Miss Impossible

by Caroline Cala

  “Oh, that’s nice. I’m not really that into lizards anymore,” said Connor. “I just wanted the extra credit. And I guess, like, nobody deserves to get squished, you know?”

  “Of course not.” Malia nodded in agreement.

  She felt like she might burst. Connor Kelly. So caring. So sensitive. So in touch with the plight of all beings.

  “You know, we’re planning a big fund-raiser to raise money for the salamander efforts,” Malia said. “It’s going to be on the field at school, and there will be food and games and raffles and stuff to buy, and maybe even a concert. You should totally come. With Aidan and Josh, of course.” She paused, suddenly afraid she was rambling. “I mean, not because you care about the salamanders that much, but just because it will be a fun time.” She wished he would suggest that maybe they go together.

  “Yeah. I’m kinda hungry,” Connor said instead.

  “Oh! We could, like, get a grilled cheese or something?” Malia suggested. If they shared actual food together, that would make it more like a date.

  “Yeah!” Connor said.

  “Great!” Malia said.

  “Is it cool if we leave the lizards, though?” Connor asked.

  “Oh, right,” said Malia. She’d momentarily forgotten about the point of this entire evening. “Yeah, I guess we’d better not go anywhere.”

  They grew quiet again, and the crickets continued doing their thing. Then Malia decided to unleash her secret weapon, which she had been saving for the right moment.

  “Actually, if you’re hungry, I think I might have some sunflower seeds in my bag?” She very much knew the seeds were in her bag, because she had very intentionally packed them. She had watched Connor eat sunflower seeds during study hall approximately four thousand five hundred twenty-eight times, and she wasn’t going to let that knowledge go to waste. Maybe, she reasoned, if Connor thought they shared a favorite snack, he might recognize that Malia was his soul mate.

  “That’s so weird! My mom always buys sunflower seeds, too,” said Connor.

  Not exactly the reaction she’d hoped for, but Malia would take it.

  As Malia handed off the seeds, one of his fingers brushed hers. She thought she might die.

  The sound of his chewing was beautiful. Malia wished she could tell him how she felt about him—all the days she’d spent semi-creepily watching him move throughout the school, all the times she’d thought about him, all the things she admired about him and ways she found him cute and funny and endearing and amazing and sweet and so totally unlike anyone else.

  “I thought there would be more lizards,” she said instead.

  Her phone buzzed. It was a text from Zelda. Malia was afraid to look at it, in case it said something mean. Or in case it was something she wouldn’t want Connor to see. Or really, in case it said anything at all.

  How’s it going?

  What was this? Malia looked around, in case it was some kind of trick. She wouldn’t be surprised if Zelda popped out of the bushes with an entire camera crew and announced that they were on a show about one-sided crushes.

  It’s fine, Malia cautiously responded.

  Good. Glad to hear it, Zelda replied. Remember, this is your life. Don’t be afraid to make a move.

  Malia slipped her phone back in her pocket, so as not to get too distracted from watching the road. Having Connor in her line of vision was already distracting enough.

  Malia wanted to be the kind of person who could make the first move. But how did you know when it was the right time? How did you know when the person next to you found you more interesting than lizards, which they didn’t even really care about anymore?

  “So, about the salamander fund-raiser,” Malia said. “I’ll definitely keep you posted when I know more about the games and the prizes and who’s coming and stuff.”

  “Sounds good,” said Connor.

  “Um, maybe I could—” She noticed her arm was actually shaking. This was absurd. She willed it to stop with every fiber of her being. “I could, like, give you my number.”

  OH MY GOODNESS, WHAT DID I JUST SAY?

  “Sure,” said Connor. He reached into his perfect Connor-y jeans pocket and pulled out his perfect Connor-y phone.

  Over the next few blessed minutes, the unthinkable occurred. Connor typed a series of numbers—MALIA’S OWN PERSONAL TELEPHONE NUMBER—into his phone WITH HIS PERFECT CONNOR-Y FINGERS. The very same fingers that dribbled basketballs and carried lunch trays and slipped ever so casually into his jeans pockets had now encountered her phone number.

