Jessica Darling''s It List

  “You worked together as a team,” Coach Fleet said with tears in her eyes, “and you won together as a team!”

  It was awesome. Now I kind of understand why sports are such a big thing.

  And both parents were superproud of me, but my dad was particularly impressed.

  “Who knew there was a jock inside you?” he joked, throwing a towel over my head.

  Who knew? Not me, that’s for sure.

  My parents dropped me off at home so I could shower while they picked up paperwork (Mom) and a pizza (Dad).

  With both of them out of the house, I should have expected a visitor.

  “Heeeeey, sis!”

  Yep. That’s when my sister decided to show up for the first time since the last time I saw her. You know, when she told me I’d made the CHEER TEAM!!! and I lied to her about liking Burke Roy, which led to all the awkwardness with Bridget we couldn’t talk about.

  Honestly? I didn’t want to talk about it with Bethany either. Besides, she appeared to be in no condition to have such a heart-to-heart anyway. Despite her cheery greeting, Bethany was downright frazzled. I mean, she had left the sorority house without applying eyeliner.

  I answered her question before she even asked it.

  “I have it!”

  “You have it.”

  “The award letter from school! It arrived.”

  “WHERE IS IT?”

  I told her I’d put it in her top drawer. Now, I’m pretty fast, but my sister was even faster. She’d already torn open the envelope when I crossed the threshold to her room. I expected her face to be flushed with excitement or that she’d be doing a victory dance around the room. Instead, her face was green and she clutched her stomach like she was about to barf.

  “It’s official,” she said, dropping the letter to the floor. “My life’s a mess!”

  “What? I don’t… understand.”

  Something was very, very wrong here.

  I cautiously bent over to pick up the letter. It was addressed to my parents and basically said this: Your daughter is failing out of school. And you owe us money.

  “Whoa! What kind of award is this?”

  I was obviously still confused.

  “It’s not an award! I lied about the award!”

  The truth still hadn’t sunk in yet. I reread the letter.

  “You’re failing your classes?”

  “I’m failing LIFE.”

  And that’s when my popular, pretty, and perfect older sister totally and completely lost it.

  “I’m on academic PROBATION and PROHIBITED from fulfilling my duties as CHEER CHAIR for my SORORITY and my BOYFRIEND BROKE UP WITH ME and I can’t BORROW HIS CAR anymore to get to my STUPID JOB selling clothes at CHIC BOUTIQUE that expects me to wear only CHIC BOUTIQUE BRANDS even though they’re only paying me, like, BARELY ABOVE MINIMUM WAGE and I’ve MAXED OUT my credit cards BUYING CHIC BOUTIQUE BRANDS that I was supposed to use to buy BOOKS for all the CLASSES I’m FAILING.”

  I edited all the sobs and snorts and other scary noises that came out of my sister throughout this monologue. Why add insult to injury? She was breathing really hard at the end of this rant, like I do after Coach makes us run repeats up and down Killer Hill at cross-country practice.

  I really don’t have an opinion on Bethany’s breakup because I know nothing about boyfriend-and-girlfriend business. But it seems to me that Bethany liked the boyfriend’s car more than the actual boyfriend and she’ll get over her heartbreak soon enough.

  As for everything else, I could have said something like, “Hey, if you’d spent your money on books and not clothes, gone to class instead of shopping, put in more time as a student and less time as sorority cheer chair—whatever that even is—then, I don’t know, maybe you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

  Then I remembered what Mr. Pudel said to Aleck—I mean, Marcus Flutie… oh, you know who I’m talking about!—about his “epic” toothpick: Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.

  So I didn’t say any of that. But I didn’t know what to say or do so I did something I can’t ever remember doing before.

  I hugged her.

  And Bethany cried into my shoulder for a very long time. I didn’t even mind that she was getting my cross-country uniform all slobbery.

  After who knows how long, she finally let go of me. She wiped her eyes and said, “I needed that.” Followed by, “I’m soooooo sorry.” And another hug.

