The Downside of Being Charlie by Jenny Torres Sanchez Read Free Book Online Page A

time.
    â€œHi,” she says.
    My God, she speaks. I’m unable to answer or make a sound.
    â€œSo, how much have I missed? Just got my schedule changed,” she says. Her voice makes my body pulse with adrenaline. She stares and I realize she’s waiting for an answer, but I can feel my throat closing up.
    My hand flies up in an attempt to dismiss the whole thing in a cool, “forget about it,” kind of way and I try to make a no-big-deal face, but as I’m doing it, I can feel that it somehow went very, very wrong. Most likely I look as if I’m constipated and swatting an imaginary fly. Nice.
    She laughs and says, “O-kay,” and then opens her notebook. She starts doodling as the teacher goes on about some play.
    I try to breathe normally, but it’s impossible. She must hear my heavy breathing. My whole body is very
aware that she’s sitting next to me. A whole school year sitting next to Charlotte VanderKleaton. And I don’t have to worry about squishing into the desk or excessive sweating or clothes being stuck in my fat rolls. I can sit here, not fat, next to Charlotte VanderKleaton and be normal, I think. I look at her again, and she smiles back.
    The bell rings, and I’m relieved because if it hadn’t rang at that precise moment, I would still be in awe of her complete and utter awesomeness. She gets up and walks out the door with the rest of the class. I try to recover.
    â€œDo you need something?” Mrs. C asks and I realize I’m the only student left in the room.
    â€œNo, thanks,” I tell her, gathering my stuff and tripping over my own feet on the way out.
    After class, I’m in such a good mood that I head toward my locker. I had avoided it all week. Since Ahmed basically screwed me for Janie and Katrina, I decided that carrying my books this year wouldn’t be so bad. But already my shoulders were sore and I knew I would eventually have to abort the plan. Why not now? After being in such close proximity of Charlotte, I feel like Hercules: invincible, and ready to conquer the three-headed hound of Hades known as Tanya Bate.
    Even from down the hall, I can see Tanya’s fuzzy head as she shoves books into our locker. I stop for a minute, waiting for her to leave, but Tanya takes her sweet-ass time, so I head over to her.
    â€œCan I help you?” she asks, giving me a dirty look when I stop in front of our locker.
    â€œI, uh, this is my locker, too,” I tell her.

    She surveys me, her big owl eyes taking me in from top to bottom. Was she serious? Was she actually sizing me up?
    â€œSo,” she says finally, “you decided to bite the bullet and show up. What? Do I scare you?” She opens her eyes wider and wider until, in fact, she does look pretty scary, since her superthick glasses already make her eyes look huge.
    â€œNo, I just . . .”
    â€œYeah, yeah, save it, chump. I know. Books get heavy. I hear it every year. Anyway, just don’t get in my way and I won’t get in yours and we’ll get along fine. Don’t worry, it’s not like we’re gonna be friends or anything. I know you have your precious social life to worry about, what with your new makeover and everything,” she says looking me up and down.
    I feel weird and people turn and look at us, making me wish I could crawl into a hole and hide. I feel like reminding everyone that we don’t get to choose our locker partners.
    â€œSshhh,” I hiss, hoping she will lower her voice.
    â€œAnd don’t expect these kinds of pleasantries in the future,” she goes on, “I do have things to do and places to be.” Oh man, this girl is a total freak.
    â€œSee you whenever,” she says and slams the locker shut, even though it’s obvious that I have to use it. She whips her frizzy hair in my face as she turns to leave. It brushes up against my mouth. I gag.
    Once I recover, I open the locker again only to find