“Leighton!” Hope cried in frustration. “Are you listening to me or not?”
Leighton sat up straight and glared at Hope. “Like, a little louder, please,” she said through clenched teeth. “My mom is sitting three chairs over and there's a chance, just a chance, she couldn't hear you.”
“Why am I bothering if you won't pay attention?”
Leighton swatted her hand through the air as if Hope was a gnat. “I'm listening, I'm listening. Variables. Those are the Xs and Ys. See? Just keep talking. My mom's watching.”
Hope gritted her teeth. How could she have agreed to be in a club with this…this… this princess? Leighton was beyond infuriating.
“Hope! Leighton!”
The girls glanced toward the gate. Tricia, Mei and Elizabeth closed it behind them and walked toward their friends.
Leighton sank deeper in her chair as they approached. “Do you have to scream my name across the pool?” she muttered, then cast a critical eye on Elizabeth. “You definitely need to start hanging out at the pool. If you were any whiter, I'd go blind looking at you. And what's with the swimsuit? Did you have to go to Baby Gap to find something with little flowers on it?”
Elizabeth blushed.
“Hi, girls!” another voice called from the gate. They looked over and saw Hope's stepmother, Jacie, walking in with Mei's mom, whose one-piece swimsuit bulged over her pregnant midriff.
Leighton blinked hard. “How could anybody go out in public like that?” she asked, looking Mei's mother up and down. “It should be against the law for moms to wear swimsuits anyhow.”
“I think my mom looks great,” Mei said quietly, but nobody noticed.
“Hey, Leighton, come play Marco Polo!” one of the boys called from the water. Leighton ignored him.
“He's talking to you,” Tricia said.
“That doesn't mean I'm listening.” Leighton adjusted her sunglasses and stretched her legs.
“He's so cute,” Elizabeth said.
“Then you go play with him,” Leighton snapped. “The boys in this neighborhood are so annoying. Besides, I'm not into boys. I'm into men. I'm crushing on a high school hottie named Scott.” She giggled. “A hottie named Scottie. I can't wait till I'm in high school.”
“If you don't pass math, you'll never make it,” Hope said. “We're supposed to be studying.”
Leighton wrinkled her nose. “How can I concentrate with all you people hovering around me? Besides, you're blocking my sun.”
Hope narrowed her eyes and snapped the math book shut. “I think Leighton's absorbed all the math today that her brain can handle. Lesson over.” She looked mischievously at the other girls. “Last one in's a rotten egg.”
She sprang to her feet, ran to the side of the pool and dove in. Tricia followed her with a hearty squeal; then Mei and Elizabeth jumped in.
“You're splashing me!” Leighton whined from her lounge chair.
“Aw,” Hope whispered conspiratorially to the other girls as their heads bobbed from the water. “The princess is getting wet.”
“We told you she was snotty,” Mei said to Tricia.
“Off the charts,” Tricia agreed.
“She's really beautiful, though,” Elizabeth said, tugging selfconsciously at her flowered swimsuit. “And she is a Right-Under.”
“Well…,” Hope said, “that could be changed.”
Mei's eyebrows arched in panic. “Hey, wait a minute! I spilled my guts at the last meeting. She knows all this… stuff about me. If we kick her out, she'll blab it to the whole world.”
“All she knows is that your stepdad wants you to paint a mural,” Hope countered.
“It's not just the mural,” Mei said. “It's …I don't know. It feels really personal, you know?”
Tricia nodded. “Mei's right. We've already made Leighton a Right-Under. Let's just hang in there. It'll be cool.”
The girls nodded reluctantly.
“Hey, speaking of the mural,” Tricia said, “how's it going?”
“I start Monday,” Mei said, still looking worried. “If I start. Are we sure this Right-Under Club is such a good idea?”
“Of course it is!” Elizabeth said more loudly than she intended. She lowered her reddened face. “I mean…I like clubs. Especially this one.”
Hope smiled at her cousin. “Then I say it's settled. We R There for U. And even for Leighton, if you guys insist. Just don't say I didn't warn you.”
