Diving Under: 

 All I've ever wanted is for Julie Baker to leave me alone. For her to back off— you know, just give me some space.

   It all started summer before 2nd grade when our moving van pulled into her neighborhood. And since we’re now about done with the eighth grade,  that, my friend, makers more than half a decade of strategic avoid-once and social discomfort.

  She didn’t just barge into my life. She barged and shoved and wedged her way into my life. Did we invite her to get into our moving van and start climbing all over boxes? No! But that’s exactly what she did, taking over and showing off like only Juli Baker can.

   My dad tried to stop her. “Hey!”he says as she’s catapulting herself on board. “What are you doing? You’re getting mud everywhere!” So true, too. Her shoes were, like caked with the stuff.

   She didn’t hop out, though, Instead, she plant her rear end on the floor and started pushing a big box with her feet. “Don’t you want some help?” She glanced my way. “It sure looks like you need it.”

   I didn’t like the implication. And even though my dad had been tossing me the same sort of look all week, I could tell—he didn’t like this girl either. “Hey! Don't do that,” he warned her. “There are some really valuable things in that box.”

   “Oh, Well, how about this one?” She scoots over to a box labeled LENOX and looks my way again. “We should push it together!”