by Meg Cabot
“I know I can,” I said. “But first…is it okay if I bring something over?”
“Bring something over? To my house? Right now?”
“You live right next door,” I reminded her. “I’ll only be a minute.”
“I’m in my pajamas already,” Erica said, laughing. “But sure.”
I hung up the phone.
“I just have to run next door to Erica’s for a second,” I yelled to everyone in the living room.
Harmony was trying to blow out the flames on Kevin’s marshmallow, which were out of control.
“Be right back,” she said.
“I will!” I said.
I loved having Uncle Jay and Harmony, the coolest babysitters in the world, taking care of us.
I ran outside into the cool night air, cut through our front yard and the hedge that separates our yard from the alley beside it, then crossed the alley and dived through the hedge that lets me into the Harringtons’ front yard. No one was outside because it was too rainy and dark out.
But it was fun being out so late…even if it wasn’t so late. I mean, Mrs. Shipley from down the street was out, walking her dog. She waved to me, and I waved back.
I ran up onto the Harringtons’ porch. Erica was already at the door, waiting for me, with the light on. She was in her white flannel nightgown with the blue butterflies on it.
“Allie,” she said, looking confused. “What’s going on?”
“Here,” I said, passing her something. “This is for you.”
Erica looked down at the book I’d given her.
“A Wrinkle in Time?” She smiled. “This is the book Mrs. Hunter read to us in class. It’s your favorite, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I said. “Look what’s written on the inside.”
Erica opened it. “To a true friend,” she read. She looked back up at me, smiling, tears in her eyes. “Thanks, Allie. That’s so sweet. But…it’s not my birthday.”
“I know,” I said. “But I want you to have it. Because presents should come from the heart. And you deserve it.” I gave her a quick hug. “Good night!”
Then I turned and ran back home.
RULE #12
Practice Makes Perfect
The Little Miss Majorette Baton Twirling Twirltacular was exactly how Erica had described it to me. Only better.
It was packed with people, just like The Cheesecake Factory had been.
Except these people weren’t waiting for their beepers to go off so they could get their tables and sit down to have some delicious food.
These people were there to see girls (and some boys) compete in the middle school division of the state baton-twirling competition. Almost all the bleachers in the gymnasium were full.
But since we got there early, we got seats very close to the front, so we could see everything going on on the blue mats in front of us.
“Today we’ll be seeing the best in dance, strut, teams, showtwirls, solos, multiple batons, flags, hoops, and duets/ pairs,” Erica explained to me as I sat with her, Sophie, and Caroline. Mr. and Mrs. Harrington were sitting farther up the bleachers. John was sitting with some girls a few sets of bleachers away. He’d met some older girl twirlers yesterday, Erica explained, and now he was pretending he didn’t know anyone in the Harrington family.
This, Erica said, was normal for teenage boys.
The best in dance, strut, teams, showtwirls, solos, multiple batons, flags, hoops, and duets/pairs really took my breath away. The girls (and some boys) were so good! They tossed and twirled and danced and did things with batons that I would never have thought possible, based on the laws of gravity. They had all practiced really, really hard.
The Little Miss Majorette Baton Twirling Twirltacular was better, I decided, than Glitterati. Because even though it’s fun to envision your future sometimes, and dress up as what you want to be, and get your picture taken looking all glamorous, it was more fun to watch people who were actually living their future.
It was so exciting when the music started to play and the twirlers came out with their beautiful costumes and their batons and their big bright smiles. It made your heart beat a little bit faster when you saw them turn and face the judges.
Because it wasn’t people pretending to be good at something, like at Glitterati. There was nothing fake about the Little Miss Majorette Baton Twirling Twirltacular.
It was 100 percent real.
And I loved it.
Just like Erica, Sophie, and Caroline loved my photo from Glitterati.
“A pirate!” Sophie cried. “I’ve never in my life heard of a fourth-grade girl going to Glitterati and dressing as a pirate!”
“Allie,” Caroline said, shaking her head. “You are such a geek!”
But she meant it in a nice way. Soon we were all laughing at my picture…and my stories about Brittany’s horrible birthday party (I explained to Sophie and Caroline about the “misunderstanding” concerning my mom and her job, too, just so everyone understood). That’s what we were talking about when a fifth girl walked up to us.
“Allie?” she said.
“Oh!” I broke off laughing. “Everyone, this is my friend Courtney. I hope you don’t mind, but I asked her to spend the afternoon with me.” I stood up and showed them all the half of the broken-heart necklace I was wearing, and how it matched Courtney’s. “Courtney’s a good friend of mine from my old school.”
Courtney blushed, I guess from seeing that I was finally wearing the necklace she’d given me so long ago. “Hi,” she said to my friends.
