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136 pages, Hardcover
First published April 1, 2005
A girl named Brittany or Ashley would have fallen in love with the spandex costumes and the white skates of a figure skater. But when your name is Joanna, and everyone calls you Jo, you grow up in Cleveland watching your older brother play ice hockey in the shadows of the steel mills and dream of the day when you can wear a jersey and carry a stick, waiting for your chance to slap that puck home.
"Oh, no," I groan, and then I remember that, when I was in kindergarten, I barely knew my left hand from my right and tying my own shoelaces was out of the question.
Personally, I'm more worried about what's roaming the halls inside our school than any threat from the outside. Metal detectors, surveillance cameras, and security guards carrying walkie-talkies and pepper spray make it feel like we're doing hard time in here with no chance of parole.
Even though Ben and I play hockey and Taryn plays fast-pitch softball, there's more to being in the popular crowd than that. It also matters which side of town you live on, the style of clothes you wear, what country club your parents belong to, and the cars they drive.
"Never judge a book by its cover," Ms. Freeman always says, but she's wrong. In middle school, everyone does.
I hate the way Valerie looks down on Angelo, Jamie, and all the other kids at school who are different or who don't have money, good looks, and expensive clothes.
Ben's a no-show at lunch again.
I miss Ben.
"You were my best friend, Ben, and...it really sucks to be dropped when things get tough...
I don't want to feel like that again. Friends stand by each other no matter what. It's just too hard any other way."
Before Jim went away to college, we'd fight sometimes, but there was no one I admired or wanted to impress more. I know it sounds pathetic, but somehow my life doesn't seem completely real without Jim here to share in it.
Is it normal to love and hate your dad at the same time?
I refuse to hear the whispering or see the disgusted looks on the parent's faces in the bleachers. I definitely don't hear my friend Taryn, on second base, say to the shortstop, "That's nothing. You should've seen when Jo's mom threw him out of the house."
We lost the championship game that day, 3-2.