by Beth Vrabel
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I managed. My heart thumped.
“Oh, don’t worry. I’m not mad.” Kara smiled. “I’m inspired.”
She leaned down so her elbows were on my table and lowered her voice. “You’re going to regret messing with me, PeePee McGee. Although I have to admit, I didn’t think you had it in you.”
I spent the rest of the day on edge, wondering if Kara was about to enact her revenge for my revenge. When did revenge end? But it wasn’t until a few hours later that I understood the depths of Kara’s diabolical nature.
I walked into Mom’s gym after school to see Mom, Eliza, Alec, and Dad behind the counter. They were deep in conversation, but when the door opened, Eliza jumped to her feet. Within seconds, she was standing in front of me, her face pure white in fury. “What did you do, Pipi McGee?”
“What? What are you talking about?” My heart suddenly grew feathers that beat against my rib cage.
Mom came around the corner, her fingers wrapping around Eliza’s shoulder. “Let’s not accuse anyone of anything. Let’s talk.”
Eliza turned and buried her face in Mom’s shoulder like a little girl.
Dad, his reporter’s notebook in hand, came around the corner. Looking down at his notes, he said, “So it looks like someone in your grade—Kara Samson—suffered some physical damage due to one of Eliza’s products.”
“No!” interrupted Eliza, her voice muffled by Mom’s shoulder. “There’s no way anything I made would’ve done that.”
Dad nodded and continued, sounding like he was dictating an article instead of his usual dad talk. “She’s claiming, or rather, her mother’s claiming, that a special blend from Eliza caused her daughter’s hair loss. She cannot provide any store receipt for purchase nor can she provide a date that she visited Glitter. But she says that about ten minutes after her daughter applied this special blend, her eyebrows fell off.”
“Oh no,” I whispered.
“Further,” Dad continued, “she brought the bottle into Glitter. It includes a label titled Eliza’s Eyebrow Serum and does, in fact, match the bottles that Eliza is known to use for her blends. The label, however, is unfamiliar.” Dad looked up from his notes at that and stared at me. All of them stared at me.
Her hand still squeezing Eliza’s shoulder and her voice sharp, Mom said, “It sure does look like your handiwork, Pipi. The handwriting, the special paper.”
I couldn’t speak. Any word that I wanted to make wouldn’t find its way to my lips, not when this bird-heart was beating its wings so fast.
Eliza pushed back from Mom and turned to me. Her eyes were narrow and her face set in stone. “Glitter was going to promote me to manager once my graduation became official in December. Now they’re going to fire me.”
My head shook even though my mouth still wasn’t working. “No,” I said. “No, they can’t do that. You had nothing to do with this!”
“But you did, huh?” Eliza said. Her chest rose a fraction, her breath coming out in a quick huff. “This isn’t some game to me, Pipi. That place is part of me. I’m good at what I do. I work hard. And you took that from me. I’m happy there. I belong. And you took that from me. Do you know what that’s like?”
I nodded. I did know. But nodding was exactly the wrong thing to do. Eliza rushed me, Mom and Dad both bellowing and pulling her back, but I didn’t move. Eliza’s face was an inch from mine. “How could you do this to me?”
“I didn’t mean to,” I murmured. “I didn’t think it had anything to do with you. I wanted to get back at her. You were just there.” The bird-heart tugged at a memory, pulling it out and swallowing it whole. That’s what Kara had said. Getting me to do those things—nearly every humiliation from inventing the Pipi Touch to telling me to cut off my hair—none of them had been because she didn’t like me. It was because she hadn’t cared about me. And to get back at her, I used Eliza; I had been so set on revenge I didn’t even care what that meant for my sister.
“I had this bottle from Glitter. I filled it with eyebrow gel… and some hair removal stuff.”
Mom growled. Dad’s eyes narrowed. Alec’s head hung. Eliza shook her head. “I didn’t give it to her! I swear, I didn’t!” I forced the next words out. “I dropped it near her. She’s the one who picked it up! She, she, kind of stole it from me!”
