Taffy Sinclair 001 - The Against Taffy Sinclair Club

by Betsy Haynes

  I couldn't look at Mr. Neal. I didn't know how I was going to get through an entire day without looking up, but I knew that I would have to try. I'd probably never be able to look at him again now that he knew such personal and private things about me. After a while my neck began to get stiff. I raised my head up far enough to look at my four friends. They were all looking down, too.

  I got through the morning pretty well. He didn't call on me during history class. He called on Taffy Sinclair. I knew why he was doing it. He was feeling sorry for her and was giving her a chance to look good in front of me and my friends. I held my breath, hoping she wouldn't know the answer. No such luck. She knew it.

  As much as I was looking forward to lunch period and sitting up straight, I was dreading it, too. I knew that the spot we were in was all my fault. After all, if I hadn't thrown up and had to leave school, Taffy Sinclair wouldn't have gotten my notebook. I knew that it would serve me right if everybody was mad at me.

  But if they were, they didn't say so. They just kept on asking the same question over and over, "What are we going to do?"

  "We're probably worried for nothing," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Maybe he didn't even read it."

  "Are you kidding?" said Katie. "Of course he read it. Teachers are the nosiest people in the world outside of parents. They read everything they can get their hands on. They're always trying to find out if their little darlings are up to something."

  "Maybe he hasn't had time to look at it or maybe he's even forgotten that he had it," said Melanie. "If you ask him for it right away, maybe he'll never know what's in it."

  "Ask him for it?" I shrieked, rising six inches off my chair. "I couldn't ask him for it in a million years. I'd be so embarrassed that I'd die."

  "You can't just let him keep it. He might show it around to every teacher in the school," argued Beth.

  "He might show it to my mother!" cried Christie.

  I knew that she was right. After all, Christie's mother was the principal. But all the same, I knew I could never ask him for it. I would have to stall for time until I had a better plan.

  "I think we should put off doing anything until we've had more time to think about it," I said. "This afternoon is our Against Taffy Sinclair Club meeting. Let's keep thinking about it until then."

  There were a lot of sour looks and some grumbles, but everybody finally agreed that we should take our time and handle this thing in just the right way. Little did I know that things would only get worse.

  CHAPTER TEN

  "I think Jana should sneak into the fifth-grade room during lunch period tomorrow and steal the notebook," said Katie as soon as the Against Taffy Sinclair Club meeting was called to order. "That way she won't have to ask him for it, and we'll still have it back."

  "Are you crazy?" I said. "If you want it back that badly, you steal it."

  "Jana's right," said Christie. "He would still know what was in it. And, besides, what if she got caught?"

  I groaned loudly, wishing I were dead, but Beth began jumping around like a crazed chimpanzee.

  "That's it!" she cried, pointing directly at Christie.

  "What's it?" demanded Christie.

  "You said that he would still know what was in it. That's the whole problem. It's not that he has or doesn't have the notebook. It's that he knows what's in it. Right?"

  I couldn't figure for the life of me what that had to do with anything, but I nodded along with everybody else.

  "Don't you see?" said Beth, twirling around the room in her best theatrical fashion. "We've got to convince Mr. Neal that that notebook is a fake. We've got to make him think that there's no such thing as the Against Taffy Sinclair Club."

  "Aw, come on, Beth," said Melanie. "Quit being so dramatic. How in the world are we going to do that?"

  Beth grinned gleefully and then said in a whisper that we could barely hear, "We're going to be super friendly to Taffy Sinclair."

  The room got so quiet that you could hear the dust settle. Everybody stared at Beth. She had to be crazy.

  "I'd rather steal the notebook from Mr. Neal," I said. Instantly I was sorry I had said that, but everybody was still staring at Beth and no one seemed to notice.

  We hashed it around for a while and finally decided that since no one had a better idea, the next day, Friday, would be "Be Nice to Taffy Sinclair Day." We were not only going to be nice to her, we were going to overwhelm her with kindness, and we were going to do it right in front of Mr. Neal.

