Honestly, Dot felt a little stressed. Every hour spent wandering the mall was an hour not spent observing air-conditioned bees. Plus, she didn’t need to buy a new outfit for the Veronica concert, because she already knew exactly what she was going to wear—an outfit that was simple and sophisticated and slightly glamorous and just a little bit grungy, like Veronica herself. Not because Dot cared about Veronica, of course. She just liked to be prepared.
Still, she supposed that everyone deserved a break sometimes. And what better way to spend a break, she reasoned, than by eating all of the glorious foods the mall had to offer?
Her mother’s organic grocery shopping had gotten even more restrictive as of late, so Dot wanted to make up for it in the grandest way. Unfortunately, she still had to be economical, since the bee coolant parts and concert tickets had eaten up nearly all of her funds. So she settled on something sweet and something savory: cinnamon-sugar pretzel nuggets and an order of nacho bites.
“Are you sure you don’t want a pizza, too?” asked Malia, eyeing Dot’s bounty.
“I thought we were here to celebrate the fruits of our labor,” Dot said.
“But technically, those are not fruits,” said Malia. “Those are pretzels.”
“We should do something really, really fun!” said Bree.
“Do you want to go to Meow Town?” Malia asked Bree. A valid suggestion, since Meow Town had long been established as one of Bree’s favorite places on Earth.
“NO. I do NOT want to go to Meow Town,” said Bree. A look of panic flashed across her face.
“Wow. Has Veronica put you off cats?” Dot asked.
“I thought it was going better now that Brody was helping,” Malia said.
“I—I—” Bree struggled to find her words. “I still love cats. I just need a break right now.”
“Do we need to be worried?” Dot had never seen Bree look so traumatized before. She missed her happy-go-lucky friend—the one who wanted to secretly shop for toys and bust out in original choreography and cover the world in sparkles.
They wandered a bit more, speeding up to avoid the overzealous perfume sample lady who offered to spritz them, then chased them even after they said no. Malia was looking to and fro, craning her neck like she was searching for someone.
“Malia, what’s up? Were you secretly hired to do mall surveillance?” Dot asked.
“No. Nothing’s up. Why would you ask that?”
“Are you looking for Connor?” Bree asked.
“NO,” Malia said, but her face said otherwise. “Okay, yes.”
“Would you even talk to him if you saw him?” Dot teased.
“That is beside the point,” Malia said, stealing a pretzel nugget. “But I might.”
They strolled on, nary a Connor in sight. Then Bree spotted something even more troubling.
“Monsterface alert! Danger! Danger!” said Bree.
Dot almost choked on her pretzel nugget.
“Zelda Hooper,” whispered Malia with a fear and disgust usually reserved for words like “cockroach” or “dragon.”
Dot looked up to see Zelda, meanest of the mean girls, coming out of Phoebe’s, the trendiest and most expensive boutique. Her face was scrunched up like she was very, very angry at something, although Dot knew from experience that it always looked that way. Ever since kindergarten, Zelda had been a mean girl. She was so mean, it was a pretty safe assumption she had just been born that way.
Today she was wearing a leather jacket over ripped-up jeans and combat boots. Even her clothes looked mean. Her long red hair, though, looked very, very pretty.
“What do we do?” Bree said.
“Run the other way, obvi,” said Malia.
The girls made an abrupt about-face and started speed-walking in the opposite direction.
Zelda had a long history of bullying. Every school year, she liked to choose a different target and then try to make their lives miserable. In second grade, her target had been Malia. In third grade, it was Dot. In fifth grade, it was Bree. Her tactics involved rumors, mean notes, evil pranks—all of it “anonymous,” but all of it obviously Zelda.
“Remember when she filled my locker with sand? And I got in trouble for making the hallway look like a beach and I couldn’t prove that I wasn’t the one who did it?” Bree asked.
“Why are there people like Zelda in the world?” wondered Malia.
