Lauren Yanofsky Hates the Holocaust by Leanne Lieberman

grade-twelve guys. I catch Jesse’s eye, and he waves me over. I stop abruptly. It’s cool outside, and I don’t have my jacket zipped up, but I feel sweaty again. Great. Am I going to break out in a sweat every time I see a cute guy? That’ll be attractive. I feel the nervous beat of my pulse as I head toward him.
    â€œHey, you should play with us.” Jesse points back to the court.
    I raise one eyebrow. “With the guys?”
    Jesse bounces the ball. “Sure.”
    â€œYou’re all so much taller,” I murmur. My phone buzzes in my bag, but I ignore it.
    â€œYeah, you are a bit of a shrimp now.” Jesse lifts his hand up, showing off his reach. I make a face and stand up taller.
    â€œHey, Jesse, you in or out?” Justin calls.
    Jesse looks back at the guys. “I’m in.” He turns back to me. “I still want to take you on. One-on-one.”
    I think I might actually need to change my shirt at home. I start walking backward, away from Jesse. “Well, sure. Some other time.” I feel my face burning again.
    I stand and watch the guys play. Jesse is not the tallest, but he’s definitely the cutest. And he moves down the court easily, like he’s dancing. I watch him run his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes. Mac says, “Dude, you’re going to need a ponytail, like a girl.” Then Jesse pulls a red terrycloth headband out of his pocket and shoves his hair back. Mac points and laughs, but Jesse says, “You wish you were cool enough for the headband.” If only Brooke was here to see how hot he looks. Oh right, she’s too busy with her new friends. I turn my buzzing phone off and bury it in the bottom of my bag.
    Back at home, the landline keeps ringing. Mom has left me a flyer in front of the computer, about the youth-group convention that Alexis is going to. It promises a weekend of praying, singing, friendship and study. I rip it in half and shove it in the recycling bin. I spend a few minutes on Facebook, but the phone keeps ringing. I know it’s probably Brooke, so I go up to my room, where I can’t hear the phone. Eventually, Mom comes home from work, answers the phone and calls that it’s for me. I reluctantly pick up.
    â€œHey,” Brooke says, “I’ve been trying you for hours.”
    â€œOh,” I say. “I was busy.”
    â€œYou’re not mad at me, are you?”
    â€œWell, no.”
    â€œOh, good. You looked really pissed off at school.”
    â€œNo, everything’s fine. Great.”
    â€œI can’t believe you were playing cards with Jesse.”
    I hear a hint of jealousy in her voice. I feel like saying, We’re going to play one-on-one, him and me, too. Instead I say, “Yeah, well, it was no big deal.”
    â€œYou keep saying that.”
    â€œYou could have played too, if you were around.” Even as I’m saying this, I doubt it. If Brooke had been there, I don’t think Jesse would have asked me.
    â€œI wanted to talk to you about that. Chantal’s kinda having a hard time right now. Her parents are getting a divorce, and we’re talking a lot about it. Also, there’s this guy she’s totally in love with. We have a lot in common.”
    â€œOh.”
    â€œAnyway, Chantal and Kelly are going to a party at Dmitri’s tonight. Want to come?”
    Kelly is Chantal’s best friend. She’s a little overweight, with huge breasts that look like melons. She has dyed-blond hair and a smoker’s cough, and she always wears bright red lipstick and too much eyeliner. Most of the Smokers, like Chantal, won’t make eye contact with non-Smokers, but Kelly talks to everybody and even participates in class. She’s like the Perky Smoker. I know her a little bit because she was on my geography project team last year. We did a study of cliff erosion at Towers Beach, which is right next to Wreck Beach, where