  “Oh, that’s okay,” I said, patting her back. “It’s just a little snot. My uniform was already all gross and sweaty anyway.”

  “Not the snot!” Bethany laughed, reeling back. “I’m sorry about the IT List. I should have never given it to you.”

  And then I finally posed the question I’d wanted to ask ever since my sister showed up on the last day of summer before seventh grade TO MESS WITH MY HEAD.

  “Why did you give it to me?” I asked. “I mean, you never showed that much interest in me before. Why now?”

  My sister lowered her gaze before replying.

  “I thought it was to help you,” she said quietly. “But now I think I gave it to you to help myself.”

  And then I gave her this look like I totally understood what she was talking about when I absolutely did not understand what she was talking about. My actress face must not have been too convincing because she went on.

  “Here’s the thing, Jessie. The last time I had it all figured out was back in junior high. I had all the answers to everything! And now it’s like I don’t have the answers to anything! I guess I wanted to recapture that all-knowingness.…”

  Her voice trailed off.

  “Through me?” I asked.

  She nodded grimly. “And I couldn’t even do that right! The IT List totally backfired and now you’re an even bigger loser than I am! You’re still wearing those grungy T-shirts! Sherri told me you quit the CHEER TEAM!!! No wonder you don’t have a boyfriend yet and can’t get into the IT clique!”

  I was about to pat her back again in sympathetic agreement when I stopped myself short.

  Wait.

  Hold on a second.

  How am I an even bigger loser than she is?

  I’m not a loser! Okay, so I’m not a fashion diva cheerleader with the hottest boyfriend and the coolest clique. I’m not the most popular, the prettiest, or anywhere near achieving perfection. And despite my total failure to make good on any of Bethany’s rules, and the fact that my best friend was maybe not my best friend anymore, I’m way more happy than not happy about seventh grade so far. Doesn’t that satisfaction count for something? If not everything?

  Bethany’s eyes were all wide and weepy, so I knew I had to speak up. And fast. I don’t know how much more mucus my shirt could absorb.

  “Bethany, the IT List totally worked!”

  My sister rolled her eyes. “Jessie! I may be failing all my classes, but I’ve made it to enough Image Marketing and Management classes to know that you are trying to put a positive spin on things!”

  “I’m not!” I argued. “I swear! If it hadn’t been for the IT List I wouldn’t be who I am right now!”

  My sister paused before asking, “And who are you right now?”

  I thought about it for a second. And in the silence I flashed back:

  Mr. Pudel: Whooooo are you? Doot doot. Doot doot.

  The pep rally crowd: Whooooo are yooooooou?

  My ex-ex–best friend: I don’t know who you are anymore.

  Who am I? I’m Jessica Darling, seventh grader at Pineville Junior High School. Retired mascot. Up-and-coming cross-country star. Future I-don’t-know-what.

  “Jessie?” My sister was still waiting for an answer.

  “I’m still figuring out who I am,” I said, “but I’m happy.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  (Bonus!)

  It would have been awesome to stop right there, huh? But the truth is, life never ties itself up with a sweet little ending like that.

 
Because after that little epiphany my mom came home all pleased with herself about closing a deal on a pricy property and my dad came home with pizza and I promised Bethany I wouldn’t say anything about the failing-out-of-school letter and convinced her to stay and eat with us because—duh!—FREE FOOD and she’s broke and it would be nice for all of us to be a family for a while.

  “All together again!” My mother seriously looked like she was about to cry.

  My dad raised his water glass. “To my darling Darlings!”

  And even though it was totally corny, Bethany and I—his darling Darlings—toasted him right back.

  So we all ate pizza together; even my mom ate a slice along with her salad, which is, like, unheard of. My parents were already in such great moods and so happy to actually see Bethany in person that they seemed to totally forget about how much she’s been stressing them out lately, which was good because they have no clue just how much more she’s going to stress them out with her news of failing out of school. Whenever she decides to break that news, that is. She didn’t tell them then because my parents were too busy asking all about me and my life, and I could tell that Bethany was relieved to have all eyes focused on someone else for a change.

