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don’t matter at all in terms of college and stuff?”
    She nodded jealously. “Yup, you little worm. You can get A’s or C’s—it’s all the same.”
    Wow! Things were definitely looking up.
    Then she sighed and pointed at her huge pile of books. “But don’t worry, my little friend—someday soon, all this will be yours.”
    She picked up a book and started to read, which was my cue to leave.
    Someday soon , maybe.
    But not yet.

 
    15
    As soon as I got to school the next day, I knew word was out that I kissed Hannah Spivero.
    I could tell because all the kids I didn’t know very well looked at me as if I was the coolest kid on earth, and all of my friends looked at me as if I was the worst kid on earth.
    Jake was first.
    â€œI don’t want to talk to you right now,” he said, when he saw me coming.
    â€œJake—”
    â€œStop. I know what happened, and I just don’t want to talk about it.”
    â€œWell, I’m really, really sorry. Hannah was really upset. Please don’t blame her.”
    Jake glanced up at me, and I could see the hurt in his eyes. “I don’t,” he said. “I blame you.”
    I got similar treatment from everyone else in the gang: Timmy, Eliza, Nareem, even the new kid, Emory, whom I’d given advice to about Eliza. Talk about ungrateful!
    I didn’t get similar treatment from Katie, though, because I didn’t get any treatment from Katie. She just kept smiling that fake smile at me, which was way worse than if she’d yelled at me, to tell you the truth.
    Hannah was the only one who was a little nice to me, because I think she felt a little guilty and knew it wasn’t all my fault. But she was way more concerned with making Jake feel better than she was with making me feel better, and I couldn’t blame her for that.
    And then there was Pete.
    Pete Milano—the most obnoxious, irritating kid in the whole school, but still somehow a good friend of mine—was the only one who acted normal to me. But that’s how Pete is. He just wants to have a good time, and he doesn’t judge. I guess he’s kind of like a dog that way.

    I sat next to Pete in Social Studies. Usually he drove me crazy, but today, I was just grateful to have someone to talk to. (Really quietly, since you’re not supposed to talk in class.)
    â€œHey, Pete,” I whispered.
    â€œYeah?”
    â€œThanks for not being mad at me like everyone else.”
    â€œWhy would I be mad? It’s not like you kissed my girlfriend. And by the way, if you ever do kiss Mareli, I will punch you in the worst place on your body to get punched. I think you know where I’m talking about.”
    Note to self: Never kiss Mareli.
    It seemed like a good time to change the subject. “Hey, Pete, did you know our grades don’t matter until we get to high school?”
    â€œCool!” Pete seemed excited by the news, but I’m not sure why. I was pretty sure he was going to get the exact same grades in high school that he was getting now. Bad ones.

    â€œMr. Jackson, Mr. Milano, I’ll thank you to hold your tongues,” said Ms. Albone, our teacher.
    Pete actually started holding his tongue. “Oww, it hurtsth,” he wailed, laughing.
    â€œSorry, Ms. Albone,” I said.
    Pete winked at me and said way too loudly, “Grades don’t count in middle school, remember? You said!”
    â€œ Shhh! ” I hissed, but I was too late—Ms. Albone was walking over to my desk.
    Oh, great .
    â€œDid you really say that, Charlie Joe? That grades don’t count in middle school?”
    â€œI—can’t remember.”
    She shook her head sadly and headed back to the front of the classroom. “As I was saying,” she said, “for our last big assignment of the year, I’m asking students to write a five-page paper on anyone they consider to be a personal hero. They can be