Not That Kind of Girl

  Middle School

  Chapter 1: Full Medal

  The first time I made Shon lose her cool, I caught a track medal to the forehead—and started a lifetime of confusion.

  * * *

  Ms. Duffy’s classroom was carpeted, which made everything feel a little softer—quieter, cozy. Like the kind of place you’d sit cross-legged with a book, or lay your head down and fake a headache just to think.

  But this wasn’t English. It was Pre-Algebra. Yuck.

  The windows were cracked open, letting in a breeze that carried the smell of cut grass from the back lot. Spring in Connecticut meant everyone was counting down the days. Summer was close enough to taste.

  Shon blew her nose. Again. Puffy eyes, sniffling—always sniffling. Whatever.

  The desks were grouped in little pods of four, all open-faced with chipped laminate and doodles faded by time. My pod was mostly empty, except for Shon.

  Well—Christina was there too.

  Shonnell Ware—Shon to everybody. Except Maude.

  She sat diagonal from me, hunched over her blue workbook—not writing, just stabbing her mechanical pencil into gum wrappers. She’d press shapes into the foil like it meant something. Every so often, she’d pull another wrapper from her hoodie sleeve and stick it to the desk like a message only she understood.

  Shon always pushed me away. “Why you so hyper? Go sit down,” she’d say whenever I walked in doing some dumb dance just to get on her nerves.

  She threw balled-up papers at me when Ms. Fraser wasn’t looking. Sometimes they said I was annoying. Others had lyrics. A few were blank. Always so random.

  But in English class, we laughed. Called each other names. Played too rough in gym. Got in trouble once for smacking each other with jump ropes.

  We weren’t close-close. Not like she was with Maude.

  * * *

  Maude walked toward our pod like she owned the place. Confident. Loud. Didn’t say hi to me—just:

  “Yo, Shon Rian.”

  That name caught my ear. Shon Rian? No one called her that. Not even her.

  Shon looked up fast—like someone hit a switch inside her. “What?” Her voice came out soft. Too soft for Shon.

  Maude smiled, dropped into the chair next to her like it belonged to her. I didn’t move. I could’ve. But I didn’t. I don’t even know why.

  A shadow slid in beside me. Crystal. “What’s up with Mattie?” she whispered. “She got it bad.”

  “For who?”

  She gave me a look. “Shon.” Then, “Or maybe herself. I don’t know.”

  That was… weird. I didn’t think about girls like that. Not really. But Shon was a tomboy. Wore sweats. Played ball. Went by a boy name. People said stuff sometimes.

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  I just thought she was cool. Her hoodie always smelled like dryer sheets, like it was just washed.

  Crystal bumped my arm. “Come on. Let’s go group with Nico and TJ.”

  She tilted her head toward the back. I knew what she was doing—setting up to stare at TJ like it was casual. Talk about him like her mom already planned the wedding.

  * * *

  Maude hovered over Shon while I was still talking with Crystal. Then she looked at me.

  She had on overalls and a backwards hat, even though hats weren’t allowed in school. Smelled like corn chips. Dressed like Shon, but with less style.

  Maude looked like a farmer. Shon’s outfit was cool.

  “You’re in our spot.”

  I leaned back. What a bitch. But I had time.

  “Half our group is in this pod. Shon. Christina.”

  She was right. But I wasn’t giving her that. I was stalling so Crystal could bring over the boys. She knew it. I knew it.

  Maude stared me down. “Where is your group? Because you not in ours.”

  “If I want to. I will be. But lucky for you, I don’t,” I told her.

  Then—

  She stepped in close. Too close. Trying to intimidate. She had the height, the attitude.

  But I didn’t flinch.

  Shon didn’t say a word. Just watched. Like she was clocking every second.

  Then she laughed.

  Not loud. Just a breath. A smirk that slipped out before she could stop it.

  I’d seen her laugh. But not like that. Not at me.

  Then she stood. Patted Mattie’s shoulder. “Let’s just go to the back ones.”

  The three of them left. Christina just followed. She was the third wheel.

  But Shon looked back at me when she said it.

  And I didn’t know what to do with that.

  My stomach flipped—not butterflies. Just… tight.

  Not Maude. Not Crystal.

  Me.

  * * *

  “Alright, let’s wrap it up. Back to your original seats,” Ms. Duffy called, not looking up from her papers.

  Nobody rushed. People stretched the moment. Ten minutes left in class. Less than an hour in the whole day.

  Maude didn’t sit—still hovering over Shon. She lingered beside her, leaned in too close. “Hey, lemme see it real quick.”

  Shon reached into her bag and handed it over.

  The medal.

  I’d seen it first period English. She wore it over her hoodie like it belonged there. Third place. Discus. It shimmered when she moved, then disappeared like it didn’t matter the rest of the day. But it did.

  Mattie held it like it was sacred. “You’re the best thing to happen to the track team, for real.”

  I didn’t even know we had a track team. Our school didn’t have sports—everyone played for the town league, or they represented the town and played other towns. I found out today the track team was new this year. Apparently, Shon was the only one who medaled. Maude said that.

  Another shoulder pat. Same casual closeness. Like they had some secret language.

  Shon smiled—small. Barely a curve. But I caught it.

  Maude walked off. I

  didn’t move.

  Didn’t speak.

  Just sat there, trying not to care.

  And caring anyway.

  * * *

  Ms. Duffy dropped my test on the desk.

  –5. Circled in red. SHOW YOUR WORK.

  I got the answer right.

  I stood, headed to her desk.

  She covered the page she was grading, like I might peek.

  I opened my mouth to ask—

  “Yo, close your legs. You’re letting flies out.”

  Nico.

  Loud. Dumb. Trying to be funny.

  The class laughed.

  But it wasn’t about me.

  It was about Shon.

  I heard him, looked at her.

  Then laughed too—just a little—and kept walking.

  Whack, I thought to myself.

  Then—

  WHACK.

  Something hard slammed into my forehead.

  Everything froze.

  I gasped. Hand to my head. Warm. Wet. Blood.

  Looked down.

  The medal.

  Cold. Sharp. Lying on the carpet.

  The room went silent.

  Then whispers, like cracks in glass.

  Shon didn’t move. Her hand still half-raised.

  Her eyes locked on me. Mouth open. Like she didn’t know what she’d just done.

  Or maybe she did.

  I didn’t cry. Didn’t yell.

  I just looked at her.

  Hard.

  Like something cracked open between us.

  Something I didn’t have words for.