  Beth kept trying to reassure us by saying that we would have the whole weekend to recover from the experience. I just hoped that I wouldn't throw up on my shoes again.

  The next morning I took extra pains getting ready for school. If I was going to play up to Taffy Sinclair, I was going to do it on equal terms. I brushed my hair to a shine and put on a pair of yellow slacks and a multicolored sweater instead of blue jeans and a T-shirt. Then I added the finishing touch. I stuffed two cotton balls inside my training bra.

  Sauntering over to the mirror, I stuck out my chest. I couldn't help giggling. I may not be Raquel Welch, I thought, but look out, Taffy Sinclair.

  We had agreed to meet on the corner a block from school and to stay together as much as possible throughout the day. It was going to be grim, but at least this way no one would run the risk of having to be nice to Taffy Sinclair alone.

  All the way to the rendezvous point I kept looking down at my front. I tried to do it casually so that no one on the street would notice and think that I was weird. It was funny how different I felt, even though I could still see my shoes. I could hardly wait to hear what my friends would say.

  The others were all there when I got to the corner. At first nobody said anything. They all just stared. Then Katie went into her banshee routine. "Oh, no!" she cried. "What in the world do you think you're doing? Nobody is going to believe you grew those overnight." She covered her eyes with one hand and began to moan.

  Knowing Katie, I hadn't expected her to be overjoyed, but she was really overdoing it. Nevertheless, I felt a blush spread up my face.

  "Did you bring any extras?" asked Beth. She was so excited that I was tempted to tell her that she could have mine. Then I remembered how I had looked in the mirror, and I changed my mind.

  "Naw," I said. "I didn't think of it. I'll bring some tomorrow."

  Beth looked crestfallen, but before I could think of anything else to say Melanie spotted Taffy Sinclair.

  "Here she comes," cried Melanie, clutching her bag of brownies like a security blanket.

  Instantly Beth forgot about the cotton balls. She gathered us around her and began giving instructions.

  "We don't have to be nice to her yet," I argued. "Mr. Neal's not around."

  "Oh, yes, we do," said Beth. Her voice was deadly serious. "This is not going to be easy. We need all the rehearsal we can get."

  Taffy was walking toward us and she was alone. When she recognized us and saw that we were waiting on the corner she hesitated for a second, but then she came on. From the look on her face you'd have thought that she was going to face a firing squad. It served her right, and I had to fight hard to hold back a giggle.

  As soon as Taffy got close enough, Beth stepped forward a little. "Hi, Taffy," she said with a grin so big that it looked a little silly.

  The rest of us managed weak hi's. I tried to smile, but the corners of my mouth wouldn't budge. Beth had been right. It was really going to be hard.

  Taffy stopped and looked at us suspiciously. "Hello," she said. Her voice would have frozen hot lava.

  "Want to walk with us?" asked Beth. Her voice didn't sound nearly as confident as it had a moment before, but she still had that stupid grin on her face.

  Taffy didn't even answer. She just shook her head with a sort of flutter and walked on by, leaving us to stare after her like a bunch of idiots.

  "Wow. Am I ever glad that nobody was around to see that," said Christie when Taffy was far enough away
not to hear. "How are we going to convince Mr. Neal that we're her friends if she acts like that all day?"

  Beth spun around to face the rest of us. There was a gleam in her eye. "Don't you see?" she said gleefully. "She's playing right into our hands. Mr. Neal will see how stuck up and nasty she is and how kind and friendly we are. Then he'll have to think that she faked the notebook just to make us look bad."

  I wished that I could believe that, but I had the awful feeling that Beth was off on one of her tangents again. I could almost smell disaster brewing.

  When we got to the school yard Taffy was nowhere to be seen, and Beth called us together for last-minute instructions. "Remember, everybody, no matter how snotty she gets, we're going to be perfectly angelic. The most important thing is to do it in front of Mr. Neal."

  "I've got an idea," said Christie. "Taffy always goes into the room early because she knows that Mr. Neal will already be there and she can show off for him without anyone seeing her. Let's follow her. Then as soon as she sits down at her desk we can go in one at a time and be really friendly. Mr. Neal couldn't help but notice."

