Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Planet Girl Page 2

  I thought about what she said. Maybe she was right. I had a history of trying to be the funniest, wackiest kid all the time. Maybe I tried a little too hard. Maybe Erica liked Timmy because he was just a typical kid. And Pete didn’t try to be obnoxious all the time—he just was obnoxious all the time. I guess Mareli liked that.

  I sighed.

  “Okay, fine. I guess I’ll check out a few pages.”

  Mrs. Reedy took the book, stamped a due date on it, and handed it back. I stared at it like it was a plate of fried slugs. Then I shoved it way in the bottom of my backpack, where no one could ever find it.

  Not even me.

  * * *

  A Communication Guide for Boys and Girls

  13

  It is more impressive to whisper wisdom than it is to shout nonsense.

  * * *

  Many young people today feel like they must raise their voices to be heard. That is the opposite of the truth. Children of good manners will respond in a more positive fashion to those who speak in a measured tone, who feel no need to shout, because they’re confident in the value of what they’re saying.

  Remember that the importance of what you’re saying is not reflected in the volume of your voice.

  * * *

  4

  I read a few pages of the book.

  Then I read a few more.

  Then a few more.

  Before I knew it, I’d read practically ten pages.

  Which, um, is a lot for me.

  Hey, don’t laugh. It’s not like it was the first time I’d ever read a book or anything. I read a book at camp about a guy named Lech Walesa, who led a revolution and became president of Poland. He was cool and had an amazing mustache.

  And I read The Giving Tree when I was about six. I loved that book. It was really, really short. And good! But mostly short.

  This book was different than those two, though. A Communication Guide for Boys and Girls was one of those “how to be a better person” books that grown-ups were always reading. I wasn’t really all that interested in how to be a better person, to be honest with you. I was completely satisfied with the person I was. Except for the girls thing.

  So there I was, in the way, way back of the library, trying to get through the second chapter—Shy Is Not a Dirty Word—when I felt someone breathing over my shoulder. I turned around, and Emory was standing there. Emory was the kid from California who had swooped in and asked Eliza Collins to go out with him, even though the new kid asking out the prettiest girl breaks pretty much every rule in the middle school handbook.

  The last thing I wanted was for him to see me reading a book on how to talk to girls—especially a chapter on shyness.

  I stuffed the book into my backpack.

  “What are you reading?” Emory asked.

  “Some boring book.”

  Emory raised his eyebrows. “I heard you don’t read any books. Ever.”

  “I don’t. This is … to win a bet.”

  “Dude, I don’t care if you read a whole library of books,” he said. “I got other things on my mind.”

  “Like what?”

  “Nah, I don’t want to bother you with it,” Emory said, even though he was pulling up a chair as he said it.

  “It’s cool.” I was happy to hear about another guy’s problems. It would probably make me feel a little better.

  “This Eliza thing … it’s freaking me out a little bit.”

  “Huh? What Eliza thing?”

  Emory sighed a long, stressed-out, it’s-hard-going-out-with-the-pretty-girl sigh. “Well, ever since we became boyfriend and girlfriend, it’s like she’s doing me this big favor,” he explained. “I have to agree with everything she says, I have to laugh at all her jokes even when they’re not that funny, she’s the one who decides when and where we hang out—it’s less like I’m her boyfriend and more like I’m her pet.”

  Pets! I immediately thought of Moose and Coco (my dogs) and how cute they were. But then I realized that they had nothing to do with this conversation.

  “Dude,” I said, trying to sound as California cool as possible. “That sounds like a major bummer.”

  “You know it, dude,” Emory said. He sounded way more California cool than me, which made sense, since he was actually from California. “I just wish I knew how to talk to her about it. Saying stuff to girls can be such a nightmare.”

  Hey, wait a second.

  “I know a thing or two about girls,” I said. “Maybe I can help you out.”

  Emory looked confused. “Huh?”

  “Hold on a second, I need to check something.”

  I turned my back on Emory, fished the book out of my backpack, flipped around until I found the page I was looking for, quickly scanned two paragraphs, then closed the book and put it back in my pack. All in about eighteen seconds.

  “Dude, what was that about?” Emory asked.

  “Oh, nothing.” Then, totally casually, I added, “You know, uh, maybe you should try just, like, talking directly to her. Sometimes it’s good to be direct with girls, even if it’s a hard subject.” I closed my eyes, trying to remember the rest. “And when you’re saying something they don’t want to hear, say it really calmly and quietly. That way, because you’re being so low-key about it, she’ll get defensive and start a fight.”

  Emory looked confused. “Huh?”

  Oooops.

  “I mean, won’t get defensive and start a fight.”

  “Hmm,” Emory said.

  “It’s true,” I said. “Remember—it’s more important to whisper wisdom than it is to shout nonsense.”

  Emory sat back in his chair and scratched his head for a while. Finally, he nodded.

  “Dude, you are one smart dude,” he said.

  “Thanks, dude,” I said.

  Emory fist-bumped me, California style, and walked away. On his way out, he passed another kid and said, “Hey, that Charlie Joe is one smart dude.”