Eliza’s mouth twisted and her eyes filled. “How could you, Pipi?”
Dad cleared his throat. “Chances of them winning a suit against Eliza are slim to none. Pipi admits that she made the concoction, even though she had claimed it was Eliza. Kara came about it through nefarious means.”
I breathed out in relief, but then Dad cleared his throat again. “But Eliza’s manager is under no obligation to keep her employed, particularly if a customer launches a complaint.”
I closed my eyes. “I’ll fix this. I promise.”
“You better,” Mom said, as Eliza turned back into her shoulder. “You better fix this right now.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
With Mom at my side, I went to Glitter to talk with the manager. An older woman led Mom and me to a cold office in the back of the store. Every surface was shiny and dark without any pictures or papers or items that indicated anyone actually worked there. Eliza had complained loads of times that the office manager spent less and less time at the shop since she had been hired, that she was the one handling day-to-day operations. The manager, Ms. Williams, had the type of shiny blond hair that I had only ever seen on people leaving a salon. Her makeup was precise and her smile as cold as the office.
With Mom’s nudging, I told her about adding the hair remover to the eyebrow gel and that Eliza had nothing to do with it. “I did this all on my own.”
The woman leaned back in her chair. “Well, Eliza is somewhat responsible regardless.”
“She isn’t!” I insisted.
Ms. Williams continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “The Samson family is threatening a lawsuit. As it is, I had to agree to rather costly products to appease them both.”
“Wait,” Mom interrupted. “They’re threatening to sue for faulty products but were willing to take their pick of items you sell?”
Ms. Williams sighed out of her nose, nostrils flaring. “More than five hundred dollars’ worth of products, which will be taken out of Eliza’s paycheck.”
“That isn’t fair!” I protested.
Mom made an angry tsk-ing noise, then said, “Since my Eliza began working here, she has improved the quality and vision of this shop. Are any of your other employees requested as often? Do any of them bring in as many customers? Have any others thought of starting YouTube tutorials to help market the store online? Do any of them have customizable blends? She deserves your loyalty.”
Ms. Williams crossed her arms. “Eliza is a grown woman. If she has a problem, she can discuss it with me herself.”
A knock on the door interrupted us. Another employee poked her head in at Ms. Williams’s crisp, “Yes?”
“We have a few customers asking for Eliza to tint their lip glosses,” a timid-looking woman wearing one of the Glitter aprons said.
“Do it yourself!” Ms. Williams barked.
“Mine never turn out like Eliza’s,” the woman said.
Ms. Williams threw her arms in the air. “Figure it out!” She turned back to us. “And, needless to say, Eliza will not be getting the raise she demanded last week for completing her degree.”
Mom closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re making a big mistake.”
Another knock on the door. This time a different employee poked her head in. She blew the hair hanging in her face away with a puff. “I don’t know where we keep the extra face swabs. Eliza keeps tabs on them.”
Ms. Williams’s teeth gnashed together in an audible grind. “The shop’s not that big! Find it yourself.”
Before the door even fully closed, a third employee wrapped her fingers around it and pushed it open. Ms. Williams barked, �
�Figure it out!” and the hand retreated.
Mom smirked at Ms. Williams. “You need Eliza. She’s the one who runs this place, and you know it.”
Ms. Williams glared at Mom. “I believe we’re here to discuss your other daughter’s mistakes, although it seems both of them have a tendency to get themselves in trouble.”
Mom’s face flushed an angry red I had only seen once—back when I was four and decided to see what would happen if I filled the coffee maker with honey.
“What if I talk to Kara?” I asked Ms. Williams before Mom could erupt. “What if I get them to cool off?”
She crossed her arms. “Well, that might be a way to keep Eliza employed.”
I called Kara before we got to the car, but it went to voicemail. I texted her. Please call me back. No response.
The drive home was short, only about five minutes, but it felt like a year or two of my life since Mom spent the entire time radiating joy-sucking rage, and I wasn’t sure how much was directed my way and how much was for Ms. Williams. I risked a sideways glance. Her lips were moving as she silently relived conversations, only this time saying what she really wanted to have said.
