I crack up when he says Sunita, because he stumbles over it a little bit and then gets all embarrassed. I don’t know why; he’s a lawyer, so he must talk in front of people all the time.
Annabelle goes to the microphone first, just like we planned. “Hello, everyone. Welcome, and thanks for coming out on this freezing night.” I’m really impressed with how she speaks. She kind of sounds like my rabbi, composed and smiley. “We’ve been working on this proposal since last year, and we’re so excited about it. We know it will make a huge difference in our school and help the environment.” She looks down at her notes and back at us sitting in the folding chairs behind her—and then everything goes downhill. It’s like she’s completely forgotten why she’s there and what she’s supposed to say. She’s quiet for only a few seconds, but it seems like a million years. “Um, I … Um.” She looks back at us, and I nod, and then she says, finally, “I’d like to introduce Lucy Desberg. Um, this was all her idea, and she will, um, go into the specific details.”
I look around. Evan was supposed to go next, but maybe Annabelle forgot that too. I stand up and straighten out my dress and walk over to the podium.
I smile at Annabelle so she won’t feel completely terrible. The audience looks so serious. Or maybe they’re bored and just want to get home. It’s hard to say. I take my place behind the microphone and smile at no one in particular.
“Hi, everyone. I’m Lucy Desberg. Nice to see you.” I glance down at my note cards. My hands are sweaty and they’re crinkling the paper. I try to stand up straight, speak slowly, and smile. “When I first joined Earth Club, I had no idea what I was getting into. I thought it would be fun, and I wanted the free snacks.” I pause for some laughter, hoping that people find it funny. Thankfully, they do. “But after a few meetings, I became passionate about helping the environment. Thinking of ways to go green literally kept me up at night. And I discovered that one of the main areas we could improve was a place we visited every day: the school cafeteria. Until now we have been using plastic utensils, plastic trays, and Styrofoam cups. Many of our snacks are prepackaged, and we don’t eat locally grown fruits and vegetables. All of this can be fixed, and pretty easily too.” I pause and smile and look out at the audience. They seem to be paying attention, and no one has fallen asleep yet. “So I’d like to introduce a fellow Earth Club member, Evan Mass, who will go over all the suppliers we’ve researched, and Sunny—I mean, Sunita—Ramal will talk about the budget for this plan. And of course, we’ll have time for questions at the end.”
“Fab job, Lulu,” Evan whispers, and slaps me a low five. He’s wearing khakis that are a tiny bit too short and a wrinkly blue button-down. He looks like a little boy. But he’s Evan. Steady, reliable, funny Evan.
When Evan’s up at the podium, I turn to Sunny and whisper, “He’s great.”
She nods. “I know. Also, you rocked out there. You totally saved Annabelle and didn’t even make it seem too obvious.”
Sunny finishes up by going over the costs and asking if anyone has questions.
Of course people have questions. This is Old Mill. And as my sixth-grade science teacher, Mrs. Kurtz, said, “Thinking people ask questions.”
“Where did you find these suppliers?” one man asks, so I go to the microphone and tell him all about our research.
“What’s the timetable for this kind of change?” a woman wants to know. I start, and Mrs. Deleccio finishes up that one.
A short man sitting in the front row says, “This is a question specifically for Lucy.” He pauses for a second, as if making sure he has the room’s attention. “How did you get started with this project? Can you talk a little about your inspiration for this kind of work?”
I stand up near my seat and answer. “My friend Sunny is actually the main reason.” I look over at her. I explain how she encouraged me to join Earth Club. And then I talk a little about the spa and the grant and all that. “But the cafeteria project was my baby,” I say. “There was just so much waste. I knew we could do better. I wanted to help us do better.”
“Thank you,” the man says, and a few people applaud. It’s weak applause, but it’s still something.
Finally the questions end, and Clint’s dad tells us they should have a decision within the next few days. “We are so impressed with the work you’ve done,” he says. “This is a testament to the fabulous school district that we’re so lucky to be a part of. Under the direction of Susan Deleccio, this club can save the world.”
