Totally Crushed

by Kristen Tracy

  “Drea feels like a sister stalker,” I whispered to Venice.

  But she didn’t totally hear me.

  “She is a loud talker,” Venice said. “I’ll chat with her about that.”

  “You are so brilliant!” Drea boomed into her phone.

  The hair on my arms stood up. I was so upset by what was happening in this hallway that my whole body felt electric and annoyed. I texted Piper to let her know.

  I kept walking. The plans to help Drea had gotten off track. She shouldn’t be having a better life than I had. We were just supposed to make the school forget she’d thrown up into a bucket. And that was all I wanted to do for her. I’d give her a good picture for the yearbook and be done with her. The sooner Drea Quan wasn’t a part of my life, the better I would feel about everything.

  We weren’t as prepared for the assembly as we needed to be. Venice had brought five suggestions for smiling. I had brought five suggestions for head, neck, and shoulder placement. Javier had brought a clipboard. And Anya had brought herself. Of course I’d sent Javier an outline of our presentation. And of course Javier had forwarded it to Ms. Kenny and neglected to mention I’d done 100 percent of it.

  OUTLINE FOR PRESENTATION

  1. Introduce ourselves.

  2. Show photos of awkward smiling.

  3. Explain how your face works.

  4. Demonstrate how to smile like a normal person.

  5. Show how body position enhances your overall look.

  Drea met us in the Yearbook room. She was dressed super cute in a spearmint-colored T-shirt, jean skirt, and gray ankle boots. She also looked very eager.

  “This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever done,” Drea said, twisting nervously in her boots.

  That was sort of surprising, because I thought being in band and marching in parades had to be somewhat exciting.

  “Let’s just make sure we follow the outline,” Javier said. “To simplify things, I’ll introduce everybody.”

  Anya released a disgusted sound. “I could do that.”

  “You could,” Javier said. “But I’m the one in charge and I just said that I’m doing it.”

  Even though Javier was crushing me with tasks, I really appreciated his leadership abilities when it came to Anya. He didn’t pull punches.

  “Here’s what I’m going to say about smiling,” Venice said, handing Javier her script.

  He looked it over and nodded. “These are great.”

  “Here’s what I’m going to say.” I handed Javier a rough outline.

  “I expected more detail from you,” Javier said.

  “Me too,” Anya said, glancing over my shoulder.

  “You guys ready to head down to the gymnasium?” Ms. Kenny asked.

  We all said we were. As we walked down the hallway, Drea kept hopping up, almost like she was skipping.

  “What are you doing?” Anya asked.

  “It’s my happy skip,” Drea said.

  “Creepy,” Anya said.

  “I wouldn’t do it on tile floors. You’re probably damaging all your joints,” I said.

  Drea didn’t stop. She was very hoppy all the way to the gym. Once we got to the gym, most of the eighth graders were already seated in the bleachers and the rest of the sixth and seventh graders were filing in. It was hard to feel excited about what was happening because I was so nervous. I hoped that the kids at my school would appreciate our presentation. A part of me feared they might hate it. Or think it was stupid. Or loudly boo at us. Any of those responses would’ve really devastated me.

  Principal Hunt stood in front of the microphone and welcomed everybody.

  “Yearbooks last forever. They are one of the few things you will keep until the day you die,” she said.

  I was really surprised she said it that way. It was rare that people brought up the day you’d die in middle school.

  “So take what our staff is saying very seriously. They’re experts. They’re here to help you,” Ms. Hunt said. “Please welcome your yearbook’s senior photography editor, Javier Zuniga.”

  Javier looked spooked. He stood behind the microphone stand and fumbled through the papers.

  “Um, I’m Javier,” he said. “Um, my last name is, um, my last name is…”

  “Zuniga!” a voice shouted from the crowd.

  “He’s choking,” Anya said. “Should I go up there?”

  I was afraid to tell her yes. I really wanted Javier to pull it together. He was our leader. I didn’t want him to fail. Then, the unthinkable happened. Drea approached the microphone. I knew people recognized her, because I heard some fake puking sounds coming from somewhere in the back row.