Tricia's eyes gleamed. “Hey,” she said, nodding in Leighton's direction. “It looks like the princess has fallen asleep. Who's up for giving her a wake-up call? Follow me.”
The girls exchanged dubious expressions but giggled as they followed Tricia out of the pool and over to Leighton's lounge chair. Tricia mouthed directions to them, pointing for clarity, as Leighton snoozed.
They looked like they would burst with anticipation as Tricia started the countdown on her fingers. Five … four … three … two …
One.
Tricia and Hope quickly grabbed Leighton's arms as Mei and Elizabeth grabbed her legs.
“Wha…wha… hey!” Leighton yelped as they carried her potato-sack style to the side of the pool, then tossed her in.
They whooped triumphantly as Leighton floundered in the pool and groped for her sunglasses.
“Are you insane?” she shrieked.
The girls doubled over in laughter, and after a moment of sputtering indignation, even Leighton couldn't help grinning. “I will get even,” she said, playfully splashing them, “when you least expect it.”
“Yeah, well, in the meantime,” Tricia responded cheerfully, “let's have fun!”
She did a cannonball into the water and the others followed one by one, creating a sparkling, chlorine-scented rain shower.
“You guys are so dead,” Leighton said through her giggles.
“What happened to the math lesson?” her mom called from the side of the pool.
But the Right-Unders were laughing too hard to respond.
… … …
Elizabeth's Right-Under Journal
Saturday, June 12
Hi, Right-Under Journal. This is my first entry. I totally LUV this club. I feel like this will be the greatest summer of my whole life, even tho it started out 2 B the worst. Thank heaven I talked Mom into letting me stay with Hope until school starts back. I miss her and Dad, but I don't miss all the crying and yelling. True, Mom calls me on the phone like twice a day (and usually starts crying by the time we hang up), but I feel like I can have a real summer now. I wish she and Dad didn't hate each other, and I wish they'd quit making me feel like a blob of taffy, with each of them pulling from different ends. But I can't do anything about it. (NOT THAT I HAVEN'T TRIED!!!) So I'll have fun instead. I LUV my R.U. friends, even “the princess.” (Inside joke!!!) We had so much fun at the pool today. Speaking of which … Hope and Jacie are taking me shopping tomorrow for new swimsuits! I'm getting them from the juniors department, even if I have to stuff tissues in the tops to make them fit. (lol.) Wish me luck! RIGHT-UNDERS ROCK!!!
7
“Mei! Five minutes!”
Stan's voice boomed from the bottom of the stairs. Mei winced. He was so loud. Couldn't her mother have anticipated what an awkward fit Stan would be in their family?
Mei placed a baseball cap over her dark, layered hair, then walked into her mother's bedroom.
“Hi, honey,” her mom said, yawning and stretching her arms in her bed. “What time is it?”
“A little after eight. I'm going to school with Stan today, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Her mother propped herself up on an elbow. “I forgot it was Monday. Are you ready to get started?”
Mei sat on the bed next to her mother. “Not really.” She stared at her interlaced fingers. “I'm dreading this, Mom.”
“Oh, honey, the baby's kicking!” Mei's mother took Mei's hand and placed it on her stomach. “This little guy is so much more active than you were.”
Mei ma
naged a smile. “Are you cooking today?” she asked. Her mom was a caterer, using their kitchen as a home base.
“Just a birthday cake,” her mother replied. “But it'll be a pain. The birthday girl's present is a cruise, and the cake is supposed to look like a cruise ship, complete with little cabin windows and swimming pools on the deck. Maybe I'll give the teeny little passengers nasty sunburns, just for fun.”
Mei laughed. Her mom was so artistic, but the only time her talent really shone was when clients let her follow her best instincts instead of micromanaging. Most people, Mei was learning, were micromanagers.
Mei's mom squeezed her hand and said, “I wish you were going to be home to help me.”
“Now, that could be arranged.”
“Mei!”
Stan was bellowing again from the bottom of the stairs, making both of them jump. “You better go,” Mei's mother said, winking at her.
