Access Denied (and other eighth grade error messages) Read Free Page B

grade now; I didn’t worry
     about locker partners or who I sat with at lunch.
    After putting my backpack away, I hung up two photos; one was of Jilly and me and the other was of the I-Club gang—me, Mark,
     Rosie, Tyler, and Steve. I closed the door, leaning against it as I looked down the familiar hall. Jilly’s locker was down
     at the other end so she was making her way there. We weren’t in the same homeroom but we had language arts and Spanish together.
    I could see Mark down the hall too, talking to some guys. After cutting his hair last year, I was glad to see he’d grown it
     long again so it covered one eye. Kara stood next to him, her hand in his back pocket. She looked only at Mark, even when
     he wasn’t talking, as if he was the only person in the hall.
    Mark Sacks had a way of doing that to you.
    I turned away before memories of old feelings came up, because sometimes the memory of a feeling could feel like a real feeling
     and I didn’t need that. Surveying the hall in the other direction, I noticed the freshly painted walls, how the floors gleamed
     and the smell of disinfectant wafted through the air. The custodian, Mr. Foslowski, had been busy this summer.
    “What trouble are you planning to start this year, young lady?”
    Speaking of—
    “Hi, Mr. F,” I said as we knocked fists. He looked older this year, thinner, and he seemed to have even less of his gray hair,
     if that was possible. But he still had his goatee, and that same mischievous look in his eyes, the same broad smile. “The
     school looks great.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “And to answer your question: none. I will be starting no trouble this year.
     And I won’t be getting into any that I didn’t start either.”
    “Never say never, Erin Swift.” Mr. F winked at me. “Got your supply?”
    I tapped the locker where my backpack hung on its hook. “Snickers and Tootsie Pops accounted for.” Last year Mr. F and I found
     we shared a love of Tootsie Pops after I spilled my guts to him about Mark and Jilly liking each other and some other stuff.
     Over the summer I’d done some yard work for him and his wife and helped them with a garage sale to earn some extra money.
     And when our water heater flooded the basement, Mr. F had come to the rescue with a wet vac and lots of fans. We’d had them
     over for dinner a few times and they’d had us over too. We were now officially friends.
    “Excellent,” he said. “You know where to find me if you run out.” He nodded again. “It’s good to see you, Erin.”
    “You too, Mr. F.”
    We knocked fists again, then he tipped his spray bottle at me and walked away.
    “Excuse me,” a voice behind me said. “I think this is my locker.”
    I turned around and nearly collided with the biggest pair of breasts I’d ever seen. Not that I’ve encountered that many, especially
     up close and personal, but I’d seen a few.
    “Uh, sorry.” I was frozen to my spot, still a bit shocked.
    “Can you quit staring at my chest and move so I can open the locker?”
    My face shot through with heat and I raised my eyes to her face. Her eyeliner dramatically outlined her eyes and her eyeshadow
     was a deep bronze, capped with a darker brown. She looked about sixteen. She was a couple of inches shorter than me, even
     in her black boots, and wore a tight black skirt and a yellow t-shirt with sleeves as short as you could get without calling
     it a tank top, which was against the school dress code. A black belt with metal studs and metal bracelets jangling from her
     wrists completed the outfit. I’d bet my Nano she got to go to any concert she wanted to and didn’t have to get permission
     for a PG-13 movie.
    “I’m sorry,” I said, stepping back.
    She didn’t say anything, just flipped her long, curly blond hair over her shoulder. It was clearly out of a bottle because
     I could see dark roots and her eyebrows were brown. She also had two pretty serious zits on her chin and one on her