by Meg Cabot
I could see Kevin giving me the evil eye from behind Uncle Jay. If he said anything to make me look bad in front of Harmony…
But he didn’t. He just glared at me.
And then Uncle Jay was squatting down in front of him until his face was the same level as Kevin’s. “Are you upset that Allie gets to ride in a limo to a fancy hotel, and she didn’t ask you to come with her? Is that why you ratted her out, even though she promised to give you her dessert for a week not to, little dude?”
“Yes,” Kevin said, looking like he was going to cry for real now. But mostly, I think, over the idea that he was missing out on all that great stuff.
Uncle Jay shook his head. Then he said, “You shouldn’t have done that.” He stood up straight and looked at me. “And you shouldn’t have tried to kill your brother. You were both wrong. Now shake hands.”
I didn’t want to shake Kevin’s hand. He was my enemy.
Harmony cleared her throat. Uncle Jay looked over at her.
“I don’t think a handshake is enough,” she said meaningfully. “I think maybe they both need to learn a lesson for what they’ve done. Like…they don’t get any of my home-baked cookies.”
Hearing that, Kevin’s eyes filled with great big baby tears…and completely spilled over. He let out one of the wails he’d been practicing for when Annie comes to town and needs some extra orphans.
“Oh!” Harmony cried in alarm, hastily passing the plate of cookies over toward Kevin. “I’m sorry! You can have some cookies. I’m sure you’re sorry for what you did. Right, Allie?”
Sometimes having a little brother who is almost as big a drama queen as my friends comes in handy.
“He’s sorry,” I said, taking one of the burned cookies as she passed the plate toward me.
On the other hand, he was crying — for real — like he was genuinely sorry for what he’d done.
Or genuinely sorry he wasn’t going to get to ride in a limo to Glitterati.
In any case, it is the responsibility of the oldest child to set an example for the youngest ones.
So I stuck out my right hand, and Kevin stuck out his, and we shook hands.
“I’m sorry, Allie,” Kevin said, looking like he meant it.
“I’m sorry, too,” I said.
I even meant it.
Not sorry that I’d sat on him, though. He’d deserved that. I was just sorry I’d trusted him.
“That’s what I like to see,” Uncle Jay said. “Now, who wants to go to Pizza Express and make their own pizza?”
We all stared at him.
“That’s right,” he said. “I’ve got an in at the restaurant, you know. And my boss said it was all right for you three to come in and make your own pizzas. You can twirl them in the air and everything. I figured it was better for you to get dough on the ceiling there than here.”
Really. Uncle Jay is the coolest relative in the world.
I was sad for Great-Aunt Joyce throwing out her back and all.
But having an uncle who dates girls who make cookies and works in a place where they let us make our own pizzas?
That was just the best.
RULE #6
A Present Should Come from the Heart
The next morning I wasn’t in a much better mood than the day before, despite having gotten to make my own pizza in a real restaurant kitchen. Mom had left a note that said, since the limo was coming for me at noon, I still had to go to my ballet lesson with Madame Linda at ten o’clock.
Who could concentrate on ballet when a limo was coming to pick them up and take them to Glitterati?
It was horrible to have to stand there in a boring black leotard and pink tights and do battement tendus and pliés at the barre with the rest of the class when all I could think about was how I was going to be leaving for Glitterati in two hours! Madame Linda had to slap my thigh three times because I wasn’t concentrating on my turn-out (and pardon me, but that hurt)!
And at the end of the class, when we did révérence, I did not get to wear Madame Linda’s tiara (no surprise). A couple of the girls asked me why I was in such a rush to get out of there when I was jamming my shoes and leg warmers into my backpack, and I got to say, all casual, “Oh…a limo is coming to my house to pick me up to take me to Glitterati.”
At first they were all, “No way,” but then I explained it was for a birthday party, so they were pretty excited for me.
