Rachel's Valentine Crush Read online

  And why wouldn’t Brody have a crush on Tammy? Rachel asked herself. She’s so popular and pretty. Practically every boy in school likes her!

  “It’s not something that everybody knows about,” Tammy continued, smiling. “But Brody and I spent so much time together practicing those solos. We had this really strong, like, connection. I’m pretty sure I was the first person that he told about getting to compete on SingNation! And, I mean, I don’t want to brag, but I always knew that he was going to go really far. He’s crazy talented, you know? I remember at the end of our practice sessions, we would hang out together while we waited for the late bus, and sometimes we would sing a little duet . . . it was really magical.”

  “Sooo romantic,” Marisol Hernandez said with a sigh. “Were you guys secretly dating?”

  Tammy shook her head. “See, that’s the thing,” she said, lowering her voice a little. “We had this connection, but Brody never asked me out or anything. I know he’s on TV now and he plays these giant sold-out shows, but one-on-one, he can be kind of shy. So, honestly, it wouldn’t surprise me at all if he had a secret crush on me.”

  Rachel turned away. She had heard enough. But then she heard something that made her pause.

  “I just don’t think that line about ‘making music’ is the clue, though,” said Gabriella Bruno. “It’s gotta be that part at the end—when Brody stops singing and talks instead.”

  “I couldn’t understand him,” Marisol replied. “What did he say?”

  “That’s why it’s the clue!” Gabriella said excitedly. “It’s not supposed to be easy to figure out.”

  “Wasn’t it, like, L-O-L?” asked Clarissa. “You have to turn it up at the end to really hear it, but he says something about L-O-L.”

  “I think the line is, ‘I will always something-something L-O-L something-something you,” Gabriella said. “I listened to it over and over this morning.”

  “L-O-L? Laughing out loud is not that romantic,” Becca said, a skeptical look on her face.

  “No way. My big sister only goes out with guys who are funny,” Amber disagreed. “She says that a sense of humor is just as important as being cute. Besides, Brody and I were laughing together a ton at the seventh-grade picnic.”

  “So you think the song is about you?” Tammy asked, acting surprised. She didn’t say it in a mean way, exactly, but it was enough to make Amber look at the ground in embarrassment.

  “Does L-O-L mean anything to you?” Marisol asked Tammy. “Did you and Brody laugh together a lot at glee club?”

  Tammy smiled again. “Absolutely. We goofed around all the time. I listened to that line a couple times too. I think he says, ‘I’ll always share L-O-L times with you.’ It’s just Brody’s way of saying that he’ll always make time to laugh with me—no matter how famous or busy he gets.”

  As the other girls started to talk all at once, Rachel finally walked away. She approached her locker on autopilot, hardly aware of all the commotion in the hall around her.

  “Rach! Rach! Wait up!” Taylor called behind her. “What’s wrong? You just disappeared.”

  Rachel focused very hard on dialing her combination. “Sorry, T,” she said quietly. “I didn’t mean to ditch you. I just . . . I couldn’t listen to that anymore.”

  “What do you mean?” Taylor asked. Then her eyes grew wide. “Oh, seriously? You think Brody likes Tammy?”

  Rachel just shrugged.

  “Oh, whatever,” Taylor said. “Come on, Rach. Don’t get sucked into that. Tammy didn’t say one single thing that convinced me.”

  “You’re just trying to make me feel better,” said Rachel.

  “No, I’m just telling you the truth,” Taylor replied firmly.

  “But what about glee club? That’s probably what the ‘making music’ line is about,” Rachel said glumly.

  “It could just as easily be about church choir,” countered Taylor.

  “Well, what about the L-O-L thing?” Rachel said.

  “Did you and Brody joke around at choir?” asked Taylor.

  “No way. Goofing around is definitely not allowed. Besides, we practice in a church. It’s not really the best place for cracking jokes,” Rachel said miserably. “I have to go back and listen to that line with the volume up, but I think they’re right that he says something about L-O-L. And if that’s the case, he definitely wasn’t talking about me.”

  For a moment Taylor looked stumped. Then she shook her head. “I’m still not convinced that Tammy’s right. I mean, ‘I’ll always share L-O-L times with you?’ Who talks like that? That doesn’t even make any sense!”