  HOW WAS THIS REALITY?

  “Oh.” He furrowed his brow and looked at his phone with a confused expression.

  WHAT COULD IT MEAN?

  “It’s already in here,” he said. He held up his phone, where, sure enough, “Malia Twiggs” was already programmed into his contacts.

  How was this possible? Connor Kelly already had her number! Had she given it to him? Where had it come from? And yet, he had never used it. She wasn’t sure how to feel about this newfound knowledge.

  “Weird,” he said, with a resigned shrug.

  “Yeah, really weird,” Malia confirmed.

  “Well, I’ll text you,” he said, holding up his phone with one hand and making a typing gesture with the other, like there might be some sort of confusion as to what he meant. Then they fell back into silence, leaving Malia to process all that had just happened.

  She knew that, at the end of the night, there would be no kiss, or even a good-night hug. But this had already far exceeded her expectations. Connor Kelly had sat right next to her for many minutes in a row. He had taken her number. Again, apparently. But this time she would remember giving it to him. She would remember this entire night forever. She hoped it would never end.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dot

  “I’M HUNGRY!” whined Smith.

  Dot and Zelda were currently herding the monsters around town, which meant Zelda was more or less controlling them, while Dot offered some assistance, in terms of both manual labor and emotional support.

  “I’m hungry, too!” said Clark.

  “Me too!” echoed Chase.

  “GIVE US FOOD!” yelled Smith.

  It was the latest of the many requests they had made that day, including wanting to collect every bug they’d passed, asking to use every public toilet, attempting to talk to multiple strangers, and bombarding the sitters with questions like, “Why do cheeses make such weird farts?” At least this need was simple enough to attend to.

  “I’ve been wanting to go to the patisserie,” said Zelda, looking to Dot. “Should we take them there?”

  Of course, thought Dot. No one was immune to the wonder of freshly baked French pastries. Not even Zelda Hooper.

  Before Dot even had a chance to respond, they had their answer.

  “YEAH! I WANT A PAN-O-CHOCOLATE!” yelled Smith.

  “Yes!!!! Best stuff EVER!” agreed Chase.

  While the boys’ behavior had vastly improved in Zelda’s presence, Smith’s volume had not. Dot could only imagine how much it was likely to increase after he’d consumed sugar.

  “Okay, then, let’s go check it out,” Dot said.

  She was willing to go along with this plan, but as a matter of pride, Dot would still abstain from anything even remotely related to the au pairs—including the eating of delicious pastries. Yet as they approached the little bakery, the intoxicating aroma was determined to change her mind. That smell. Oh, that smell. It was the most delicious smell in the entire universe.

  Dot felt conflicted. She didn’t want to like the pain au chocolat as much as she did. But ever since that first bite, it had haunted her. It was like a croissant with an overwhelmingly pleasant chocolately surprise inside. It was like bread and cookies had had a baby. It was the best use of carbohydrates she’d ever encountered.

  Through the shop’s front window, Dot saw Sophie, Genevieve, and Claire (alone, sans babysitting charges) sitting at a café t
able, sipping coffee—What non-adult drinks coffee? she thought—and picking at a plain croissant. In their assortment of flouncy blouses, cool cropped jackets, and artfully disheveled hair, they looked like something out of a catalog selling an impossibly chic life. In fact, the entire place was impossibly chic, from the teeny café tables and perfect latticework chairs to the little flower-filled vases adorning every tabletop.

  “Why don’t you go in and place the order while I stay outside with the boys,” said Zelda, peering in the window. “Otherwise, I can’t imagine how many tiny glass things they’ll find to break in there.”

  Dot couldn’t decide which was worse—staying here and wrangling the monsters or going in and confronting the enemy. But she reasoned the boys would be better behaved in Zelda’s presence, so she was willing to take one for the team.

  “Okay,” said Dot. It was, quite possibly, the least enthusiastic she had ever sounded.