That got me feeling pretty good…
…until Uncle Jay was pulling into the driveway for home, and I saw Erica and her family, along with Sophie and Caroline, all getting into the Harringtons’ minivan to go to Missy’s Twirltacular. Erica and Caroline and Sophie saw me and smiled and waved. I waved back. I couldn’t open the window because it was raining kind of hard. But I think Caroline and Sophie and Erica all yelled, “Have fun!”
Then they got into the van, all giggling and poking one another and having fun, and shut the door. Then Erica’s dad drove away.
And that was that.
Except that it was kind of like they’d closed the door on my going with them.
And I couldn’t help feeling like I had made a terrible mistake.
Only I hadn’t. Right? I mean, who wouldn’t rather go to Glitterati in a limo than to a gymnastics contest in a minivan? Um, hello. Me.
As soon as Uncle Jay stopped the car, I got out of it and ran upstairs to put on my best party clothes (purple shirt, jean miniskirt, yellow leggings, and orange cowboy boots) and try to get into a party mood. I put on some dance music and danced around my room, scaring my adorable kitten Mewsie, who crawled under the bed.
But when I looked in the mirror, I realized the party clothes and dancing hadn’t done any good. I was still regretting not going with Erica and those guys to see Missy perform at the Little Miss Majorette Baton Twirling Twirltacular. The first events were due to start any minute.
And I wasn’t going to be there to support Missy. Or to enjoy any of the delicious popcorn they’d be serving to the spectators in the middle school gym. Or to see any of the amazing twirlers, coming from as far away as out of state, in their beautiful twirling costumes, all competing for a chance to win golden trophies as big as me.
I mean, yes, I was going to get to ride in a limo, and go to Glitterati, and do all this other stuff I’ve always wanted to do.
But all of a sudden, the closer it got to the time for me to go, the less fun the idea of going seemed to get.
What was wrong with me? All of my dreams were coming true! I was about to get to ride in a limo!
“So, have you got everything?” Uncle Jay asked as I came down the stairs, dragging my overnight wheelie bag behind me, thump, thump, thump, one step at a time. “Your toothbrush, your pajamas, some clothes for tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I answered. Kevin and Mark were pushing all the furniture in the living room back to make space for our family tent. Since Kevin was so upset about me getting to ride in the limo and stay in a luxury hotel, Uncle Jay had said they could have “boys’ time” while I was gone. “Boys’ time” meant they got to set up our family tent in the living room (since it was so wet outside) and pretend that they were world explorers, then watch adventure movies and eat adventure food, the kind you could only cook over an outdoor fire, such as campfire beans and hot dogs.
Only Uncle Jay had said they could cook them in the fireplace in the living room instead of outside.
I wondered what Harmony was going to say about this when she stopped by to check in.
“Good,” Uncle Jay said. “What about your present for the birthday girl?”
I stared at Uncle Jay blankly. “Didn’t Mom leave that with you?” I asked.
Uncle Jay looked back at me just as blankly.
“No,” he said. “She just left me a hundred bucks to feed you all.”
“She didn’t say where Brittany’s present was?” I could feel something rising in my throat. What I felt was panic. I’d been right: Deciding to go to this party had bee
n a terrible idea. “I can’t go to Brittany’s party without a present!”
“Hold on, hold on,” Uncle Jay said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere. Let me call your mom and ask her.”
Uncle Jay dialed the number for my mom’s cell phone, while I stood at the bottom of the stairs, icy fear gripping me. What if my mom forgot to buy a present for Brittany? I couldn’t go. I wouldn’t be able to show my face at Brittany’s party if I didn’t have a present that cost equal to or more than the cost of the food I would consume at the party. Not to mention however much it would cost for my picture at Glitterati, or my share of however much a room was at the Hilton Hotel —
“Oh, hi, Liz?” Uncle Jay was saying into his phone. “It’s Jay — no, no, the kids are fine. Yeah. No, it’s still raining. Well, drizzling. What are they doing? Oh, we’re just about to sit down and play some of those educational board games you left out — ”
“Uncle Jay.” Mark walked over, carrying one of Mom’s Waterford crystal vases she and Dad got as a wedding present. “Where should I put this so it doesn’t get broken as we set up camp?”