  “I’m Drea,” she said. “Some of you know me from Marching Band. Some of you know me from the Internet.”

  I stared at Venice, thinking, Should we do something? Neither one of us did.

  “I’m really excited about this clinic today. Know why? Because I have a terrible smile. I look forty percent uglier when I do this.” Drea smiled her awkward smile for the school. It was sort of admirable, how she didn’t seem to mind what people thought of her. I mean, as soon as I heard the boys fake-puking in the back, I probably would’ve taken my seat and felt terrible about myself for the rest of the day. But not Drea.

  “So I’m here to get some tips on how to make my sixth-grade portrait look awesome. And Rocky Mountain Middle School’s photography team is going to help us do that. Let’s give it up for Venice Garcia, Perry Hall, Anya O’Shea, and Javier Zuniga.”

  The gymnasium let loose a smattering of applause. Which impressed me. It was crazy that Drea was able to do that introduction without notes. Javier had great notes and he hadn’t been able to do anything besides mumble and sway from side to side. I guess being in the band all those years had taught Drea to be comfortable in front of a crowd.

  Venice followed her up to the microphone. She cleared her throat. “We all want to take good pictures. But let’s go ahead and look at some terrible ones first.”

  Venice had found these photos on the Internet. We felt it would be way too cruel to use our actual classmates for the “This Is Terrible” section of our presentation. In the first photo a woman aggressively showed all her teeth. It was a huge relief when I heard laughter coming from the crowd. Venice clicked to the next photo. A man’s eyebrows were crooked and filled with wild, curly hairs. More laughter.

  In the third photo a girl’s eyes were almost crossed and looking the wrong direction. I heard a gasp. I supposed we’d accidentally freaked somebody out. In the fourth photo a man had lowered his head to look at the camera and had created a very unattractive triple chin. The crowd loved that one. Tons of people laughed. In the last photo a woman’s whole face looked painted on with makeup. It got huge laughs. When it came to cracking up at unfortunate-looking people’s photos, my middle school had really nailed it.

  Venice waited for everybody to stop laughing before she spoke again. “What Perry tells you next will save you from taking a bad picture. So please listen.”

  The gymnasium fell silent. I was so nervous standing in front of the microphone that my knees felt wobbly. “Hello, everybody,” I said. My voice echoed like I was inside a cave. I could feel how bored everybody felt. It was awful. “I am going to tell you five things that will help you look good. Drea, please help me demonstrate.”

  Drea hopped right over to me. I heard a few people laugh. I guessed watching Drea bounce around in boots was funnier than I had realized.

  “Drea is wearing clothes that will photograph nicely. She’s not wearing crazy patterns. And she’s taken into consideration that our backdrop will be cream-colored. So she’s wearing green. If she wears something too light you won’t be able to separate her from the background, giving the illusion of a floating head.”

  Javier clicked on the next photo. It was a picture of Drea in a cream-colored sweater; her head appeared to float against the background.

  “Cool!” a random boy yelled.

>   “And you want to make sure that you sit on the edge of your chair and look up toward the camera. Slumping looks bad,” I said.

  A picture of Drea slumping with a double chin flashed behind us. Javier got ahead of me and clicked on to the third photo before I was ready. It was a picture of Drea staring really intently at the camera, like a stalker.

  “Scary!” a voice yelled.

  Drea made the exact face again, making lots of people in the audience laugh.

  “My advice to avoid this look is, keep your eyes closed right until I take the picture. That way you open your eyes and your whole face looks natural,” I explained.

  I caught a glimpse of Anya. She was rolling her eyes at everything I said, like all my advice was a complete waste of time. She really was not a team player. Javier clicked to the next picture before I was ready again. It showed Drea’s hair with a bunch of flyaways.

  “Bring a comb and be yourself,” I said. “You don’t want to make any drastic changes before your portrait. But you want to look your best. We’ll help with that. But also try to angle your head up. You’ll look better. I promise,” I said.

