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“That wasn't Dad； sweetheart。 It was Bryce。”
I sat straight up。 “Now he's calling？ I have lived across the street from him for six years and
he's never once called me！ Is he doing this because
he's jealous？”
“Jealous？ Of whom？”
So I gave her the blow…by…blow； beginning with Mrs。 Stueby； going clear through Darla； the
auction； the furball fight； and ending with Bryce trying
to kiss me in front of everybody。
She clapped her hands and positively giggled。
“Mom； it's not funny！”
She tried to straighten up。 “I know； sweetheart； I know。”
“I don't want to wind up like Mrs。 Loski！”
“You don't have to marry the boy； Julianna。 Why don't you just listen to what he has to say？
He sounded desperate to talk to you。”
“What could he possibly have to say？ He's already tried to blame Garrett for what he said
about Uncle David； and I'm sorry； but I don't buy it。 He's
lied to me； he hasn't stood up for me … he's … he's nobody that I want to like。 I just need
some time to get over all those years of having liked him。”
Mom sat there for the longest time； biting her cheek。 Then she said； “People do change； you
know。 Maybe he's had some revelations lately； too。
And frankly； any boy who tries to kiss a girl in front of a room full of other kids does not sound
like a coward to me。” She stroked my hair and
……… Page 91………
whispered； “Maybe there's more to Bryce Loski than you know。”
Then she left me alone with my thoughts。
My mother knew I needed time to think； but Bryce wouldn't leave me alone。 He kept calling
on the phone and knocking on the door。 He even snuck
around the house and tapped on my window！ Every time I turned around； there he was；
pestering me。
I wanted to be able to water the yard in peace。 I wanted not to have to avoid him at school or
have Darla run block for me。 Why didn't he
understand that I wasn't interested in what he had to say？ What could he possibly have to
say？
Was it so much to ask just to be left alone？
Then this afternoon I was reading a book in the front room with the curtains drawn； hiding
from him as I had all week； when I heard a noise in the
yard。 I peeked outside and there was Bryce； walking across my grass。 Stomping all over my
grass！ And he was carrying a spade！ What was he
planning to do with that？
I flew off the couch and yanked open the door and ran right into my father。 “Stop him！” I cried。
“Calm down； Julianna；” he said； and eased me back inside。 “I gave him permission。”
“Permission！ Permission to do what？” I flew back to the window。 “He's digging a hole。”
“That's right。 I told him he could。”
“But why？”
“I think the boy has a very good idea； that's why。”
“But—”
“It's not going to kill your grass； Julianna。 Just let him do what he's e to do。”
“But what is it？ What's he doing？”
“Watch。 You'll figure it out。”
It was torture seeing him dig up my grass。 The hole he was making was enormous！ How
could my father let him do this to my yard？
Bryce knew I was there； too； because he looked at me once and nodded。 No smile； no wave；
just a nod。
He dragged over some potting soil； pierced the bag with the spade； and shoveled dirt into the
hole。 Then he disappeared。 And when he came
back； he wrestled a big burlapped root ball across the lawn； the branches of a plant rustling
back and forth as he moved。
My dad joined me on the couch and peeked out the window； too。
“A tree？” I whispered。 “He's planting a tree？”
“I'd help him； but he says he has to do this himself。”
“Is it a …” The words stuck in my throat。
I didn't really need to ask； though； and he knew he didn't need to answer。 I could tell from the
shape of the leaves； from the texture of the trunk。
This was a sycamore tree。
I flipped around on the couch and just sat。
A sycamore tree。
Bryce finished planting the tree； watered it； cleaned everything up； and then went home。 And
I just sat there； not knowing what to do。
I've been sitting here for hours now； just staring out the window at the tree。 It may be little
now； but it'll grow； day by day。 And a hundred years from
now it'll reach clear over the rooftops。 It'll be miles in the air！ Already I can tell—it's going to
be an amazing； magnificent tree。
And I can't help wondering； a hundred years from now will a kid climb it the way I climbed the
one up on Collier Street？ Will she see the things I
did？ Will she feel the way I did？
Will it change her life the way it changed mine？
I also can't stop wondering about Bryce。 What has he been trying to tell me？ What's he
thinking about？
……… Page 92………
I know he's home because he looks out his window from time to time。 A little while ago he put
his hand up and waved。 And I couldn't help it—I gave a little wave back。
So maybe I should go over there and thank him for the tree。 Maybe we could sit on the porch
and talk。 It just occurred to me that in all the years we've known each other； we've never
done that。
Never really talked。
Maybe my mother's right。 Maybe there is more to Bryce Loski than I know。
Maybe it's time to meet him in the proper light。
……… Page 93………
Don't miss Wendelin Van Draanen's
newest novel； Swear to Howdy；
ing in October 2003！
THIS IS A BORZOI BOOK PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A。 KNOPF
KNOPF； BORZOI BOOKS； and the colophon are registered trademarks of Random House； Inc。
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“My Girl”
Words and Music by William “Smokey” Robinson and Ronald White
（C） 1964； 1972 （renewed 1992； 2000）； 1973； 1977 JOBETE MUSIC CO。； INC。 All Rights
Controlled and Administered by EMI APRIL MUSIC INC。 All Rights Reserved
International Copyright Secured Used by Permission
Library of Congress Cataloging…in…Publication Data
Van Draanen； Wendelin。
Flipped / by Wendelin Van Draanen。
p。 cm。
Summary： In alternating chapters；