March, Saturday morning when Mom and I pulled into the parking lot at the tree farm. We were going to load up a few things with Luke and his mom, and then head over to the Diner. After cleaning things up, we planned on having a cookout with Dan and Dot.

Mom said, "See you in a minute," as she headed over to the office to help Luke's mom load up the Scrambler. I was a little surprised that Luke wasn't up and about already, but he had been sick last week, so I figured that maybe he was sleeping in this morning. I thought it would be fun to wake _him_ up for once and tease _him_ about not being an early bird like me; so I quickly texted him as I walked across the parking lot to the tiny red, white, and blue trailer:

Me: Wake up, sleepy head! Time to get up and go to work!

There was no response.

_Oh well_ , I thought. _I'll just knock on the door to wake him up._

I took two more steps and suddenly, there was a loud bang that shook the ground around me and knocked me down. As I slowly got to my feet, I noticed that the front of the tiny red, white, and blue trailer was _gone_. _Oh my God_ , I thought. _The trailer just blew up and Luke is inside there!_ Without thinking, I rushed through the small door. The part of the trailer that was left was engulfed in flames—and Luke was in the very back. I took a deep breath and fought my way to Luke's room. There was fire and smoke everywhere, and at first, I couldn't see him. For a split second, I thought, _Maybe he's not in here, and I'm going to die looking for him._

Then I saw his leg sticking out from under his bed and desk. The force of the explosion must have knocked him out, and he was buried under the furniture in the corner of the tiny room. The fire was hotter than I could have ever imagined, and I started coughing and choking from the smoke. But I knew that I had to try and save Luke. I couldn't have lived with myself if I hadn't tried. With every last once of energy I had left, I grabbed his leg and pulled him out from under the bed and desk. Then I remembered the fireman's carry that my dad had taught me years ago when he was trying to teach me how to wrestle. I ducked my head under Luke's arm, lifted him on my back, and turned and plowed through the fire and smoke until we fell out of the small door to the outside.

Luke's mom and my mom were running across the parking lot, screaming and yelling bloody murder. When they got to us, my left arm was actually on fire. Mom had taken off her jacket while she was running toward us, and she quickly wrapped it around my arm, putting out the flames. Luke was lying on the ground next to me. He wasn't on fire—but he wasn't breathing. Suddenly, Bob and Bob Jr. came out of nowhere. Bob picked Luke and carried him away from the burning trailer, and Bob Jr. moved the rest of us away also. Then there was another loud bang—louder than the one before—and the rest of the tiny red, white, and blue trailer was gone. There was nothing left of it.

Eugene came running out of the farmhouse to see if we were OK. My arm hurt and I was coughing a lot, but otherwise I thought I was OK. Bob was giving Luke CPR and mouth to mouth when the fire trucks and ambulance pulled into the parking lot. The paramedics worked on Luke and after a minute or so, we heard him start coughing. _Thank God_ , I thought. _At least he's breathing. He's not dead._

The paramedics quickly loaded Luke into the back of the ambulance, and left just as another ambulance, and two sheriff patrol cars pulled up. While the fireman worked on putting out the fire, the other paramedics looked at my arm. They cleaned it and wrapped it in bandages, and soon, Mom and I were following Luke and his mom to the hospital in the other ambulance. As we were pulling out of the tree farm parking lot, I noticed that was wasn't anything left of the tiny red, white, and blue trailer that Luke and his mom had lived in for so long—and I wondered what would happen to them and where they would live.

Mom was white as a sheet. "What happened, honey?"

"I don't know, Mom. I was walking toward the trailer to wake up Luke, and it just blew up. I went inside and carried him out."

The paramedic put an IV in my good arm and smiled. What's your name," he asked.

"Norma. Norma L."

"Well, Norma L, you're a hero. You saved your friend's life."

### 52

### Back to the Hospital

When we got to the hospital, I knew that I had burned my arm pretty badly. It hurt a lot, but I knew that was a good thing, because if it didn't hurt, then that meant it was a third degree burn and there were no nerves left. The thing I didn't realize was that the fire had singed and burned my hair, and there wasn't much left of it. I also had slight burns on my ears and neck, but the doctor said they would heal up nicely.

I ended up being right about my arm. It had second-degree burns, and there would be some scarring, but it would heal up OK also. Luke was a different story. He had three broken ribs, a punctured lung, and a concussion from the fall he took when he was knocked out in the explosion. He also had some slight burns, and he was on a ventilator to help him breathe since he had suffered pretty sever smoke inhalation. He was in intensive care and his condition was listed as serious.

I was admitted to the hospital for overnight observation. The doctor told me I was very lucky, and that I could have easily died trying to save Luke. Then he smiled at my mom and said, "You should be very proud of your daughter. She's a hero." There was that word again.

My mom still looked white as a sheet. She just smiled weakly and nodded yes.