“Variety. Or something,” said Dot.
“Oh, look!” said Malia the lookout. “There’s Wendy and Aloysius.”
Aloysius and his mom, Wendy, were walking toward them. As usual, both of them were dressed entirely in black.
“Hi, girls!” Wendy said warmly. “What are you all up to?”
“Oh, you know, just taking a break from being responsible,” said Malia.
“Where are you guys coming from?” Dot asked.
“We were at Meow Town!” said Aloysius.
Bree visibly shuddered.
“Girls, I’ve been meaning to tell you,” Wendy started, “I am so happy with how things have been going with the new sitter! Pigeon is lovely, so gracious and smart. She and Aloysius seem to be getting along really well, too.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “And you know how he can be kind of difficult at first, so that’s really saying something.”
“That’s so wonderful to hear!” said Malia.
It was wonderful, Dot supposed, but it also felt strange to hear. Aloysius had been her favorite client, and she thought their bond was special. Hearing how easily Pigeon replaced her made her feel hollow inside. She reminded herself that all of this was happening for a reason. The satellite sitters were allowing her to focus on the science fair. And the more time Pigeon “science is my thing” de Palma spent babysitting, the better it was for everyone.
“Enjoy the rest of your day!” Wendy said.
“Bye!” said Aloysius.
“Bye!” The girls all waved.
Still, watching Aloysius and his mom head in the other direction, Dot couldn’t help but feel like a little part of herself had gone away.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Malia
“MALIA!”
Malia marveled at how different it could be when different people said your name. The same word that inspired such joy when it came out of Connor’s mouth could inspire such dread when her mom used it to express disappointment. Just a few short weeks ago, she had no idea how panicked she could be upon hearing the sound of her own name. That is, until Ramona was the one to yell it.
“MALIAAAAAA!”
“I’m coming!” Malia trilled, scuttling into Ramona’s office. She could only imagine what inane task she would be asked to complete, or what task she was about to discover she had already messed up.
But when she entered the room, Ramona looked pleased, almost happy. (Or at least, as happy as her face was able to look.) She also wasn’t alone. The most beautiful boy Malia had ever seen was on his way out of the office.
He was almost too glorious to look at. He was—Malia couldn’t believe she was thinking such a thing—even more attractive than Connor Kelly.
“Malia, this is my grandson, Martin. He just moved to Playa del Norte, just to the north of us, and is staying with me while his parents are getting the new house settled.”
Malia couldn’t speak.
“Nice to meet you,” said Martin’s beautiful, beautiful mouth before he exited the room.
“Malia. Please have a seat.” Ramona motioned to the pink upholstered chairs directly across from her desk. Malia sat, realizing she had never actually perched in one of these chairs before.
She braced herself for whatever scolding was about to come next.
“I want to let you know that I’ve been observing you,” Ramona said.
Malia imagined a creepy surveillance camera, watching her every move.
“And I have been very happy with your performance.”
This was certainly unexpected. Malia didn’t know what to say
.
“Thank you, Ramona.”
“When Chelsea and I discussed taking on another intern, especially someone as junior as you, I must admit, I was apprehensive. But you have proven yourself to be curious, creative, driven, and inventive. Sometimes, you’ve managed to find the thing when even I wasn’t clear about what the thing was! I think these qualities will serve you well in your own business endeavors.”
Malia couldn’t believe her ears! The impossible-to-please woman was singing her praises!
“When the time comes, I will be quite happy to serve as a reference for you.”
“Thank you very much, Ramona.”
Malia wasn’t sure if Chelsea was able to hear the conversation from where she sat in the main office, but when she walked back to her desk, Chelsea’s expression told her all she needed to know.
“Hello, big sister,” Malia said, assuming the singsong tone Chelsea used whenever she was gloating about one of her many triumphs.
Chelsea was typing furiously, her face pink with anger.
“How’s it going out here?”
