Joyce grabbed Pretty-Girl-Maggie’s hand, pulled her through the door to safety and shut it behind her, leaving Ugly-Girl-Sarah behind in the burning room. Sarah pounded on the door. “Okay, cut,” Em yelled. “Cue the announcer.”
I cleared my throat and started in a deep announcer tone, my voice cracking partway through, “Don’t let this happen to you! If your nose is huge and ugly, get Nose Clothes right away.”
Em stopped the camera. “Okay, put on the first one.” Sarah made a face as she pulled the purple gum out of her mouth and stuck it on her nose.
“ACTION,” Em said again. She zoomed in on Sarah’s nose in profile.
“Nose Clothes come in eight attractive designs to match any outfit choice,” I read. “For a fraction of the cost of a nose job, you can cover up that ugly nose and be fashionable at the same time.” Sarah switched nose cones as I read on. “Nose Clothes are made of one hundred percent recycled materials and smell like popcorn. Now, let’s see that scene again.”
Maggie and Sarah took their places on the sofa, this time with Sarah wearing Nose Clothes. Maggie crossed and uncrossed her legs exactly as she’d done before, then sniffed the air. “Oh no, do you smell that?”
When Joyce the fireman came through the door this time, she looked at Maggie, made the kissy lips, winked at the camera and said, “She’s foxy,” then she looked Sarah up and down, too. “Va-va-va-voom!” she said in a deep voice, tapping her own nose to show it was the nose cone that made Sarah look hot. She grabbed them both by the hand and pulled them out the door.
“Portez les Nose Clothes,” I said, then held up a sign in front of the camera. It was in English (even though we knew we’d lose points). “Because who ‘nose’ what might happen today!”
Em panned over to the door, which opened to show Sarah and Maggie pushing Joyce the Sleazy Fireman back into the burning room.
“And, CUT,” Em said. “That’s a wrap.” We all sank down onto the supersoft sofas while Em started fiddling with the cord to plug the camera into the TV.
“Hello, girls.” Em’s mom came into the living room. She was wearing a hot pink dress, these crazy high-heeled shoes, and tons of makeup. Her hair was swept back, too, making her look exactly like a soap-opera star. I was half expecting her to faint suddenly, hit her head on the coffee table, develop a case of amnesia, and accidentally get pregnant with her ex-husband’s baby. She snapped open her sparkly evening bag and looked through it while she talked to Em. “Emily, I’m leaving for the benefit now. Are you almost done with whatever you’re doing?”
“We just finished.” It was the first time I’d seen Em’s mom since we got there.
“I left my gold card in the kitchen. Order some pizza for your friends.”
“Sure,” Em mumbled.
“And don’t stay up too late,” her mom added. “It’s a school day tomorrow.” She gave us all a quick smile, then glanced at herself in the mirror over the fireplace.
“Your mom lets you use her Visa card?” Maggie said once she’d left. “That’s so cool.”
“I’m starving. Can we get a large?” Joyce asked.
“We can get five larges. She won’t care.” Em put the camera down on the mantel. We all followed her into the kitchen. “Write down what you want.” She threw a pad of paper onto the table.
“No anchovies,” Maggie started.
“Seriously,” Joyce added. “Who eats anchovies?”
“Double cheese,” Maggie went on.
“Pepperoni,” Joyce said.
“Double pepperoni,” Maggie corrected.
“Okay. Sick.” Sarah J. came back from the bathroom, where she’d gone to wash the makeup and gum residue off her nose. “Do you know how much fat is in pepperoni?” She looked at Maggie. “And oil.” She looked at me.
I glared at her. I had exactly one zit, and I’d totally smothered it in concealer that morning. It was barely noticeable. Or at least I’d thought it was.
“Triple pepperoni,” I said, staring her straight in the eyes, daring her to say another word about my zit.
“Quadruple,” Maggie put in, backing me up.
“Margot’s skin is gorgeous. She always has a tan, and you can hardly even see her blemish. And, Sarah? Maggie’s not fat. Just order an entire box of pepperoni with no pizza crust attached,” Joyce said.
“Okay,” Em said. “But ask for melted cheese on the box. I love cheese.” We all laughed, except Sarah, who was looking horrified at the thought of how many calories would be in a cheese-covered cardboard box of pepperoni.
