The Right-Under Club

by Christine Hurley Deriso

  Mei rolled her eyes. “Yippee,” she said. “I'll spend a week of my summer totally wasting my time.”

  Her mom shook her head. “You'll spend a week of your summer expressing yourself. There's no better use of your time, honey.”

  Mei still wasn't entirely convinced, but she knew she'd be back in that cafeteria at eight-thirty sharp the next morning. She'd do it for her mom. She'd do anything for her mom.

  … … …

  HoPeLess has just signed on.

  HoPeLess: mei-day, mei-day! how did it go at skool 2day? did you have fun painting?

  artsyMEI: it was almost as fun as the time i wrecked my bike and knocked out my 2 front teeth.

  HoPeLess: y? what happened?

  artsyMEI: long story … let's just say my stepdad is NOT my biggest fan. my mural isn't exactly blowing him away.

  HoPeLess: What did u paint?

  artsyMEI: i'm not finished yet, but my masterpiece is a mess-terpiece as far as stan is concerned. lol

  HoPeLess: what does he know?

  artsyMEI: he knows he hates it. but mom is making me finish it anyway.

  HoPeLess: it'll be ok! just trust your instincts.

  artsyMEI: my instincts told me I never should have done this in the 1st place!

  HoPeLess: hang in there. and remember: we R there for U.

  artsyMEI: thanks. what did u do 2day?

  HoPeLess: went swimming with elizabeth. poor kid. her parents are stressing her out with all their fighting. every time she gets off the phone with her mom, she practically breaks out in hives. but she just got 2 new swimsuits, so she's in a good mood.

  artsyMEI: i could have pinched leighton's head off when she made fun of her flowered swimsuit. i thought it was really pretty.

  HoPeLess: i told elizabeth not to listen to Leighton, but i know how hard it is to tune that girl out.

  artsyMEI: my mom's banging on my door telling me 2 go 2 bed. i gotta get back to my messterpiece 1st thing in the a.m.

  HoPeLess: Good luck! I know u can do it.

  artsyMEI has signed off.

  HoPeLess has signed off.

  8

  “The second official meeting of the Right-Under Club will now come to order.”

  Tricia tapped the Problem Stick against the cedar wall of the tree house.

  “Leighton's not here yet,” Mei pointed out.

  “Oooh, there's a big problem,” Hope said. The girls giggled just as they heard Leighton's footsteps padding up the tree house steps. As she crouched to walk in the door, they abruptly fell silent and averted their eyes.

  She glanced around the room, then tossed the T-shirt she was holding to Elizabeth.

  “Your shirt,” she said.

  Elizabeth beamed. “Thank you!” She pulled her pink R.U. shirt over the one she was wearing. “Oh … and I got two new swimsuits at the mall last weekend.” She searched Leighton's face for a sign of approval.

  “Throw me in the pool again and you're dead,” Leighton muttered.

  Elizabeth's face brightened. “You looked so funny when we threw you in,” she said, bouncing on her legs.

  “Remember, I'll get even. When you least expect it.” But even Leighton was smiling at the memory.

  “Whatever,” Tricia said playfully. “Let's begin our second official Right-Under Club meeting.”

  She opened her spiral-bound notebook and poised her pencil. “Let's start with old business. Last week, we heard Mei's problem—having to paint a mural in the school cafeteria for her stepdad—and our advice was to paint the greatest mural ever. How did it go, Mei?”

  Mei stared down at her folded hands. “Well…”

  “Louder, please!” Elizabeth said, even though Hope had already given her the 411 on Mei's week. The T-shirt made her feel so…official.

  Mei looked at Hope, who gave her a reassuring nod. “I took your advice,” Mei said. “And it was a disaster.”

  The girls leaned in.

  “Well…it started out as a disaster,” Mei continued. “I started the mural on Monday, and when Stan came to check out my work later in the day, he freaked. I'd just gotten started; I was painting a dark sky for a background, and that's the only part I'd finished. Anyhow, all he saw was… let's see, how did he put it?…‘a dark, gloomy mess.’”

  She frowned at the memory, lowering her eyes. Tricia frowned in indignation, but Leighton murmured, “Black is pretty gloomy.” Hope shushed her, and all eyes turned back to Mei.

