And I think that’s when she started liking me.

The Next Year

Lizard and I weren’t in the same class in fourth grade.

I have a feeling my mother said something to somebody

to make that happen.

“I think this is going to be the year you really bloom,”

my mother said.

“I’m excited to see what new friends you’ll make,”

my mother said.

“It’ll be good for you and Lizard to have your own space,”

my mother said.

“Friends don’t have to be joined at the hip, you know,”

my mother said.

I didn’t say anything.

I didn’t want to bloom that year

if blooming meant not being friends with Lizard anymore.

The only friend I wanted was Lizard.

The only space I needed was the space where Lizard was.

Even if we weren’t joined at the hip,

Lizard and I were joined at the heart.

P.S. About Fourth Grade

Lizard and I still saw each other

all the time.

And I didn’t bloom.

Or if I did, nobody noticed,

including me.

The Year after That

Lizard and I were together again in fifth grade.

I have a feeling Lizard’s mother said something to somebody

to make that happen.

“My mother thinks you’re a good influence on me,” Lizard said.

Then she laughed. I laughed, too.

As if I could ever influence Lizard about anything.

Sixth Grade

Now we’re at Southern Peaks Middle School.

School just started,

and we have three classes apart:

language arts, social studies, and our “specials”—

band for Lizard and art for me.

But we have three classes together:

science, math, PE.

Plus lunch. Hooray!

I don’t think anybody’s mother

said anything to anybody

to make this happen.

In middle school Fate—

or the computer—

has a lot more power

than parents do.

Other Friends

Lizard and I have friends

besides each other.

But not a lot.

And not close friends.

Lizard has to be the first at everything.

Most kids aren’t as good as I am at being second.

That sounds strange: being good at being second.

But I think it’s a talent, sort of,

not to mind things other people mind.

I truly don’t mind if I say, “Let’s watch TV

without the sound on and make up the words,”

and Lizard says, “That’s boring,”

even though she’s the one who first thought up

doing it, so who is she to say

it’s boring now that it’s my favorite thing?

(Well, maybe I do mind this a little bit.)

But mostly I don’t care that much what we do,

so long as we do it together.

My Mother

My mother can speak five languages fluently:

English (duh), French, Italian, German, and Russian.

That’s her job—to know stuff about languages.

She’s a professor of linguistics at the university,

and even though she already speaks