When You Reach Me

Things You Beg For

As soon as Alice went into the bathroom, I ran down the hall toward the office. There were so many things I wanted to do but couldn’t, like hug my mom, or be less jealous of Annemarie, and I didn’t want this to become one of them. But I had to work fast.

“Miranda?” Wheelie looked up at me doubtfully. “Aren’t you supposed to be in assembly?”

“Yes, I am in assembly—I mean, I was, and I’m going right back. Alice is in the bathroom. Can I have a piece of paper?”

“No, ma’am! I don’t have paper to be just giving away.”

“Please—just a little piece. A corner of a piece!” If I didn’t do this now, I never would.

Wheelie sighed. Then, still in her chair, she kicked her way over to the next desk, where there was one of those pink message pads. She ripped off the top sheet, folded it, folded it again, and then carefully ripped the paper along the first fold, and then along the second fold. “Hurry,” my brain said. “Hurry.”

“Here.” She held out a quarter of a pink message slip and looked at me with a face that said “I hope you won’t be coming around here looking for another handout anytime soon.”

I picked up a pen from the counter and scribbled on the little pink square.

“I thought you left me.” Alice was standing in front of the bathroom looking all wounded.

“Me?” I said. “No way.”

She smiled. People seemed to like the new me.

We squeezed back into our row past Colin and Jay Stringer, who whispered and laughed again. Annemarie leaned forward and gave me a where-were-you shrug. I mouthed “Bathroom,” and she nodded and settled back again.

I folded my pink square a couple of times. Then I leaned forward and dropped the note into Julia’s lap. I hadn’t had much time—it was just the one word: TRUCE.

And underneath I’d written my phone number.