Do-Over

by Christine Hurley Deriso

  She dashed out of the restroom. “I just sprayed window cleaner on my hair!” she shrieked.

  I managed to look concerned as she tried to rub it out of her hair.

  “I don’t get it!” she wailed. “I know I put my hair spray on the sink right in front of me!”

  “Streak-free,” I murmured, inspecting the damage. She pouted, then flung her vinegar-scented hair over her shoulder and bolted down the hall.

  As we settled into our next class, with Darcy combing her fingers through her sticky hair and our classmates sniffing curiously in her direction, I noticed that the odor seemed to aggravate Jen’s allergies. She was sitting behind Darcy and barely had time to grab a tissue before she pitched her head forward with a hearty “Aaah-choooo!”

  Perfect. Thanks for the inspiration, Jen, I thought as I rubbed my locket and murmured, “Do-over.”

  Just enough time to snatch Jen’s tissue box and place it underneath her desk. “Aaaaah…” Jen’s sneeze began and she grabbed for a tissue, which was no longer there. “…choooo!”

  Darcy spun around to face her as Jen’s eyes darted in search of her tissue box.

  “You sneezed on my hair!” Darcy spat, at which point Jen found her tissues and began patting one against the back of Darcy’s hair.

  “Sorry…,” Jen said.

  Darcy asked the teacher if she could be excused to tend to the collection of fluids accumulating in her hair. The teacher decided her fashion emergency didn’t merit an extra trip to the restroom and told her to stay seated.

  Darcy squirmed throughout the rest of class, then made a beeline for the restroom when the bell rang. Carter, Jade, Jen and I followed behind, the clique making tsking sounds about what a rough morning Darcy was having, although they were exchanging glances and trying not to grin.

  “Girls,” I said sternly. “Snot funny.”

  They covered their giggles.

  Darcy was too busy fuming to notice. “I have window cleaner and snot in my hair,” she snarled, grabbing a hairbrush from her purse. “I’ll never use this brush again,” she muttered.

  Still, since she was using it now…

  I rubbed my locket and said, “Do-over.”

  During the ten-second rewind, I grabbed Darcy’s brush from her purse and scanned the restroom. All I could find was a small tube of toothpaste. Perfect. I squirted it on the bristles, then stuffed it back into Darcy’s purse.

  This time, when she grabbed it, she smeared toothpaste through her hair.

  The brush dropped as she stared at herself in the mirror. “What. Is. Going. ON!” Her scream echoed through the room, and the clique exchanged stunned glances.

  The look in my eyes said it all: Poor Darcy.

  Do-Over Day Fourteen

  My next opportunity for a Darcy Do-Over came the following day at lunch.

  “Hey, girls, watch me in action,” Darcy said with a sly grin. She tossed her head toward a table of boys.

  “I’m having a much-too-good hair day to waste it without Eric noticing,” she said, having bounced back from her unusually bad hair day. “I’ll go tell him what a great game he pitched.”

  Jen wrinkled her nose. “Uh, Darcy…,” she said, “before you go, you might want to get that gob of broccoli off your front tooth.”

  Darcy gasped as the other girls giggled.

  Perfect.

  I rubbed my locket. “Do-over.”

  “Hey, girls, watch me in action,” Darcy repeated. “I’m having a much-too-good hair day to waste it without Eric noticing. I’ll go tell him what a great game he pitched.”

  “Jen, a bug is crawling up your arm!” I yelled.

  “Eeewww!” Jen shrieked, jumping up from her chair and swatting at her arms. “Where? Where?”

  Darcy had already headed toward Eric’s table.

  Sweet.

  “Where’s the bug?” Jen said, still rubbing her arms.

  “Oh…,” I said. “It must have crawled off.”

  We watched Darcy flirting with Eric. All I could see was her back, but that was enough. As she twirled a lock of hair, Eric and his friends exchanged sideways glances. Soon their silent communication got the best of them. Eric burst into laughter, burying his reddened face in his chest. His friends guffawed. Darcy looked confused, then turned on her heel and stomped back to our table.

  “What are they laughing at?” she growled.

  “Uh…” Jen pointed at Darcy’s mouth.