He’s a little cheesy, but I like what he’s saying. Mrs. Deleccio suggests that we all go to 384 Sprinkles for dessert, and of course no one can say no to that. It may be January, but ice cream is a year-round food, if you ask me.
Sunny and I share the Sprinkles Explosion—five scoops of ice cream and five toppings. It’s a little much, but this is a celebration, after all.
“Congrats, guys,” Mrs. Deleccio says. “I’m so impressed. Now all we can do is wait. But I have a feeling the wait won’t be too long.”
That night as I’m falling asleep, I can’t help but feel grateful. The meeting went well, Yamir remembered to wish me good luck, and we got ice cream afterward.
To me, that’s a pretty perfect day.
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Be patient.
I wait and wait for an answer from the school board, even though I don’t even know how they’re going to get in touch. They could e-mail it, or real-mail it, or just send Mrs. Deleccio some kind of teacher memo. I have no idea.
But Friday afternoon rolls around and there’s still no answer. I guess it takes time.
“What are we doing this weekend?” Sunny asks me after school.
“You tell me,” I say. “You always come up with the better ideas.”
“I’ll tell you what we’re doing,” Erica Crane says, plopping herself down on the bench next to me. “We’re starting the prep for Eighth-Grade Masquerade. And you, Lucy Desberg, are joining the team.”
“Huh?” Sunny asks, taking the word right out of my mouth.
“We need you, Lucy.”
“I’ll explain,” Zoe says, jumping into the conversation. Zoe’s new this year, and she’s been Erica’s sidekick since her first day at Old Mill. She moved from Long Island, so Erica thinks she’s fancy, and Zoe finds Erica completely hilarious.
They’re a match made in heaven.
“You’re the makeup guru, right?” Zoe asks.
This is the most she’s said to me all year. How does she know I’m the makeup guru?
I shrug. “I guess.”
“Come on, Lucy. Of course you are.” Sunny rolls her eyes.
“Anyway, so Erica and I are on the planning committee for student council, and we would like to bring you on as our makeup consultant,” Zoe says. “Sunny, you can come on too. Maybe help with publicity?”
I look at Erica and Zoe, and then at Sunny. Erica and Zoe never talk to us, but now they seem to have a whole plan laid out. It feels like they’re recruiting us for some secret mission.
“Sounds good to me,” Sunny says. “We need another extracurricular, Lucy.”
“We do?” I ask. Is this really my best friend Sunny talking?
“Sure. Why not? And the school board proposal is pretty much over. What else are we going to do?”
I nod. I guess she’s right. I hadn’t thought about that, and suddenly I feel all anxious to start planning. I love having projects! Plus, if I don’t have something to do, I might end up spending all my time worrying about Yamir.
“Great, then it’s settled,” Erica says. “Lucy, we’re going to need a pre-event visit at your spa. Okay? Talk to my assistant to set that up.”
“Your assistant?”
She nods. “Yeah, Zoe Feldman. She’s right here.”
“You’re Erica’s assistant?” I ask, but she’s too busy typing something into her phone to notice.
Finally our bus comes and we say good-bye to Erica and Zoe. It almost feels like wha
t just happened is some kind of weird dream. I guess it’s good to be wanted, though. And that’s probably the nicest Erica has been to me since kindergarten. Maybe Zoe is a good influence on her.
“It’ll be fun,” Sunny says when we’re on the bus. “I mean, we might as well get involved. We’re only going to have one Eighth-Grade Masquerade.”
“You’re so right, and that’s totally how I’ve been feeling lately,” I tell her.
“Explain?”
“That we’re only going to be in our last semester of middle school once. And we have to make it awesome. Actually, more than awesome. We have to make it perfect,” I explain.
She looks at me. “Yeah, but—”
“No buts,” I say. “We have to.”
When we get to my house, my parents are in the kitchen drinking coffee.
“Hey, Luce. Hey, Sunny,” my mom calls to us. “Happy weekend.”