The next 24 hours was a whirlwind of activity. There was a never-ending parade of people coming through my room. First, the police talked to me, then the Fire Marshall, then the insurance investigator, then a local newspaper reporter named Jim, and finally, Steve Stephens from Fox 13 Television News. Everyone was saying that I was a hero—and that I had saved Luke's life. I told them that I was just doing what _anyone_ would do for their friend, and I also made _sure_ to remind them about what Bob and Bob Jr. had done.

I had many, many, many visitors again. Friends and family members came from miles around. My dad came in several times to see how I was doing. I think he had a hard time not being my attending physician--but he did talk to my doctor and asked him about a million questions. I'm sure that doctors hated it when a patient's parent was also a doctor. My Uncle Joe frowned at me and said, "Norma, Norma, Norma. What is it with you? First you get your nose busted... and now your going into fires and saving people. What in the world is your mother going to do with you?"

One of my grandmas paid for a hair stylist to come in and fix my hair, since it was choppy and uneven and most it had been singed off in the fire. I looked in the mirror when she was done. _Hmm_... I thought. _It was super short now, and I definitely liked my long hair better... but at least I still had a cute nose!_ I laughed, knowing that Luke would have thought it was funny if I had said that to him. And the nice thing was that I knew he would still like me no matter what my hair looked like.

I fell asleep after lunch, and when I woke up, Kletch was standing quietly next to my bed. "Hey, Normy!" he said when he saw that I was awake.

I raised up my bed since he was so tall. "Hey Kletch. How are you?"

"I'm good. I like your new hair. It looks nice."

"Thank you, Kletch. A lot of my hair was burned off in the fire, so I had to get it cut."

"That's why I'm here. I came to say hi and see how you were doing."

"I'm doing good, Kletch. Thanks for coming to visit."

"I also came to see your match, but they wouldn't let me see him today."

I smiled as I remembered when he had said that Luke and I matched because of our red hair. "You're right," I said. "Luke and I have matching red hair." I explained to him that Luke was in intensive care because he had a machine that was helping him breathe, but that he would be moved to a regular room soon, and we could all visit him then.

"I also have something for you Normy. Hold out your hand."

I held out my hand, expecting to get a roll of lifesavers or some small, sweet gift from him.

He put the Medal of Honor in my hand. "This is yours now Normy."

I was absolutely speechless for several seconds. Tears started to run down my face. "Oh, no, Kletch. This is _yours_. It was given to you by the president. You saved sixteen men. I could never take it from you. You _earned_ it." I tried to hand it back to him, but he just closed my fingers around it.

"You did what I did, Normy. It's yours now. _You_ earned it. You deserve it." He leaned down and kissed me on the cheek. "I'm proud of you Normy." He started to walk out of the room, but before he left, he turned and said, "You and Luke don't match because of your hair... you match because of your good hearts. You're both special."

When Mom came back in, I was crying.

She saw the medal in my hand, and she started to cry, too.

### 53

### The Best Day Ever

Two incredible things happened after I got out of the hospital. Actually, make that three. First, I was out of the hospital. I was feeling much better and the doctor said my arm would be fine. Secondly, Luke was transferred out of intensive care and into a regular room. And that meant that Kletch and me and about a bazillion other people could visit him until he was so sick of visitors that he would want to throw up. And thirdly, Eugene, yes the very same Eugene who owned the tree farm in Mosely, won the Super Mega Ultra Powerball jackpot. After taxes, he received a check for 317 _million_ dollars.

### 54

### Paying it Back—Paying it forward

The first thing Eugene did after winning the Super Mega Ultra Powerball, was to announce that he was retiring _immediately_ and moving to Palm Springs. Then he gave the tree farm and the _very nice_ blue and white, two-story farm house to Luke's mom.

The first thing Luke's mom did after getting the tree farm, was to make three people her new business partners. Bob and Bob Jr. would run the tree and landscaping business—not as laborers, but as part owners. And Luke's mom and my mom would run the plant and flower business. Luke's mom would take care of and sell of all the bushes and small plants--and my mom would take care of and deliver all the flowers.

Luke and his mom would move into and live in the _very nice_ , blue and white, two-story farmhouse, and Mom and I would still live in our cozy house in Haywood and drive back and forth to the tree farm. And the final part of the plan was that the moms would take turns driving Luke and I to school. _Wow_ , I thought, _what a choice! We could either be dropped off at school in the Scrambler... or the beige minivan._ Either way, we would be the coolest of the cool.

### 55

### Moving On and Moving On Up

The rest of the school year flew by. Luke and I found an artist to create the statue for Kletch. Mr. Spinoza and Mr. Looney were blown away to find out that one of their _own alumni_ had won the prestigious Medal of Honor. Kletch was honored on the last day of school with an unveiling ceremony. He was wearing his Marine uniform, and he had the Medal of Honor proudly around his neck.

I had gone to Super Dog the day before and told him he would need to wear the medal for pictures. Then I _insisted_ that he keep it from now on. I told him that I was deeply honored to have had it for a couple of months, but that since I had only saved one person and he had saved sixteen, he should have it longer. That made sense to him. He said, "OK, Normy. I love you."

