SGA fic: "Nothing's Fair in Fifth Grade (even if you skipped it)" [Jennifer Keller gen]
Title: Nothing's Fair in Fifth Grade (even if you skipped it)
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Character: Jennifer Keller
Rating: G
Word count: 1775
Summary: The summer before seventh grade, Jennifer has a lot to learn.
Notes: This is sort of sketching backstory for Another Project. Title is taken from the novel Nothing's Fair in Fifth Grade by Barthe DeClements.
Jennifer was nine going on ten, the summer after sixth grade. It was mid-June, and school had been out for a few weeks, and it was one of those perfect summer days where the trees lining the streets of Chippewa Falls looked extra green because everyone was so used to seeing them without their leaves, or with skimpy spring foliage. Maybe they had extra chlorophyll in the summer. And the sky was real blue, with clouds that looked like the white cotton candy you could get at Chucky Cheese's or the zoo.
Her t-shirt was the color of the sky, with glittery neon stars on the front. It was her favorite shirt, and she had little hot pink star earrings with green centers that matched, and a pair of blue jellies that matched, too. It was her favorite outfit this summer, especially with her jean shorts with the pink cursive that said Guess on the back pocket. It all matched, and she liked things to match, or go together in some way that made sense. It was fun to put her books in alphabetical order by author like the library, and her Trapper Keeper was blue with flowers on it, so, the pencils and folders she kept in it were the same colors as the flowers.
This summer, since she'd finished elementary school and was going to be in junior high in the fall, she got to walk or ride her bike to the shopping center near her house, if she wanted to. There was a Burger King and a drugstore and a bank and a Radio Shack, a vacuum cleaner repair shop and a store that sold clothes for grandmothers. She liked walking there better than riding her bike, partly because you couldn't read on a bike, but mostly because she wasn't very good at riding her bike yet. All of the other kids in her neighborhood zoomed up and down the street and around the circle on their bikes and scooters and skateboards. A bunch of them had ten-speeds, or mountain bikes, and the boys did wheelies and rode without using their hands. Her bike was hot pink with swirly purple designs on it, and her dad had only taken off the training wheels last year.
But she was good at walking and reading. She was good at reading pretty much anywhere. In the bathtub, in the waiting room at the dentist, even at dinner, flipping pages one-handed while she ate, and in bed with a flashlight. Her mom didn't like her to read at the table, but she was so used to doing it in the cafeteria at school that she kinda missed it at home.
She was reading a Boxcar Children book now, which she put down when she got to Burger King. The rush of air conditioning when she pushed the heavy door open gave her goosebumps, but it felt good. Since it was the middle of the afternoon, there weren't a lot of people in the dining room, and there wasn't a line. The skinny boy with pimples at the register read his magazine while she decided, then got her Coke and small fries while she counted change from her coin purse.
She felt really grown-up taking her tray to a plastic table by the window, like the girls in Sweet Valley High, going to the Dairi Burger. Or the girls in the Baby-Sitters Club. I'm going to be in junior high, she thought, smiling as she bit into a fry. It was going to be so different, just like all the high school books. She'd have a locker and could put posters in it. There was one at the drugstore she liked, a kitten on a piano with a rose. And she'd change classes, have study hall, go to pep rallies, finally make some friends...
She licked the salt off her lips and took a drink of her pop, then opened her book again. The Boxcar Children were on a mystery island this time, making do with the food and supplies they could find around their campsite in the woods. Henry was building a shelter in the trees while Violet and Jessie built a fire, and in no time, the air-conditioned Burger King faded away.
A few chapters later, she was jolted out of the book when the bell over the door rang and a bunch of loud teenagers came in. She recognized some of the older boys and girls from her neighborhood, as well as Carmen, who used to babysit for her. Carmen's long hair was permed, and she had part of it in a ponytail with three different-colored scrunchies in it. She was wearing leggings and a big t-shirt tied into a knot on her hip, with bright yellow ballet shoes and a bunch of bracelets. And lipstick. She looked totally sophisticated, and Jennifer hid her book on her lap when Carmen spotted her and came over.
"Jenny! Are you here by yourself?"
She nodded. "But my mom and dad gave me permission. I thought it'd be cool to come here and hang out." She pushed her hair behind her shoulders, and Carmen smiled.
