The Friendship Matchmaker (3 page)

If it was a bestselling book about, say, vampires or fairies (which were on my List of Acceptable Books to Read in Public), I might have said okay. But it was a book about surviving in the wilderness. That was downright
crazy
. It would kill any hopes Emily had of fitting in and being liked.

The more I thought about it, the more worked up I got. It couldn’t be helped that I was a very kind person. I took my role as Potts County Middle School’s official Friendship Matchmaker
very
seriously. It was my duty to guide people, even ones who seemed to insist on being weird and different. On being
individuals
. That was a ticket to being a TL for the rest of your school life.

Emily needed me. Desperately.

Except the next day, before I could offer my
services, something weird happened that made me think she was beyond help. I’d dealt with all types. I was multiskilled. All kids just want to fit in.

But Emily seemed to be in a world of her own.

At lunchtime she sat at the bench near the lunch line with a big poster propped against the wall. It read:

ATTENTION!

Help raise money

for trampolines on the playground!

Don’t use your allowance

to buy candy or juice;

donate your money to this great cause.

We want trampolines!

They will keep us healthy and maintain

the size of our jeans!

We’ll forget computer games and

sitting on our butts!

Because we’ll be too busy jumping

and having fun!

Only dollar bills accepted (or we’ll be in

high school by the time we can afford them).

I approached Emily as several kids gathered and deposited their bills in the money box she was holding.

“Can you imagine how cool recess and lunchtime would be if we got some of those super trampolines?” she was saying. “And the teachers can’t say it’s unsafe with the nets they have now. We could have jumping competitions. I’d kick your butts! I’m excellent and my somersaults rock!”

The kids were cheering, and fighting to put their money in the box first.

When Emily saw me she flashed a smile and pointed to her poster.

“Want to donate?” she asked and made a loud pop with her chewing gum.

I was amazed and actually a little impressed. It took guts to have an opinion or get behind a cause at any time, let alone in the second week at a new school. Most kids, the kids who came to me for my top-quality help, would never dream of trying to stand out. But here was Emily, wearing rainbow tights and yelling at
kids in the line to skip a meal and donate their money to her cause.

I stepped toward her and put two dollars in the money box. As Friendship Matchmaker, I have a responsibility to be kind to everybody, as troubled and disturbed as they might be.

“Thanks!” She beamed at me.

Then she raised her hands in front of my face. “Look, no nail polish today,” she said with a grin. “Just Wite-Out. That’s how I was able to draw the smiley faces. It dries and isn’t as slippery as nail polish. Cool, huh?”

“Yeah, very cool,” I said, with a look that indicated I thought she was a weird science specimen. “By the way, you shouldn’t be listening to SpongeBob SquarePants on your iPod. Aren’t you too old for him?”

She blew a bubble. “SpongeBob? What are you talking about?”

“I heard you the other day, singing a song about a pineapple under the sea.”

Emily laughed. “I was listening to the top-twenty countdown but couldn’t get that song
out of my head from the night before. My cousin, the Dora hair clip one, is
obsessed
with that cartoon.”

“Oh … well, try and avoid humming or singing toddler tunes. It’s dangerous.”

She gave me an odd look. I walked away quickly. It wasn’t the ideal time to teach her these things. It looked like Emily was going to be in an altogether different category from my other projects.

1. Round tables = GOOD. A circle means everyone is equal, so you’re not left out.

2. Rectangular tables = BAD. If a rectangular table is the ONLY choice, try and sit in the middle. Don’t hesitate to push people out of the way to get there. Never sit at the end of a rectangular table—you’ll always be left out of the conversation and have to pretend to laugh at jokes you can’t hear. Sitting on the end of a rectangular table is a TFP (Table Faux Pas).

3. Square tables = UNSURE. I am still developing a policy for square tables.

During art, Ms. Pria broke the class into groups of four that she’d prepicked (all the TLs in the class sighed with relief).

I was grouped with Omar (who likes speaking in rhymes in training for his career as a rapper), Terry (who thought he was the best thing since sliced bread), and Emily (need I explain?).

Thankfully, the art room had round tables.