Chelsea kept typing, never looking away from her screen.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Malia asked her.
Chelsea just shook her head no.
“All right, well, if you have any questions, or if you’d like any advice,” Malia emphasized that word, knowing how much it would bother her sister, “or any assistance from the number one employee,” Malia continued, enjoying how Chelsea bristled, “you know where to find me.”
* * *
Malia took a little bit of a detour on her walk home. She was feeling like a winner, and winners were entitled to a victory lap. Not only was she a winner with Ramona, but she was getting her prized concert tickets. Everything was falling into place.
Now all she had to do was figure out exactly where the other kids from school were sitting so she could try to finagle a seat near theirs. For this reason, her victory lap went right past the street of one Connor Kelly. Sadly, Connor was nowhere to be seen, but the thought of his proximity was enough to make Malia feel even happier.
And then, something happened.
“Hey, Malia!”
Malia stopped in her tracks. She knew that voice anywhere. It was the voice that haunted her dreams. It was audible sunshine. It was he.
She turned, her heart in her throat. This was it. This was the moment she’d been waiting for. Connor had called to her, seemingly on purpose. Now it was time to fulfill her destiny.
There he was, only a few feet away, wearing an adorable gray T-shirt and walking alongside . . . SAGE?
Malia’s heart stopped beating. The Earth stopped spinning. Suddenly, she was floating above herself, looking down at her own body as it walked through a cruel, cruel world she had no desire to be a part of.
Okay, so that’s not really what happened, but that’s exactly what it felt like. Malia took a deep breath and tried to speak.
“Hey, guys,” Malia finally said.
“Hi, Malia!” Sage said with a painful amount of glee. “Where are you off to?”
“Oh, you know, a party,” Malia lied. She hoped it sounded true.
“Who’s having a party?” Connor asked.
“My friend.” Malia tried to think on her feet. “Sammy. Who goes to school in another town. Yeah. I’d totally invite you to come, but I think it’s kind of a small thing.”
“That’s okay. We’re on our way to Marvelous Ray’s,” said Sage.
“Yeah, Marvelous Ray’s,” parroted Connor.
“Oh,” said Malia.
“We’d invite you to come, but you obviously already have plans, so . . .” Sage trailed off.
Malia wanted to scream. They were going to Marvelous Ray’s arcade-slash-temple-of-joy? TOGETHER? Like, on a date? What was going on here?
And Malia could have gone with them, but no. She had to open her big mouth to try to sound cool, and now she would look like a fool if she backtracked.
“I had no idea you guys were”—Malia could barely get the next word out—“friends.”
“It’s the funniest thing,” Sage said, lightly touching Connor’s arm in a way that made Malia’s face feel like it might melt off at any second. “I was babysitting at the Gregorys’, and Connor saw me leaving. He waved me over, because he actually thought I was you!”
“Ha. So funny,” Malia said, without a hint of humor.
“I saw a striped shirt and was like, must be Malia. But it wasn’t you. It was her,” said Connor.
“So then I asked if Connor wanted to play video games,” Sage said.
“And I was like, yeah. Because, you know, I like video games,” Connor said. It might have been the longest sentence he’d ever spoken directly to Malia. If only it hadn’t been about Sage.
“I like video games,” Malia offered helplessly. She didn’t actually. But she was interested in any activity involving Connor.
“Maybe we should all play sometime,” Connor said.
“YES!” Malia said, much too loudly.
“Definitely! Sometime soon,” said Sage. She touched Connor’s arm again. Malia’s heart sank.
“Well, bye, Malia!” said Connor.
“Bye,” Malia squeaked.
And with that, the two of them walked on. On to Marvelous Ray’s, and the rest of their wonderful afternoon, and the rest of their wonderful lives.
Malia didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to think, she didn’t know what to feel. Who did Sage think she was? She could take a cut of Malia’s babysitting wages. She could even take her place in the hearts of the neighborhood children. But this! This was another level. She could never take her Connor.