"Do you want to sit with me and my friends? You don't have to hang out by yourself."
Jennifer darted a glance at Carmen's friends' table, where the boys were all laughing, sprawled out in their chairs or sitting backwards. One of them had his hair shaved in a short mohawk, and another one was wearing baggy pants. "I don't know... Um. I think I'm going to go home pretty soon."
"You sure?" Carmen asked, leaning her hip on the table. "I could introduce you. Aren't you going to be in seventh grade this year? Most of us are going to be in ninth, so, we'll all be at the same school."
"I--" She shook her head mutely, trying to smile. Looking up at Carmen, this close, she could see that she was wearing purple eyeshadow, too. And mascara. "I'd better get home," she repeated. "But thanks."
"Sure," Carmen said. "Maybe some other time." She gave Jennifer a little wave and headed for the counter where, Jennifer saw out of the corner of her eye, she got her money out of a real purse, not a little kiddie coin purse with Minnie Mouse on it.
"Who was that?" Jennifer heard one of the boys ask a few minutes later. She couldn't hear all of Carmen's answer, but she did hear her say something about "babysat for her" and "girl genius," and then they all laughed. It made her feel like crying, but she forced herself to take another sip of her pop and sit still, until she thought she could throw her trash away without looking like a crybaby. She thought about throwing her book away with the trash, but instead, when she walked out, she kept it pressed up against her hip, where they couldn't see.
She read all the way home, which made her feel a little better, and then finished the book before dinner, reading out in the backyard under the big oak tree. When she went inside, her mom was at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for salad, and her dad was shaping hamburger into patties. Jennifer washed her hands and got out three plates.
"Could I build a treehouse?" she asked, opening the silverware drawer for forks. "Out in the backyard?"
Her mom turned, holding half a tomato. "A treehouse?"
Jennifer nodded. "Up in the oak tree. It wouldn't have to be fancy. Just maybe a floor, and some boards nailed to the trunk for stairs, and--"
But her mom was already shaking her head, getting that tight look on her face so that Jennifer knew what was coming next. "I don't want you playing with a saw, or climbing up and down a tree on some rickety boards," she said. "You've got a perfectly nice swingset, if you want to play outside, or you can go to the park, or ride your bike."
That wasn't the point, but her mom was funny about things that could be dangerous or wild, and Jennifer knew better than to argue even before her dad spoke. "Besides," he said, "aren't you a little old for this, sweetheart? I'd hate for you to nail boards to the tree, building some fort you're never going to play in after this summer." He smiled. "With seventh grade starting, you'll be so busy with science fairs and activities and clubs that you won't want to sit by yourself up in a tree."
"Okay," she said, and set the table quietly, trying to forget how much she'd wanted to make something by herself, her own private place up in the leaves. She told her parents at dinner about going to Burger King and seeing Carmen, but she didn't tell them about Carmen's friends, especially not the boy with the mohawk. Her mom wouldn't like that much, either.
Upstairs, after dinner, she shut her bedroom door behind her and put the Boxcar Children book back in its place on her shelf. Then she went to her closet, where, back on the floor, was a box of toys she didn't play with much anymore, like her Barbies and her Breyer horses. In the bottom of the box was a little pink and blue plastic Caboodle full of old makeup she used to play dress-up with.
She put some on in front of the mirror, trying to make it look like Carmen's. First some pink blush, then some blue eyeshadow, since she didn't have purple. The only lipsticks in the box were bright red and an ugly pinkish peach color, so she used her own cherry-flavored chapstick instead. Maybe if she practiced enough, by September, she could do makeup right, and put it on in the bathroom at school, and look older, like twelve or thirteen.
She started a list, too, on a fresh piece of paper in her Trapper Keeper. Ballet slippers, she wrote, in cursive, with a purple pen. Leggings. Scrunchies. A real purse. Training bra? Lip gloss.
This summer, she could be like Harriet the Spy, watching Carmen and her friends. And maybe, by September, she'd figure out how to be a teenager enough to fake it.
She could ask her parents for some posters to put up in her room, too, in case anybody ever came over. And she could start watching MTV, if her parents let her. Maybe she could have a sleepover.