  I smiled.

  Okay fine, I said to myself.

  Maybe I’ll read the rest of the book after all.

  * * *

  A Communication Guide for Boys and Girls

  21

  Spend as much time asking questions as you do answering them.

  * * *

  It is natural to be more interested in yourself than in anyone else. But you must always make an effort to pay attention to the person you’re talking to. Be curious about his or her life, ask questions about his or her daily activities, and show a real interest in his or her answers.

  Remember, you are having a CONVERSATION, not a MONOLOGUE.

  * * *

  5

  At lunch, I had my second customer.

  Big Phil Manning.

  “Hey, Phil,” I said, as he lumbered up to me. Phil was the strongest kid in our grade. He was voted “Most likely to become a mixed martial arts champion” in our yearbook. And the crazy thing was, he was going out with Celia Barbarossa, the fragile flute player who looked like she would lose a fight with a flower. But they’d happily been boyfriend and girlfriend for over two years, and we all assumed that we’d be going to their wedding some day.

  Which is why I almost spit out a fish stick when Phil said, “I got girl trouble.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “You heard me,” Phil said. When he plopped down next to me with a THUNK! I could swear I felt the entire cafeteria shift just a little bit. “Girl trouble.”

  “What kind of girl trouble?”

  “It’s a long story. But Emory said you were the guy to talk to.”

  I scanned the room looking for Emory, but he was nowhere to be found. I didn’t know whether to be mad or grateful. Sure, it was nice to be known as an expert on romance. But what if I gave Phil bad advice? It was entirely possible he’d pick me up and throw me like a football, all the way up to Canada.

  “Um, I don’t know about that,” I said. “But … uh … what’s the problem?”

  Phil was about to say
something when Pete and Timmy came up behind us and tossed their empty potato chip bags on my tray, for no other reason than to be annoying, which is as good a reason as any in middle school.

  “Hey, can you throw those out for us?” Pete said.

  “Yeah, that’d be sweet, Charlie Joe,” Timmy added.

  Phil stood up. “We’re having a private conversation,” he said, in his low voice.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen two middle school kids scurry away faster.

  Phil sat back down. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. So, Celia and me, we’re like really into each other, you know?”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “But…” Phil stopped and scrunched up his face, as if what he was about to say caused him intense pain. “I think that as I get older and school gets harder and with football and everything, I think that maybe having a girlfriend might be too much of a distraction, you know? But I don’t know if I should say anything to Celia.”

  “Huh,” I said, which is probably not what a certified romanticologist would say.

  As Phil stared at me—even his eyes had muscles—I broke out in a slight sweat. “So?” he pleaded. “What do you think?”

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Come on, Charlie Joe! I’ve been worrying about this for like, forever! You gotta help me!”

  Oh, jeez.

  I closed my eyes, trying to think. In my mind, I went over the most recent pages of the book that I’d read, searching for something that would help. Do I say the same thing to Phil that I said to Emory? Do I try to come up with something new? Do I—

  Suddenly I had it.

  “Well, Phil,” I said. “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that girls like to be treated as equals.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, if this is a concern of yours, it might also be a concern of hers.”

  Phil frowned. “Huh,” he said. “So what you’re saying is, I should ask her if she’s worried that I’m worried that having a girlfriend might get too distracting?”

  “No,” I said. “You should ask her if she’s worried that having a boyfriend will be too distracting for her.”

  Phil didn’t look too thrilled by that idea.

  “I doubt she is,” I said quickly. “But you never know. Just ask her. Then you can tell her that you’re a little nervous about it, and see what she says. You guys can figure it out for sure. Seriously, it’s no biggie. Once you talk about it you’ll be fine.”

  Phil nodded, and I leaned in for the big finish. “Remember,” I added thoughtfully, “it’s a conversation, not a monologue.”

  Phil stared at me for about ten seconds without blinking. “Holy moly, Emory was right,” he finally said. Then he slapped me on the back, which I was pretty sure would leave a mark. “You’re a genius, Charlie Joe, anyone ever tell you that?”

  “Not exactly, no.”

  “Well, you are. I gotta go find Celia.”

  He got up and left, which was my cue to leave, too. If Phil’s conversation with Celia didn’t go well, I sure as heck didn’t want to be there to find out.

  6

  It turned out I had nothing to worry about.

  Phil’s conversation with Celia went REALLY well.

  So did Emory’s conversation with Eliza.

  And the next thing I knew, I’d become the school’s go-to guy on every boy-girl problem that came up.

  It usually happened at lunch and recess; I’d be sitting there, minding my own business, when some kid would come up to me with that look in his eye: a combination of nervousness, embarrassment, and desperation.

  “Take a seat,” I’d say. And they would.

  Timmy started calling me “The Love Doctor.” He had a point. I should have opened an office and charged by the hour. I would have made way more money than I did with that whole dog-walking thing. (Don’t ask.)