  We all liked her idea. The only problem was that nobody wanted to be first. Beth thought that I should because I was president of the Against Taffy Sinclair Club. I thought Christie should since it was her idea. And Christie thought Beth should since she is the best actress. Finally we took a vote. I was elected four to one.

  When we got to the fifth-grade room Mr. Neal was already there. Taffy was there, too. She was sitting at her desk fiddling with some papers. She looked as prissy as ever.

  I stepped in front of the open door. My ears were getting hot and my hands were shaking. I would rather have walked into a lion's cage.

  "Go on," whispered Beth. She nudged me so hard that I was on my way. Once I had stepped into the room I knew there was no turning back. I swallowed hard and marched in. I went straight to Taffy's desk and stopped.

  "Hi, Taffy," I said, putting everything I had into it. Purposely I turned so that Mr. Neal could see the big friendly smile on my face.

  Taffy looked up angrily. My heart was pounding but I didn't move. The great big friendly smile stayed on my face. I was going to make her show her true colors if it killed me.

  Then something happened that I couldn't quite believe. Taffy started to smile. It happened so fast that I didn't know what to do. Not only was she smiling, but her smile was getting bigger and bigger. I could even see her crooked bicuspid. Suddenly she was laughing. My heart stopped. She was laughing, all right, laughing and looking straight at my front.

  Out of the corner of my eye I could see that Mr. Neal had looked up to see what was so funny. I had an awful feeling that I knew what it was. I looked down at my front. My worst nightmare had come true. The cotton ball on my left side had slipped down and was sticking out like a tumor just above my belt. I was so embarrassed I thought I'd die.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  My life had turned into a four-letter word, which I am not allowed to say but which kept popping into my mind about every fifteen seconds. I spent the rest of the day slinking around the school and not looking at anybody. Not at my friends. Not at Taffy Sinclair. And especially not at Mr. Neal. I was sure that he was laughing at me and thinking how immature I was and how shapeless and ugly I was next to Taffy Sinclair. I would have given anything to get even with her for humiliating me like that.

  When the dismissal bell rang for the day, I pushed ahead of everybody and was the first one out of the room. I slipped out a side door of the building and hurried home where I could be alone. I had to think of something to do to Taffy Sinclair. I wanted to make her so jealous of me that she would just about die. But how? I was the last person in the world who could do a thing like that.

  Then I got this great idea. My father should have gotten my letter by now. I was sure that when he read it and saw all the trouble he had caused and how miserable I was he would call me up long distance to apologize. He would probably say that he would do anything I wanted him to do to make it up to me. Then I would get him to give me just about the greatest present in the world, and I would watch Taffy Sinclair turn a sickly green.

  The only trouble was, I didn't know what to ask for. I was too young for a car, and lots of kids have dogs. That's no big deal. But what about a horse? The more I thought about it, the better I liked the idea. I'd be the envy of the whole school. There was never a kid alive who didn't want a horse. Of course we live in an apartment, but after I had explained to him how much a horse would mean to me, maybe he would pay to have it boarded somewhere nearby.

  Anyway, I was feeling so much better by the time Mom got home from work that I was actually cheerful until she reminded me that it was Wretched-Mess Day and that I hadn't even started to clean up my wretched mess.

  After supper the phone rang. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I couldn't believe that my father would call so soon.

  He hadn't. It was Beth calling to say that she was really sorry about what had happened with Taffy Sinclair. Then she asked me if I had any other ideas about how to get my Against Taffy Sinclair Club notebook back. I said that I didn't want to talk about it, not for a couple of days anyway. She said that she understood and we hung up. The phone didn't ring anymore that whole night.

  It didn't ring Saturday morning either, and I was starting to get jumpy. Maybe my father was in the hospital with some terrible illness and was too sick even to read my letter, much less to call me up. Or maybe he hadn't even gotten it. Maybe the mail truck that was carrying it had had an accident and was still lying at the bottom of some ravine with the driver dead, and nobody knew it was there. There were lots of things that could have happened. You read about weird things like that in the newspaper all the time. I hoped that nothing bad had happened to my father or the mail-truck driver, but deep down I didn't believe anything really had.