I told him that I loved him too, and that he matched Luke and I because he was special also. That made him smile.

***

Janet J was home schooled for the rest of the year after her suspension, so we didn't have any more conflicts or altercations. And according to the rumor mill, she was transferring to a new school next year. I wasn't too sad about hearing that news.

***

On the first day of summer vacation, I got a text from Samantha. She had gotten a text from Emily, who had gotten a text from her _new_ boyfriend, Tyler, who had gotten a text from Double G.

She forwarded Double G's text to me. It said:

TheoneandonlydoubleG: Latest update on Sperry and McGurk. They got two years in reform school. We won't be seeing them dudes for a while. Peace out!

I definitely wasn't too sad about hearing that news, either.

***

Things were different now with dad. He called or texted me at least once a week, and we met for dinner at least once a month. I decided that if Andrea made dad happy, then that made me happy. After all, he _did_ fix my nose. On my birthday, Dad and Andrea said they would take Luke and I to dinner _anywhere_ we wanted to go.

" _Anywhere_?" We asked together.

"Anywhere you want, Punkin. You're the birthday girl!"

Luke and I didn't even have to think about it. We both said, "Starlight!" at the same time.

And after dinner, we even got to go swimming in the rooftop pool at Dad's house. "Jeez," said Luke as we swam with the retractable roof open. "Are you _sure_ you wouldn't rather live with your dad?" I smacked him hard on the arm.

"You know that I could never leave my mom. She's always been there for me."

### 56

### Who's Norma L?

The Saturday after school got out, Mom and I drove to the tree farm to help Luke and his mom finish moving and settling in to their new house. On the way, we stopped and had breakfast at Dan and Dot's Diner. I had my favorite strawberry pancakes, and Mom had coffee with toast and grape jelly. And as usual, Dot wouldn't let us pay for breakfast.

"Your money's no good here." Dot said to my mom.

"Well," responded my crafty mom. "Maybe our money's no good—but the service here is the _best_ —so we have to leave a good tip don't we?"

Dot, who had been a waitress for about a half-century, could hardly argue with that logic. I saw my mom leave a twenty-dollar bill on the table, and I knew that she had found a way around Dan and Dot's generosity. Dot gave us both great big, grandma hugs, and we said goodbye and waved to Dan behind the counter. On the way to the tree farm, Mom and I decided that we would all go visit Dan and Dot at least once a month to check up on them and help them keep things clean and tidy.

After we drove through Mosely and turned off onto the familiar one-lane, dirt road, we saw a _new_ sign that said:

Krattenmucker Tree, Plant and Sod Farm

If You Need It -- We Grow It!

Come see the Bobs and the moms for all your landscaping needs!

Only 3 More Miles!

Five minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot and Mom and I got out of the car. As she headed up the walkway to the house, I called after her. "Hey Mom, could you tell Luke to come down when you see him. I want to go out back and see the new trees he planted."

She smiled back at me. "OK honey. I'll tell him."

While I waited, I looked over at the black mark on at the edge of the parking lot, where the tiny, red, white, and blue trailer used to be. And then I looked up at the _very nice_ , blue and white, two-story farmhouse. I remembered my Christmas wish for Luke and his mom. I had hoped more than anything, that they could have a nice, cozy place to live in, like Mom and I had. And now they did. And finally, I thought about how Luke and I could have died the day that the trailer blew up. The Fire Marshall had said that it was a faulty Propane line that had ignited when a spark touched it. I decided then and there, that we were _all_ very lucky.

Or maybe, just maybe _,_ someone really _was_ looking out for us.

Just then, Luke came running down from the house. "Hey you."

"Hey yourself," I said back as I gave him a hug.

"Your mom said that you wanted to go see the trees I planted out back."

"Yep. I sure do. Where did you get them?" But before he could answer, I said it for him, "Who else? Bob and Bob Jr."

Luke nodded and grabbed my hand. The promise ring was still there—and so was the promise. As we walked, I thought of our first day of 7th grade in Mr. Spinoza's class. It was the first time that I had met Luke, AKA The Lukester. I remembered how everyone had stared at us and all I wanted was to be was normal.

Was I normal then?

No, not really.

Was I Normal _now_?

Hmm... good question.

I had certainly changed a lot during the year. Inside and out.

Was I beautiful?

Well, maybe a little on the inside. But what about the outside? At least my nose was better. But I was still sort of goofy-looking with my short, choppy hair. And I still had lots of freckles. Good or bad, for some reason, I was always beautiful to Luke. And that made me feel beautiful.

Was I happy?

Yes. Extraordinarily happy.

Was I lucky?

Yes. I was _very_ lucky. The fact that Luke was walking next to me proved that.

So back to my original question. Was I normal?

The truthful answer was no.

I was _not_ normal.

But I _was_ Norma L.

And I was _definitely_ happy being Norma L.



### Copyright © 2012 Jeff Moberg