  Anyway, so I talked about how I’m catching up to the Sampson twins and how I’m not worried about failing Woodshop anymore and positive stuff like that. Eventually my parents went to the kitchen to clean up, and I got around to telling Bethany how I was still friends with Bridget, but I wasn’t sure if we were best friends anymore because her new best friend might be our old best friend, Dori, and how that left me with my G&T friends, Hope, Manda, and Sara, and how I wasn’t sure I even liked Manda or Sara, but they kind of came as a package with Hope because they all came from the same elementary school and how it’s funny that I like Hope a lot now even though I didn’t like her when I first met her and… ACK.

  Double ACK.

  “Is it impossible for old elementary-school friends and new junior-high friends to all get along as just, you know, friends?”

  “That can definitely be tough in seventh grade,” Bethany said, blotting her pizza grease with a paper towel. “I actually have something—”

  Then she stopped herself and took a huge bite out of her slice as if to shut herself up.

  “What?” I was suddenly dying to hear what she obviously didn’t want to say.

  And then she said something that sounded like “nutter illest,” and I said “what?” and she said “nutter illest” again, which I have since decided would totally be my rapper name if I ever took up Padma’s offer to join her crew. YO! NUTTER ILLEST IN DA HOUSE.

  But I digress.

  Bethany swallowed, took a sip of diet soda, then answered in a low voice.

  “Another IT List.”

  “Another IT List? How many did you make?”

  Bethany smiled cryptically. “More than one.”

  “What’s the next one called?”

  Bethany looked behind her to make sure our parents were still busy in the kitchen. Then she leaned in and whispered.

  “IT List Number Two: The Guaranteed Guide to Friends, Foes & Faux Friends.”

  WHAT? With all the tension between my old friends and my new friends that only sounded like THE EXACT THING I NEEDED.

  “Where is it? Can I see it?”

  Bethany’s smile faded. “You really want to see it?”

  I could hardly blame Bethany’s reservation. The way she saw it, I failed miserably at making good on IT List #1. But I meant what I said earlier about how I wouldn’t be who I am right now if she hadn’t MESSED WITH MY HEAD. Bethany’s “wisdom” forced me outside my comfort zone in a good way. I discovered parts of myself—runner, spoon maker, secret keeper—that I maybe wouldn’t have found otherwise. For me, being popular, pretty, and perfect wasn’t the point anymore. I don’t think it ever really was. I just wanted to make it through the rest of junior high as me.

  Whoever I am.

  As bizarre as it sounded, my sister’s IT List may be just the thing to help me achieve ultimate me-ness. In my totally screwed-up way, of course.

  “Are you sure you want to see it?” Bethany repeated. “After what happened last time?”

  “Are you kidding?” I sprung from my chair like a sprinter out of the starting blocks. “I want to see it because of what happened last time!”

  And I can’t wait to find out what will happen to me next.

  For more great reads and free samplers, visit

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  Turn the page for a sneak peek!

  Coming September 2014

  Chapter One

  Is it impossible for old elementary-school friends and new junior-high friends to all get along as just, you know, friends?

  Good or bad, that’s what I’m about to find out.

  Lately my friends have been stirring up more drama than I can handle. This is really saying something because my first month of seventh grade was a doozy. Let’s see. I went out for the CHEER TEAM!!! and face-planted with a SPLAT! when I tried—and failed—to do a simple cartwheel. DRAMA. I nearly lost a finger making an ugly spoon in Woodshop—a class I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE IN taught by a singing giant straight out of Harry Potter. More DRAMA. And how could I forget the time I dressed up as Mighty the Seagull—the Official Pineville Junior High School Mascot—and shook my red-white-and-blue-feathered booty in front of the entire school? Everyone thought I was a crazy chicken. Well, except a ginormous lovesick goose who mistook me for his new girlfriend and chased me all over the football field until I smashed beak-first into the goalpost.