“Hi, Courtney,” they all said, and scooted over to make room for her on the bench.
I was glad Courtney had come to the Twirltacular. When I’d called her on her cell phone that morning, she’d said the slumber party had been a bust. After they’d made a few prank calls, Brittany had made the girls play truth or dare, and she’d ended up daring Mary Kay to sneak out into the atrium and pour a can of 7UP onto the heads of some people standing in the lobby below their twelfth-floor room.
Only it turned out the people Mary Kay had poured the soda on had been some police officers.
And they hadn’t liked Brittany’s little prank very much. In fact, they’d figured out which room the girls were in, and gone up there and banged on the door and woken Mrs. Hauser up. In the morning, Mrs. Hauser and all the girls were told to pack their stuff and leave. Before brunch!
None of the Hausers was welcome to check into any of the hotels owned by the Hilton family ever again.
But Courtney hadn’t minded because it meant she got to go home early.
I almost wished I could have been there to see the angry policemen.
“Policewomen,” Courtney corrected me. “They were policewomen.”
That just made the story even better.
“Wait,” Erica said, grabbing my arm. “It’s Missy’s turn!”
And suddenly, the first few strains of “I’m Gonna Knock You Out” came on over the loudspeakers, and out marched Missy.
I don’t know about anybody else, but I was holding my breath as I watched Missy prance forward in her rainbow leotard with all the spangles, then begin her solo, keeping a big smile plastered on her face even as she tossed her baton high, high, high into the air. It soared so close to the gymnasium’s rafters, I was sure it would get stuck and she’d never be able to catch it. Down below, Missy was doing backflips as smoothly as a dolphin cutting through water, not even seeming to care that her baton was tumbling around up there in the air…
…and then, suddenly, she came out of one of her tumbles, and bam —
Just like that, she stuck out one hand and caught her baton…
…then kept right on tumbling, like it was nothing at all.
I couldn’t help it. I screamed and jumped up to my feet, clapping as hard as I could, even though Missy had that no talking rule in her room. I wanted to cry. Not because I was sad, for once, but because it was all so amazing. I had seen Missy attempt that move hundreds of
times — maybe even ten thousand times — in her front yard, and miss it.
But today, when it counted, she had done it perfectly.
And she had done it so amazingly well, right in time with the music, like someone on TV or in the Olympics or something. I had never seen anything like it.
And it had happened right here, right in front of me, in my very own town!
I guess my excitement was contagious, because everyone else in my row jumped to their feet and started clapping, too. I mean, it really was incredible.
“How did she do that?” Courtney whispered to me as she clapped.
How could someone do that, be spinning and flipping and dancing all around the gym, while her baton was flying through the air above her head, and then just reach out at the exact right moment and grab it? There was really only one explanation.
“Practice,” I told her. “Lots and lots of practice.”
“That’s so neat,” Courtney said. “It’s so cool that you know her.”
“I know,” I said, and felt sort of proud. It was easy to forget all the times Missy had sat on me or slammed a door in my face when she was flipping around that mat in time to “I’m Gonna Knock You Out,” making that baton do exactly what she was telling it to, without a single mistake.
By the time she was done, the whole gymnasium, practically, was on its feet, screaming.
And then the music ended, and Missy fell to one knee in her final pose, her hands stretched to the ceiling as her baton, shining like my pirate sword from Glitterati, tumbled down right into them. She didn’t even look to make sure it was where she wanted it to be. She just knew that’s where her baton was going to end up, in her hands.
And it did.
The applause was so loud, I thought the ceiling of the middle school was going to cave in.
“She’s won for sure,” I leaned over to say to Erica.
“Oh, I hope so!” Erica was clapping harder than anyone.
“She has to have won,” Sophie yelled, to be heard over all the applause. “That was amazing! Your sister is so talented!”
“It’s no wonder she’s so moody,” Caroline said. “She has the soul of a true artist.”
Missy took her baton, gave a quick, professional bow, and walked off toward where her coach was standing, to wait for her scores. The crowd was still going wild. Everyone was waiting to see what the judges were going to give her.
But Sophie was right. Missy did win. She got a perfect score for the middle school ladies’ solo event.
Her statue with the little gold baton-twirling lady on it ended up being as tall as I was.
“Wow,” Courtney said, about Missy’s trophy. “She’s really lucky.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Luck had nothing to do with it. It was practice. She practiced every day. Sometimes even in the dark. Her mom would come out and yell at her.”
“Wow,” Courtney said again, impressed.
I guess that rule really is true: Practice makes perfect.
