Chapter 8

Chapter 8 Survey survey (n) a series of questions that investigates the opinions or experiences of a group of people Jessie was irritated. The color photocopier in her mom's office wasn't working. At least, it wasn't printing color copies. A yellow light blinked, telling her that one of the color ink tanks was empty. To Jessie, this was a tragedy. The wings of the butterflies were supposed to be bright blue. The hearts were meant to be red. The delicate centers of the daisies were colored a buttery yellow. In disgust, she punched the "copy" button and printed out twenty-seven copies of her survey in boring black and white.

Then she packed the special survey box she'd made into her backpack and walked out the door. On the playground, she stayed apart from the others, waiting for the bell that would signal it was time to line up. Megan, of course, was late as usual, and Jessie didn't know if the other girls were mad at her, too. She decided not to ask them. Evan had explained this to her: asking people if they were mad at you sometimes made them even madder. Jessie wasn't the only one keeping to herself that morning. David Kirkorian was also on his own, wandering along the edge of the playground, picking up rocks, and talking to himself. Eventually, he worked his way around to where Jessie was standing, waiting for the bell. "What's that?" he asked, pointing at the stack of papers that Jessie held to her chest. "Nothing," said Jessie. "It can't be nothing," said David. "Just say

'None ya' if you don't want to talk about it." "Okay, none ya." "Why?" asked David. "Is it a secret?" Jessie thought about that. It wasn't a secret. But it was about a secret, or really a whole lot of secrets. Jessie had that uncomfortable feeling that she was about to mess around in something she didn't really understand. Maybe David could help her figure it out. "Well, it's a survey. A bunch of questions. Everyone in the class fills one out—anonymously —and then I add everything up and hand out the results. In my newspaper. It's going to be the front-page story." "A survey about what?" He seemed really interested, and Jessie felt encouraged. Maybe this was a good idea. "Love," she said. "The survey asks if the person likes anyone, you know, like-likes. Anonymously. Obviously, no one's going to say out loud if they like someone else." She looked at David closely

to see if he agreed with this statement. "Obviously," he said, looking up at the sky. "And then there are some other questions, too. You want to see?"

Survey 1. Do you have a crush on someone? 2. Is it someone in 4-0 3. Does the person know you have a crush on them? 4. What's the best way to tell someone you have a crush on them? (Circle one) tell them yourself ask a friend to tell them write a note other (please specify) write the name of the person You have a crush on (hint: disguise your handwriting)

"Sure," said David, but he shrugged one shoulder casually as if to say that he didn't think the topic was really worth talking about. Still, when she handed him the top sheet from her stack, he readjusted his glasses and started to read with lightning speed. When he got to the bottom of the page, his eyes went right back to the top and started reading again. "Mrs. Overton is never going to let you pass this out," said David, giving the sheet back to Jessie as if it were a losing hand in gin rummy. "I'm going to convince her," said Jessie. "It's my extra credit project for math: finding practical ways to use decimals. She can't argue with that." "Yes, she can," said David, his lip curling just a little at one end. "She's the teacher. She can do whatever she wants." This was so true! Teachers did get to do whatever they wanted. Still, Mrs. Overton was pretty fair. Fairer than most. She couldn't say no