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Grow Up, Tahlia Wilkins!
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By Karina Evans
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Twelve-year-old Tahlia Wilkins is ready to kick off the perfect summer, starting with an invitation to a pool party being thrown by the most popular kid in school. But when the Red Goddess of Panties, aka her first period, arrives twenty-four hours before the party, it messes up all her plans. To make matters worse, her mom is out of town, and there’s no way she’s going to ask her awkward dad for help! Tahlia always feared that growing up would be tough, but this is just not fair.
In order to save herself from total embarrassment, it will take all of Tahlia and her best friend Lily’s scheming to keep her reputation—and her favorite jeans—from being ruined. Sneak off to the grocery store only to have the clerk price-check your tampons over the loudspeaker? Check. Trick your mature teenage neighbor into letting you use some of her tampons? Check. Take a dip into a fountain to get quarters for a bathroom period product dispenser? Check, check, check!
With the hilarious and heartwarming tone of Dork Diaries, Grow Up, Tahlia Wilkins! is a coming-of-age middle-grade novel about growing up, in all of its awkward glory.
Excerpt
CHAPTER ONE
Itâs officialâmy traitorous chin is growing a zit.
Well, I guess Iâm not exactly positiveâI could probably count on one hand the number of pimples Iâve hadâbut Iâm pretty sure the throbbing feeling just below my lower lip did not come from some bee that managed to fly into Mrs. Brownâs classroom and sting my face without anyone noticing.
The timing could not be worse. I do not want to have a pimple right in time for the most important event of my lifeâNoah Camposâs pool party.
A.k.a. the event that will make or break my entire summer.
Since Noah is the most popular kid in the seventh grade, the pool party is all anyoneâs been talking about for the last month of school. Anyone who has been invited, that is. Pretty sure Alexa Arnecki, the girl who still brings dolls to school, and Keith Green, the kid who wears pajama pants to class and serenades people on their birthday, wonât be there.
Itâs my chance to prove to everyone that I am not the same girl who wore a one-piece bathing suit with knee-length board shorts and goggles to Noahâs start-of-summer pool party last year. No sirree!
I cringe at the memory. Iâd worn the board shorts so that my legs wouldnât get burned in the sun, and Iâd worn the goggles because I thought weâd be doing flips into the pool and I didnât want to get water in my eyes. But when I got there, all the other girls were in cute bathing suits. Even Hannah Bean, whoâd worn oversized soccer jerseys to school every single day last year, had on a fun two-piece suit for the party.
How was I the only one to miss the memo? Hadnât we all just learned in Mr. Richardâs sixth-grade class how important it was to cover up to prevent too much sun exposure?
Everyone had laughed at me and asked if I was planning on going tide-pooling. I even heard them whispering about my âbaby gogglesâ for the rest of the party.
I cannot let that happen to me again.
But now, my throbbing chin threatens to ruin everything. What if a whole zit cluster pops up? A pack of pimples does not scream new and improved. It screams, Look at these planets on my face! And itâs just my luck. Now I have less than twenty-four hours before the party to destroy my soon-to-be pimple solar system. Greeaat.
I run my finger over the throbbing area before swiping open the front-facing camera on my phone to stare at my chin. The camera angle makes my face look like a thumb.
Yup, itâs a growing pimple, all right. A biggie too. And it gets redder and redder the more I poke at it, trying to force it to go back down.
Am I supposed to know how to get rid of this bulging life-ruiner? Iâve never seen Noah Campos poking around on his face. Maybe he knows of some secret anti-acne formula.
âAhem. Tahlia?â
I look up to see my teacher, Mrs. Brown, staring at me from the front of the classroom with her arms crossed.
I gulp. Iâd almost forgotten I was still in class.
âI know itâs the last day of school, but I still need your attention until the bell rings, yes?â She raises an eyebrow. âNo phones.â
I quickly set my phone screen-down on my desk and give her my best âIâm genuinely sorryâ expression.
Mrs. Brown nods and continues on with whatever she was saying.
I look over my shoulder to see my best friend, Lily, rolling her eyes. Lilyâs dark hair is pulled up into a bun, and her purple braces match her purple-striped shirt. I think the purple-on-purple combo makes her seem even younger than she is. Sheâs already the youngest in our grade, so the bright colors make her look like a little crayon. Sometimes I wish sheâd outgrow all the matchy-matchy, but Iâd never tell her that.
