Charlie Joe Jackson's Guide to Planet Girl Read online

  I closed my eyes, and the next thing I knew, I kissed her. I think it might have even lasted like six seconds.

  Seven years of waiting, for six seconds of heaven. It was totally worth it!

  Until everything else happened.

  8

  About two seconds into my six-second kiss with Hannah Spivero, I thought I heard the door open. I decided to ignore it.

  First mistake.

  At the four-second mark, I heard a backpack rustle. Then, at six seconds, an incredibly familiar voice:

  “Oh, sorry! I didn’t realize anyone was in here.”

  I turned my head and saw her.

  Katie Friedman.

  She looked—well, what’s the word that describes shock times ten?

  Hannah and I immediately stopped kissing and stared at Katie. She stared back. No one moved.

  Finally, Hannah whispered, “I’m really sorry,” and ran out of the room.

  That left the two of us. I decided I had to say something.

  I went with, “Katie.”

  She suddenly looked at the ground. “Charlie Joe, you don’t have to say anything. I know how long you’ve liked Hannah. That’s great. Although isn’t she still going out with Jake?”

  “That’s just it,” I mumbled. “He’s … um … it’s complicated.”

  “Well, it’s none of my business!” Katie said brightly. “I’m really happy for you! Well, I have to go.”

  “Katie, wait.”

  But she didn’t wait. She bent down to pick up her backpack, and as she stood up, her eyes locked on mine.

  “Katie,” I said, for the third time in thirty seconds.

  “See you, Charlie Joe.” And she was gone.

  As I watched her go, my heart did a weird little somersault. And that was the moment I realized something I’d probably known for a long time but hadn’t been able to fully admit—to myself, or anyone else.

  The girl I was crazy about wasn’t Hannah Spivero after all.

  It was Katie Friedman.

  9

  I stood there alone with my thoughts for about ten more seconds, until I did the only thing that was left to do.

  Go to gym.

  I was late, of course. Mr. Radonski looked furious. He also looked delighted that he was able to direct that fury at me.

  “JACKSON!”

  “Yes, Mr. Radonski?”

  “This is inexcusable!”

  “I know, Mr. Radonski. I’m really sorry.”

  “REALLY SORRY DOESN’T CUT IT! DO FOUR LAPS!”

  I was actually relieved, because four laps around the gym is a lot better than trying to do the parallel bars, if you ask me.

  I was just getting started when I saw Jake out of the corner of my eye. At first I felt a little nervous seeing him, since I’d kissed his girlfriend. Then I remembered he’d broken his girlfriend’s heart. He was the one who should be nervous.

  “Jake?”

  He was staring at the ground, like he was either trying to do a cartwheel or looking for a dropped contact lens. He looked up and squinted, which is when I realized it was the dropped-contact-lens option.

  “Oh, hey, Charlie Joe.”

  “Run with me for a minute, I want to ask you something.”

  “I can’t! I’m supposed to be doing cartwheels.”

  Wait a second. Was he doing cartwheels or looking for his contact lens? I decided not to care.

  “Radonski is way over there. Come on, I have something important to ask you.”

  Jake thought for a second, then apparently decided that doing a half-decent cartwheel was a lost cause. He shrugged and started jogging along. We were both out of breath after about eight steps. Pathetic, I know.

  “What did you … want to ask me…”

  “Well … it’s about … Hannah…”

  Jake stopped. So I stopped.

  “What about her?”

  I pulled Jake underneath the rings. We looked up and saw Eliza Collins hanging upside down, her long blond hair dangling so low we could practically touch it. She looked very graceful. Also, very brave. I’m scared of heights so I got a doctor’s note that dismissed me from rings. Doctor’s notes really work! You should try it sometime.

  “What about Hannah?” Jake repeated.

  “Um…” I wasn’t quite sure how to bring it up. “She … uh … said you were writing some note or something at the end of math today?”

  Jake suddenly looked incredibly embarrassed. Wow. So it was true! He really DID like another girl!

  “She saw that?”

  I nodded. “Yup.”

  “Oh, man,” Jake said. “I really didn’t want her to see that. She’s going to give me such a hard time.”

  “Ya think?” I snorted. “That’s like, the understatement of the year. What were you thinking?”

  “It’s not that bad,” Jake said. “A lot of kids do it.”

  “No they don’t!”

  “Well,” Jake said, shaking his head, “then they should. And I’m not going to feel bad just because I did.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Who was this kid? Was he a body snatcher? What happened to the nice, respectful, responsible, in-love-with-Hannah Jake Katz that I knew?

  “I can’t believe what you’re saying,” I said, finally.

  Jake turned, his eyes blazing, and whacked me on the shoulder. “Seriously, Charlie Joe? You’re going to make me feel bad? I know everyone thinks she’s a little crazy and obnoxious, and she thinks that Hannah and I are way too young to be boyfriend and girlfriend, but so what! She still deserves a birthday card! She’s my mom! And I love her and want to tell her what a great mom she is! SO SUE ME!”