Each group had to make something out of papier-mâché. My group had to make a piggy bank.

“Piggy banks are dumb,” Terry said as he started mixing flour and water for the papier-mâché paste.

“Why, pie?” Omar asked.

“Because nobody gets allowance in coins anymore. I get bills.”

Emily wrinkled her nose. “You sound like a spoiled brat.”

I was surprised. I didn’t think Emily had ever spoken to Terry. How could she risk insulting him so soon? How did she know if Terry was the bully of the class or the most popular?

Enough was enough. I turned to Emily. “Could you help me get the newspapers from the supply room?”

“Sure.”

“Get the sports page, cage,” Omar called out.

I followed Emily to the supply room, closed the door, and faced her. “Emily, you’re new here, right?”

She started picking up a pile of newspapers and then stopped, giving me a funny look. “Um … yeah …”

“Well, I’d like to offer you some friendly but professional advice. You’re lucky. I normally do an induction session where I interview new kids and get all the data I need before giving out my expert tips.”

I noted the dazed expression on her face and flashed her my winning smile. “Look,” I said enthusiastically, “I’m here to help you!”

“Help me with what?” Emily replied, looking very confused.

I took a deep breath, trying not to lose my cool. My problem was that I cared
too
much. It had always been my weak point. “You’re not going to survive school! You can’t read by yourself at lunchtime! It might be okay if it’s a bestseller, but even then it’s better to be with your group! And you can’t wear Dora hair ties and weird T-shirts with pictures of hungry Barbies on them! And you’re lucky Terry is normally an okay boy! If he was Mr. Popular you would have lost your chances of him liking you by insulting him like that!”

I felt my face redden. I knew I was talking with exclamation marks. But I couldn’t help myself. I went on. “This is what I live for! To help people like you who have no idea how to survive school! And you are doing
everything
against the Rules!”

“Why bestsellers only?”

I couldn’t believe it.
This
was her response? I tried to calm down and reminded myself that Emily had brain problems and needed to be talked through this.

“Because bestsellers are cool and popular,” I said, trying to disguise my annoyance at having to state the obvious.

She folded her arms across her chest. “So I should only read what’s popular?”

“Well, at school, yes. At home you can read cookbooks or medical manuals if you like. But if you had done part two of my Induction Seminar you’d know that there’s a big difference between how to act at home and how to act at school.”

“Why? I think that’s dumb.”

My mouth dropped open. Everybody I’d ever helped had at least understood this Rule in a flash. And here was the new girl, arguing with me. “Because the Rules at home are different from the Rules at school,” I explained. “You don’t get teased by your mom and dad. The cafeteria is a war zone.”

I wished I could refer Emily to chapter one
of my Manual, but I didn’t want anyone to read it until Harry Potter’s publishers had accepted it. I was imagining a book launch near the cafeteria where I’d hand out friendship bracelets with the Friendship Matchmaker logo (still in development) printed on them. But I was getting distracted …

“That’s a pretty sad way to think of school,” Emily said.

“Haven’t you ever been bullied?”

“Lara, this is my
third
school. We’ve moved twice since I was in kindergarten.
Of course
I’ve been bullied.”

“You’ve moved
twice
?”

That kind of track record was dangerous. No wonder she had no respect for my Rules. She was unsettled. Boy, did she need my help.

“Yep. First house we lived in was broken into twice so Mom insisted we move to another town, which meant changing schools.”

“Oh.”

“The burglars took a ton of stuff, including Mom’s computer. But I was kind of glad
because then we finally got an upgrade!” She giggled. “Don’t tell her I told you that!”

“But why did you move again?”

“My grandpa died, so my nana moved in with us, but the house was too small. I’ve got triplet brothers.”

“Lucky you.”

“They’re feral. So we had to find a bigger house, which meant changing towns
again
. New school, new bullies. Big deal. I’ve learned to handle them just fine.”

This kind of confidence was disastrous. But she wasn’t finished yet.

“I’m not going to change who I am just so I don’t get bullied.”