I was going to start practicing a lot more. Practicing everything…ballet, my acting, being a veterinarian. Missy was a total inspiration! If she could do it, why couldn’t I? I completely wanted a trophy like hers in my room. Not a baton-twirling trophy, of course.
But not a picture of me dressed like what I wanted to be someday (not a pirate, but an actress slash veterinarian), either.
Although doing stuff like going to Glitterati could be fun (if you did it with your actual friends) once in a while. If it didn’t distract you from your real goals, and from practicing.
Missy took her victory coolly. She wasn’t a sore winner.
“I should have won in the dance category, too,” she said casually.
But you could tell she didn’t mind coming in second in that event. So long as she had her trophy.
“You know,” Courtney said to me later, “your friends at your new school are nice. You’re really lucky.”
This time, I didn’t correct her.
“Thanks,” I said, looking fondly at Erica, Sophie, and Caroline as they stood throwing popcorn at one another. “I know.”
Unlike Missy, I was really lucky.
I was lucky I had escaped Walnut Knolls and come to a school with much nicer girls.
But more than that, I was lucky that my friends liked me, quirks — such as not liking tomatoes, loving rules, and liking acting, animals, and pretending things — and all.
These were the best kind of friends to have.
Allie Finkle’s Rules for Girls
Do not touch anything in Missy’s room.
No talking in Missy’s room unless Missy says you can talk.
Leave Missy’s room the minute Missy says so.
Break the rules, and Missy will break you.
Always agree with everything Missy says if you want her to stay in a good mood.
It’s important to try not to hurt someone’s feelings if you can help it.
Do not slam doors.
Don’t interrupt people.
Never eat anything red.
Breaking a promise to do something with one person, just because someone else asked you to do something way more exciting, is a rotten thing to do.
If you are going to lie to other people about why you aren’t going to do something with them that you said you were going to, you had better make it a really good lie.
Being overly concerned about your health can be unhealthy.
It’s okay to lie if no one finds out you’re lying, and the lie doesn’t hurt anyone, and it isn’t that big of a lie, and it’s partially based on something true. Sort of.
Nothing will get you in bigger trouble than lying.
Liars don’t get any of Harmony’s home-baked cookies. Unless they cry hard enough.
A present should come from the heart.
Sometimes no matter how hard you try, you just can’t win.
Thank you very much for having me is what you say when someone invites you to a birthday party.
Saying yes, ma’am and no, sir are other things you have to say to grown-ups when you’re invited somewhere.
Boy-crazy girls don’t understand that not all boys are great.
You can’t do something to make the birthday girl unhappy on purpose on her birthday.
Just because you’re dressed like something doesn’t mean you’re magically going to transform into it when you’re grown up.
It’s all good practice for later, when it really counts.
It’s important always to thank your hostess when you’ve had a nice time…and even when you haven’t.
Throwing food on the floor is bad manners.
There is such a thing as a tesseract.
Sometimes, the brave thing to do is go home.
Always be true to your friends, just as you are to yourself.
Part of preparing to have a future career as an actress slash veterinarian — besides reading every book you can find in your school library about animals — is that you have to be ready for every acting challenge that comes along.
Saying the words “throw up” can make people who feel like throwing up actually do it.
Practice makes perfect.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks to Beth Ader, Jennifer Brown, Laura Langlie, Becky Lee at Blue Willow Bookshop, Abigail McAden, and especially Benjamin Egnatz
Books by MEG CABOT
Allie Finkle’s Rules for Girls #1: Moving Day
Allie Finkle’s Rules for Girls #2: The New Girl
Allie Finkle’s Rules for Girls #3: Best Friends and Drama Queens
Allie Finkle’s Rules for Girls #4: Stage Fright
Allie Finkle’s Rules for Girls #5: Glitter Girls and the Great Fake Out
FOR TEENS
Airhead
Being Nikki
All-American Girl
Ready or Not
Teen Idol
How to Be Popular
Pants on Fire
Jinx
&nbs
p; Nicola and the Viscount
Victoria and the Rogue
The Princess Diaries series
The Mediator series
1-800-Where-R-You series
Avalon High series
For a complete list of Meg Cabot’s books,
please visit www.megcabot.com
Copyright
Copyright © 2010 by Meg Cabot, LLC. All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Press, an imprint of Scholastic Inc., Publishers since 1920. SCHOLASTIC, SCHOLASTIC PRESS, and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First Edition, March 2010
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E-ISBN: 978-0-545-28166-9
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Cabot, Meg.
Glitter girls and the great fake out / Meg Cabot. — 1st ed.
p. cm. — (Allie Finkle’s rules for girls; bk. 5)
Summary: While trying to spare Erica’s feelings so she could go to Brittany’s birthday party, Allie disobeys one of her own rules and lies.
