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Her hand is the first one up； her answers are usually
plete dissertations； her projects are always turned in early and used as weapons against
the rest of the class。 Teachers always have to hold
her project up and say； “This is what I'm looking for； class。 This is an example of A…plus
work。” Add all the extra credit she does to an already
perfect score； and I swear she's never gotten less than 120 percent in any subject。
But after Mr。 Mertins stuck Juli right next to me； her annoying knowledge of all subjects far
and wide came in handy。 See； suddenly Juli's perfect
answers； written in perfect cursive； were right across the aisle； just an eye…shot away。 You
wouldn't believe the number of answers I snagged from
her。 I started getting A's and B's on everything！ It was great！
But then Mr。 Mertins pulled the shift。 He had some new idea for “optimizing positional latitude
and longitude；” and when the dust finally settled； I
was sitting right in front of Juli Baker。
This is where the sniffing es in。 That maniac started leaning forward and sniffing my hair。
She'd edge her nose practically up to my scalp and
sniff…sniff…sniff。
I tried elbowing and back…kicking。 I tried scooting my chair way forward or putting my
backpack between me and the seat。 Nothing helped。 She'd
just scoot up； too； or lean over a little farther and sniff…sniff…sniff。
I finally asked Mr。 Mertins to move me； but he wouldn't do it。 Something about not wanting to
disturb the delicate balance of educational energies。
Whatever。 I was stuck with her sniffing。 And since I couldn't see her perfectly penned
answers anymore； my grades took a dive。 Especially in
spelling。
Then one time； during a test； Juli's in the middle of sniffing my hair when she notices that I've
blown a spelling word。 A lot of words。 Suddenly the
sniffing stops and the whispering starts。 At first I couldn't believe it。 Juli Baker cheating？ But
sure enough； she was spelling words for me； right in my
ear。
Juli'd always been sly about sniffing； which really bugged me because no one ever noticed
her doing it； but she was just as sly about giving me
answers； which was okay by me。 The bad thing about it was that I started counting on her
spelling in my ear。 I mean； why study when you don't have
to； right？ But after a while； taking all those answers made me feel sort of indebted to her。
How can you tell someone to bug off or quit sniffing you
……… Page 7………
when you owe them？ It's； you know； wrong。
So I spent the sixth grade somewhere between unfortable and unhappy； but I kept
thinking that next year； next year； things would be different。
We'd be in junior high — a big school — in different classes。 It would be a world with too
many people to worry about ever seeing Juli Baker again。
It was finally； finally going to be over。
Flipped
The first day I met Bryce Loski； I flipped。 Honestly； one look at him and I became a lunatic。
It's his eyes。 Something in his eyes。 They're blue； and
framed in the blackness of his lashes； they're dazzling。 Absolutely breathtaking。
It's been over six years now； and I learned long ago to hide my feelings； but oh； those first
days。 Those first years！ I thought I would die for wanting
to be with him。
Two days before the second grade is when it started； although the anticipation began weeks
before—ever since my mother had told me that
there was a family with a boy my age moving into the new house right across the street。
Soccer camp had ended； and I'd been so bored because there was nobody； absolutely
nobody； in the neighborhood to play with。 Oh； there were
kids； but every one of them was older。 That was dandy for my brothers； but what it left me
was home alone。
My mother was there； but she had better things to do than kick a soccer ball around。 So she
said； anyway。 At the time I didn't think there was
anything better than kicking a soccer ball around； especially not the likes of laundry or dishes
or vacuuming； but my mother didn't agree。 And the
danger of being home alone with her was that she'd recruit me to help her wash or dust or
vacuum； and she wouldn't tolerate the dribbling of a
soccer ball around the house as I moved from chore to chore。
To play it safe； I waited outside for weeks； just in case the new neighbors moved in early。
Literally； it was weeks。 I entertained myself by playing
soccer with our dog； Champ。 Mostly he'd just block because a dog can't exactly kick and
score； but once in a while he'd dribble with his nose。 The
scent of a ball must overwhelm a dog； though； because Champ would eventually try to
chomp it； then lose the ball to me。
When the Loskis' moving van finally arrived； everyone in my family was happy。 “Little
Julianna” was finally going to have a playmate。
My mother； being the truly sensible adult that she is； made me wait more than an hour
before going over to meet him。 “Give them a chance to
stretch their legs； Julianna；” she said。 “They'll want some time to adjust。” She wouldn't even
let me watch from the yard。 “I know you； sweetheart。
Somehow that ball will wind up in their yard and you'll just have to go retrieve it。”
So I watched from the window； and every few minutes I'd ask； “Now？” and she'd say； “Give
them a little while longer； would you？”
Then the phone rang。 And the minute I was sure she was good and preoccupied； I tugged on
her sleeve and asked； “Now？”
She nodded and whispered； “Okay； but take it easy！ I'll be over there in a minute。”
I was too excited not to charge across the street； but I did try very hard to be civilized once I
got to the moving van。 I stood outside looking in for a
record…breaking length of time； which was hard because there he was！ About halfway back！
My new sure…to…be best friend； Bryce Loski。
Bryce wasn't really doing much of anything。 He was more hanging back； watching his father
move boxes onto the lift…gate。 I remember feeling
sorry for Mr。 Loski because he looked worn out； moving boxes all by himself。 I also
remember that he and Bryce were wearing matching turquoise
polo shirts； which I thought was really cute。 Really nice。
……… Page 8………
When I couldn't stand it any longer； I called； “Hi！” into the van； which made Bryce jump； and
then quick as a cricket； he started pushing a box like
he'd been working all along。
I could tell from the way Bryce was acting so guilty that he was supposed to be moving
boxes； but he was sick of it。 He'd probably been moving
things for days！ It was easy to see that he needed a rest。 He needed some juice！ Something。
It was also easy to see that Mr。 Loski wasn't about to let him quit。 He was going to keep on
moving boxes around until he collapsed； and by then
Bryce might be dead。 Dead before he'd had the chance to move in！
The tragedy of it catapulted me into the moving