  “He wanted to just paint over the whole thing…my vision wasn't ‘cheery and fun'… but my mom insisted that he let me finish. Not that I wanted to. She told Stan he couldn't see it until I was done.”

  “So?” Tricia said. “How'd he like it?”

  “I'm not finished yet,” Mei said. “I'll finish it tomorrow.”

  “How does it look?” Tricia asked.

  Mei smiled faintly for the first time since the meeting had started. “I like it,” she acknowledged, and the girls smiled back. “I figured since Stan already hated it and would probably paint over it anyway, why not really go for it and follow my instincts?”

  Hope placed her hand on Mei's shoulder. “I can't wait to see it.”

  “It's nothing special,” Mei quickly qualified. “But…I don't know…I guess it's okay.”

  “I bet it's great,” Hope said. “And who cares what your stepdad thinks? His idea of great art is probably a clown painting. ‘Cheery and fun.’”

  The girls laughed.

  “I draw clowns really well,” Leighton said, and Hope groaned.

  Tricia tapped the Problem Stick impatiently on the floor. “Mei followed our advice, and now I think it's our job to support her,” she said. “We should be there tomorrow when she shows the mural to her stepdad.”

  Mei winced. “Thanks, but I get nervous when anybody sees my stuff. No audience, please.”

  “Mei, the whole school's going to see your ‘stuff’ every day at lunch from now on,” Hope said reasonably. “The point of art is to share your talent with the world. It's time to start sharing.”

  “I'm sure he'll paint over it,” Mei muttered.

  “In that case, we should see it while it's still there,” said Leighton.

  “Either way, we're going to see it,” Tricia said. “What time should we be at the school tomorrow?”

  Mei sighed in resignation. “Three o'clock?”

  “We'll be there,” Tricia said. “Hey! It'll be my first time seeing my new school.”

  “Leighton, can we bum a ride on your golf cart?” Hope asked. “We can take the trail through the woods.”

  “Oooh, shotgun!” Elizabeth gushed, but was quickly silenced by the girls’ disapproving expressions.

  Leighton rolled her eyes. “I guess I can drive.”

  “We'll meet at two-forty-five by the guardhouse at the entrance of the subdivision,” Tricia said.

  “Remember, you guys, I'm not that talented, despite what Hope says,” Mei said nervously. “I guess I can't stop you from coming, but you've got to be honest with me. I don't want anybody's sympathy vote. If you don't like it, it's okay to say so.”

  “Oh, trust me, we will,” Leighton said coolly.

  “Right,” Tricia agreed. “We owe it to each other as RightUnders to be honest.” She held the Problem Stick aloft. “I guess it's time for the next problem.”

  Hope reached for the stick. “Sorry to seem pushy,” she said, “but can this be the week for my problem? It's kind of an emergency.”

  “Sure,” Tricia said, and handed her the stick.

  Hope grasped it tightly in both hands and rose to her feet. “Saturday's my birthday,” she explained. “June nineteenth.”

  “Oh, right,” Mei said quickly, embarrassed that she'd forgotten.

  “The problem is my stepmother,” Hope continued. “Jacie is… she's … well, she's nothing like me.”

  Mei nodded in confirmation.

  “What's she like?” Tricia asked.

  Hope wrinkled her n
ose as if a bad odor had wafted into the room. “She's a total fake. She loves anything showy—jewelry, expensive clothes, her country club membership… did I mention jewelry?… all the stuff I hate.”

  “What's wrong with jewelry?” Leighton said, but Hope ignored her.

  “Jacie has been trying to transform me since she married my dad three years ago.”

  “Gotta give her props for trying,” Leighton said under her breath.

  “I have no interest in being some cookie-cutter Barbie,” Hope said, ignoring Leighton's ensuing snicker, “but Jacie apparently can't catch a clue.”

  “Aunt Jacie's not that bad,” Elizabeth said quietly.

  “The problem,” Hope said, “is that Jacie wants to treat me to a spa day for my birthday.”

  “Oooh!” Leighton twittered.

