The Forever Crush by Debra Moffitt

eat only grapefruit or something crazy like that. At least that’s what the nurse said.”
    â€œSo what’s she supposed to do if she comes up fat in that formula?” Kate asked pointedly.
    â€œI don’t know, but the nurse did give me four tips,” I said.
    I pulled out my notebook page, where I had them in a bullet list. I held it up for them to see.
    â€¢ Eat more fruits and vegetables
    â€¢ Drink water instead of soda and sugary drinks
    â€¢ Get an hour of exercise every day
    â€¢ Understand that it’s normal for a girl’s body to change during puberty. Hips get wider and figures get curvy.
    â€œNo offense, Jemma, but what’s the difference between fat and curvy?” Kate asked.
    I had no answer. I wondered if there would ever be anything curvy about my body. Kate continued. “Eat right. Get exercise. Everyone says that and it’s not very easy to do,” she said.
    â€œI’m sorry, Kate, if you can do better on this one, then go ahead.”
    I was actually a little angry at Kate for how she answered my question about Forrest. That’s probably why I was so snippy.
    â€œCome on, you two never argue. What’s up?” Piper said.
    I was miffed at Piper, too, come to think of it.
    No, Piper. I’m not living in a fantasy world by fake-dating Forrest. It’s more than that to me.
    Neither of us answered Piper’s question.
    â€œJemma, I think your answer is good,” Piper said. “Kate, we can’t spend our whole year on one question.”
    â€œI-I’m sorry,” Kate said. “I got carried away, I guess.”
    â€œI did the best I could, Kate,” I said. “That’s all I ever do, you know that.”
    I was worried I might cry, right there in the school basement, and admit everything to them both. But Piper put an arm around each of us and pulled us into a group hug.
    â€œC’mon girlies, hug it out,” she said.
    And we did.

Eighteen
    We needed Bet, I decided. With her video camera and her inquisitive mind, I knew she’d have some good ideas for how to locate and stop our stalker.
    That’s right. I said stalker.
    Again, I met Bet at Lucky’s. We rode our bikes there, as usual, but the December weather was turning colder. It wasn’t so bad when you were walking, but the wind whipped my face as I pedaled uphill into downtown. Well, it was “downtown” in our small town—a few restaurants, a hardware store, a drug store, a fancy dress boutique, and a place that made homemade ice cream in summer and boarded its front in winter.
    Bet and I arrived within minutes of each other, hung our jackets on hooks, and settled into our back booth, red-cheeked. Mugs of cinnamon tea steamed below our noses.
    â€œThe bookmark bandit—I love it!” Bet said. She pulled out her notebook and settled into note-taking position.
    â€œI don’t love it,” I said.
    I told her about my hunch about library club members and about the succession of threats, including how whoever it was called us “cheap and trashy.”
    â€œUgh. What does that even mean when you are in middle school? None of you guys are cheap or trashy,” Bet said.
    â€œWell, thanks. I guess that’s a compliment,” I said.
    â€œI mean it’s not trashy to tell girls about basic stuff that will happen or already has happened to them,” Bet said.
    â€œUh-huh,” I agreed.
    â€œAnd this person is worried about boys seeing it? I really doubt boys are visiting the Pink Locker Society. I mean can you imagine Forrest surfing around on that girlie site? And even if he did, who cares?”
    She was getting fired up now. This happened with Bet a lot. I laughed in a nervous way. Just the mention of Forrest’s name could set me off.
    â€œForrest spends most of his time on his fantasy football Web site,” I said.
    â€œExactly,” Bet said.
    I liked that Forrest had named his