  A faint smile flickered across Rachel’s face. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better,” she said. “But if Brody likes Tammy, I’d rather face it now. There’s no point in getting my hopes up for nothing. That will only make it worse when . . .”

  Rachel’s voice trailed off. She didn’t even want to say it. But she could tell that Taylor knew what she was thinking: when Brody tells everybody that Tammy is his secret crush.

  Rachel tried to act normally for the rest of the school day, but it wasn’t easy. More than anything, she wanted to hole up in her room, alone, where she could feel as sad as she wanted without worrying about what everyone else would think. While she was stuck in school, Rachel wanted to forget about “Secret Crush”—and Brody Warner—as much as she could. But it soon became clear that would be impossible. Almost every girl in seventh and eighth grade suddenly had a story about the time she and Brody had laughed together about something. By lunchtime most kids agreed that the LOL line was the clue.

  But Rachel still wasn’t entirely convinced. When she listened to that line again, it didn’t really sound like “share L-O-L times.” Even so, Rachel kept peeking over at Tammy during lunch—the way she tossed back her long copper-colored hair, the way she smiled at everyone like they were her new best friend. It was hard to think of a reason why Brody wouldn’t have a crush on her.

  Finally the school day ended, and Taylor and Rachel walked home together. Rachel was grateful that Taylor carried on most of the conversation herself. Rachel had been faking a good mood for so long that she was practically out of energy. When she got home, Robbie was waiting for her inside the front door.

  “Rachel’s home! Rachel’s home! Rachel! Rachel!” he cried happily. He drove a dump truck into her foot. “Play trucks with me!”

  Rachel reached down to tousle his hair and move the truck out of her way. “Maybe in a little while, Robbie,” she said. “I have to get started on my homework.”

  “Is it truck homework?” Robbie asked hopefully.

  “No, it’s algebra,” Rachel replied, smiling in spite of her lousy day. “A special kind of math. You know, numbers. But I can definitely play trucks with you before dinner.”

  Satisfied, Robbie drove his truck down the hall, and Rachel went straight to her room. Usually she would go to the kitchen for a snack and a chat with Grandma Nellie, but right now Rachel wanted to be alone—for a few minutes, at least.

  But Rachel had hardly flopped down on her bed before there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she called in a weary voice.

  Grandma Nellie poked her head into the room. “No snack?” she started to say. Then she caught a glimpse of Rachel’s face. “What’s wrong, sweet pea?”

  Rachel shrugged. “I’ve just had a long day,” she replied. It was technically the truth—she had been awake since five a.m.

  “I see,” Grandma Nellie said. She was quiet for a long moment, and Rachel got the feeling that Grandma Nellie was trying to figure out a way to make her feel better, even though she didn’t know exactly what was wrong. Finally she snapped her fingers like an idea had just occurred to her. “Well, come here for just a minute. There’s something I want to show you.”

  Rachel followed Grandma Nellie down the hall to the oak cabinet that stood outside her bedroom. Grandma Nellie flung open the doors to reveal stacks of neatly organized art supplies. “I spent all mo
rning sorting through my scrapbooking stuff,” Grandma Nellie said proudly.

  Rachel gazed at the pile of smooth multicolored cardstock, a box of rubber stamps and ink pads, jars of sparkly glitter arranged in a pyramid, and sheets of shiny foil that reflected her face in rainbow colors. “Looks good, Grandma Nellie,” she said. “Now you can do even more scrapbooking.”

  “And so can you!” Grandma Nellie replied as she pulled out a blank scrapbook for Rachel. “You should give it a try, peach pie. You’re so creative and talented, and it’s a really fun way to express yourself.”

  Rachel glanced into the cupboard again. Part of her was definitely drawn to the colorful supplies—but part of her resisted. If her dad saw her working on an art project with stamps and glitter glue, he would definitely not think she was mature. “Doesn’t it seem . . . kind of like kid stuff?” Rachel asked, without thinking about how that sounded.

  Grandma Nellie raised her eyebrows in surprise. “Kid stuff? Do I look like a kid to you?” she asked.