  “We're supposed to get up early Saturday morning and get facials, pedicures, manicures, massages, haircuts, makeup… the whole bit.”

  “I'll go if you don't want to!” Leighton said, raising her hand.

  “I don't want to,” Hope said bitterly. “Jacie knows I hate that stuff, but she tries to force it down my throat anyway. I think she's mortified to have such a hideous stepdaughter.”

  “You're not hideous,” Mei said.

  “You're really not,” Tricia agreed. “You've got the prettiest blue eyes. And I love your hair.”

  Leighton made a face.

  “My hair's awful,” Hope moaned. “I wish I had hair like…” She stopped herself. No need to make Leighton's head any bigger than it already was.

  “Like whose?” Leighton persisted.

  “Like anybody's other than mine. It's totally thick, frizzy, unmanageable… just a mess.”

  “It's not a mess,” Tricia insisted. “It's gorgeous. Truly.”

  Hope smiled weakly. “Regardless,” she said, “a spa day with Jacie is my idea of torture. And on my birthday.” She paused, sat down and handed the Problem Stick back to Tricia. “That's my problem.”

  Tricia nodded sharply. “Right-Unders, you know what to do next. Does everybody have their notebooks and pencils?”

  The girls nodded, and Tricia glanced at her watch. “Then it's time to start writing. Your five minutes starts…now.”

  Once again, the girls adjusted their positions for privacy. Hope squirmed uncomfortably. She felt suddenly vulnerable, drawing attention to the part of herself she was usually trying her best to keep people from noticing: her looks. Hair too red, skin too pale, figure too lumpy…It was one thing to fill her own head with those thoughts; it was another to broadcast them to a whole group of girls, especially a group that included Leighton. Would she blab Hope's insecurities all over town? The tree house had a way of giving a false sense of security. Right outside was a tough, cruel world. Hope was mad at herself for baring her soul. Oh, well… too late.

  “Time's up,” Tricia said abruptly. “Time to put your solutions in the Solution Bowl.”

  She passed the plastic bowl around as one girl after another folded her solution twice, then dropped it in the bowl.

  “Time for me to read them,” Tricia said when the bowl was full.

  “Why do you always get to read the solutions?” Leighton asked.

  “Because she's the president,” Elizabeth said protectively.

  “Big whoop,” Leighton said. “Hand the bowl over. I'm reading them this time.”

  She grabbed the bowl, flipped a lock of thick hair and sent it cascading over her shoulder. With an eyebrow raised ever so subtly, she read the solutions one by one:

  “SOLUTION: Go and have fun! I don't think your stepmother is trying to remake you; she's just trying to have a good time with you.

  “SOLUTION: Go! ! ! ! You need all the help you can get.

  “SOLUTION: Go, but make sure the makeover suits your taste. This will give you a chance to show Jacie who you really are.

  “SOLUTION: Pretend you have a stomachache and stay home.”

  The girls exchanged furtive glances. As they were getting to know each other better, it was tempting to guess who had written what. Only Leighton's solution required no guessing. Everybody was sure which one was hers.

  “What do you think, girls? Which solution is best?” Tricia asked, a little annoyed at Leighton for wresting away her position of authority. She didn't much trust Leighton, either.

  “Well,” Mei said, “we're almost unanimous in our opinion that Hope should go. So that part of the solution seems settled.”

  “Settled for everybody but me!” Hope protested. “I like the stomachache idea.”

  Elizabeth grinned broadly.

  “Hope, whether you have a spa day on your birthday or not, it sounds like you need to deal with this issue sooner or later,” Tricia said. “If you feel like your stepmother is really trying to squeeze you into some mold, it's time to stand your ground.”

  “It's not that Jacie tries to mold her,” Mei said. “She just tries to be helpful. Very helpful. I don't think she means any harm.”

  Hope frowned. “You don't know what it's like,” she said. “She makes me feel hopeless.”

  To everyone's surprise, including Hope's, her eyes filled with tears. Mei reached over and squeezed her hand. “You're not hopeless,” she said in barely a whisper. “You're beautiful.”

  Leighton sighed in exasperation. “Here's the deal,” she said. “This is no biggie. In the first place, you should be thrilled about a spa day, and in the second, even if you aren't thrilled about it, what's the worst that could happen?”

