Jackson just laughed. “But it’s the truth,” he continued with mirth in his voice. “That’s why you chew gum all the time when we’re not allowed to.”
“That’s not true at all!” Amber screamed. I couldn’t see her but it sounded like she was about to cry. Just as I picked my head up to look in her direction, I saw Amber storm past me and in the direction of the cafeteria door. “I hate you, Jackson Pierce! I’m going to tell your mom.”
“That’s because you’re a tattletale! Tattletale Amber.” The boy named Jackson laughed, and to my surprise, several kids started laughing and chanting, “Tattletale Amber. Tattletale Amber.”
A part of me felt bad that everyone was laughing at Amber for having stinky breath and being a tattletale, but I was more relieved that no one seemed to be looking at me anymore.
“Hey, take my hand,” came Jackson’s voice from behind me.
I smiled and wanted to hug this boy who had helped me. But when I turned around and rolled to my back to face him, I gasped.
The boy named Jackson—the boy who had just saved me from evil Tattletale Amber—was the same boy in the treehouse who lived next door, the same boy who called me Pippi Longstocking the first time we met, the same boy whom I hated.
“It’s you,” I blurted out as I stared at him and his outstretched hand.
“Yes, last time I checked, I am me.” He smirked, probably proud of himself for being such a smart-ass. “Come on, take my hand.” He held out his hand to me and smiled down at me.
I didn’t want his help, not from a boy who had been mean to me. But then I remembered what he had just done for me. He had been mean to Amber so people would stop laughing at me. But can I trust him? I wondered, hesitant to let my guard down with this boy.
But when I met his gaze, I felt myself relax. There was a warmth in his eyes that was echoed in his smile, and my hand reached up for his before I realized it. As his hand clasped firmly around mine, I felt safe and comforted.
“Thank you,” I said softly as he pulled me up from the ground. Then he handed me my lunchbox. “Oh.” I looked at it in surprise. “Thanks for picking that up too.”
“No problem.” He brushed off some dust from the front of my overalls. “Amber isn’t very nice. You should be careful with her.”
I nodded, realizing I learned it the hard way that Amber was not nice. “But why did you help me, then? You weren’t careful with her. What if she does something to you?” All of a sudden, I was worried for Jackson. Even though he hadn’t been nice to me before, I didn’t want Amber to be mean to him because he had helped me.
Jackson grinned, his green eyes sparkling in the light. “She won’t,” he said confidently.
“Why not?”
“Because she has a crush on me.” He shook his body like he was shuddering and scrunched his face to look disgusted.
“Really? She does?” I looked at Jackson and wondered if it was true. I could see how some girls might think he was cute, with his pretty, green eyes and tousled warm-chestnut hair. But I didn’t like boys. My mom always told me they will only make girls cry, and I didn’t like to cry.
“You can eat at my table, if you’d like.”
“I can?” I looked at him eagerly. “You don’t think I’m dirty?”
“Nah. Kids are supposed to be a little dirty. If you’re not dirty, you’re boring.”
I giggled and liked his reasoning. Maybe he’s not so mean after all, I thought.
When we got to his table, the two other boys said hi to me quickly before going back to their conversation about yesterday’s episode of Batman.
“Do you watch cartoons?” Jackson asked me.
“A little,” I said noncommittally.
“What superhero would you be if you could choose?”
I stared at him and giggled. Is this what boys talked about? “I don’t know. Who would you be?”
“I’d be Michelangelo!” He got up from his seat, clenched his fists and made a karate move in front of me. “He’s funny and loves pizza the most. I love pizza!”
“Okay.” I tried not to giggle at how excited he was.
“I know everything about the Ninja Turtles. It’s my favorite show.” He sat back down next to me. “Since you don’t know who you’d be, you can be April O’Neil.”
“Why?”
“Because the Ninja Turtles saved her life, like I saved you earlier.”
I rolled my eyes. “The Ninja Turtles are just large turtles who got lucky and had Master Splinter train them.”
His eyes lit up and he leaned toward me. “So you do watch the show.”
“I don’t,” I denied, even though secretly, it was one of my favorite shows.
“You wanna come over and play after school? We can watch it together?” He seemed to have ignored me completely.
I stared at him and tried to remind myself that he had made fun of me last week.
“Why would you want me to watch it with you?” I looked at him dubiously.
“Because we’re friends, silly.” He rolled his eyes. “Duh!”
“Friends?” I tilted my head and looked over at him, wondering if I heard him correctly.
“Yeah. Why?” He frowned. “You don’t wanna be my friend?”
I shrugged. “I’ve never had a friend before.”
“Never?” He looked at me in surprise.
I bowed my head and shook it slowly, feeling embarrassed about this. “There weren’t any kids where I lived.”
“Oh.” He paused. “Well, that means, I’ll be your first friend!”
I couldn’t help but smile at what he said.
“So, Ninja Turtles after school, then?”
I smiled, feeling happy that I’d met a new friend—my very first friend.
CHAPTE R SEVEN
November 1994
Nine Years Old
“I seriously love your aunt.” Jackson licked his spoon, savoring the last traces of the chicken pot pie I’d brought over.
I shook my head in amazement, looking from Jackson’s empty plate to my barely-eaten pot pie. “You know, if I didn’t know you lived in a huge house like this, with a fridge stocked full of food, I’d think you hadn’t eaten a decent meal in weeks.”
He laughed. “Well, you’re just spoiled and don’t understand how delicious your aunt’s cooking is.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” I only had to look around at Jackson’s house to know what he’d meant. While his house was almost twice the size of mine, it didn’t nearly feel as comfortable. Besides Jackson’s room, every other room of the house looked like they’d come straight out of some interior design magazine. Everything looked expensive and immaculate, but felt cold and not lived in.
“Coaster,” Jackson warned as he watched me almost place my glass of water on the bare maple dining table.
“Oh, oops.” I flashed him an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I always forget.”
Jackson relaxed a little. “It’s okay. My mom’s just a little picky about everything.”
“Yeah, I know.” I looked around. “Everything’s spotless.”
He shrugged. “Like it matters. It’s not like they’re home much to even enjoy it.”
I frowned and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Your parents work really hard to take care of you. I’m sure if they had a choice, they’d much rather be home than be stuck at work all the time.”
He sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. I just wish we had regular family dinners like you guys, and not once every week or so.”
“Aunt Betty and Uncle Tom are great,” I admitted, “but I would give almost anything to be able to have weekly dinners with my mom and dad,” I said wistfully.