  Uh-oh.

  I stared in shock. “Your MOM?!”

  “Yes! Now just leave me alone!”

  As Jake ran off, I thought about the fact that I’d just kissed my friend’s girlfriend, and all he’d done was tell his mother he loved her.

  I suddenly felt about zero feet tall.

  How was I able to give everyone else such great advice but still manage to get myself in a huge mess?

  The good news was that Mr. Radonski gave me ten more laps to think about it.

  10

  Hey Katie

  Katie are you there?

  Why aren’t you returning any of my texts?

  Are you mad at me?

  If you’re mad I’d rather you just said so

  Fine be that way

  11

  Okay, so texting wasn’t getting me anywhere.

  I waited for Katie after school by the blacktop, before the buses (or the moms) came.

  When she saw me, she stopped in her tracks for one quick second, then smiled and kept walking toward me.

  “Hey, Charlie Joe!” she said. Her voice was bright, but her eyes were far away.

  “Hey.”

  She looked past me. “Um, I’m kind of in a rush, I’ve got rehearsal today and stuff…”

  She was talking about her band, CHICKMATE—they are really good.

  “Do you guys have a gig coming up?”

  She kind of laughed a little. “Since when are you interested in my music career, Charlie Joe?”

  “Since always!”

  “Yeah, right.”

  She looked like she really wanted to go, so I got right to the point.

  “I’ve been texting you.”

  Katie made sure her eyes landed anywhere but on my face. “You were? Yeah, um, well, you know I’m not that into texting.” It’s true, she wasn’t. In fact, earlier in the year, she convinced a bunch of other kids to give up their phones for a whole week just to see if they could do it. Needless to say, I didn’t participate.

  “Oh, okay,” I said. “I just … wanted to, you know, say hi.”

  “We’re not supposed to have our phones on in class … so, yeah … well, I gotta go.”

  I gave up, and said nothing. She started to leave, then turned back.

  “Tell Moose and Coco I say hi,” she said. “Giv
e them a kiss for me.”

  Katie had always loved my dogs, which made me feel just a tiny, tiny bit better.

  At least she still liked someone in my family.

  12

  You know what the great thing about dogs is? They don’t judge. They don’t blame. They don’t yell, or pretend to be nice to you when they’re really, really mad at you. They just love you. (As long as you feed them delicious treats.)

  Which is why Moose and Coco were both dining on small pieces of sausage while I was telling them the whole story.

  “And I felt like such a jerk,” I was saying, “standing there, kissing Hannah, when Katie was the one I really liked all along! Can you believe that, you guys?”

  They looked up at me, chomping away. They didn’t say anything, but I could tell they totally understood.

  I was about to get them a few crackers to top off their midday snack when my mom and Megan got home.

  “Stop feeding the dogs human food,” Megan said. “They’re going to get spoiled and fat.”

  “You’re going to get spoiled and fat,” I answered.

  “That’s enough, you two,” said my mom. It was her goal in life to make sure Megan and I treated each other with complete love and respect twenty-four hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year. Gotta love moms.

  “Where were you guys?” I asked. Usually I kind of liked it when no one was home, but today, I felt like I wanted some company.

  “Ugh,” Megan said.

  “SAT prep,” my mom clarified.

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Like I said, ugh.”

  “Yikes,” I added.

  As impossible as it seemed, Megan was getting started on the whole college process. That meant tests, applications, essays, interviews, and most of all, pressure.

  I’m in no rush for any of that stuff. No rush at all.

  “What are you doing home?” my mom asked me. “Weren’t you supposed to go to Jake’s house after school today?”

  She was right, I was. But after our conversation during gym, I realized I didn’t really deserve to be his friend right then. I’d kissed his girlfriend! And all he’d done wrong was tell his mom that he loved her.

  So I’d told Jake at the end of school that I wasn’t feeling well.

  “Jake forgot he had to do something,” I lied to my mom.

  As soon as my mom walked away, I texted Hannah.

  Hey I looked for you after school. I need to tell you the deal with Jake!

  Two seconds later, I got a text back.

  Jake and I talked, he told me everything! Then I told him what happened.

  Gulp.

  Was he mad? I texted back.

  He was at first but now everything’s fine. Stupid misunderstanding! Sorry about today. I hope you’re okay. Thanks again for listening.

  I texted back.

  Okay.

  I left out the part about realizing how I liked Katie and then messed it up forever, at exactly the same time.

  After cereal, I played a few video games by myself, but that wasn’t much fun, so I went up to my room. I lay down on the bed, trying to figure out what to do next—not just that day, but with my life—when I glanced over and saw the book lying there on the night table.

  A Communication Guide for Boys and Girls.

  Communicating with girls is overrated, I said to myself. But I picked up the book anyway and opened to a random page. The first words I saw were these:

  You will never know the answer, if you don’t ask the question.

  And that’s when I made the decision.

  I was going to do exactly that.

  I was going to tell Katie everything.