“Hey,” I say back, and Sunny and I go upstairs.
“Is that weird?” Sunny asks when we’re in my room with the door closed. “I mean, having your dad around so much? I know it’s been like this since the summer, but still.”
“Nah.” I throw my backpack under my desk. “It’s nice. Just little things, like how he helped me with the math homework the other night. Video-chatting on the computer is great and everything, but it’s much better to go over complicated problems side by side at the kitchen table. I feel really lucky that he’s around.”
“That’s so great,” Sunny says. “Especially since your dad is really good at math.”
I run downstairs to grab us some snacks, and when I get back Sunny squeals, “Oh my God, did you see this picture Claudia posted online?” She’s on my bed using my laptop. I run over to see what it is, and there’s a picture of Claudia and Bean smooching in front of some fountain.
“They’re really in love,” I say. I didn’t like Bean much at the beginning, but I kind of love him now. He’s a part of the family, and even though I won’t see him for a while, I can’t really imagine things without him.
“They’re totally gonna get married, right?” Sunny asks. “How cool is that? They’re on their own, in college, in love. It’s like a dream.”
It’s hard to be jealous of my sister, since I’m so happy for her. And also I kind of feel like things will work out for me one day too. When I’m older. I bet I’ll have a cool boyfriend when I’m in college.
“Do you think Evan and I will go to college together?” Sunny asks.
“I think it’s too soon to tell. You guys have all of high school to get through.”
“That’s true.”
“So, what should we do tonight?” I ask. “Annabelle said something about going to see that movie about the magician. But I’m not sure I feel like it. There’s always Friday night rec, but we just went last week.”
“Yeah, but we can go again.”
Friday night recreation is an Old Mill tradition. I guess parents were worried their kids would become delinquents, so they had the teachers open the middle school to let kids hang out there. Some play basketball and others just sit around chatting. There’s usually pizza and chips and soda. It’s pretty fun, actually.
“Ask Evan if he’s going,” I say.
Last summer I was all annoyed that Evan and Sunny spent so much time together, but for some reason it doesn’t bother me as much anymore. It feels like Evan is just another friend now. They’re really good at balancing their time together and their time with their friends. It’s admirable—but also kind of frustrating, since I seem to be failing at my own relationship.
“Okay, I’ll call later. He has tennis after school.”
Sunny knows his whole schedule, like they’re some kind of married couple.
I go downstairs to get more snacks, and then Sunny tells me I have a text message.
I immediately hope it’s from Yamir, even though I’ve been feeling better about things since our accidental phone call. He wished me luck, and as sad as it sounds, I can live on that for a while.
“It’s Erica,” Sunny says, rolling her eyes.
“Erica?” I look at my phone.
Wondering if we can check out the spa tonight to start preparing. Zoe, me, you, and Sunny. Let me know.
“So, let’s go,” Sunny says. “We don’t have anything else to do.”
“I have to ask my mom and grandma. There may be an event tonight.”
Sunny says, “You used to know everything that went on there. You’re totally slacking.”
I hit her gently on the arm. “Ha-ha. I’m not slacking. I’m just in school, and they have staff to take care of things. I did my job, and now I can relax.”
“Okay, so text her back. This is gonna be fun.”
I don’t know about fun, but I guess it can’t hurt. Unless Erica is trying to trick us or humiliate us. But I think she’s moved on from her silly pranks. She seems really serious.
I call Grandma at the pharmacy, and she tells me it’s fine as long as we don’t disturb the customers. This is a change too. Normally she’d make sure she or Mom was there with me, but I guess she trusts me more these days. She knows I can handle it. Plus, Charise is working the pharmacy counter until nine o’clock, and there will be a few people doing late spa treatments. It’s not like we’ll be totally alone.
Erica and I text back and forth, and we agree to meet there at seven. I tell her that we can only stay an hour. Truthfully, we’re allowed to stay until closing at nine, but I don’t want to commit to that many hours with Erica Crane.
