Cootie Catcher

Cootie Catcher

“Sheena has cooties.”

I’m playing Cat’s Cradle with Allie on the bus ride home when she all of a sudden looks at me kind of stern and says that. 

“Don’t talk to her.”

“Why not? Mrs. Dawson said we should be nice to her. ‘Cause she’s new.”

“She. Has. Coo-ties.” 

“Who told you that? She just seems like any other eight-year-old.”

“She’s nine already.” Allie tosses her ponytail, smug as anything. “That means she’s behind. Which means she’s dumb! Duh-humb! We don’t need her.” 

She yanks the string off my fingers. It kind of hurts, but I don’t say anything.

Allie is pretty bossy and she can get in a bad mood if something doesn’t go her way. I don’t like when she acts like that. I keep sticking with her though, because you don’t just dump a friend. Especially your best friend since kindergarten.

So I stay away from Sheena. Even though I know cooties aren’t real. Allie should know, too. They’re just a silly, imaginary way of saying someone isn’t as good as you are. More of a little-kid thing, and third graders are nearly big kids. The biggest of the little kids, anyway, so we should be growing out of that kiddie stuff. 

I’m not mean to Sheena, I just pretty much act like I don’t notice her. But Allie—every time she sees Sheena, she chants, “Coo-ties. Coo-ties. Coo-ties.” Mostly she whispers it, but every so often when there’s no adult nearby, she does it a little louder. I can’t tell if Sheena hears it. She doesn’t react, and after a while Allie gets bored with it and stops.

One Friday, when it’s my turn to go to Allie’s house after school, she spends the whole time talking about the riding club she just visited, and begs me to join it with her.

I tell my parents about Allie’s plan.

“But I don’t want to, so please please please say no!”

“Don’t worry, honey,” Mom laughs, giving me a one-arm hug. “We can’t afford extras like that anyway. Allie’s parents aren’t hurting for money.”

The next Friday, when Allie comes to my house, she works on Mom. Pretty much tells her they aren’t treating me right if they don’t let me join the riding club. Mom tells her the same thing she told me, except she leaves out the part about Allie’s parents having lots of money.

Allie’s kind of mad that her plan didn’t work, which I pretty much expect. But she mostly gets over it and joins the club without me. Now all she talks about is the horse she rides, the instructors at the club, and a new friend named Danielle.

“I wish Danielle went to our school,” she says. Huh. Guess I’m not good enough for her anymore. Maybe I’ll get cooties next.

Allie’s birthday is coming, and she tells me, all excited, that the party will be at the riding club. 

“I’m having eight friends, ‘cause I’m turning nine and that will make nine of us. You get to come, and you’ll meet Danielle.” 

I’m almost surprised to be invited. I guess I don’t have cooties. Yet.

I tell Mom we’d better get a “horsey” gift, to go along with the theme. Allie has thrown some strong hints about what she wants, and I don’t want to disappoint her. Mom says we’ll find something suitable that doesn’t cost a lot. 

“You can’t buy friendship, honey.”

We end up buying a tiny blown glass set of a mare with a foal, which I think looks really sweet! I hope Allie will like it.

I’m nervous about the horse-riding part of the day. The way she’s acting lately, Allie will make fun of me if I fall off. I can ride old Blackie OK—he’s a retired work horse that lives on the farm with my grandpa and grandma—but he just plods along with his head down. I’m sure the horses at the club are used to moving a little faster.

When I get there, Allie is talking to a tallish, skinny girl with shiny black hair. They’re both dressed in fancy riding outfits. I hand Allie a gift bag decorated with a horse, and wish her “Happy birthday!” 

“Thanks,” she replies, and plops it down on the gift table. Ooh! I hope it doesn’t break!

Allie barely introduces me to Danielle.

“This is another friend from school,” she says carelessly, pointing at me. I notice she doesn’t call me her best friend, and it hurts a little. But I don’t say anything. I think maybe I’m not, anymore. 

A few girls from our class are standing together, so I go over and join them. Riding actually turns out to be the best part of the day! I know my form isn’t good, but—same for the others. Except for Allie and Danielle. I’m happy to stay in the saddle without falling off. 

Allie sort of ignores me, and the rest of her guests. Except for Danielle. I see them whispering together, very buddy-buddy. 

Back at school on Monday, Allie never says a word about the little glass horses. She hardly even says anything to me. At morning recess, she wants to go play on the monkey bars, and I’d rather join the jump rope group. Even though Sheena is over there. I’m not even sure Allie and I are still friends, so I guess I don’t care what Allie thinks.

Sheena’s good at jumping rope! The Kronbach twins, Amelia and Cordelia, are turning the rope and counting in a sing-songy rhythm,

“Hunerd’n’ five, hunerd’n’ six, hunerd’n’ seven, hunerd’n’ eight, hunerd’n’ nine—-MISS!” And she’s finally out. I realize I was rooting for her to make a hundred and ten.

She comes up behind me in the line, and I hold real still for a moment. Deciding whether to talk to her or not. Maybe I’m secretly afraid cooties do exist, and she does have them, and they’ll hop on me… Then I make up my mind.

“Hey,” I say, turning around and smiling at Sheena. “You’re really good at jump rope!”

“Thanks!” She grins back.

I find out that Sheena isn’t dumb. Not at all. She is behind, though. For a reason. She tells me that last year, she was in a bad accident and ended up in the hospital for a long time. 

“I missed so much school that my parents decided to switch me to a different one to finish third grade.” Wow…

“I’m sorry—” I start to say. I think I’m sorry most of all that I halfway believed Allie about the cooties, and I didn’t get to know Sheena sooner. Sheena shrugs and does a quick skip in place.

“I’m not! I’m all better. Know how I got so good at jumping rope? Therapy!”

“I’m sorry—” I start to say. I think I’m sorry most of all that I halfway believed Allie about the cooties, and I didn’t get to know Sheena sooner. Sheena shrugs and does a quick skip in place.

“I’m not! I’m all better. Know how I got so good at jumping rope? Therapy!” She grins again. “Hey! Aren’t you afraid you’re gonna catch cooties from me?”

“Nope!” I laugh, and pretend to pick something off her arm. “I found out I’m immune to them.”