Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages) by Denise Vega

Author:Denise Vega [VEGA, DENISE]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV039060
ISBN: 9780316052511
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2009-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 24

SINGLE GIRL

ON SATURDAY I PLANNED TO meet Blake at the park, far from “our tree spot.” I told my parents I was going to Jilly’s again. It didn’t really feel like a lie because I knew I’d go to her house afterward, when it was over.

I took my time getting there, putting off what I was about to do. My hands were sweating, my heart was pounding, and I was completely out of breath even though I was riding as slowly as possible without actually stopping completely. When I got to the bench where we’d agreed to meet, Blake was already there. His face lit up when he saw me and I felt like the biggest loser in the world.

I got off my bike and rolled it over to where he stood, putting it between us. He tried to kiss me right away but I pulled back.

“Hi,” I said, looking everywhere but at his face.

“Hey,” he said. “You want to sit down?”

“I’m okay.” I rocked my bike forward and backward in front of me. Say it, Erin. “I wanted to talk to you, Blake.”

I could feel his eyes on me. I knew I should look at him but I couldn’t.

“Is your mom freaking about us?”

I bit my lip. It would be easy to use her as an excuse; that she was worried about us getting too serious. But that wasn’t right.

I smiled. “My mom freaks about everything lately,” I said, looking out across the park toward the playground. “But that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okaaay.” I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my forehead but I still couldn’t look at him.

“Blake, um—” I wrung my hands and look at the ground. “This is really hard.”

“What’s hard?” he said.

“I—well.” Finally, I looked up at him. I took a breath. “I think I’d just like to be friends.”

“Friends?” He rammed his bike tire against a bench. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m really sorry,” I said. “My feelings—well, I don’t know. I have a lot of fun with you and I still want to have that foosball rematch but—”

“Are you saying you don’t like me anymore?” Blake interrupted. “You, Erin Swift, don’t like me, Blake Thornton, anymore?”

“I like you,” I said quietly. “Just not that way.”

“How exactly does that happen?” His voice was steel and I knew if I looked up, his blue eyes would be icy. “It’s only been a few weeks.”

“I don’t know,” I said, my foot tracing a pattern in the grass. “It just did.”

He snorted. “You like someone else, right?”

“No,” I said. “It’s not that.”

He shook his head. “People told me not to go out with an eighth grader, but I thought you were different. More mature, like Jilly,” he said. “Guess I was wrong.”

That got my attention.

“So I’m not mature because I don’t like you anymore? Is that what you’re saying?”

He glared at me. “Whatever. I was going to call it quits anyway. You just beat me to it.”

What? A minute ago he was about to kiss me.

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