  The last picture was actually a series of pictures, one after the other, of Drea smiling.

  “My last piece of advice is, practice,” I said. “You’ll feel more comfortable in front of the camera. And you’ll also learn what looks best.”

  I was trying to think of one final thing to say when Anya rushed up to the microphone.

  “I have a couple of things I’d like to add,” Anya blurted out. “Wear good lip gloss. Seriously. Your mouth matters.”

  I saw Javier flipping through the outline, trying to find where it said Anya was supposed to be up there.

  “Do it with your friends,” Anya said. “They’ll be the most honest about when you look bad. Or if your hair’s doing something weird. Or if you’ve got a booger.”

  The audience laughed.

  “Yeah,” Anya said. “Nobody wants to see your nose funk.”

  I felt myself backing up until I was standing right next to Venice.

  “Wow,” I whispered to her.

  “Stop her,” Venice whispered back.

  But I really didn’t know how to do that in front of the whole school. Also, wasn’t that Javier’s job? Was our leader going to do anything during the assembly?

  “Whatever you do,” Anya said, “don’t wear puffy sleeves. Also, chew gum. It will relax your face.”

  This is when I realized that Anya was dressed like a total villain. She was wearing black jeans, a slim black belt, and a tucked-in black shirt with crocheted sleeves. It didn’t matter that her boots were purple; she looked very sinister. I watched Principal Hunt approach the microphone. Was she aware that Anya had gone rogue? Had her evil outfit given her away? Was Principal Hunt going to stop her? She leaned down to speak into the microphone.

  “Gum isn’t allowed in school. But I do think you should wear comfortable shoes,” Principal Hunt said. “You should not only look your best, you should also feel your best. I find that really helps me take a good picture.”

  “Totally,” Anya said, leaning into the microphone again. “And don’t wear a ton of jewelry. It pulls attention away from your face.”

  “And make sure you get a good night’s sleep the night before,” Principal Hunt said. “You don’t want circles under your eyes.”

  Javier looked like he was losing his mind. We’d gone very far away from the outline.

  “We’ve exceeded our ten tips. This is too much advice,” Venice said. “Nobody will be able to remember it all.”

  “This is a terrible clinic,” I mumbled to Venice.

  She gave me her worried face and then gritted her teeth. Which didn’t solve anything.

  “Don’t wear white,” Anya said. “It will make your skin look gray. And also, start with a cleansed face and try to use a matte foundation. No shimmery bronzers.”

  “They look so bored,” Venice said. “And she’s only speaking to the girls now. What about the boys?”

  I scanned the audience. Seeing my whole school bored and uncomfortable, sandwiched into the wooden bleachers, made me feel really deflated about my current life goal to make them all look good in their portraits. Even though our clinic had turned weird and endless, I felt they still should have been paying more attention. But everybody was whispering to one another. And I doubted it was about Anya’s styling tips.

  “And if you contour, which I don’t recommend, make sure it’s fully blended. I think it goes without saying that you need to make sure your neck and your face are the same color,” Anya went on.

  “I should tackle her,” I said to Venice. “I should grab her by one of her crocheted sleeves and throw her down to the floor.”

  “You don’t want to get detention again,” Venice said, putting her arm in front of me to hold me back.

  “Fill in your eyebrows if they’re light—they’ll show up better on camera,” Anya said. “And don’t wear anything that will go out of style in a year. This tip also applies to accessories. A pair of stud earrings is enough.”

  I noticed Mr. Falconer standing in the corner next to the American flag. He was swiping away on his phone. I’d never seen him on his phone before. I took it as a sign that our clinic had turned dull and unwatchable.

  “I’ll just go tap her on the shoulder,” I said.

  “That won’t do anything,” Venice said. “She’ll ignore you.”

  “Don’t match your hair to your shirt,” Anya said. “And avoid full-frontal pictures. Only give a three-quarter face angle. But you should practice this with a digital camera at home.”