  Rachel smiled sheepishly. “Sorry, Grandma Nellie.”

  “I’m just teasing you, sweetheart,” Grandma Nellie replied. “I only wish I had started when I was your age. I think scrapbooking is a really great way of capturing your memories . . . and even figuring out your feelings. You see these lined pages?” She scanned the cupboard and pulled out some pretty pink pages with lines on them, sort of like fancy notebook paper. “You can use these special sheets of paper to write down stories or memories and then paste them down in the scrapbook. That’s not something a little kid could do, now, is it?”

  Grandma Nellie pulled a few more items from the cupboard and piled them on top of the blank scrapbook: a purple gel pen, a jar of purple glitter, and a small bottle of clear glue. “Why don’t you take these back to your room?” she said. “Just in case inspiration strikes. If you don’t end up using them, you can always just put them back. No pressure . . . but I think you’ll find that you really like it if you give it a try.”

  “Okay.” Rachel gave in. “Thanks, Grandma Nellie.”

  “If you get hungry, I made peanut-butter bars,” Grandma Nellie told her. “But I can’t guarantee that they’ll last until dinner. Robbie is a fiend for peanut butter.”

  “Don’t I know it,” Rachel agreed.

  She carried the supplies back to her room and put them on her desk. Next, Rachel cued up “Secret Crush.” It was just as good as she remembered.

  Rachel twirled the gel pen in her fingers for a moment, deep in thought. Then she rummaged around in the secret inside pocket of her backpack. Her fingers closed around a crinkly piece of cellophane. After spending months in her backpack, the printing on the label was completely worn off. Rachel knew it was silly to keep an old lollipop wrapper—let alone carry it around in her backpack. But it was special to her, and she never wanted to get rid of it.

  Rachel smoothed the wrapper out on her desk. She chose a fresh sheet of pink lined paper from the top of the pile and paused for only a moment before she started writing. She had a really important memory she wanted to get down on paper.

  It started out like a regular choir practice—we warmed up while Mr. Jenkins played some scales, and then we started singing hymns. It was early April, just a few weeks before Brody left for SingNation!

  When practice ended, Mr. Jenkins had this giant smile on his face when he brought out the lollipops. The lollipops are a thing that Mr. Jenkins does after every practice. They’re made for singers and actors and people who use their voices a lot. They really do soothe my throat after I’ve been singing for a couple hours, and the green ones taste ah-maaaaazing Way better than the red ones or the orange ones (gross!). I always try to grab a green one, but Mr. Jenkins says, “No digging around for your favorite color,” so I have to be fast. And this time I accidentally picked a red one. It wasn’t the end of the world—I mean, at least it wasn’t orange! But I still wished that I had gotten a green one.

  Then the craziest thing happened. I couldn’t believe it then, and I still kind of can’t believe it now (that’s why I saved the wrapper all this time). Brody came up and tapped me on the shoulder. When I turned around and saw him, I couldn’t even say anything, I was so surprised. And he was smiling—he has the cutest smile I have ever seen!!—as he held out a green lollipop.

  “Trade?” he asked.

  I just stood there with this dumb smile on my face until I was finally able to say, “Sure. You don’t mind?”

  Brody shook his head. I think I was blushing. I know I was trying superhard not to say or do something stupid or stare at him or anything embarrassing like that.

  “I noticed that you always pick the green ones,” he said.

  “Thanks, Brody,” I said. I think that was all I said. And we both just kind of grinned at each other for a moment before he said, “See ya,” and left. For the rest of the day, I kept remembering what he said: I noticed that you always pick the green ones.

  He noticed.

  He noticed me!!!

  Rachel sat back and read what she had written. Grandma Nellie was right: Somehow, writing down her memory made her feel a lot better about everything. She carefully glued the lined page to the center of the scrapbook page. Then she glued the lollipop wrapper to the bottom corner of the page and used the glitter to add sparkly swirls and hearts around it.

  Rachel sat back and surveyed her work. It looked pretty good, if she did say so herself!