Malia huffed. So maybe he had never actually been her Connor. But even so, Connor was like the sun. Connor was like the blueness of the sky. Connor was meant for everyone to enjoy. He belonged to no one. Certainly not Sage.
Malia fought the urge to pull a Veronica and vandalize everything in sight. She didn’t know how she would pull it off, though logistics had never been a problem before. She would find a way. She would get Sage a new hobby and reclaim her Connor. She would make everything right.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Bree
Bree was so excited. She felt like the human equivalent of glitter, or maybe popcorn. Yes, popcorn! Definitely popcorn.
Today wasn’t any old day; it was a birthday day! It wasn’t her birthday, but it was almost the next best thing—it was Bailey’s birthday. That meant cake and decorations and partying and happiness, right in her very own home. Bree hadn’t been this excited since Malia told her they had enough money to see Veronica (the person, not the cat).
Brody arrived after school, as he had before, but this time he was carrying a balloon in the shape of a sneaker.
“WHOA!” said Bailey. He was really excited about this balloon. If Bree had any idea he would have appreciated a sneaker balloon so much, she would have gotten him one years ago. Or ever.
Within minutes of his arrival, Brody worked his magic on Veronica (the cat, not the person), petting his hairless body and lulling the little feline into a deep and restful slumber. With the cat safely napping inside his plush cat pod that lived in Bree’s bedroom, everyone was safe to enjoy the afternoon, knowing that minimal damage was being incurred.
Bree was so ready to celebrate.
“So! Do you all want to do something special? For Bailey’s birthday?” she asked.
“Skateboards!” said Bailey.
“Yeah!” said Brody.
“Oh,” said Bree. “But I don’t know how.”
“That’s okay! You can watch!” said Bailey.
Bree didn’t want to watch; Bree wanted to celebrate. But she figured being present was better than nothing. That’s how Bree found herself sitting on the curb, holding the sneaker balloon and watching Bailey and Brody have fun without her.
First Bailey and Brody skateboarded back and forth down the street, practicing jumping up
and over the curb. Then Brody taught Bailey how to do something called a nollie, and helped him work on his form. Once Bailey mastered it, they both jumped around with excitement. Then Brody made a video of Bailey doing a nollie so he could show all his friends that it had happened.
Even though Bree had never skateboarded before, she would have loved to try. She would have loved to do anything (okay, maybe not anything, but certainly a bunch of things) with her brother on his birthday. But Bree was completely left out.
Bree cheered from the sidelines, but it really wasn’t the same.
Finally, after many, many minutes of this, Bree’s mom appeared and called them inside for cake.
The kitchen was set up a little like taco night, but instead of toppings, the counter was lined with birthday things—a cake in the shape of a skateboard, plus big plastic bowls full of party snacks. There were different kinds of potato chips and tortilla chips and popcorn and three kinds of candy.
“Can Brody stay for cake?” Bailey asked.
“Of course!” Bree’s mom said, as if it had never been a question.
“This is so much fun!” Brody said, his face lighting up like a kid on a commercial for Disneyland. It was almost like he’d never seen a birthday party before.
“BIRT-DAY! BAIDY!” yelled Olivia, toddling into the room. “BWODY! YAY!”
Even Olivia was in love with Brody, Bree thought with a sigh.
“Did you know that the practice of serving birthday cake started in the Middle Ages?” asked Emma, taking a seat at the table.
“I did not know that,” Brody said.
“In Germany!” Emma supplied, excited that someone was interested. “It was called Kinderfest!”
Once everyone had gathered, Bree’s mom dimmed the light and lit the candles—ten candles, and one more for good luck. Bree couldn’t believe Bailey was ten! She remembered when he was just a baby and she had tried to stick buttons up his nose. It didn’t feel that long ago.
The family sang “Happy Birthday,” then paused so Bailey could blow out the candles.
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