Please, I texted again.
All night, I checked my phone for a response. At about seven o’clock, the message went from delivered to read. For a heart-stopping five seconds I saw the floating dots. But then, nothing.
Annie had a playdate at Piper’s house. Then she and Eliza went out to dinner. They didn’t come home until after eight.
“Eliza?” I knocked on the bathroom door with my knuckle as Eliza gave Annie a bath. The door opened a crack and I saw about two inches of Eliza’s angry face. “I’ll pay you back for the five hundred dollars. I promise! I already have about three hundred from birthdays and stuff. I’m really sorry,” I blurted. “I’m going to fix this. I am! I swear it.”
Eliza let the door open a little more. My sister, for a moment, looked so much older than her twenty years. “Is Kara Samson anything like her older brother, Max?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. But she’s pretty awful.”
“Then she probably deserves no eyebrows.”
I smiled but somehow was kind of crying at the same time. Eliza looked so tired. Defeated. She shut the door.
The next morning, Kara stood by my locker. I rushed toward her, intending to throw myself at her feet if that’s what it took to get her family to lay off Eliza. But first, of course, I had to dodge about six people who needed good-luck touches. One pinched my arm. “Ow!” I slapped at his hand.
The kid, someone who must’ve been in sixth grade, didn’t even say sorry. He turned to a friend and cheered, “I got double luck!”
I gritted my teeth and rushed toward Kara.
Kara held up one slim hand as I blurted, “You have to back off Eliza! You have—”
“You are not going to tell me what I have to do, PeePee McGee.” She crossed her arms and glared at me. Clearly, she was using some of her five-hundred-dollar makeup because she looked flawless.
“Your contouring is amazing,” I snapped.
“Thank you,” she snapped back. Then her face smoothed into another snake smile. “I think you are good luck. I never would’ve gotten this makeup without you.”
I glared at her, huffing my anger out of my nose. I imagined it unraveling around her like a net, sweeping her up and hanging her upside down by her nonexistent eyebrows. But all it really did was make me sound like a bull.
“You know Eliza had nothing to do with what happened,” I said.
She shrugged. “Fine. I’ll tell Mom to lay off.”
I reared back. “Fine.”
“Great,” Kara said.
I blinked at her. This had gone unexpectedly well. “So, cool. I’ll see you later then.”
“Not so fast,” Kara said, each word pelting me. “The eyebrow gel. The toilet paper.” She snake smiled again. “I’m impressed.”
The worst thing to do was to smirk at this compliment. But I did. Because the truth was? Before everything went sideways? She was absolutely right. I didn’t think I had it in me, either. Those revenge bubbles started to float around me again. And then Kara opened her mouth and popped them all.
“And it made me wonder, why the sudden revenge schemes? The popularity, the way you’re so joiny-joiny with Sarah and Jackson.” Kara smiled. “I’m not sure what you’re doing, Pipi, but I do know we have a common enemy. Frau Jacobs.”
“I don’t know what you’re—”
Kara laughed. “Poor Pipi. Such a newbie. So much to learn.” She patted my shoulder. I dodged it and she rolled her eyes. “First rule of being a mean girl: have lots of sources. Loads of them. Ones that report back things they overhear.” She leaned into the mirror I had hanging on my locker door. It was only then that I noticed it was open.
“Did you pick my lock?”
Kara ran her thumb against her lip, making sure her gloss was in line. “You haven’t changed the lock since fifth grade.” She straightened back up. “Like I said, you’ve got lots to learn.
“Ricky and Tasha were talking in the cafeteria last week. Patricia was just behind them in the pizza line. She told me all about some list that you’re making. About how now that I am off The List”—again she rolled her eyes—“all that’s left is Frau Jacobs.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stammered.
“Save it,” Kara nearly growled. “Second rule of being a mean girl: always be ready to turn the tables. You might’ve gotten at me with the…” She vaguely gestured at her eyebrows. “But now I’m the one in charge.”