  I had no idea there were so many different kinds of boy-girl problems in middle school! But the funny thing was, most of them had nothing to do with boys and girls who were actually boyfriend and girlfriend. Usually, it had to do with some guy who liked a girl but was too shy to say so; or sometimes, some kid had heard that a girl liked him, but he didn’t know how to tell the girl that he didn’t like her back. My advice to these people almost always boiled down to a simple sentence that was on page twenty-four of the book:

  A quick conversation is better than a lifetime of regret.

  They would nod thoughtfully, just like Phil did, and go try their luck at being honest.

  It was kind of fun being the school love guru, to tell you the truth. By the time I finished reading A Communication Guide for Boys and Girls a week later—hold your applause, please—it seemed like even the teachers were ready to ask me for dating advice. There was no romantic problem I couldn’t solve.

  Except one.

  7

  “Got a minute?”

  I was coming out of drama class, on my way to P.E. where I would be busy avoiding participating in gymnastics, when she cornered me.

  Hannah Spivero.

  Now, Hannah and I go way back. I first met her in kindergarten, but I didn’t actually develop a crush on her until, oh, let’s see … about two hours later. But the good news is, the crush didn’t last that long. Only about seven years.

  So yeah, let’s just say that I spent a lot of days, weeks, months, and years waiting for Hannah to come up to me and say, “Got a minute?”

  So when it actually happened, what did I say?

  “Not really.”

  She looked shocked, for good reason. “What do you mean, not really?”

  “I mean, if I’m not out on that balance beam in the next four minutes, Mr. Radonski is going to make me do laps for the next four hours.”

  Mr. Radonski, by the way, is the gym teacher. He makes marine drill sergeants look like yoga instructors.

  “This will only take a minute,” Hannah said.

  She seemed kind of upset. I weighed my options: Risk the wrath of Radonski, or leave the one-and-only Hannah Spivero standing there, looking sad.

  I decided to take my chances.

  “What’s up?”

  “It’s about Jake.”

  I should have known! Of course it was about Jake! The whole school was counting on me to solve their boy-girl problems, so why should Hannah be any different? Especially since Jake was one of my best friends, and she probably figured I could offer extra insight.

  I sighed, extra loudly. “What about him?”

  “I think he likes someone else,” Hannah said. Then she started to cry.

  I stopped sighing immediately. Whoa. This was big. This was potentially life-changing. For everyone involved.

  “That’s impossible,” I said. “Jake is like completely crazy about you.” A feeling I’m familiar with, I could have added, but didn’t.

  Hannah shook her head. “I thought so, too,” she said, sniffling. “But that was before this morning. I was waiting outside his math class, like I always do, but he didn’t come out. I figured maybe he was talking with Mr. Westfall, talking about some incredibly complicated theorem or something, you know, since he’s such a math genius. But then Mr. Westfall came out, too, and Jake was still in there. So I went inside, and he was sitting at his desk, writing something. He was concentrating so hard he didn’t even see me coming. So I went up to him and said, ‘Hi.’ He looked shocked and quickly put away what he was writing, but before he did, I could see a little bit of what he wrote.”

  “What did it say?”

  Hannah blew her nose.

  “‘I know you’re worried about Hannah, but please don’t be. I love you.’”

  Oooooof. That was bad.

  “Huh,” I said, trying to sound casual. “Did you ask him what it was?”

  Hannah choked out a laugh. “Are you kidding? I said I had to go, and I ran out of there. I didn’t want him to see me totally lose it.” She wiped her eyes and looked at her phone. “I’m sorry, Charlie Joe. I just though
t … you know, since you’re so good about this kind of stuff … you might have an idea about what I should do.”

  Now, call me crazy, but I was pretty sure there wasn’t anything in A Communication Guide for Boys and Girls about what to say to the girl that you’ve had a crush on for most of your life when she tells you that her boyfriend likes someone else. No wait—make that loves someone else.

  So I did what anyone in my situation would have done.

  I stalled.

  “Um … well, let me at least talk to Jake about it … I’m sure there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation … um … you’re like the greatest person in the world and so there’s no way that Jake doesn’t like you anymore … that’s crazy … you’re like the most awesome person in the world—”

  I stopped talking because I felt two arms suddenly wrap themselves around me.

  They were Hannah’s.

  “Oh, Charlie Joe,” she said. “You’ve always been so incredibly sweet to me. I know it’s been a little awkward for us over the last few years—”

  “That’s not true,” I interrupted, even though it totally was.

  “Well, either way,” Hannah said. “Thank you for being there for me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  She was still hugging me—actually, it was more like clinging to me—and I gently patted her on the back. We stayed like that for what seemed like a week, but was probably only about eight seconds. I had no idea what to do. Finally, she pulled away a little bit and looked up at me. Her eyes were wide and a little red. Then she smiled. It was like she was waiting for me to do something. Or, more like, she was giving me permission to do something.

  And I was pretty sure I knew what that something was.

  I thought for a second. If it was ever going to happen, this was probably the one chance I would get. And hey, I didn’t have a girlfriend, and her boyfriend was in love with someone else, so why not?