Chapter 2 - Give It A Little Time
Ashley Spinelli, solo, trudged home late that Friday afternoon. After being assigned to Level Six detention, which kept her an unmerciful hour after school, she didn't have any friends to complain about her misfortune to.
No, her friends had all gotten fed up with the black haired Italian's scrappiness that week, but had not done any acting upon it until Spinelli had lost her legendary temper on one of her best friends and her secret crush, T.J. Detweiler. She'd socked him in the face, giving him a bloody nose and one very good reason to dismiss her from his life.
Spinelli, gloomy, stood on the sidewalk in front of her house, facing T.J.'s, whose was only three houses away from hers. His older sister, Becky, had just pulled into the driveway in her family's woody-wagon, and waved to Spinelli. Spinelli good-naturedly returned the wave, but couldn't put a smile on over her gloom.
Spinelli trudged into her house, muttering a "hi" to her mother, Flo Spinelli, who immediately noticed her daughter's lateness and downcast mood. Knowing well enough that her Ashley was moody and upset, Flo decided to wait until later to talk to Ashley about her scrappiness of late.
Flo came upstairs two hours later and found her daughter sprawled out on her bed, face down. "Ashley?" Flo said, stepping cautiously into the room. When Spinelli didn't respond, Flo continued. "Ashley, honey? What's wrong? Lately you've been moody and I've been getting calls from the school that you're scrapping again. Today it was for making T.J. bleed. Pookie, what's wrong?"
Spinelli rolled over to face her mother, her face stained with her tears. "I don't know what made me do it, Mom," she said. "I just punched him, and now he won't talk to me. And everybody else... they've just been making me mad lately."
"Oh honey," Flo sympathized. "I know what it's like to get upset at your age. When I was in fifth grade, everything upset me. Just because my friend Susan told me she didn't like a shirt of mine I never wanted to come back to school."
Spinelli wiped her eyes. "Really?"
"Yes really. This is perfectly normal behavior of a girl your age," Flo said. "Although your father and I would appreciate it if you would try to keep your fists to yourself tomorrow at school."
"Okay," Spinelli replied. "Mom?"
"Yes, dear?"
"What happens if this doesn't stop? What happens if I always feel like this?"
"You won't, honey. This sort of thing passes," Flo explained. "When you're a little older, you'll get this sort of thing every month. It's called PMS."
Spinelli giggled. "Last year Ms. Grotke went through the whole puberty thing with us."
"So my job is done," Flo joked.
Spinelli sighed. "I'm just worried that the guys won't ever talk to me again. What if I pushed it too far?"
"Oh, Pookie, your friends will understand. Especially Gretchen. After all, she's a girl, is she not?"
"But what about T.J.? Maybe punching him was too much. Maybe he ran out of patience with me and doesn't want anything to do with me," Spinelli lamented.
"Pookie, T.J. will forgive you. Sure, he'll be mad for a little while that you punched him, but he'll still be the good friend he's been to you. Just give it a little time, and things will turn out right."
Spinelli sighed again. "I sure hope so, Mom."
Flo stood up. "Good night, sweetheart."
Spinelli rolled over and fell into a fitful, dark sleep, dreaming about how lost she'd be if T.J. didn't forgive her.
Ashley Spinelli, solo, trudged home late that Friday afternoon. After being assigned to Level Six detention, which kept her an unmerciful hour after school, she didn't have any friends to complain about her misfortune to.
No, her friends had all gotten fed up with the black haired Italian's scrappiness that week, but had not done any acting upon it until Spinelli had lost her legendary temper on one of her best friends and her secret crush, T.J. Detweiler. She'd socked him in the face, giving him a bloody nose and one very good reason to dismiss her from his life.
Spinelli, gloomy, stood on the sidewalk in front of her house, facing T.J.'s, whose was only three houses away from hers. His older sister, Becky, had just pulled into the driveway in her family's woody-wagon, and waved to Spinelli. Spinelli good-naturedly returned the wave, but couldn't put a smile on over her gloom.
Spinelli trudged into her house, muttering a "hi" to her mother, Flo Spinelli, who immediately noticed her daughter's lateness and downcast mood. Knowing well enough that her Ashley was moody and upset, Flo decided to wait until later to talk to Ashley about her scrappiness of late.
Flo came upstairs two hours later and found her daughter sprawled out on her bed, face down. "Ashley?" Flo said, stepping cautiously into the room. When Spinelli didn't respond, Flo continued. "Ashley, honey? What's wrong? Lately you've been moody and I've been getting calls from the school that you're scrapping again. Today it was for making T.J. bleed. Pookie, what's wrong?"
Spinelli rolled over to face her mother, her face stained with her tears. "I don't know what made me do it, Mom," she said. "I just punched him, and now he won't talk to me. And everybody else... they've just been making me mad lately."
"Oh honey," Flo sympathized. "I know what it's like to get upset at your age. When I was in fifth grade, everything upset me. Just because my friend Susan told me she didn't like a shirt of mine I never wanted to come back to school."
Spinelli wiped her eyes. "Really?"
"Yes really. This is perfectly normal behavior of a girl your age," Flo said. "Although your father and I would appreciate it if you would try to keep your fists to yourself tomorrow at school."
"Okay," Spinelli replied. "Mom?"
"Yes, dear?"
"What happens if this doesn't stop? What happens if I always feel like this?"
"You won't, honey. This sort of thing passes," Flo explained. "When you're a little older, you'll get this sort of thing every month. It's called PMS."
Spinelli giggled. "Last year Ms. Grotke went through the whole puberty thing with us."
"So my job is done," Flo joked.
Spinelli sighed. "I'm just worried that the guys won't ever talk to me again. What if I pushed it too far?"
"Oh, Pookie, your friends will understand. Especially Gretchen. After all, she's a girl, is she not?"
"But what about T.J.? Maybe punching him was too much. Maybe he ran out of patience with me and doesn't want anything to do with me," Spinelli lamented.
"Pookie, T.J. will forgive you. Sure, he'll be mad for a little while that you punched him, but he'll still be the good friend he's been to you. Just give it a little time, and things will turn out right."
Spinelli sighed again. "I sure hope so, Mom."
Flo stood up. "Good night, sweetheart."
Spinelli rolled over and fell into a fitful, dark sleep, dreaming about how lost she'd be if T.J. didn't forgive her.