  The girls were silent as they shared the startling thought that Leighton had actually just made a lot of sense.

  “That is a good point,” Tricia said. “Who cares why your stepmother wants you to have a makeover? And who cares whether you like it or not? It's just one day.”

  Hope brightened slightly. “Yeah…it's just one day.”

  “You might even have fun!” Elizabeth said.

  “Why don't you go along, too?” Tricia asked Elizabeth. “You know… moral support.”

  “Can't,” Elizabeth replied. “My dad is coming to visit that day.”

  “Her dad is definitely not the spa type,” Hope teased. “And let's face it: neither am I. But I'll go. And I like the advice about making sure the makeover suits my taste.”

  Tricia smiled proudly.

  “Of course, I'm not exactly sure what my taste is,” Hope continued, “but maybe this will be a chance for both Jacie and me to find out.”

  The girls nodded their approval.

  Hope's eyes softened. “Spa day—ready or not, here I come.”

  9

  Mei dabbed her final specks of paint on the wall, wiped her forehead with the back of her hand, then stood back to get a better look. She glanced at the clock on the adjoining wall: 2:56.

  “Oh, gosh…,” she moaned aloud, suddenly filled with anxiety. The girls would be here any minute. It was time to unveil her mural. Why had she agreed to let them come? It was bad enough to imagine Stan seeing it for the first time. It was a terrible idea for the Right-Unders to be here when he saw it. Stan was sure to hate it—he'd made that clear enough—and there was no telling what he would say to embarrass her. And to have to worry about her friends’ assessment of her artwork on top of all that? Bad idea. “Oh, gosh…,” she repeated.

  Still, she couldn't help being just a little pleased. Even if everybody hated her mural, the fact was that she… well, she couldn't quite bring herself to say that she liked it, but she didn't hate it. And locking herself into this cafeteria every day for the past week had been…she sighed…it had been terrific. Particularly after the first day, when her mom had encouraged her to go for it, she had never felt such a flood of creativity. With every stroke of a brush, with every whiff of the paint, she felt she was doing what she had been born to do. Other people might not like her art, but she liked creating it. If nothing else, this week had made her absolutely sure of that.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  Mei sucked in he
r breath. They were here. No more hiding her art. It was time to lift the veil.

  Her heart pounded so hard as she walked over to the cafeteria door that she thought it might burst out of her chest. She couldn't help giggling at the thought: “Girl paints mural, dies of heart attack,” the headline would read. It would serve Stan right. She put her hand on the doorknob, inhaled deeply, then opened the door. There stood Stan, with the two office ladies and the Right-Unders hovering behind him.

  “Come on in,” she said.

  As they walked in, one after the other, their eyes locked on the facing wall: Mei's mural. The first few moments were silent. Everyone's eyes narrowed, then squinted, then relaxed again. Then, almost all at once, their jaws dropped. Hope was the first to speak.

  “Mei …” was all she could say.

  Then, more silence. They were so intensely focused on the mural that Mei couldn't help staring at it, too. I really do like it, she thought.

  As her project had progressed, the background of a velvety night sky had surrendered to a myriad of colors. Mei was fascinated by what stars might look like close up, and she had captured the image in intense fireballs of crimson, gold and mango. The stars seemed three-dimensional, as if stepping too close might suck the onlooker into the vortex of the bright infernos. The stars were the most dramatic aspects of the mural, but other elements were mesmerizing as well. There were the graceful arcs of asteroids… the coarsely textured blues and greens of planets… bright bursts of constellations, all with flecks of color that made it look as if the night sky was showering Earth with its treasures. On the right end of the mural, Mei had painted “Clearview Comets: Ablaze with Potential.”

  Mei stood taller. “What do you think?”

  No one spoke right away, but that was okay. Mei's nervousness had already melted away. It didn't really matter now what anybody else thought.

  “Mei,” Hope whispered. “It's awesome.”

  The others nodded vigorously, as if the comment had unfrozen their heads.

  “Awesome? It's … unbelievable,” one of the office ladies said. “I just… can't believe it.”