“Okay, seriously,” I said, “how about just triple?”
We ended up ordering five of the weirdest pizzas ever invented, including one with double cheese, triple pepperoni, quadruple pineapple, and one-eighth olives. We made Sarah call and place the order because nobody else could do it without laughing.
“They said forty-five minutes.” Sarah hung up the phone. She’d made sure to order herself a Diet Coke and a Caesar salad, which she made a big deal of saying was the only thing she’d be eating.
“Why do you have a stick up your butt, Sarah?” Em asked. Obviously, Sarah didn’t answer.
“I’m hungry,” Joyce whined. “Forty-five minutes is forever. Do you have any chips?”
“Sorry,” Em answered. “My mom only eats seaweed and rice.”
And then I had an idea. It seemed brilliant at the time, but now I’d give anything to go back and change the words that came out of my mouth. “Let’s play mystery on a spoon!”
“Oh my God,” Em trilled. “I’ll get the blindfold.”
While she was gone, I explained the rules to the others, emphasizing that the blindfolded person has to swallow what’s on the spoon, no matter how bad it tastes.
“I’m not playing,” Sarah J. said.
“Yes you are,” I answered.
“Either play or we’ll have to punish you,” Em added, coming into the room behind me.
“We’ll give you some time to think about your decision. I’ll go first,” I offered. It was a strategic move. I’d only had to play mystery on a spoon once to figure out that the stuff got more disgusting each turn.
Em put the blindfold over my eyes. I heard the fridge opening and closing, a cupboard slamming, then a shaking noise like popcorn kernels in a jar, but softer.
“Open wide,” Em said. At first, the taste was salty and sort of peppery, then it got sweet. The texture was creamy and crunchy at the same time. I ripped off the blindfold and reached for the glass of water. “Easy,” I said. “Soy sauce, mustard, and crushed Smarties.”
“Oh my God.” Em clapped her hands. “You’re amazing.”
Maggie was next. She turned out to be hopeless. “Tomato juice, crackers, and jam?” she guessed. It was actually pineapple juice, crushed Cheerios, and salt.
Joyce was even worse. “Yogurt, lemon juice, and pepper?” To be fair, though, Em had tricked her by only putting one thing on the spoon: Dijon mustard.
Sarah sat watching, rolling her eyes. “You guys make me want to puke.” Nobody paid her any attention. We were all waiting to see what Maggie would feed Em. It didn’t end up being worth the wait.
“A little effort, please,” Em said as she took off her blindfold. “Ketchup.”
“And?” Maggie prompted, trying to trip her up.
“And just ketchup,” Em said with complete certainty. Maggie tipped her head back and sighed in defeat while Em held the blindfold out to Sarah J. “Your turn.”
Sarah shook her head. “Not a chance.”
“Stop acting like a bitch, Sarah,” Joyce said, shocking us all.
“Put it on,” I added. “Or else.”
“Or else what?” She turned to me. “Or else you’ll cry some more?”
“You don’t want to push me any more today,” I warned. It didn’t escape me that I sounded exactly like my mom when she was dealing with a carload of screaming triplets.
“You know,” Sarah went on, “you don’t really have a ri
ght to be all pissed off with me. Did you really think you had a chance with George? I mean, look at yourself.”
Maggie and Joyce stared her down. “That’s so mean,” Joyce said.
“Not to mention rude,” Maggie put in. “And untrue.”
I stood up from my chair and was about to tackle her to the ground, broken leg or not, when Em stepped between us. “Okay, enough. Guys, violence isn’t the answer.”
“Yeah, tell her that,” I spat. “She’s the one who pushed me down the stairs.”
“I wouldn’t have done it if you guys hadn’t been trying to ruin my life and burn my face off. Just so you know, you deserved it.”
“Sit,” Em said to Sarah, holding up the blindfold.
Sarah stood up. “I’m going home,” she said, but Maggie grabbed her arm before she could get very far. “Let go,” Sarah said, trying to shake Maggie off, but then Joyce grabbed hold too.
“Wait a sec. Keep holding her,” Em said, and ran from the room. She was back a second later with an armload of her mom’s scarves. “Tie her to the chair,” she instructed, throwing a few to Maggie and a bunch to Joyce.