Lily and I met on the very first day of kindergarten, and weâve been practically sisters ever since, so she knows me well enough to see Iâm definitely not sorry for ignoring Mrs. Brown. And why should I be? We took our end-of-the-year tests two weeks ago, and we havenât learned anything since. My pimple emergency is much more important than listening to Mrs. Brown go on about how much of a âpleasureâ itâs been to have us in her class. Teachers have to say stuff like that, even if they donât mean itâand in this case, Mrs. Brown definitely doesnât. I personally saw Amir Abdi jam a pencil up his nose and try to take a pop quiz without using his hands. Twice. That was not a âpleasureâ to watch.
âAnd thatâs why I know youâll all do great next year on the eighth-grade side of campus,â finishes Mrs. Brown. âItâs been so nice getting to know you all.â
From her seat behind Lily, Jackie Berg raises her hand and starts talking before Mrs. Brown has a chance to call on her.
âWhen do we get our class schedules for next year?â Jackie asks, flipping her long hair behind her shoulder.
Jackie used to hang out with Lily and me every weekend in elementary schoolâin fact, when we started classes this year, she even rode her bike to school with us. But ever since she started straightening her hair and wearing shoes not meant for pedaling, she stopped biking and started having her parents drop her off. Now she spends the weekends with popular kids like Noah Campos.
I tried asking my parents to drive Lily and me to school, but they laughed me out of the room. So Iâm doomed to helmet hair and dirty sneakers.
âSometime in August,â Mrs. Brown answers.
I pick at my chin. I think I read somewhere that yogurt is good to smear on pimples. Or was it mayonnaise? I canât remember now. Ugh! School just needs to be over so I can figure this out.
âAnywayââMrs. Brown looks up at the clock on the wallââI know the last bell is about to ring and youâll go racing out of here, but enjoy your summer and make sure to come visit me and the rest of your seventh-grade teachers next year!â She claps her hands together with a big grin.
On cue, the last bell finally goes off, and a few kids throw their papers up in the air and let them flutter to the floor. I grab my phone and swipe open the camera again to look at my chin as the rest of the class gathers their things and hustles out of the room.
âLeave it alone!â Lily whispers as she comes up behind me.
The very fact that she knows what Iâm picking at means that she can see the growing zit, which does not make me want to leave it alone. It makes me want to pick at it until itâs completely gone.
âEasy for you to say. Youâve never had one.â I frown.
Lily rolls her eyes. âCome on,â she says, tugging my arm and pulling me out of my desk. âMy mom wants me to come straight home after school.â
I sigh and stand. We really canât dawdle if Lilyâs mom wants her home. Her mom is eight monthsâ pregnant, so whatever she says goes.
Yup, thatâs rightâpregnant. As in, with a real live baby. I nearly choked on a pretzel when Lily told me the news. My best friend being a big sister? Itâs just so weird. And unexpected. But Iâve accepted it now.
Mostly.
Lily and I march out of the classroom and head toward the bike rack. A group of eighth graders are celebrating finishing middle school by taking pictures in front of our schoolâs sign. They laugh and pose as they take turns snapping the photos, making sure all their friends have a chance to be in a big group shot. It looks fun.
If Noahâs party goes well tomorrow, maybe when Lily and I graduate middle school next year, it wonât be just the two of us taking pictures of each other. We might even have our own group. Sigh.
When we reach our bikes, Jackie is leaning up against the rack and scrolling through her phone.
âHey, Jackie!â Lily waves.
I try not to groan. Lily is always so nice to her. Itâs like she doesnât even care that Jackie used to be our close friend before she ditched us. She used to be part of our little group. One day we were all eating lunch together, and the next Jackie was across the cafeteria, laughing with her new friends. We hadnât even been in a fight or anything. She just⊠left.
Jackie glances up from her phone. âOh, hey, guys.â She looks back down at the screen and keeps scrolling.
âAre you going to Noahâs pool party tomorrow?â Lily asks excitedly.
Tomorrow will be Lilyâs first time going to one of Noahâs parties. She had a stomach bug last year, so she wasnât there to witness my horrible goggles-and-board-shorts incident. She only heard about it later.
