Flipped 怦然心动
①AllI've ever wanted is for Juli Baker to leave me alone. For her to back off — youknow, just give me some space.
②It allstarted the summer before second grade when our moving van pulled into her neighborhood.And since we're now about done with the eighth grade, that, my friend, makesmore than half a decade of strategic avoidance and social discomfort.
③Shedidn't just barge into my life. She barged and shoved and wedged her way intomy life. Did we invite her to get into our moving van and start climbing allover boxes? No! But that's exactly what she did, taking over and showing offlike only Juli Baker can.
④My dadtried to stop her. “Hey!” he says as she's catapulting herself on board. “Whatare you doing? You're getting mud everywhere!” So true, too. Her shoes were,like, caked with the stuff.
⑤Shedidn't hop out, though. Instead, she planted her rear end on the floor andstarted pushing a big box with her feet. “Don't you want some help?” Sheglanced my way. “It sure looks like you need it.”
⑥Ididn't like the implication. And even though my dad had been tossing me thesame sort of look all week, I could tell — he didn't like this girl either.“Hey! Don't do that,” he warned her. “There are some really valuable things inthat box.”
⑦“Oh.Well, how about this one?” She scoots over to a box labeled LENOX and looks myway again. “We should push it together!”
⑧“No,no, no!” my dad says, then pulls her up by the arm. “Why don't you run alonghome? Your mother's probably wondering where you are.”
⑨Thiswas the beginning of my soon-to-become-acute awareness that the girl cannottake a hint. Of any kind. Does she zip on home like a kid should when they'vebeen invited to leave? No. She says, “Oh, my mom knows where I am. She said itwas fine.” Then she points across the street and says, “We just live right overthere.”
⑩Myfather looks to where she's pointing and mutters, “Oh boy.” Then he looks at meand winks as he says, “Bryce, isn't it time for you to go inside and help yourmother?”
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