“But you’re wrong,” I said. “I don’t want to be a mean girl.” I stepped back from her. “Who wants to be a mean girl?”
Kara sneered. “Someone who’s tired of being overlooked. Someone who’s done being laughed at. Someone smart.” Kara stepped toward me, closing the distance I had created. “You need me. We both need to get back at Frau.”
“Because she made you wear the shame shirt?”
She lifted her chin. “I had to wear that home. My brother saw me.”
Something shifted across Kara’s face, like a mask slipping to the side. She looked raw. I felt a rush of reluctant sympathy.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she snapped. I looked away. “Anyway,” she continued, “if you want me to drop this thing with Eliza—if you want my mom to drop it—you have to help me. It’s a win-win. We both get back at Frau Jacobs.”
What choice did I have? I promised Eliza I’d do whatever it took. I swallowed. “Okay.”
She smiled, showing teeth this time. “Great. Find out more about her. Then we’ll figure out a plan.”
“What do you mean find out more about her?”
“What makes her tick,” Kara said. “Aside from harassing girls who don’t wear clothes straight out of the Never-Gonna-Have-a-Date catalog. No offense.”
I glanced down at my outfit—jeans and a hoodie. Kara continued, “What do you know about her?”
“Nothing,” I said. “She’s horrible. That’s it.”
Kara rolled her eyes. “We’re going to need more than that.”
“I mean,” I said, thinking out loud, “I know she loves opera. She’s always quoting that soprano singer, right? My dad said she even did in high school.”
“Wait!” Kara put up a hand. “Your dad went to high school with her?”
“Yeah,” I said. “He said…”
“What?” she snapped.
My face felt hot suddenly. “He said people gave her a hard time in school.”
Kara bounced on her toes. “Great! This is just what we need. Inside information! I can work with that. I’ll work that angle while you pump your dad for more details.”
“What do you mean ‘work that angle’?”
“So. Much. To. Learn,” she said, rolling her eyes again. “And I thought you had potential. Leave it to me. You find out more info.”
“I don’t know about t
his. It feels wrong,” I whispered.
She shrugged. “Fine.”
“Fine?” I echoed.
“Yeah, fine. Don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” she said, and for a moment she sounded so much like Sarah that I almost smiled in relief. “We’ll stick with the original plan—your sister gets fired, and I ruin your life.”
“I’ll do it,” I muttered.
Kara held out her hand to shake. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed it. Before letting go, Kara added, “Oh, yeah. One more thing. I’m also going to need you to tell me what Sarah’s hiding.”
“What?” I said and yanked my hand back. Kara held on, her grip so tight my knuckles crunched.
“My cousin. She’s planning something and hiding it from me. I want to know what.” Kara squeezed harder. “I mean beyond the poetry club thing she’s doing with you and Jackson. And the other thing.” She stared at me and I cursed my inability to keep an innocent face. Kara’s chin jerked upward, and I knew she was reading on my face that Sarah had confided in me “the other thing.” Kara’s jaw clenched. “She’s planning something. I want to know what it is, and you’re going to tell me.”
I shook my head. “No, Sarah has nothing to do with this.” I managed to yank my hand free.
“Neither does Eliza, right? Yet here we are.” Kara smoothed her hand on her pants leg. My hand had been sweaty, I guess. “Sarah’s hiding something, and I want to know what it is by the end of the week.” She wiggled her fingers at me in farewell and headed down the hall.
“Are you okay?” Ricky asked me in homeroom.
I didn’t look at him, just kept my eyes on Frau Jacobs. She was marking attendance at the front of the room. Patricia slipped into the room as the final bell rang. “You’re late, Patricia! Go to the office and get a slip.”
“But the bell is still ringing!” she whined.
Frau Jacobs clasped her hands under her chin. “A lady must always make an entrance, as Greta Mila von Nickel was fond of saying. But in my class, that entrance better be on time. And, according to our handbook—a copy of which you may pick up in the office—that means before the final bell.”