  * * *

  A Communication Guide for Boys and Girls

  37

  Be direct!

  * * *

  Many children find it hard to communicate directly with members of the opposite sex. Because of nerves, or fear of rejection, they prefer to connect by other means: through other people, perhaps, or by passing notes.

  This is not productive.

  If you want to pursue a friendship with a boy or girl, or even possibly a romantic relationship, the proper way to act is by asking directly. He or she will have no choice but to answer in a similarly direct fashion, and you will have established a pattern of honesty and respect.

  Do not be afraid.

  Remember:

  You will never know the answer, if you don’t ask the question.

  * * *

  Part Two

  PERSONAL HEROES

  13

  So guess what? Once people found out that I was writing this book on girls, I started getting a lot of phone calls. It turns out that everyone thinks they’re some kind of expert on romance, and, of course, they all want to put their two cents in. So, just to get them off my back, I agreed to let some people offer their own advice on romance. Don’t worry, I gave them very strict rules—the first of which was, be quick about it. Anyway, you’ll see them scattered throughout this book. Do me a favor and read them. If you don’t, I’ll never hear the end of it.

  Timmy McGibney’s Guide to Romance

  TWO WORDS: HAIR GEL

  To me, there’s one thing that’s more important than anything else if you want to be irresistible to the ladies.

  The hair’s gotta be working.

  For me, it’s all about the hair gel. Throw a little on in the morning, make the hair a little spiky to show a little confidence, and then you’re ready to roll. Think about the attitude. If you treat yourself like the real deal, that’s how the girls will treat you, too.

  And if that doesn’t work, then just buy them stuff.

  14

  “Hey, Katie. Listen, I have something I have to say to you. I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a long time. You know how I liked Hannah, like, forever? And then, I liked Zoe, but she moved away? And you know how I used to talk about all that stuff with you, and you were so nice and helpful about it? And you know how then you went out with Nareem, and that was great, but then you decided that maybe you didn’t like him that way anymore? Well, guess what? I think I know why I don’t have a girlfriend and you don’t have a boyfriend. I think it’s because maybe deep down, we both know the truth. We both know what’s really happening here. Don’t you agree?”

  I waited for the answer for a long time, but none came.

  Maybe that’s because mirrors can’t talk.

  * * *

  That’s right, I was talking to the mirror.

  What? You expected me to just waltz over to her house and sweep her off her feet, like in some movie?

  Well, sorry. Real life doesn’t work that way.

  So, yeah, I was in the bathroom, practicing. I was planning on talking to Katie in school the next morning, and I wanted to be prepared. I figured I had only one shot at this thing, and I didn’t want to blow it.

  I was halfway through my third rehearsal when there was a knock on the door.

  More like a bang, actually.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  “What are you doing in there?” Megan yelled from outside. “I need to get my hairbrush!”

  “One minute,” I yelled.

  “I’ll give you three seconds,” she said, and she wasn’t exaggerating. Three seconds later, more banging.

  “Fine!”

  I opened the door, and she ran in, grabbed the brush, and ran out.

  “What’s your problem?” I shouted after her.

  “You are!” she shouted back.

  I followed her back into her room, where at least seven books were spread out in front of her.

  “Seriously, what is your problem?”

  “Finals,” she said, typing on her laptop with one hand and combing her hair with the other. “Finals are my problem.”

  Whenever my sister gets nervous she combs her hair, and finals—short for final exams—make everyone nervous. Even my incredibly smart sister. I think it might be the most dreaded word in all of high school.


  In any case, a room with seven books spread out in it was no place for a person like me. I started to leave quietly.

  “Charlie Joe, you have no idea how lucky you are.”

  Right that minute, I wasn’t feeling all that lucky. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean,” Megan said, “that you’re still a kid. You don’t have to worry about any of this stuff. Finals, colleges, school. I mean, think about it. Your grades don’t even count!”

  That stopped me in my tracks. My grades don’t count? How could that be possible? My parents had been after me to get good grades since before I was born.

  “Hold on a second. What are you talking about?”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows that they don’t start keeping track of your GPA until high school.”

  “Who’s ‘they’? And what’s a GPA?”

  “‘They’ are the colleges. And ‘GPA’ stands for grade point average. Why do you think I’m killing myself with all this stuff? Colleges are all about your GPA and test scores. But none of that matters for you.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re not in high school yet!” Megan snapped. “All I can say is, enjoy your little middle school life with your little middle school problems while you still can.”

  I wanted to get out of there before she got so stressed out she threw her hairbrush at me, but I had to make sure I heard her correctly. “Wait a second. You mean, because I’m in middle school, my grades don’t matter at all in terms of college and stuff?”

  She nodded jealously. “Yup, you little worm. You can get A’s or C’s—it’s all the same.”

  Wow! Things were definitely looking up.

  Then she sighed and pointed at her huge pile of books. “But don’t worry, my little friend—someday soon, all this will be yours.”

  She picked up a book and started to read, which was my cue to leave.