“But you have to. If you want to fit in and make friends you have to bend your personality a little bit.” I wanted to say
a lot
but as I have a heart of gold I didn’t want to hurt her feelings.

“Well, people who like me for who I am can be my friends.”

Oh, boy. “That’s how everybody starts,”
I said hotly. “And then they come running to me for help.”

“I think you’re giving people the wrong advice.”

Oh no. Emily had gone too far now. I’d been polite but she’d pushed me to the limit.

“I can make anybody in this school popular and liked!” I cried. “I can give them friends and a future free from bullying and loneliness!”

“Yes, but they have to follow your Rules. Nobody can bring home-cooked lunches, only boring cheese sandwiches. There are no funny hairstyles. Everybody watches the same shows and likes the same TV stars. The girls read books about fairies, and the boys read books about superheroes. I saw a girl reading a book in the bathroom the other day because she was too scared to read it alone at lunchtime. You told her she’d be teased.”

“But she would!”

“I met a girl named Maya who is dying to play soccer with the boys at recess, but you told her to stick with Natalie or she’ll be teased for being a tomboy. Just because Natalie and
Maya have Russian mothers, you think they can be best friends.”

“I didn’t say that … I meant that they have enough in common to start to build a friendship … Look, my Rules work. The playground is a happy place here!”

Emily raised her eyebrows. “Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove that your Rules work.”

Prove my Rules? I had a solid year of success behind me. I’d worked my fingers to the bone to help the school population make and keep friends. And now the new girl with her stupid T-shirt and dorky hair ties was telling me to prove myself?

Fine. I would show her.

“I’ll take a Total Loner and find them a friend, a real friend. Then you’ll see that my Rules work!”

“Okay. Well, I’ll take a lonely person in the school and find them a friend, a real friend, but according to
my
Rules.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

We stormed back to our table.

Omar looked at me. “Did you get my sports page, rage?”

For once his rhyme made sense.

That night I sat on my bed and looked at my Terminal TL list. There were so many Total Loners to choose from in seventh grade.

I crossed out Kevin, who was number one on my list and who couldn’t understand the difference between being a friend and being a stalker (he had a habit of going through people’s bags).

I also didn’t think David was going to get around to being normal any time soon. He was still talking to his basketball, and when I’d taken him aside at lunch yesterday for an Induction Seminar, he insisted that Bill, his basketball, also come along, as
it
was his best friend. I
have sympathy for people who are best friends with objects (dolls, their comic book collection, computer games, their bike), but they have to understand that that sort of behavior has to stay at home. At school, friends need to have a heartbeat.

I eventually decided on Tanya. I was sure I could stop her school-supplies-sniffing habit. But she also needed a wardrobe makeover.

So I wrote down all the data I’d collected about Tanya.

ASSIGNMENT: FIND A FRIEND FOR TANYA (AND PROVE EMILY WONG WRONG)

PROFILE—TANYA

1. Sniffs school supplies. Especially rulers.

2. Wears hair in pigtails.

3. Wears weird clothes.

4. Tuesday is meatball lunch.

5. Terrible at all sports except maybe basketball.

6. Doesn’t have anything to talk about. Just smiles or shrugs. Need to fill her head with conversation topics.

POSSIBLE FRIENDSHIP MATCHES

1. Julie. Apparently she has no sense of smell (see meatballs, above) and is good at basketball.

2. Carla. Wants to be a hairdresser when she grows up. Maybe she can practice on Tanya?

3. Lucy. Parents run a drug store. (Maybe not a good idea. Perfect access to school supplies.)

4. Stephanie. Most talkative kid in class. Can she make up for Tanya’s silence?

Note to self: The most important thing is that the friendship is real and lasts. Remember the most important Friendship Matchmaker Rule: MAK (Make and Keep)!

I put my notebook on my bedside table and laid my head on my pillow. Before a friend could be matched to her, Tanya needed a
makeover. Tomorrow would be the beginning of some serious training sessions. Not since the time that led to me becoming the Friendship Matchmaker (still too disturbing to talk about) had I been so determined to get something right. All other friendship crises in the school would have to go on hold while I dedicated all my efforts to proving Emily wrong.