  “Ooh! I know,” said Zelda. She rummaged around in her canvas tote bag and pulled out her earbuds. “Put one of these in. I’ll listen to your conversation from out here, and I’ll feed you lines like we did the other day in the park.”

  Dot was skeptical. “What if they notice?”

  “They won’t. Don’t worry! It’ll be fun.”

  Dot placed the earbud in her ear and pushed through the adorable front door. The smell of pastry was even more intoxicating on the inside. The air was literally delicious.

  As Dot walked up to the counter to place her order, Genevieve said something apparently funny and all three sisters threw their heads back in laughter. Was it possible that even laughter sounded better in French?

  That’s it, Dot thought. The chocolate croissant had haunted her long enough. She was going to order one after all. Besides, eating a pastry was the least she could do to lift her spirits after taking in the current scene.

  She ordered five in total—one each for the boys, herself, and Zelda—and handed the counter attendant the money. She was just turning to leave, hands gripping a paper bag full of carbohydrate goodness, when a superior voice summoned her over.

  “Oh! Hello, Dot,” said Genevieve.

  “Bonjour, mes amies.” Dot repeated exactly what she heard in her ear.

  “Oh là là! Je vois que tu parles français maintenant,” said Sophie.

  “Effectivement. Je te vois sous-estimé mes capacités,” Dot replied. She had no idea what she was saying, but she felt great about it. Before the au pairs had a chance to respond, another phrase rang out in her earpiece. “J’aime péter,” Dot repeated exactly what she’d heard, even though it wasn’t her turn to speak.

  The computerized voice spoke again, repeating the same phrase.

  “J’aime péter.” Dot said it again.

  The French girls shot her a curious look, then burst into laughter. Yes, that settled it. Laughter definitely did sound better in French.

  “Mon gaz sent bon,” Dot said, following the translation. Why did Zelda have her talking about gas? “Très, très bien. Le meilleur gaz sur la planète.”

  “WHAT?” said Claire, exploding into giggles.

  “What is wrong with you?” asked Genevieve.

  Dot was lost. Something had gone horribly wrong, but she knew not what.

  “You like to fart? And your gas smells good?” Sophie laughed.

  “The best gas on the planet!” said Claire, hyperventilating from laughter.

  “Je suis le seigneur du mal,” said the voice in Dot’s earbud. She had no idea what it meant, but after what just went down, she didn’t dare repeat it.

  Dot felt her face grow hot. She’d just made a complete fool of herself. She turned and glared daggers at Zelda, who stood in the front window, making funny faces and gesturing wildly. Now she was making fun of Dot, too?

  Understanding crashed over her. Zelda hadn’t turned over a new leaf at all. She was still up to her same old tricks, humiliating everyone and deriving a sick pleasure from it. Dot couldn’t believe she’d let down her guard. How did that old saying go? “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.” Zelda had fooled them all more times than anyone could count. And all Dot felt was a terrible amount of shame.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Bree

  “I love you more than dinosaurs, more than dino-dino-dinosaurs,” sang Bree.

  “Meow,” said Veronica.

  “I will give you all my roars, more than big Tyrannosaurs,” she sang.

  “Meow.”

  This was Veronica’s favorite Veronica song.

  Sometimes, Veronica liked when Bree sang to him. Actually, she wasn’t totally sure this was the case, but he clearly didn’t hate it, or he would have made that known. In any event, Bree enjoyed singing to Veronica, so she continued to do it. It made her happy, too.

  Bree still hadn’t heard back from the other Veronica about playing at the fund-raiser, but she was a very busy pop star. Bree knew it was only a matter of time.

  Bree was just getting to the chorus when she heard panicked cries from downstairs.

  “Bree! Come see this!” Bailey yelled. Whatever it was, it sounded urgent.

  Bree raced down the plush carpeted stairs and into the family room. The large-screen TV was tuned to the local news, where they were covering the Save the Salamanders campaign. Chelsea’s contact had come through!

  Bree settled in front of the TV. This was so exciting! Though Bree hadn’t heard back from human Veronica, Marvelous Ray’s had signed on to be an official sponsor of the salamander fund-raiser. And now this! Bree couldn’t wait to see the segment.