“What? You’re going to hold me prisoner? This is retarded,” Sarah said, but she let herself be pushed into a chair. When we were done, she looked like she’d been taken hostage by a gang of ladies with very expensive taste. I know because Erika’s mom gets Burberry catalogues in the mail. The scarves that were holding Sarah down were probably worth two thousand dollars.
“You just have to play the spoon game, like we asked you to nicely a hundred times, and then you can go,” Em explained. She tied the blindfold over Sarah’s eyes, then handed me the spoon with a smile.
When it was my turn, I’d tried to peek, so I knew you really couldn’t see through the blindfold. Still, Sarah seemed to sense what was going on. “I’m not eating anything if Margot is putting it on the spoon,” she said.
“Maggie’s doing it,” Em said. “Right, Maggie?”
“Un-huh,” Maggie lied.
I opened the fridge and took my time considering my options. This was my moment of long-awaited revenge. Somehow, nothing seemed disgusting enough.
There was a cut lime in a plastic container. There were about ten thousand different kinds of salad dressing. A huge jug of dark green juice. There was an open bottle of white wine. Some leftover coleslaw. A few eggs. I grabbed one and cracked it into a bowl. Then I moved on to the pantry. A bottle of red wine vinegar caught my eye, so I added a bit. And then—it wasn’t that I wasn’t aware of rule number one (only three things on the spoon), but if Sarah wanted to declare all-out war, which she obviously did, playing by the rules hardly mattered anymore. I added peanut butter.
“Are you going to make me sit here forever?” Sarah asked, making a pathetic effort to pull her hand free from one of the scarves.
“Almost done,” Maggie said, opening and shutting a cupboard door for added effect. “Hang on.”
I opened another cabinet, and that’s where I found my final ingredient. It violated rule number two, sort of, but like I said, the rules had pretty much gone out the window. The bottle said it was all-natural, environmentally friendly, and contained “Real Lemon Essence,” so even if I wouldn’t have picked it for a snack, it was practically edible.
I whisked my mixture together, smiled, then scooped up a big, runny, brown spoonful and handed it to Maggie. I could see her biting her lip to keep from laughing as she walked toward Sarah, trying not to spill.
“Open wide,” Maggie said.
Sarah shook her head. “It smells disgusting,” she answered through clenched teeth. “I’m not eating it.”
Em pulled up a chair. “I’m giving you one last chance before I pinch your big crooked nose shut.” Sarah just clamped her lips more tightly together.
Em motioned for me to take the spoon from Maggie. “When she opens her mouth, shove it in.” She grabbed Sarah’s nose and pinched hard. Sarah managed to hold her breath for a ridiculously long time. She probably could have held it longer, too, because when she finally opened her mouth, it wasn’t to breathe.
“I hate you guys so—” she started, but she didn’t get to the “much” part before I’d shoved the mystery spoon into her mouth. She scrunched up her face and tried to spit, but I covered her mouth with my hand. I wanted to see her suffer—just a little.
“Swallow,” Em instructed. “Just swallow and it will be over.”
Sarah swallowed, then Em let go of her nose. She took a deep breath before complaining. “That was the most—” but again, she didn’t get to the “disgusting” part before Em pinched her nose and I shoved the spoon into her mouth one more time. “Swallow,” I said. When she’d finished, she gagged, but Em immediately pinched her nose again.
“Em…” I said tentatively.
“One more bite.” Em waved my concern away.
“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Maggie agreed.
“Oh, give me that.” Em grabbed the spoon with her free hand and got one more in that way.
Sarah was really starting to gag. “I think she ate a lot already,” I said. “Let’s stop.”
After Em set the bowl down on the counter, I pulled off Sarah’s blindfold, expecting to find her glaring at us with murderous tigerlike rage in her eyes. But instead, a flood of tears spilled down her cheeks. The blindfold, already soaked, felt wet and warm against my palm. A big trail of drool was dribbling out of her mouth, and her breath was coming in little gasps. I think she was sweating, too, because her whole face was wet.
I picked up a glass of water that Maggie had just poured.
“Here,” I said, holding it up to Sarah’s lips. The word came out harsher than I had intended it to. “Drink,” I added more nicely, and she took a sip. “You won the game.”