“Right.” Mei leaned over and kissed her mother's cheek. “Bon voyage.”
Mei straightened her baseball cap and trotted down the stairs.
“Mei, principals don't get a summer vacation, you know,” Stan said testily. “You'll have to pick up the pace if you want me to let you paint that mural. I have to be at the office every morning by eight-thirty sharp.”
Mei's jaw dropped. “If I want you to let me?”
But Stan was already jangling his car keys and ushering her toward the door. “Let's go, let's go!”
Mei rolled her eyes and walked with him to the driveway. She cringed getting into his car, which was plastered with tacky Clearview Middle School bumper stickers. Did he have to make sure the whole world knew he was the principal?
Stan fiddled with the radio station for a few seconds as they drove down the street, then turned it off. “So!” he said, making Mei jump. “Tell me what you have in mind for that mural.”
I don't have anything in mind. It was your idea, Mei thought, but her only response was a shrug.
“Remember, we're the Clearview Comets. Think school spirit. Think fun!”
“I don't think you and I really have the same taste,” Mei said, but in such a small voice that Stan didn't hear her. He was forever asking her to repeat herself, or worse, ignoring her altogether. So annoying.
Now that Stan had finished barking his ideas, he was quiet for the rest of the trip, turning the radio back on and whistling to a song. He spotted a couple of familiar faces on the ride and waved so heartily that Mei thought his hand might fly off. By the time they arrived at school, she had sunk so low in her seat that she could barely see out the window.
“Time to get started!” Stan said, and she followed him into the school. She had to scurry to keep up with him; he took huge strides with his long gangly legs. He reminded Mei of a goose.
Once they were inside the building, Stan opened the door to the office suite, where two secretaries sat at desks.
“Ladies!” he greeted them. “You remember my beautiful stepdaughter, Mei, don't you? Mei? Ms. Winston, Ms. Pollard.”
The office ladies smiled and nodded. Mei smiled back.
“Mei's going to paint our cafeteria mural!” Stan boomed. The office ladies oohed. Mei wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole.
“We've all got a lot of work to do today,” Stan said. “Mei, I believe all your supplies are set up in the cafeteria. So… let's get started!”
He opened the door and sent her on her way with a sweep of his arm. Mei was relieved that he was staying put in his office. At least she would have some privacy. She walked into the cafeteria, surveying the paint cans, brushes, pans, rollers and swaths of broadcloth spread under the wall she was painting. She put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Might as well get this over with….”
What would she paint? Hmmm… Clearview: Nothing subtle about that image, but she couldn't stomach the idea of rolling pastures, puffy clouds and baby blue skies. Yechhh. She thought harder. Comets: Now, that image had potential. Her mind clicked off the possibilities. Yes, comets… she could make this work.
The first thing she needed was the background of a rich night sky. She dipped the thickest brush into the darkest paint.
As she slapped the strokes against the wall, she found herself swaying to a lazy cadence playing in her head. Her thoughts turned dreamy and her expression softened. Her arm swung effortlessly. She was in the zone… her favorite place to be. The zone was when her art and her self merged. When she painted something she liked, she felt in retrospect that she hadn't created it; she'd merely discovered it in the universe and plucked it from the heavens. She wanted her comet wall to be filled with those wonders of the universe. Swish, swish, swish went the large brush. Dab, dab, dab went the smaller one. Stark blacks. Lush browns. Deep purples. Muted navy blues. The velvety cloak of night would provide the perfect backdrop for her universe of treasures.
Hours passed. Mei was on a roll and didn't stop for a second, not even for a snack. She lost all track of time in the zone. Her night sky had lulled her into total serenity. Why had she dreaded this wonderful project? Why hadn't she jumped at the chance for free supplies and the blank canvas of an entire wall? What a great experience this was turning out to be….
“Mei!”
Mei's arm jerked at the sound of the voice, leaving a jagged slash of paint on the wall.
“Stan …,” she replied, turning to face him. It was the first human contact she'd had all morning. Or was it afternoon? As her stomach growled, she realized that it was probably past lunchtime.