Maybe tomorrow she'd put her little-kid books away, too. Maybe.
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Character: Jennifer Keller
Rating: G
Word count: 1775
Summary: The summer before seventh grade, Jennifer has a lot to learn.
Notes: This is sort of sketching backstory for Another Project. Title is taken from the novel Nothing's Fair in Fifth Grade by Barthe DeClements.
Jennifer was nine going on ten, the summer after sixth grade. It was mid-June, and school had been out for a few weeks, and it was one of those perfect summer days where the trees lining the streets of Chippewa Falls looked extra green because everyone was so used to seeing them without their leaves, or with skimpy spring foliage. Maybe they had extra chlorophyll in the summer. And the sky was real blue, with clouds that looked like the white cotton candy you could get at Chucky Cheese's or the zoo.
Her t-shirt was the color of the sky, with glittery neon stars on the front. It was her favorite shirt, and she had little hot pink star earrings with green centers that matched, and a pair of blue jellies that matched, too. It was her favorite outfit this summer, especially with her jean shorts with the pink cursive that said Guess on the back pocket. It all matched, and she liked things to match, or go together in some way that made sense. It was fun to put her books in alphabetical order by author like the library, and her Trapper Keeper was blue with flowers on it, so, the pencils and folders she kept in it were the same colors as the flowers.
This summer, since she'd finished elementary school and was going to be in junior high in the fall, she got to walk or ride her bike to the shopping center near her house, if she wanted to. There was a Burger King and a drugstore and a bank and a Radio Shack, a vacuum cleaner repair shop and a store that sold clothes for grandmothers. She liked walking there better than riding her bike, partly because you couldn't read on a bike, but mostly because she wasn't very good at riding her bike yet. All of the other kids in her neighborhood zoomed up and down the street and around the circle on their bikes and scooters and skateboards. A bunch of them had ten-speeds, or mountain bikes, and the boys did wheelies and rode without using their hands. Her bike was hot pink with swirly purple designs on it, and her dad had only taken off the training wheels last year.
But she was good at walking and reading. She was good at reading pretty much anywhere. In the bathtub, in the waiting room at the dentist, even at dinner, flipping pages one-handed while she ate, and in bed with a flashlight. Her mom didn't like her to read at the table, but she was so used to doing it in the cafeteria at school that she kinda missed it at home.
She was reading a Boxcar Children book now, which she put down when she got to Burger King. The rush of air conditioning when she pushed the heavy door open gave her goosebumps, but it felt good. Since it was the middle of the afternoon, there weren't a lot of people in the dining room, and there wasn't a line. The skinny boy with pimples at the register read his magazine while she decided, then got her Coke and small fries while she counted change from her coin purse.
She felt really grown-up taking her tray to a plastic table by the window, like the girls in Sweet Valley High, going to the Dairi Burger. Or the girls in the Baby-Sitters Club. I'm going to be in junior high, she thought, smiling as she bit into a fry. It was going to be so different, just like all the high school books. She'd have a locker and could put posters in it. There was one at the drugstore she liked, a kitten on a piano with a rose. And she'd change classes, have study hall, go to pep rallies, finally make some friends...
She licked the salt off her lips and took a drink of her pop, then opened her book again. The Boxcar Children were on a mystery island this time, making do with the food and supplies they could find around their campsite in the woods. Henry was building a shelter in the trees while Violet and Jessie built a fire, and in no time, the air-conditioned Burger King faded away.
A few chapters later, she was jolted out of the book when the bell over the door rang and a bunch of loud teenagers came in. She recognized some of the older boys and girls from her neighborhood, as well as Carmen, who used to babysit for her. Carmen's long hair was permed, and she had part of it in a ponytail with three different-colored scrunchies in it. She was wearing leggings and a big t-shirt tied into a knot on her hip, with bright yellow ballet shoes and a bunch of bracelets. And lipstick. She looked totally sophisticated, and Jennifer hid her book on her lap when Carmen spotted her and came over.
"Jenny! Are you here by yourself?"
She nodded. "But my mom and dad gave me permission. I thought it'd be cool to come here and hang out." She pushed her hair behind her shoulders, and Carmen smiled.