  “What!” Darcy squealed.

  “You have broccoli in your teeth,” I said matter-of-factly.

  Darcy looked horrified. “Omigod!” She dabbed a napkin against her teeth. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  We shrugged. “Didn’t notice,” I said.

  Darcy flung her perfectly manicured fingernails into the air. “I’m ruined!”

  I subtly raised a single eyebrow. That’s the idea.

  Next Darcy Do-Over:

  We were sitting in science class when the fire drill bell rang. Our class walked down the hall to the front door, then out into the parking lot.

  Everyone started dispersing into small groups. It had rained the night before, and mud puddles covered the parking lot. This could get interesting….

  A few minutes later, a car pulled into the lot. As it drove past us, a tire rolled through a mud puddle and shot a fountain of dirty water into the air. No one was close enough to the puddle to get slimed…yet.

  I rubbed my locket. “Do-over.”

  Ten-second rewind.

  I slipped away and dropped a piece of paper into the puddle. Then I hurried over to Darcy.

  “Hey, Darcy,” I said, pointing to the paper. “Isn’t that the love poem you were doodling about Eric last period?”

  Darcy glanced at the paper and gasped.

  She dashed toward the puddle to retrieve the paper. Just as she plucked it out of the puddle, along came the car, spewing her with mud.

  “Eeee-eeewwwww!” she screamed. Every eye turned toward her. As water dripped from her skin, she stood there soaked and mud-splattered from head to toe. She crushed the soggy paper without looking at it.

  Everyone laughed uproariously.

  “Darcy, don’t you think that shade of brown clashes with your outfit?” someone piped up.

  “Did you wash your hair last night?” someone else said. “It looks a little greasy.” Obviously, Darcy had shot enough poison barbs to make people enjoy putting her on the receiving end.

  “Awesome fire drill!” another voice called out.

  Really, no need to thank me, I thought. Happy to oblige.

  Do-Over Day Fifteen

  My next Darcy Do-Over was the following day during social studies class. The teacher had darkened the room as she flashed slides from a projector onto a white screen. We jotted down notes as new images flashed every few seconds. Well…most of us jotted down notes. Darcy snoozed with her head on her desk. When the teacher asked me to turn the light on, Jade shook Darcy awake. Darcy sat straight up as if she’d been paying close attention.

  What a fake.

  I rubbed my locket. “Do-over.”

  Ten-second rewind. This time, instead of waiting for the teacher to ask me, I flipped the switch as soon as the last slide appeared. The room was flooded with light. The slide show was over, but now everyone was treated to some real entertainment: Darcy snoring with her head on the desk, drooling from the side of her mouth.

  “DARCY DIXON!”

  Darcy jolted awake and banged her chin on the desk. She grabbed her chin, which caused her to lose her balance and tumble to the floor.

  There she sat, sprawled on the floor in a heap.

  The class roared in appreciation.

  “Ms. Dixon,” the teacher said in an icy voice. “I’ll be interested in seeing how well you understood the slide show presentation. Please stay after school today for a pop quiz.”

  Darcy’s jaw dropped. Stifled giggles snaked their way through the classroom. Darcy huffed and wiped the drool off he
r face.

  Aww. Poor Darcy.

  LaniAck: What is going on? Tell me about Project Darcy!

  Lani had already logged on to the computer by the time I got home from school.

  DolfinGrl: Let’s just say she’s had a few “incidents.” There was broccoli involved. And mud. And window cleaner. A long story.

  LaniAck: ELSA! I’m dying of curiosity. WHAT R U DOING TO DARCY?

  DolfinGrl: Nothing more than she deserves. Hey…Dad says you can come over the weekend after next. Ask your mom and let me know. GTG. TTYL.

  As much fun as my Darcy Do-Overs had been so far, the best was yet to come.

  I was headed to my locker when I overheard Darcy talking to Carter at her locker.

  “…I’ll just copy off Elsa’s paper,” Darcy said. “She’s so easy to cheat off of. She didn’t even defend herself when Mr. Wright accused her of copying. Her copying me! Classic!” She dissolved into giggles.

  My mind raced. Did I have time? Yes. Mr. Wright’s classroom was just a few feet away.