  LOCAL SALAMANDERS IN DANGER, read the headline at the bottom of the screen. A video clip showed a spotted salamander walking slowly across the road.

  “As it turns out, hundreds of these little guys are in danger from being killed by oncoming traffic. But luckily, citizens are taking steps to change that,” said a female reporter.

  “This is amazing!” said Bree. Her cause was getting top billing on the news! Now her family would see what a difference she was making! And maybe more people from the community would want to get involved!

  “Now we’d like to introduce you to the local hero who brought all this to light,” said the reporter. Huh? Bree thought. No one had interviewed her. Bree’s heart stopped beating as the screen changed to a very disturbing image. It was Chelsea’s giant face, and it was beaming.

  “This brilliant and courageous young woman, at only seventeen years old, has proven to be quite the animal activist,” said the reporter.

  OMG.

  Chelsea continued smiling from inside Bree’s family’s TV.

  A local reporter held a microphone up to Chelsea’s face. LOCAL GIRL SAVES SALAMANDERS, read the ticker at the bottom of the screen.

  What was this noise?

  “Well, one day I was crossing Waveland Avenue in the early evening, and I saw a salamander get hit by a bike,” Chelsea said. “It was really upsetting. Then I saw another one, which led me to research the salamanders’ migratory patterns.”

  Huh? This was Bree’s story! Chelsea had stolen her story, and now she was taking all the credit for Bree’s work. What kind of person did such a thing?

  Chelsea prattled on. “I realized that dozens of these animals were being harmed right here in our community, and it seemed like something had to be done.” She stared straight into the camera, a look of pure bravery flashing across her face. Bree was anti-violence, but she had the urge to leap at the TV and kick it with all her might. “So I decided to start a movement to make a difference. And what a difference it is making. I’m currently planning a huge fund-raiser at the Playa del Mar school, and everyone in the community is invited!”

  “What a brave and inspiring young woman,” said the reporter.

  “Oh, for goodness’s sake,” Bree grumbled, rolling her eyes at the TV.

  The display at the bottom of the screen changed to read, HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT TURNED SALAMANDER SAVIOR.

  “Wow,” said B
ailey, looking at the TV with awe. “That’s who’s saving the salamanders? She’s awesome! What’s she like in person? You’re lucky you get to work with her.”

  “She lied,” Bree said softly. “None of this was her idea. I’M THE ONE SAVING THE SALAMANDERS!” Now she was fired up.

  “But the TV just said that she was saving them.” Bailey pointed at the screen.

  “It’s a lie!” Bree repeated. “She’s just trying to take all the credit.”

  “Oh. Then that is too weird,” Bailey agreed. “You should do something! Call the news and tell them it was really you!”

  Bree supposed she could, but she wasn’t sure how much good that would do. The segment was over. It had already run. Chelsea had already lied to her, and now she had also lied to the world. In the end, Chelsea didn’t really care about creating excitement or raising money—or even about saving salamanders. She only cared about getting recognition. Malia had been right.

  Still, Bailey had a point. Bree had to do something. So she picked up her phone and called the only person deserving of her anger: Chelsea.

  “Hello?” Chelsea answered, with an impossible amount of glee in her voice. Bree could picture her flipping her hair as she spoke.

  “I’m sure you just saw the local news segment,” said Bree.

  “Yes! Wasn’t it fabulous?” Chelsea gushed. “The camera captured my bad side, but overall I think it was really great and hopefully lots and lots of people saw it!”

  “Don’t you think you forgot to mention something really important?” Bree’s heart was beating so fast that she could barely get the words out.

  “Hmm.” Chelsea paused. “I mentioned the event. I talked about the cause. I mentioned all the major plot points of how the movement came together. So, no, I don’t think I forgot anything.”

  “YOU FORGOT ME!” Bree was surprised, and a little bit proud, that she could demonstrate such rage. “You acted like the story was your story. You acted like you’ve done everything yourself. This entire organization was my idea and I’ve been doing all the legwork for the fund-raiser, and you didn’t mention me once!”