I know I really canât blame Lily for being sick, but sometimes I canât help but think that if she had been there, then at least there would have been two of us who didnât get the cute-suit alert. And I know for a fact that Lily wouldâve worn her purple rash-guard, because she doesnât like when her shoulders peel after being in the sun too long.
Jackie nods. âMhmm, are you?â
âYup!â Lily beams. âWeâre going to ride over to Noahâs from Tahliaâs house.â
âYouâre biking?â Jackie looks at us as if weâve just told her we step in dog poop for fun.
âNo,â I say quickly, even though we were planning to take our bikes. âRidingâas in a car.â Itâs the only thing I can think to say to make her stop looking at us with a raised eyebrow.
âOkay,â Jackie says, smiling. âCool. And no board shorts and baby goggles this year, right, Tahlia?â She smirks.
My stomach sinks.
Jackie was still our friend last summer. She knows how embarrassing the party was for me, because I specifically told her. She even helped me pick out my first two-piece bathing suit afterward so that it would never happen again. I hate that Jackie has all this secret knowledge about stuff I told her when we could trust her, and now she just uses it to remind me she doesnât hang out with me anymore.
I know it bothers Lily too, but Lily is always so friendly to her. Itâs annoying. I wish she would dislike Jackie like I do, but instead Lily acts extra nice to her, as if she thinks itâll somehow convince Jackie weâre still fun to hang out with. Yeah, right. Like thatâll ever work.
Thereâs a car honk from behind us.
âThatâs my mom,â Jackie says as she slings her backpack over her shoulder. âBut Iâll see you tomorrow, sevies!â She gives us a wave before racing over to the pickup loop, where her momâs car is waiting.
I frown at her use of sevies. Itâs what the eighth graders used to call us seventh graders, and it never felt like a compliment. Besides, her saying it doesnât even make any sense. Sheâs in the same grade we are. Weâre all technically now eighties.
Lily doesnât seem to mind the term, because she turns to me and asks, âWhatâs wrong with biking?â
âNothing,â I say, but it comes out a bit ruder than I mean it, so I add, âI donât know.â Which is the truthâI honestly donât. Biking is fun and useful. I have no idea when and why it became uncool.
Lily shrugs. âMe neither.â
She clips on her helmet, pulls her bike out from the rack, and swings her leg over it. I follow her lead.
âReady?â Lily asks.
I nod.
We take off toward our neighborhood, passing the line of parents waiting to pick up their kids from school. I wonder which car is Noahâs. Iâve never seen him bike to school.
Lily leads us onto the next street and picks up her pace. She loves to go fast. Usually, I do too, but today, even though I know I should be happy that school has ended and summer is starting, I canât help getting a little bit grumpier with every rotation of my pedals.
But tomorrowâs party will be my chance to make everything right. Iâll wear my new two-piece bathing suit with no board shorts and no baby goggles. That way, even Jackie wonât have anything to poke fun at me for.
As long as the pool party goes according to my plan, and I can get rid of the pimple on my chin in time, then everything will be fine. I just canât spend another summer as some big joke. Iâll show everyone that I am new and improved.
I let out a deep breath and tighten my grip on the bike.
Everything will be better after the pool party. It has to be.
CHAPTER TWO
When we reach the street where Lily turns left toward her house and I turn right toward mine, Lily bikes up onto the sidewalk and comes to a stop. I pull up beside her.
âLast ride of the year,â she says and smiles.
âJust think, next time weâre here, weâll be eighth graders.â Even though Iâm still a little grumpy, the thought of being one of the oldest kids at school sends a bit of giddy excitement through me.
But Lily doesnât answer. She looks down and brushes dirt off her pants. I bet sheâs picturing starting the new school year with a new baby sibling at home.
âIâll text you in the morning about going to Noahâs together,â I say.
âHopefully, that thing on your chin will be gone by then,â she says, chuckling.
I gasp. âLily!â
She laughs and picks her foot off the ground to pedal forward.
âSee you tomorrow!â she calls over her shoulder. âEighth grader!â
I stick my tongue out at her but immediately realize itâs not something the new and improved Tahlia would do, so I suck it back in before anyone can see.
When Lily has biked around the corner, I push off the ground and start home. Three streets later, I walk my bike up my driveway before dropping it in the grass. I know Mom will want me to bring it around to the backyard, but thatâs a chore for another time.