  Maybe Brody does like Tammy, Rachel thought as she capped the glitter. But . . . maybe . . . there’s still a chance he likes me.

  chapter 4

  THE NEXT MORNING RACHEL FIGURED that the other kids at school wouldn’t be talking about Brody quite so much. There wasn’t a lot more to analyze about the lyrics to “Secret Crush,” and from the texts she had received the night before, Rachel could tell that her classmates were getting a little bored with trying to figure out the hidden clue in the song.

  Then came homeroom.

  “For our seventh- and eighth-grade classes, I have some big news!” the principal, Ms. Gutierrez, announced over the loudspeaker. “Last night, Brody Warner’s representatives contacted me and very generously invited all the seventh and eighth graders to Brody’s special Valentine’s Day show at the Archer Arena!”

  Ms. Gutierrez said something else, though Rachel couldn’t hear her over the screams of excitement echoing up and down the corridor. When the noise finally died down, Ms. Gutierrez continued with the rest of the announcements—but Rachel still couldn’t hear a word. This time, though, she was distracted by her own thoughts.

  Tickets for everyone! Rachel thought gleefully. I can’t believe it! I’ve never been to a real concert before. This is going to be so, so, so amazing. . . . I have no idea what to wear. . . . Oh wow, I’ll finally get to go to one of Brody’s concerts!

  Then a frown crossed Rachel’s face. She had forgotten one very important factor: her father.

  Dad is not going to like this, she thought. I already know what he’ll say: “Sorry, Rachel, but you’re just not old enough to go to a concert like this.” This is going to be awful. Everybody will be there—except for me!

  Determination flickered in Rachel’s eyes. Unless I can prove to Dad that I am mature enough, she realized. If I don’t ask him right away—if I spend every day before the concert proving that I’m not a little kid anymore—then maybe he’ll see my side. I mean, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m sure that all my friends will get to go. And besides, Dad knows Brody! He’s known Brody’s family for years through church.

  Rachel started scribbling a list on the back cover of her notebook: Fold the laundry. Help Robbie pick up his toys. Make my bed every day. Put away the clean dishes without being asked.

  As she wrote, Rachel thought of even more ways that she could help around the house—just like a responsible adult would. And she also realized that even though she’d always tried to take care of Robbie as much as she could, there was still more that she could
do. That would make everybody’s lives easier . . . and maybe show her dad, once and for all, that she wasn’t a little girl anymore.

  Near the end of the school day a bitter wind kicked up, and small icy chunks of snow began to fall. Rachel and Taylor had to wrap their scarves around their faces to keep out the cold, which meant that they couldn’t chat like they usually did when they walked home from school together. When she finally made it into her house, Rachel breathed a sigh of relief as the comforting warmth enveloped her.

  “Cocoa’s on the stove,” Grandma Nellie said in a hushed voice as she helped Rachel unwrap her frozen scarf. “Your dad’s going to be pulling a double tonight, so he’s resting before he heads out. Robbie’s watching a video, if you have any interest in that one with the dancing ducks.”

  Rachel giggled. “Maybe next time,” she replied. “I think I’ll start my homework.”

  But halfway to her bedroom, Rachel stopped. If her dad was going to plow for a double shift, that meant he’d be eating dinner on the road. And sometimes, if the snow was very heavy, he had trouble finding a drive-through that was still open. I could make him dinner, she realized. I could pack an awesome dinner that he could take with him tonight!

  Rachel went right to the kitchen and started a fresh pot of coffee. Then she scoured the pantry for something tasty and filling for her dad’s dinner. Chicken soup—perfect! she thought. And I could make a couple sandwiches, too. Maybe a banana . . . and an apple . . . and definitely a brownie. . . .

  Rachel opened a can of chicken soup and dumped it into a bowl. Then she microwaved it for two minutes so that it would be nice and hot. When she carefully poured the soup into a thermos, though, Rachel frowned. That’s a whole can of soup? she wondered. It doesn’t look like enough. Maybe I should give him two.

  Rachel warmed up another can of soup and added it to the thermos. Then she made some sandwiches and placed the rest of the food in a paper grocery bag. By the time she was finished, the coffee was ready, so Rachel poured it into a second thermos and added a spoonful of sugar, just the way her dad liked it. When Mr. Wilson came into the kitchen a few minutes later wearing his warmest flannel shirt, Rachel was ready for him.