  “Do-over.”

  Ten-second rewind.

  I dashed into Mr. Wright’s classroom.

  “Mr. Wright!” I said breathlessly. “Can you come with me for just a second?”

  I guess I looked panic-stricken enough that Mr. Wright assumed there was an emergency. He didn’t ask any questions, just hurried behind me as I dashed back to the corner of the hall, where I could hear Darcy but couldn’t see her…and vice versa.

  “What is it, Elsa?” Mr. Wright asked in alarm.

  “Uh…”

  “…I’ll just copy off Elsa’s paper,” Darcy was repeating. “She’s so easy to cheat off of. She didn’t even defend herself when Mr. Wright accused her of copying. Her copying me! Classic!” She dissolved into giggles.

  Mr. Wright still looked a little confused but now was more interested in what he was overhearing.

  “I knew she wouldn’t,” Darcy continued. “Every once in a while, she tries to show sparks of coolness, but she’s a goody-goody deep down. I’m thinking my grades are definitely on the upswing with her around. Good thing, too…. After my last report card, I almost got kicked off the cheerleading squad.”

  Mr. Wright cleared his throat and rounded the corner of the hall.

  “Darcy,” he said, “I’d like to see you in my room. Right now.”

  EIGHTEEN

  ROUGH DRAFT #2

  What I’ve Learned in Seventh Grade

  By Elsa Alden

  I’ll just cut to the chase: What I’ve learned in seventh grade is that people are horrible.

  Pretty harsh, right? Well, it’s a pretty harsh world. When we were little, we learned that other people would treat us the way we treated them. We were told that if we were kind and friendly and accepting, other people would return the favor.

  Wrong. Just plain wrong. Period.

  In seventh grade, I’ve learned that people are sneaky and selfish. Be nice and get your heart stomped. Wear the wrong clothes and get tortured by the fashion police. Speak up in class or voice an opinion and duck as your classmates shoot daggers from their eyes. Offer to help someone with her homework and watch her stab you in the back.

  That’s what I’ve learned in seventh grade. That’s why I’m trying to learn new rules. The Golden Rule isn’t working for me, that’s for sure. Nobody gave me a copy of the new rule book, so I’m feeling my way along. Maybe I’m making a couple of mistakes along the way, but I’m starting to catch on.

  This would never fly as a school essay, but it captured the moment.

  I hit the Delete key.

  I had a hard time getting to sleep that night. I gazed at Mom’s picture…usually that helped lull me to sleep. But that night, I couldn’t look at it.

  Mom? I said in my head, looking at the stars on my ceiling. Am I doing okay? Darcy deserves a little grief, right? I’m just balancing things out.

  Silence.

  Then there was a knock on my door. My heart skipped a beat. Was Mom back?

  “Come in.”

  Grandma poked her head in.

  “Hi, Grandma,” I said. She smiled, walked over and sat beside me.

  “Hi, honey,” she said. “I had a feeling you were still awake.”

  I looked into her pretty brown eyes, shaped just like Mom’s. “How did you know?”

  She shrugged. “Just a feeling. I used to get that kind of feeling sometimes with your mom…wondering if something was wrong before she got around to telling me.”

  I pulled the sheets closer to my chin. “Nothing’s wrong, Grandma,” I said.

  She nodded but was quiet for a long moment.

  “Grandma…?” I finally said.

  “Yes, honey?”

  “If someone was mean to you, and you had a chance to get even…not in some evil, horrible way, just in a harmless kind of way…would you do it?”

  Grandma thought for a minute, smoothing my hair with the palm of her hand. “Well, first of all,” she finally said softly, “I’m not sure what you mean by harmless. If you’re acting on revenge, there’s a pretty good chance that someone’s getting hurt.”

  “Not revenge,” I clarified. “Justice.”

  Grandma nodded. She took my hand in hers and squeezed it gently. “Honey,” she said, “adolescence is a difficult time under the best of circumstances, and your circumstances are pretty close to the worst. You’ve started a new school in the middle of seventh grade and you don’t have your mom.” She stared at me intently. “But you do have me. If someone is giving you a hard time, maybe I can help.”