“Mei!” Stan repeated, rushing to her side with long strides and swinging arms.
“What?” she asked, genuinely confused.
“What is this?” Stan sputtered, tossing an arm in the direction of her artwork.
“My mural,” Mei responded, feeling a thud in her heart that marked her abrupt descent from the zone.
Stan shook his head, grasping for words. “This is school spirit? This is fun?”
Not anymore, Mei thought glumly.
“I'm not finished,” she said in barely a whisper.
“I think maybe you are!” Stan said. “This is nothing but… gloppy dark colors! It's a mess. A dark, gloomy mess.” He pursed his lips. “This is not what I had in mind, young lady.”
“Fine,” Mei said, her eyes filling with tears. “I just want to go home.”
… … …
The ride home was silent. Stan tapped his fingers nervously on the steering wheel as Mei stared out her window, her chin quivering. He occasionally opened his mouth to speak, but then thought better of it. Mei was glad he was silent. She didn't want to talk to him. Ever.
When Stan pulled into the driveway, Mei swung her door open as soon as the car stopped, then ran ahead of him into the house.
“You home, honey?” her mom called from the kitchen, but Mei went straight up the stairs without responding. By the time Stan was in the door, her mom was at the foot of the stairs, craning her neck in search of her daughter.
Mei slammed her bedroom door, fell onto her bed and buried her face in her pillow, crying so hard that her stomach ached. She heard Stan talking to her mother downstairs but didn't register, didn't care, what he said.
As furious as she was at Stan, she was even angrier at herself. Why had she believed this would go any differently? She and Stan had never had anything in common, from their ethnicity to their stature to their personality. “A dark, gloomy mess.” That was what he'd called her artwork. That was what she called her life.
What would she tell the Right-Unders? They meant well, but Mei couldn't help feeling a little betrayed. What did they know about anything? Who were they to tell her how to solve her problems? She'd probably quit the club. She was even mad at Hope for giving her confidence in her talent. She was no artist. She was a joke.
Tap, tap, tap.
Someone was knocking on her door. Her mom, no doubt. Stan's knock was loud enough to shake the shutters off the windows.
“Go away, please,” Mei c
alled.
But the door creaked open. Her mom walked in and came over to her bed.
“Honey?”
Mei buried her face deeper in her pillow.
“Honey, I want you to sit up and look at me.”
Her mother's voice was kind but firm. Mei roughly rubbed her face against the pillow to dry her tears, then sat up.
“Stan told me what happened,” her mom said, sitting on the edge of her bed. “Mei, I'm so sorry.”
Mei put her face in her hands, but her mother pulled them away.
“Look at me, Mei. Stan was wrong,” she said indignantly. “He had no right asking you to do him a favor, then judging you so harshly. And he had no right to condemn your artwork when you were just getting started.”
Stan appeared at the doorway. “I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, Mei,” he said. “It's just… all that black. I wanted something bright and cheery.”
Mei's mother cleared her throat sharply and shot Stan a withering look. “Close the door, please,” she said. “I'm having a private conversation with my daughter.”
Stan did as he was told. Mei felt an urge to hug her mother, but she was still too hurt. It felt so good to have her mother's support, her undivided attention.
“If he wants bright and cheery, he can hang rainbow posters in the cafeteria,” her mother said, making Mei giggle in spite of herself. “If he wants art, he came to the right person.” She took Mei's hands. “You're a wonderful artist. And you're going to finish that mural.”
Mei shook her head vigorously. “No way. I'm never painting again.”
Her mother raised an eyebrow. “Very dramatic,” she said. “But your talent won't let you shake it loose. Even if you use it to paint tiny swimming pools on birthday cakes, it'll find a way to express itself. Creativity's like a bad penny. It keeps turning up.”
“Maybe so… but I'll never do anything for him again.”
Her mother sighed. “Then don't do it for him. Do it for me. Better yet, do it for you. Trust your instincts and finish that mural just the way you planned. Stan promised me he won't go into the cafeteria until you're finished. Then, if he doesn't like it, he can paint over it.”
The Right-Under Club Page 4
