Page 2 of Something Rad
I tilt my head at her as I secure my backpack on my shoulders and shove the newspaper I was holding in my lap under my arm, standing up from the bus seat to let her out.
“That this year is going to be different!” Alice finally exclaims, making my look of confusion twitch into a smile.
“Alice, you say that literally every year.”
She really does.And every year she catches me off guard with it.
Alice Quinn, forever the optimist.
And I love her for it.
“Okay, but this year I know it’s true,” Alice insists.
She also says that every year.
“How do you figure?” I ask her, as we start to follow the rest of the students off the bus.
“Well, for starters, I finally got my braces off over the summer. And I’m wearing this killer new dress. I mean, how cute is this?”
I glance back at her, taking in the puffy elbow length sleeves and soft colorful floral pattern.
“It is a lovely dress.”
“Right?How could my day be bad when I own this dress? Much less my year?”
“I couldn’t possibly imagine,” I deadpan.
“And as foryou,” Alice starts, ignoring my sarcasm, “you’re about to becometheeditor of Bay View High School’s 1987-1988 yearbook!”
I stop in my tracks on the last step out of the bus, making Alice run into my back and causing both of us to nearly tumble face first into the parking lot. I clutch the door frame of the bus to brace us, but am not able to stop us from lurching forward before several small items fall from the haphazardly half-zipped pockets of my backpack and onto the concrete below.
“Hey!” Alice groans. “What gives?”
“That’s not for sure yet,” I tell her, spinning to face her. “Actually, it’s not for sure at all.”
“Oh, come on. It’s totally for sure,” Alice replies, rolling her eyes. “You’ve worked your butt off in journalism class, on the school newspaper,andon the yearbook for the last three years. Of course you’re going to get it. And besides, Mr. Hughes loves you.”
I begin to chew on my bottom lip. “I’m not so sure, Al.”
“You’vegotthis,” Alice insists. “And I don’t want to hear anything else about it. You’re going to march into Mr. Hughes’s classroom today and ask– no,demand– that he make you the editor.”
“Demand?” I ask, raising my brows.
“Yes,demand. Come on,” she says, motioning her hand in the air. “Sara Cooper, Yearbook Editor. Doesn’t it just sound meant to be?”
I snort.
Nothing’s justmeantto be. You have tomakeit be.
That’s something I’ve always known. But it’ll just go in one ear and out the other for Alice. Like I said,eternal optimist.
“And besides, this year is going to be different!Remember?”
This year will never justbedifferent. I have tomake itdifferent.
I know that also. But I don’t say it. Instead, I let out a deep breath through my nose, closing my eyes.
“Hey, ladies.Move it or lose it!” the bus driver tells us.