  “I think I’m doing okay,” I said hesitantly. “It just seems like everybody’s so…fake. You know?”

  Grandma squeezed my hand tighter. “Honey, at your age, everyone is trying out different personalities and figuring out what works best for them.” She shrugged. “Some are clumsier at it than others. But that doesn’t mean they’re bad people. It just means they’re still learning.” She grinned. “Believe it or not, as wondrously brilliant and mature as you are, you’re still learning, too. That’s part of what growing up is all about.”

  I wasn’t entirely convinced.

  “But still,” I persisted, “sometimes wrong is just wrong, no matter how old you are.”

  Grandma nodded. “Right you are,” she said. “And when someone does something wrong, you should stand up for what’s right.” She winked. “Your mom was really good at that. But, sweetie, the old cliché is true: Two wrongs don’t make a right. You have to be true to yourself.”

  Be true to yourself, Elsa. That’s all I ask.

  I shuddered as if a cold breeze had just blown over me. Was that Mom’s voice I’d heard? Maybe Mom’s voice and Grandma’s voice were kind of…the same. After all, Mom was the mother she was because of the kind of mother Grandma had been to her. I sat up and hugged Grandma very, very tightly.

  “I love you,” I whispered in her ear as she hugged me back.

  Mom was still watching over me…just blending in. And in the meantime, Grandma was right here. In my arms. For the first time in a long time, I suddenly felt very lucky.

  NINETEEN

  Do-Over Day Seventeen

  “This has been positively, absolutely the worst week of my entire life!”

  Darcy didn’t bother to say hello when I answered the phone Saturday morning.

  “Darcy…?” I asked innocently.

  “Yes, Darcy!” she spat. “I don’t understand why my life is turning into a disaster! I’ve made a fool of myself a million times over and I got totally busted for copying your paper….” Her voice trailed off in despair.

  A smile crept over my face. “It’s not so bad,” I said in a syrupy-sweet voice. “It’s just one little homework grade. No biggie, right?”

  She huffed in frustration. “It’s a biggie to me!” she said. “If I get another D on my report card, I won’t be able to cheer next year!”

  Oh, horrors. How would mankind survive? I yawned. “I’m sure your mom w
ill let you cheer next year,” I said.

  “My mom?” Darcy sniffed. “My mom couldn’t care less what I do. It’s the school that won’t let me cheer without at least a B-minus average.” She paused. “I need your help, Elsa.”

  “My help?”

  “Yes. That stupid book we’re reading in language arts…gag! It’s so boring, I can’t concentrate on a single sentence. Give me some notes or…or something!”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m busy working on your essay, remember?”

  “The essay!” Darcy’s voice brightened. “Of course. Elsa, I really need that laptop, and the extra credit for the essay might save my grade. You’ve got to make it really good!”

  I paused long enough to make her nervous.

  “Elsa!” she barked. “You promised you’d help me! I helped you with your makeup.”

  I gritted my teeth. Okay, Darcy, you asked for it. “I’ll help you,” I finally said. Oh, I’ll help you, all right.

  True, two wrongs didn’t make a right. But Darcy was so…so…nervy, it made me want to scream. I’d already decided after my talk with Grandma that I’d played my last mean trick on her. Mean tricks were wrong, and Darcy was bound to catch on that whenever something awful happened to her, I was close by. Still, if she was irresponsible enough to let me write her essay, she deserved whatever kind of essay she got…right? True, she and her clique would never speak to me again, but at this point, that suited me fine.

  “I’ll write your essay for you,” I said. If I was going to end a friendship, I’d end it with a bang.

  Darcy sighed with relief. “Get started this minute! It has to be really good. Remember, it’s due a week from Monday.”

  “I have to write mine, too,” I said. “I can’t give it to you until right before it’s due.”

  “I’ve got an idea,” Darcy said. “The winner gets to read the essay in front of the whole school on Honors Day. I’ll need practice reading it out loud. Have it ready by next Saturday night. I’m having some friends over and I’ll read it then.”

  “A party? Were you planning on inviting me?”

  “Well, duh. I’m inviting you now. Besides, a party is the least I deserve after the kind of week I’ve had.”