âThereâs our seventh-grade graduate!â Mom says when I step through the front door. âHow was your last day of school?â
Mom is wearing one of her professional work outfits and frantically stuffing things into her purse. The tips of her hair are damp from a shower, and theyâve made small wet marks on the shoulders of her blouse. Itâs a common look for her. Sheâs always rushing out of the shower to get places. I mustâve inherited the being-on-time trait from Dadâdefinitely not from her.
âGood,â I say, shrugging. I donât have time to chitchat. I need to get yogurt. Or mayonnaise. Or maybe both. Yeah, both. Iâll smear them both on my chin.
âGreat!â She smiles. Then she motions to a stack of boxes near the door that leads out to the garage. âI know you just got home, but can you help me carry these to the car?â
âWhere are Jamie and Ryan?â I ask. Usually, my twin sixteen-year-old brothers spend their afternoons playing video games while lounging on the couch. How suspiciously convenient that they just so happen to be missing when the chores get dished out.
âCan you please just help bring these out? Iâm running late as it is,â she says as she picks up a box and shuffles into the garage.
âWhoa, Tahlia, did you hurt your chin?â Dad asks as he walks into the living room from the garage. He points at my face before bending down to pick up a box.
âDa-ad!â I slap a hand over my zit. If my dadâa man who didnât even notice when Mom accidentally dyed her hair purple after using one of those do-it-yourself dye kitsâcan notice my growing chin pimple, Iâve really got a serious problem.
Thereâs no time to waste. I need to deal with it immediately if thereâs any chance of it being gone by Noahâs party.
âIâll be right back!â I exclaim as I turn on my heel.
Before I can sprint into the kitchen for yogurt, Dad says, âWait, wait, wait! You can help your mom first for five seconds.â
âButâ!â
Dad gives me one of his âDonât even try itâ looks.
I exhale loudly. âFine,â I say as I march toward the boxes. âWhatâs in these things anyway?â I bend down to lift one of them up. Itâs heavy.
âStuff for my work retreat,â Mom answers as she walks back into the room. âTeam-building games and snacks, mostly.â She picks up a box and hauls it toward the garage.
I eye the box in my arms. âWhat kind of snacks?â
âPlease just bring it to the car, Tahlia,â she calls over her shoulder.
âYeah, yeah,â I mumble.
One of the many joys of Mom running her own small business is that we always get roped in to help her do the grunt work. Cue eye roll.
Although, in the case of this grunt work, the sooner I get it done, the sooner Mom will hit the road. And with her gone, I can get my chin ready for Noahâs party in peace. So I hurry to load the box in the trunk.
When I trudge back into the living room, Dad passes by me carrying the last box to the car. Mom sneaks up behind me and plants a kiss on my head. I grimace, and she pulls me into a hug.
âI shouldnât have scheduled the work retreat for this weekend.â She frowns. âI wish we all couldâve had a big dinner tonight to celebrate you kidsâ last day of school. Weâll do something later.â
âYup, got it. Have fun at your work thingy,â I say, wiggling free of the hug.
âAnd you have fun at the pool party tomorrow,â she says while pulling on a jacket. âI think I saw your board shorts in your closet.â
I make a face. âUrgh, no. Iâm not wearing those.â
Mom raises an eyebrow. âOkay, well, remember to reapply sunscreen after swimming.â
âI will,â I grumble. âOh, and I need a ride to the party.â
âWhy canât you bike?â
I ignore the question and whine, âMom, please?â
Sheâs distracted and fumbling with her keys as she says, âAsk your dad. Heâs the one who will need to take you over.â
On cue, Dad walks back into the house. I turn to face him.
âDad,â I say sweetly, âcan you drive me over to Noahâs pool party tomorrow?â
âUh, sure,â he grunts as he lifts Momâs suitcase and brings it into the garage.
I grin.
âIâll be back tomorrow night. Late, probably,â Mom says. âAnd remember, on Monday weâre meeting with the school counselor to go over the various elective options for next year.â
Ugh.
I make a face and try not to groan aloud. While I am excited to be the oldest at school next year, the very last thing I want to think about right now is actually taking eighth-grade classes. I literally just finished seventh grade today! Canât a girl get a little relax time? Sheesh!