  DRAMA. DRAMA. And more DRAMA.

  All of which could be traced back to the IT List my big sister gave me the day before the start of seventh grade.

  My sister, Bethany, isn’t exactly rocking her fifth year of college—um, especially since she failed all her classes and may not technically be a student anymore—but she ruled school when she was my age. She was always the center of attention and never had a shortage of friends and boyfriends. Her classmates considered her such an expert on all things awesome that they persuaded her to put that wisdom into writing “Bethany Darling’s IT List: The Guaranteed Guide to Popularity, Prettiness & Perfection.” No big sister was more qualified to share secrets of social success. And no little sister was less qualified to follow them.

  And yet tonight at dinner when I happened to mention that I was having some issues with my friends—okay, I was ranting about how they were totally driving me crazy—Bethany casually let it slip that she had another IT List that could solve all my girl drama.

  And I was like, “WAIT. WHAT? WHOA! I MUST HAVE THAT NEXT LIST!”

  “You’re sure you want it?” Bethany asked skeptically. “After what happened last time?”

  Or, rather, after what didn’t happen. Despite the “Guaranteed” promise in the title, I haven’t become popular, pretty, or anywhere near perfect. From Bethany’s point of view, I’d taken all the right advice in all the wrong directions.

  I, however, saw it differently.

  “Are you kidding?” I replied. “I want to see it because of what happened last time.”

  A slow smile spread across Bethany’s face.

  “Okay,” she said assertively. “Let me get it. It’s in my bedroom.”

  Bethany excused herself from the dining room, and I could hardly contain myself in her absence. See, here’s the thing about DRAMA: As painful as it can be sometimes, it certainly makes life more interesting. When I think about what seventh grade would have been like without the first IT List, I get kind of drowsy, and the next thing I know I’m ZZZZZZZ.

  In other words: BORING.

  A BAZILLION MINUTES LATER, Bethany breezed back in with an envelope in her hand. The second IT List!

  “Are you suuuure you’re in?” she asked teasingly.

  “I’m in!” I promised. “I’m so in.”

  “In what?” asked my parents in the way that only my parents can.
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  I hadn’t even noticed that they had finished cleaning up in the kitchen and were lurking in the doorway. My mom and dad are expert lurkers.

  “In…” I stammered. “In… um…”

  My sister shot me a warning look. Bethany wants to keep the IT Lists just between us. Maybe she’s waiting until I’m confidently perched at the tippy-top of the social ladder before taking credit as the mastermind behind my meteoric rise from Not to Hot. Perhaps she doesn’t want our parents blaming her for any subsequent face-breaking visits to the nurse’s office. Who knows what’s happening underneath that mane of glossy blond hair? With a ten-year gap between us, Bethany and I have had few opportunities to bond over sister-to-sister stuff. I’m more than happy to comply with her rules if it means she won’t go back to forgetting that I exist.

  “She’s in with the in crowd,” my sister clarified for me. “The IT clique.”

  Mom’s eyes lit up. Dad’s eyebrows shot up.

  “Really!” said Mom.

  “Really?” asked Dad.

  “Really,” confirmed my sister.

  I thought, No, not really.

  Then I considered how I had two friends on the elite CHEER TEAM!!! and two more friends on the super-duper-exclusive Spirit Squad and thought again.

  Well, sort of.

  I’ve noticed the way other girls in our grade pass our lunch table and look at us with something like envy because we sit in a totally up-and-coming part of the cafeteria surrounded by Hots.

  Maybe?

  “If she isn’t already,” Bethany said as she handed over the envelope, “she will be.”

  Then she blew kisses at all of us, said her good-byes, and dashed out the door. Bethany loves dramatic entrances and exits. She excels at them.

  “What did she give you, Jessie?”

  Mom craned her neck to see for herself. I instinctively tucked the IT List into the pouch of my sweatshirt. I needed to be as overprotective as a mama kangaroo.