"Do you want to sit with me and my friends? You don't have to hang out by yourself."
Jennifer darted a glance at Carmen's friends' table, where the boys were all laughing, sprawled out in their chairs or sitting backwards. One of them had his hair shaved in a short mohawk, and another one was wearing baggy pants. "I don't know... Um. I think I'm going to go home pretty soon."
"You sure?" Carmen asked, leaning her hip on the table. "I could introduce you. Aren't you going to be in seventh grade this year? Most of us are going to be in ninth, so, we'll all be at the same school."
"I--" She shook her head mutely, trying to smile. Looking up at Carmen, this close, she could see that she was wearing purple eyeshadow, too. And mascara. "I'd better get home," she repeated. "But thanks."
"Sure," Carmen said. "Maybe some other time." She gave Jennifer a little wave and headed for the counter where, Jennifer saw out of the corner of her eye, she got her money out of a real purse, not a little kiddie coin purse with Minnie Mouse on it.
"Who was that?" Jennifer heard one of the boys ask a few minutes later. She couldn't hear all of Carmen's answer, but she did hear her say something about "babysat for her" and "girl genius," and then they all laughed. It made her feel like crying, but she forced herself to take another sip of her pop and sit still, until she thought she could throw her trash away without looking like a crybaby. She thought about throwing her book away with the trash, but instead, when she walked out, she kept it pressed up against her hip, where they couldn't see.
She read all the way home, which made her feel a little better, and then finished the book before dinner, reading out in the backyard under the big oak tree. When she went inside, her mom was at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for salad, and her dad was shaping hamburger into patties. Jennifer washed her hands and got out three plates.
"Could I build a treehouse?" she asked, opening the silverware drawer for forks. "Out in the backyard?"
Her mom turned, holding half a tomato. "A treehouse?"
Jennifer nodded. "Up in the oak tree. It wouldn't have to be fancy. Just maybe a floor, and some boards nailed to the trunk for stairs, and--"
But her mom was already shaking her head, getting that tight look on her face so that Jennifer knew what was coming next. "I don't want you playing with a saw, or climbing up and down a tree on some rickety boards," she said. "You've got a perfectly nice swingset, if you want to play outside, or you can go to the park, or ride your bike."
That wasn't the point, but her mom was funny about things that could be dangerous or wild, and Jennifer knew better than to argue even before her dad spoke. "Besides," he said, "aren't you a little old for this, sweetheart? I'd hate for you to nail boards to the tree, building some fort you're never going to play in after this summer." He smiled. "With seventh grade starting, you'll be so busy with science fairs and activities and clubs that you won't want to sit by yourself up in a tree."
"Okay," she said, and set the table quietly, trying to forget how much she'd wanted to make something by herself, her own private place up in the leaves. She told her parents at dinner about going to Burger King and seeing Carmen, but she didn't tell them about Carmen's friends, especially not the boy with the mohawk. Her mom wouldn't like that much, either.
Upstairs, after dinner, she shut her bedroom door behind her and put the Boxcar Children book back in its place on her shelf. Then she went to her closet, where, back on the floor, was a box of toys she didn't play with much anymore, like her Barbies and her Breyer horses. In the bottom of the box was a little pink and blue plastic Caboodle full of old makeup she used to play dress-up with.
She put some on in front of the mirror, trying to make it look like Carmen's. First some pink blush, then some blue eyeshadow, since she didn't have purple. The only lipsticks in the box were bright red and an ugly pinkish peach color, so she used her own cherry-flavored chapstick instead. Maybe if she practiced enough, by September, she could do makeup right, and put it on in the bathroom at school, and look older, like twelve or thirteen.
She started a list, too, on a fresh piece of paper in her Trapper Keeper. Ballet slippers, she wrote, in cursive, with a purple pen. Leggings. Scrunchies. A real purse. Training bra? Lip gloss.
This summer, she could be like Harriet the Spy, watching Carmen and her friends. And maybe, by September, she'd figure out how to be a teenager enough to fake it.
She could ask her parents for some posters to put up in her room, too, in case anybody ever came over. And she could start watching MTV, if her parents let her. Maybe she could have a sleepover.
Maybe tomorrow she'd put her little-kid books away, too. Maybe.