“Yeah, you totally won,” Maggie said cheerfully, putting a hand on Sarah’s shoulder. “Nobody else could have eaten so much of that.”
Sarah didn’t answer, though. She closed her eyes. The sound of her breathing filled the quiet kitchen.
Suddenly she lunged forward in the chair. I jumped back, thinking she was trying to break through the scarves to attack me, and just managed to get myself out of the path of a gush of vomit that came shooting out of her mouth. It landed in a watery brown puddle on the cream-colored kitchen tiles.
“Oh my God,” Joyce shrieked, stepping back until she was pressed against the cabinets. Maggie was already clear across the kitchen.
“I’m not cleaning that up,” Em said.
Sarah started retching again. “I have to leave the room,” Joyce said weakly, “or I’ll throw up too.” Maggie escaped with her.
They left just in time: Sarah threw up again, but this time, instead of hitting the floor, it got all over her clothes and the expensive scarves.
“We have to untie her,” I said, pulling at the scarves. The smell was disgusting, but living with two-year-olds, I was pretty used to disgusting things.
“That’s just nasty,” Em said, stepping around the puddle of barf. “Go get some towels,” I instructed. Em nodded. She left the kitchen, seeming relieved to have an excuse to go.
“I don’t feel good,” Sarah said in a small voice.
“I know.” I worked at a knot in the scarf tied around her waist.
“I really don’t feel good,” she repeated.
“Just a second, okay?” I pulled the scarf off her waist, then loosened the last one, which had been holding down her right arm.
“Do you want more water?” She took a single sip, then barfed again. I took the glass from her, trying not to look at the throw up that was floating in it, mixing with the water. “Do you want to lie down?” She nodded and stood up, but she’d barely taken two steps before she sank to her knees.
“No, Sarah, not here,” I said. Her face was a scary shade of white, and I didn’t want her to see how terrified I was. I tried to pull her back up while balancing on one crutch, but it was useless. “Let’s go into the living room, okay?” I said
in the calmest voice I could manage. Then I thought of the overstuffed, expensive-looking white couches, and revised that plan. “Or maybe Em’s room? Can you get upstairs?”
She didn’t answer. She was pressing her face against the cool floor tiles, breathing in and out heavily. I put a hand against her forehead. Her skin felt clammy. That was when I walked across the kitchen to the cabinet and took out the Tru-Glo Lemon Scent Furniture Polish. I frantically skimmed the small print on the label. KEEP OUT OF REACH OF CHILDREN, it said in bold type. POISONOUS IF INGESTED. I broke out in a sweat, as the full reality of the situation hit. This wasn’t edible. Of course it wasn’t edible. It was furniture polish. And it was poisonous. I had poisoned Sarah J. “Sarah?” I asked. “Are you okay? Can you talk to me?” She just groaned softly.
Em came back in with a single towel draped over her arm. She glanced at the huge mess, then threw it on the table. “Oh my God,” she said, clearly panicking. “Margot, sometimes my mom comes home from fund-raisers early if they don’t have an open bar. She can’t see this. You have to clean it up now. I’m serious. Right now. And we have to get her out of here.”
Did she honestly think Sarah was in any condition to be walking home?
“Em,” I whispered, “I put furniture polish in that bowl, and you made her eat a lot. We poisoned her. This is really serious.”
“I know. I saw you. But you didn’t put in that much, right?” she whispered back.
“I don’t know. A few spoonfuls.”
Em waved her hand. “She puked it all out. She’s being a drama queen.”
Sarah was still lying on the floor, moaning softly.
“I think maybe we should call an ambulance,” I said.
“No!” Em answered with complete certainty. “We shouldn’t. She’s going to be fine. Trust me. I’ve seen this a million times with mystery on a spoon.” I obviously didn’t look convinced. “Margot, think about it,” Em said softly. “If we call an ambulance, they’re going to find out she got poisoned. The police might even get involved. Then we’ll both be screwed for something you did.” She glared at me like she was daring me to contradict her, but I could see the fear in her eyes. “And we don’t even know,” she said. “What if they actually arrest us?” The possibility hadn’t crossed my mind, but she was right. “The first time you get in trouble with the law, they go easy on you. But the second time? Considering our pasts, you and I can’t risk that. Plus, trust me, it’s out of her system by now.”
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