“Hold on, Liz,” Uncle Jay said. He pointed toward the dining room. “In there, champ.”
Mark nodded, and carried the vase away.
“So, listen,” Uncle Jay said into the phone. “Allie was wondering where you put the gift for Brittany. She’s just about to get picked up for the party.” Uncle Jay listened for a minute. Then he nodded. Then he handed the phone to me. “She wants to talk to you,” he said.
I took the phone from Uncle Jay and pressed it to my ear. “Yes, Mom?” I said.
“Allie, honey,” Mom said. She sounded funny. Maybe it was because she was so far away. Or maybe it was because she was staying at her mom and dad’s house, and everyone was getting ready for Cousin Freddie’s wedding, and someone had stolen a golf cart again and driven it onto the tennis court. In any case, she didn’t sound good. “I forgot Brittany’s gift.”
These were not the words I wanted to hear. They were so not the words I wanted to hear, my throat closed up and for a second I couldn’t breathe.
“Mom,” I gargled. “No!”
“But, honey, listen,” Mom said. “Just tell Brittany that it’s my fault, that I forgot, and that I’ll drop her gift off next week — ”
“Mom.” In front of me, Uncle Jay’s face began to swim. That’s because my eyes had begun to fill with tears. “You don’t understand. I can’t go to Brittany’s party without a present!”
“Yes, you can, honey,” Mom said. There were some kind of crashing noises in the background, and I heard a voice yell, “Oh, no. Freddie!” “Oh,” Mom said. “I have to go. But, Allie, just explain to Brittany that I had to go out of town for a wedding and that I’ll drop her gift off next week. She’ll understand, I promise you. I’ll talk to you later, sweetie. Bye-bye.”
I handed the phone back to Uncle Jay, even though I couldn’t see him very well through my tears.
“She hung up,” I said. “It doesn’t sound like Cousin Freddie’s wedding is going very well.”
“Big surprise,” Uncle Jay said. He didn’t know Cousin Freddie, but he knew of him. He put his phone back in his pocket. “What did she say to do?”
“She said she’ll drop Brittany’s present off next week,” I said. Now the tears were coming, spilling out of my eyes and trickling down my cheeks. “But you don’t understand. I can’t go to this party without a present! Not with these kinds of girls. Brittany and her friends…they used to call me Allie Stinkle. They’ll make fun of me if I don’t bring a present.”
“Well,” Uncle Jay said. “Why do you want to go to a party with a bunch of people like that, anyway?”
This was a very good point. Suddenly, more than anything, I wished I had gotten into that van with everyone going to the Little Miss Majorette Baton Twirling Twirltacular over at the middle school.
“I don’t know,” I wailed. By this time, Mark and Kevin had come over, lured by the sound of my tears.
“Why is Allie crying?” Mark wanted to know.
“She doesn’t have a present for Brittany’s party,” Uncle Jay explained.
“Oooh,” Kevin said, looking concerned. “That’s bad.”
This just made me cry harder.
I really couldn’t even remember anymore why I’d said I’d go to this stupid party in the first place. Nothing was turning out the way I’d imagined. All my good friends were off having fun without me, and I was left with nothing but mean friends, who were going to kill me because I didn’t have a present for the main mean girl.
“We have to go to the mall really quick,” I said, doing my best to wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my purple shirt. “We have to buy Brittany a present that costs equal to or more than whatever her parents are spending on what I’ll be eating at her party, my photo at Glitterati, and the cost of my share of the room at the Hilton Hotel.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Uncle Jay said. “First of all, we don’t have time to go to the mall, because your ride is coming any minute. And second of all, I don’t have any money.”
“How can you not have any money?” I asked him. “You just said Mom and Dad left you a hundred dollars!”
