Flipped

by Wendelin Van Draanen

Those first years! I thought I would die for wanting to be with him.

REAL JULIE

You know, like the world is moving all around you, all beneath you, all inside you, and you’re floating. Floating in mid air. And the only thing keeping you from drifting away is the other person’s eyes. They’re connected to yours by some invisible physical force, and they hold you fast while the rest of the world swirls and twirls and falls completely away.

But all of a sudden my stomach completely bailed on me. Juli loved that tree. Stupid as it was, she loved that tree, and cutting it down would be like cutting out her heart.

sob

‘A painting is more than the sum of its parts,’ he would tell me, and then go on to explain how the cow by itself is just a cow, and the meadow by itself is just grass and flowers, and the sun peeking through the trees is just a beam of light, but put them all together and you’ve got magic.

‘I always liked that tree of yours,’ he said. ‘Even before you told me about it.’ ‘Oh, Dad, it’s OK. I’ll get over it.’ ‘No, Julianna. No, you won’t.’ I started crying. ‘It was just a tree . . .’ ‘I never want you to convince yourself of that. You and I both know it isn’t true.’ ‘But Dad . . .’

‘One’s character is set at an early age, son. The choices you make now will affect you for the rest of your life.’

‘Some of us get dipped in flat, some in satin, some in gloss . . .’ He turned to me. ‘But every once in a while you find someone who’s iridescent, and when you do, nothing will ever compare.’

oh how i will never forget this

I’d spent so many years avoiding Juli Baker that I’d never really looked at her, and now all of a sudden I couldn’t stop.

One minute I’d be listening to the teacher, and the next I’d be completely tuned out, looking at Juli.

‘I’m sure you’ve got a perfectly reasonable explanation for why you’re carrying a picture of Juli Baker around with you.’

‘Darla, the way things have been going, I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a bee in my hair.’

I was through with Bryce Loski.

I avoided the blue-eyed brat the best I could,

the switch up shes so real and valid for it too!!!!

It felt good to take charge of my own destiny! I felt strong and right and certain.

Mothers can be in such denial.

‘Wow, Bryce,’ she said over her shoulder. ‘You look . . . delicious.’

JAILLL IM CRYING

everlasting torture as a mama’s boy – one of the few fates worse than basket boy.

All my life she’d been there, waiting to be avoided, and now it was like I didn’t even exist.

My heart lurched. What was she laughing about? What were they talking about? How could she sit there and look so . . . beautiful?

I felt myself spinning out of control. It was weird. Like I couldn’t even steer my own body. I’d always thought Jon was pretty cool, but right then I wanted to go over and throw him across the room.

I just can’t think. So I stop right there in the middle of the room and look at her. At that face. I want to touch her cheek and see what it feels like. I want to touch her hair, it looks so incredibly soft. ‘Bryce,’ she whispers. ‘What’s wrong?’ I can barely breathe as I ask her, ‘Do you like him?’ ‘Do I . . . you mean Jon?’ ‘Yes!’ ‘Well, sure. He’s nice and—’ ‘No, do you like him?’ My heart was pounding through my chest as I took her other hand and waited. ‘Well, no. I mean, not like that . . .’ No! She said no! I didn’t care where I was, I didn’t care who saw. I wanted, just had to kiss her. I leaned in, closed my eyes, and then . . . She broke away from me.

I just wanted to be with her. To talk to her. To hold her hand again. To kiss her.

Juli was different, but after all these years that didn’t bother me any more. I liked it.

I liked her. And every time I saw her, she seemed more beautiful. She just seemed to glow. I’m not talking like a hundred-watt bulb; she just had this warmth to her. Maybe it came from climbing that tree. Maybe it came from singing to chickens. Maybe it came from whacking at two-by-fours and dreaming about perpetual motion.

And now how am I going to make her listen to me? I’d scale that monster sycamore if I could. Right to the top. And I’d yell her name across the rooftops for the whole world to hear. And since you know what a tree-climbing weenie I am, I think it’s pretty clear that I’m willing to do anything to get her to talk to me. Man, I’ll dive after her into a chicken coop full of poop if that’s what it takes. I’ll ride my bike all the stinkin’ way to school for the rest of eternity if it means being with her.

I realized that to me, there had only ever been one boy. To me, there had only been Bryce.

‘Maybe there’s more to Bryce Loski than you know.’

And I can’t help wondering, a hundred years from now will a kid climb it the way I climbed the one up on Collier Street? Will she see the things I did? Will she feel the way I did? Will it change her life the way it changed mine?