Improvements or not.
Lucy’s tip for surviving eighth grade:
Be open to new ideas.
My dad drives Sunny and me over to the pharmacy, and he keeps asking us questions. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Lucy?”
“Dad, it’s for school.”
“But Erica Crane? Isn’t she a troublemaker? I should’ve saved all the e-mails you’ve written me about her.”
“People change, Dad.” Okay, that may be true, but I doubt it’s true in Erica’s case. She’s still mean and competitive. But I don’t need to tell my dad about that, because I know her well enough to know she’s not being mean. Not yet, anyway.
Still, I get why he’s asking these questions. I’m a little bit worried myself. I try to play it cool, though, and give her the benefit of the doubt.
We pull into the parking lot and Dad says, “Well, have a good time. Good luck.” He gives me a kiss on the forehead and high-fives Sunny.
“You have a cool dad,” Sunny says. “He’s, like, responsible like a dad, but then fun like a kid. It’s pretty much the perfect combination.”
“Thanks, Sun.”
We walk into the spa and it smells delicious, as always—lavender and eucalyptus with traces of vanilla.
“Lucy!” Grace, the spa receptionist, greets Sunny and me like we’re celebrities. “What can I do for you beauties?”
“We’re actually meeting two girls from school here,” I tell her. “We’re starting to prepare for the big eighth-grade dance, and I guess they want me to be in charge of makeup.”
“Wow. Exciting!”
I’m about to answer when Grace holds up a finger, telling us to wait, as she picks up the phone. Every time I hear someone say, “Good evening, Pink and Green: The Spa at Old Mill Pharmacy,” I feel this wave of excitement. It never gets old.
Grace books a spa appointment for the woman on the phone and then turns back to us with a smile. “All right, well, let me know if you need anything.”
Sunny and I are early, so we wander through the pharmacy aisles like the good old days, making sure all the Silly Putty packages are in order and the lollipop bowl on the counter is fully stocked.
I turn to Sunny. “Hey, did I tell you that we finally cleaned out the basement?”
Sunny’s eyes bulge. “Really? The thing your mom’s been talking about for years and years?”
“Yup. Come down and see! Before everyone else gets here.”
It took forever, but I’m so glad it’s done because it looks amazing down here.
“Wow. This is like a whole other place now,” Sunny says. “Honestly, we could hang out down here. Get a big-screen TV and stuff.”
“I don’t know about that,” I say. “But come here, check out what we found!”
On the counter toward the back are a zillion old-fashioned pill bottles all lined up. They’re brown and they have cork tops, and it’s pretty hard to believe that anyone ever used them for medicine.
“I don’t get it. What are they?” Sunny asks.
“People used to get their medicine in these! A million years ago! Aren’t they cool looking? They’ve been down here all along and we had no idea.”
“Pretty crazy.” Sunny looks a little confused, like she’s not sure why it’s a big deal. She’s still going on and on about how we should turn this basement into our official hangout.
“We should go upstairs and wait for them by the spa,” I tell Sunny, after it’s clear she’s not as impressed by the old bottles as I am. “They probably won’t know to look for us here.”
We go upstairs and Sunny excuses herself to use the bathroom. I sit in the spa waiting area and flip through a magazine. I’m nervous, even though I really shouldn’t be. I’m the one in charge here. This is my pharmacy, my spa, and I’m doing Erica a favor by helping with the makeup. But sometimes your brain isn’t in control and there’s nothing you can do about it.
“Hi, Lucy, sorry we’re late,” Zoe says, running in. “My parents have CLS.”
“CLS?” I ask.
“Chronic Lateness Syndrome. They can’t help it.” She smirks. Zoe’s petite and covered with freckles, and it’s clear she thinks she’s the cutest person on earth. In a way, she’s self-confident and funny and likable, and in another way her whole attitude is kind of annoying. I can’t totally decide how I feel about her, but I’m committed to getting to know her better.
Pink & Green is the New Black Page 3