“That’s for us to eat with while they’re gone!” Uncle Jay cried. “I’m not blowing it all on a present for some girl who used to call you Allie Stinkle.”
Mark started laughing. “Allie Stinkle! That’s a good one.”
“Shut up, Mark Stinkle,” I said to him. “Don’t you have any money of your own?” I asked Uncle Jay. “You have a job at Pizza Express!”
“I’m not spending my hard-earned money on a birthday present for Brittany Hauser,” Uncle Jay declared, “a girl you don’t even like. And that thing about how the present has to cost a certain amount — that’s just insane. A present should come from the heart. And so should an invitation. Why did this girl even invite you to her party if she calls you names?”
“Because,” I said, “I think her mom is impressed that our mom is the star of a TV show. Even though Mom doesn’t get paid for being on Good News! But Brittany’s mom doesn’t know that.”
Uncle Jay made a face. “And why do you want to go to this party again?”
I didn’t want to have to bring up the limo and Glitterati and The Cheesecake Factory and the hotel thing. I just pressed my lips together and glared at him.
Finally, Uncle Jay said, “If you’re so concerned about bringing a gift to this party, go upstairs to your room and find something in it that you think this girl would like and bring it down here and I’ll wrap it for you.”
My mouth dropped open. “I can’t give Brittany Hauser a used gift!”
Mark, who is a boy and doesn’t know anything about girl stuff, started laughing at this idea. Even Kevin, who is only six, looked appalled.
But Uncle Jay defended himself.
“For Pete’s sake, Allie, you have a million books in your room. Give her a book. Books make the best gifts because you can open them again and again. Pick out your favorite book and tell her you wanted to share it with her because it meant so much to you. That’s what I always give my friends on their birthdays — the gift of my favorite book. Now go do it, quick, before she gets here.”
I thought about what Uncle Jay had said. The gift of a book was a good idea.
And I did have a lot of books. Some of them even looked new because I like to keep my books in very good condition.
And Brittany could stand to learn a little. Maybe if she read more books, she wouldn’t do things like put her mother’s cat in a suitcase (although I doubted she’d ever do that again, after her punishment last time).
“It’s here!” Kevin suddenly yelled. “The limo!”
We all ran to look out the window. It was true. A huge white SUV limo, almost as long as our front yard, had pulled up outside. You could hear rock music blaring from it. Twinkly purple lights were flashing all ar
ound the bottom of it.
“Go get a book!” Uncle Jay yelled at me. “I’ll stall them.”
I ran up the stairs faster than I’ve ever run up them before. I burst into my room, startling Mewsie, who’d been grooming himself on my bed. He arched his back and hissed, then realized it was me and calmed down.
Panting, I scanned my bookshelf. What to give Brittany Hauser? A copy of one of the Boxcar Children? No, she would think that was too babyish.
Nancy Drew? She would think it was too old-fashioned.
The Narnia chronicles? I wasn’t sure Brittany would believe you could stumble through a wardrobe and find a magical world.
Harry Potter? Brittany had probably seen all the movies and would think she wouldn’t have to read the books.
So what?
Outside, I could hear my brother Kevin’s voice. He was demanding a tour of the inside of the limo. Ordinarily, I would be mortified by this, but in this case I was proud of him. He was trying to buy me time to make my selection…
…while at the same time achieving his own dream of getting to sit inside a limo.
I was very proud of him.
Finally, my gaze landed on the perfect book. Of course. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? And I had two copies, one in perfect condition because Harmony had given it to me, not knowing I’d already read it a million times. It had been her favorite growing up, too.
I didn’t really want to give it to Brittany, even if I did have two copies of it. I mean, it was my favorite book. And the copy from Harmony was so clean and nice. And inside the front cover, she’d written, To a true friend. It didn’t have my name, or her name, or anything. So you couldn’t tell who it was to or from. I could still give it to Brittany.
Even though she wasn’t my true friend.
On the other hand, I didn’t have much of a choice. It was this or nothing.
