Don't Call Me Baby by Gwendolyn Heasley

Author:Gwendolyn Heasley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

The next morning, Sage isn’t waiting for me outside of school at our bench. She doesn’t show up to lunch, either, so I sit with Mackenzie and Anne again.

“Imogene, are you in a fight with Sage?” Anne asks. “Andrew’s words, not mine. I should’ve guessed, since you two are normally, like, conjoined at the hip.”

“We’re not in a fight exactly,” I say. I don’t really want to get into it with Anne and Mackenzie. “Sage’s probably just practicing piano in the band room. She’s very serious about her future. She’s trying to get into Juilliard.”

Anne pours soy sauce from a small container and shakes her head.

“Andrew said it has something to do with your blogs.”

When did Andrew become such a gossip? And why is Sage telling him about our fight?

Mackenzie grabs a piece of a California roll from Anne’s plate. “If you guys are in a fight, I bet that you didn’t hear that Sage got asked to the Pirate’s Booty Ball. I think she’s the first girl in our class to be asked.”

I drop my tuna-fish sandwich on my tray.

“What?”

“Yup. Andrew asked her last night, but she didn’t say yes, exactly, because she’s not sure if she’ll still be grounded by then.”

“Oh. Good for her,” I say, but I can’t force myself to smile. “She and Andrew have a lot in common.”

I’m trying to make it sound like I don’t care. But I do care. It’s Sage and I who have a lot in common. Or at least, we used to.

And it’s bad enough that Sage and I are in a fight, but it’s even worse that something actually important happened to her and I wasn’t the one she told. Getting asked to our first real dance is a huge deal, and we always go to each other first when something big happens.

“Andrew, like, practically begged me to ask you to get Sage to quit this whole blog thing, so she can go to the dance. He’s got it bad for her,” Mackenzie says. She frowns. “I wish a guy liked me like that.”

“Sage’s blog is up to Sage,” I say. “Please tell Andrew I don’t have any control over that.”

Which is true. Sage made it perfectly clear that she didn’t want anything to do with me right now.

The thought of talking about this anymore or eating the rest of my sandwich makes me feel queasy, so I get up, mutter an excuse, and spend the rest of lunch in the girls’ locker room, trying not to cry.

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