Mom notices my annoyed expression. âItâs always good to be prepared, Tahlia. Summer goes faster than you think. And maybe if you look into taking some new extracurricular activities, youâll make more friends!â
Sheâs made comments like this ever since Jackie stopped hanging out with Lily and me. Honestly, I think she was more upset about it than I was. I couldnât care less that Jackie thinks she is too cool for us now. Not one bit. Nada. Why would I want to be friends with someone who doesnât want to be friends with me? I donât!
I mean, yeah, maybe a few more not-Jackie friends would be nice, but Iâm not about to tell Mom that. Sheâd do something embarrassing like try to set up a âplaydateâ for me with one of her work friendsâ kids, who are all younger than I am. No, thank you!
Besides, after tomorrow, I wonât even need Momâs help. If I can prove to Noah that Iâm cooler than I was last year, then maybe everyone else in my grade will think so too. Then it wonât matter at all what Jackie thinks.
Iâm about to answer Mom, when the twins walk into the living room from the door that leads to our backyard. Theyâre sweaty and gross. They must have some sort of telepathic way of knowing when chores are finished. Iâd envy them if they werenât so disgusting.
âThere you two are.â Mom smiles at them. âCome here. Come give me a hug before I take off.â
âWhat incredible timing you two have,â I say sarcastically to the twins as they walk over to hug Mom goodbye.
They smirk at me. I glare back.
Most people have trouble figuring out which twin is which, but itâs easy for me. Jamie looks like a doofus because his ears are too big, and Ryan looks like a doofus because his neck is too long. See? Easy.
âAll right, Iâm off.â Mom slings her purse over her shoulder and gives Dad a kiss. âYou can call me for the next hour if you need anything. But remember, I wonât have service once Iâm at the work retreat, since itâs in Forest County.â
âBye, Mom,â I say.
âBye, Mom,â Jamie and Ryan echo as they plop themselves down on the couch.
âSee you guys tomorrow night. And congrats again on finishing the school yearâyay!â Mom blows us kisses before hustling into the garage. A few moments later, I hear the automatic garage door slowly open and the car rumble to a start.
Dad sits next to my brothers on the couch, and Ryan (the one with the long neck) reaches for the remote to switch on the TV.
âTahlia,â Jamie (the one with the large ears) says, pointing to my chin, âyouâve got a little something-something happening on your face. Itâs not a good âsomething.ââ
My eyes widen in horror. Iâd almost forgotten about my rapidly expanding chin bump!
Without a second thought, I race into our downstairs guest bathroom. As soon as I close the door behind me, I hear Jamie and Ryan snicker from the couch.
Oh, what Iâd give for a cool older sister instead of brainless brothers. Sigh.
I squint into the mirror and get to work on destroying the UFO (unwanted face object). But after ten minutes of poking, prodding, and squeezing, all I manage to do is create a little sweat line across my brow from concentrating so hard. The chin zit will not be easily removed. I think it must sense fear.
Iâm about to give up, slap a Band-Aid across my face, and claim I was in some freak chin-only accident (maybe Iâll also get sympathy points), when thereâs a strange feeling in my nether regionsâyou know, the area down below.
Confused, I undo my pants, sit down on the toilet, look downâŠ
Andâ
Holy Mother of Aunt Josephine. It has finally happened.
Waitâhas it? Iâm not sure. Iâm not sure what it is meant to look like.
I squint a little closer. No, no, it has absolutely happened.
The Fairy Godmother of Puberty has paid me my first visit.
Translation? I, Tahlia Wilkins, have started my period in our tiny downstairs bathroom.
CHAPTER THREE
Oh.
My.
God.
This canât be happening. Not now.
Genre:
- "Quick-moving, lighthearted, and ultimately heartwarming, this first-person narrative will especially be enjoyed by readers awaiting or having recently experienced their first periods."âKirkus
- "Tahlia's experience of her first period is refreshingly matter-of-fact and extensive . . . Hand this voice-driven novel to kids interested in friendship stories."âBooklist
- “This laugh-out-loud and all-too-real story about first periods is sure to speak to girls awaiting (or dreading) their own first periods…Highly recommended.”âThe Mighty Girl
- "Evans offers some practical tips for young people on the brink of menstruation, ending on a family-oriented upswing—and a note of relief.”âPublishers Weekly
- On Sale
- Oct 17, 2023
- Page Count
- 320 pages
- Publisher
- Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
- ISBN-13
- 9780316168847
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