  After lunch Mom asked if I would like to go shopping with her. She said she was going out to dinner with Pink and needed something new to wear. I enjoy shopping with Mom, and I was desperate for new sneakers, but I didn't dare leave the phone, so I said no.

  After Mom left, the apartment seemed as quiet as a tomb. I couldn't remember it ever being that quiet before. It gave me a creepy feeling. Even the telephone looked about twice as big as usual. It reminded me of some monster out of a science-fiction thriller ready to jump out at me.

  I decided to do my bust-developing exercises to take my mind off the telephone. When I was doing exercise number seventy-six it rang. I dived for it and answered it in just about a split second, but it was a wrong number. I sighed and went back to my exercises. My arms were getting tired, and I wanted to quit, but I couldn't think of anything else to do. Two hundred and forty five. Two hundred forty six. The telephone rang again. This time I let it ring two times while I composed myself.

  "Hello," I said, trying my hardest to sound grown up. Then I was sorry I had done that because the lady on the other end thought I was my mother and spent a full five minutes trying to sell me vacation property in New Hampshire before I could get a word in.

  When Mom got home she fixed me a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich for my supper and we had a glass of Coke together while she showed me her new dress. I was glad she had a new dress and that she was going out with Pink even if things were just purely platonic between them.

  Every so often I would get up and go into the living room. Then I would stare at the telephone and concentrate on it as hard as I could, willing it to ring, but it didn't do any good. I even thought for a while that it might be out of order, but when I picked up the receiver, I heard the old familiar buzz of the dial tone.

  Usually on the nights when Mom goes out with Pink a girl named Amy Wargo comes down from one of the apartments upstairs to stay with me. She's a junior in high school, but she's not much fun. I've never told Mom, but mostly she just talks to her boyfriend on the telephone while she's here. Anyway, she came early and plopped herself down in front of the television without much
more than saying hello.

  Mom took forever to get ready. I wandered around the apartment like a zombie waiting for her to leave.

  While I was wandering around I happened to go into the kitchen. There was Mom. I couldn't believe my eyes. She was eating a piece of salami. She looked embarrassed when she saw me, and at first I didn't understand. Then I remembered how she had once told me that if a person is going to be very close to another person who had eaten onions or garlic, she should eat onions or garlic herself and she won't notice the other person's breath. I smiled to myself. Things must not be purely platonic between her and Pink anymore.

  Pretty soon the doorbell rang. I knew it was Pink so I pulled open the door and stepped back really fast before he had a chance to breathe on me. I was really sorry that I'd done that, and I hoped he hadn't noticed. Pink is a nice person, and he had brought me two issues of Mad magazine, which is my very favorite magazine in the whole world.

  After Mom and Pink left I tried to watch television with Amy, but she didn't have much to say and I couldn't sit still. About nine o'clock I excused myself and took my Mad magazines to my room. As soon as I closed my door I heard her dialing the telephone. It really made me angry that she was tying up the phone. What if my father tried to call?

  Of course he didn't, and all I could think about was how I'd have to go to school Monday and face Mr. Neal and Taffy without my horse. I knew that I wouldn't have it by Monday even if my father called that very minute. But at least if I knew I was going to get it, I could tell everyone about it. That would be almost as good as riding it to school. I felt doomed as I crawled into bed. My father was my only hope. What would I do if he let me down again?

  That Sunday was the longest day of my life. I must have looked at my watch about every three and a half seconds. I was so antsy all afternoon that I couldn't even stand still. I just kept roaming around the apartment looking out windows and jingling my charm bracelet until Mom said that I was driving her up the wall and wouldn't I please sit down. I should have known better because the minute I sat down she started giving me the third degree about what was wrong with me. Of course I couldn't tell her the truth, but after about half an hour of interrogation I admitted that I wasn't exactly crazy about Taffy Sinclair and that she wasn't exactly crazy about me, either.