  “Okay. I’m just going to grab the microphone,” I said. “If I take it and run out of the gymnasium, won’t that mean the assembly is over?”

  Venice squeezed her lips together and looked very unsure, like she was doing an extremely hard math problem in her head.

  “Don’t let yourself get distracted by anything,” Anya said. “If there’s a bee, it’s dead to you. Somebody farts? Ignore it.”

  A few boys laughed, which surprised me. I’d figured everybody had stopped paying attention when she mentioned filling in your eyebrows. Okay. Okay. Okay. It was now or never. I started walking toward Anya and the microphone.

  “Try to smile with your eyes,” Anya said. “And look above the camera lens instead of right at it, and extend your neck.”

  I stood right next to Anya and whispered in her ear, “You need to stop right now.”

  “And for those of you with acne, blend your pimple cream,” Anya said. “You want to look timeless and classy.”

  “I mean it,” I whispered.

  “And here’s Perry Hall,” Anya said.

  I felt everybody’s attention fall on me. I held my breath. Anya had said my name as if she was going to say something about me. What was she going to say?

  “See how her barrettes pull her hair back unevenly, giving her head an asymmetrical shape?” As Anya spoke I felt her fingertip graze my ear. “You definitely want to avoid that mistake. You want your head to look round and normal.”

  I heard some kids chuckle. My face and neck felt very hot.

  “Thank you, Rocky Mountain Middle School. Now let’s all show up looking gorgeous for our portraits.” Anya gave her hand a kiss and pretended to throw it toward the audience. Then she smiled big and sat down, leaving me in front of the empty microphone, deeply worried about exactly how asymmetrical my head actually looked. With everybody staring at me, I wasn’t sure what to say. I needed to figure out a good way to end things. All of a sudden, I felt somebody standing next to me. It was Javier. Finally, our leader had arrived.

  “Thanks, everybody, for coming,” Javier said.

  I stood there stunned, waiting for Javier to say something way better. But that didn’t happen. The room filled with the sound of people fleeing the gym. The assembly was over. Everybody was going back to class. I watched them trudge across the floor. What a wasted opportunity.
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  There was no way everybody would be able to remember all those tips. Anya had ruined the assembly. She’d purposely overwhelmed the crowd and then insulted me. Worst of all, other than the mean thing she said about my barrettes, I didn’t think her tips were sincere. I didn’t think she really wanted the geeks to look better or for the nerds to blend their pimple cream. She was just showing off. She’d grabbed the spotlight and torpedoed my photo clinic. And she’d done it in a very sneaky and mean way. She’d waited for Javier to flounder and then she’d pounced, finding the perfect moment to humiliate me in front of everybody.

  Anya was such a snake. I had no idea how to even exist with her anymore.

  Things turned bad for me all the time. It was the way my life worked. It wasn’t fair, but I was getting used to it. Good things turned bad. Medium-okay things turned bad. And bad things turned rotten. So it was inevitable that things at home would turn bad. And when they did it was swift and permanent.

  “This is going to change our lives,” my mother said, opening up the pantry.

  Normally, I enjoyed Friday nights. Normally, I loved it when Piper came home to visit. But ever since the garage fight nothing had been normal with Piper. My mom had been texting my sister every day, asking her to come home so they could work things out. So I guessed this was Piper’s version of working things out.

  Piper stood beside my mother with a giant garbage bag. My dad and I sat at the kitchen table, where we could examine everything in our cupboards.

  “I don’t want to sound like I’m judging you guys,” Piper said. “But you’re filthy eaters. Look at all this processed food. It’s crap.”

  I watched Piper shove a bag of marshmallows into the trash bag. It made me sad to see them go.

  “I’m all for cleaner eating,” my dad said. “But shouldn’t we spend a week eating what we’ve got instead of chucking it into the landfill?”

  Piper frowned at him, and so did my mother.

  “That’s your sugar addiction talking, Dad,” Piper said. “Stay strong.”