The Right-Under Club

by Christine Hurley Deriso

  HoPeLess: Awesome! That baby will have the coolest room in town.

  artsyMEI: Technically, rain forests are hot and muggy—not cool. (Get it? L)

  HoPeLess: Groan. Have fun painting. See you 2morrow at the pool.

  LYLAS.

  artsyMEI has signed off.

  HoPeLess has signed off.

  14

  “No floaties!”

  Tricia glanced apologetically at her friends. “Little sisters are so annoying.”

  She was trying to pull Hissy's hands through inflatable armbands, but the little girl was gearing up for an Olympicscale tantrum.

  “You can't swim without your floaties,” Tricia said reasonably.

  “Noooo!” Hissy's cheeks bulged like tomatoes.

  “Girls!” Tricia's stepdad, Troy, called from a lounge chair. “What seems to be the problem?”

  Your bratty daughter is the problem, Tricia thought, but kept her mouth shut.

  “No floaties!” Hissy screeched again, in case anyone at the pool had missed it the first three times.

  “Fine!” Tricia said through gritted teeth. “I don't want to take you swimming anyhow! Go sit with your dad and let me have fun with my friends.”

  “Swim!” Hissy wailed, reaching her pudgy arms toward Tricia.

  “Tricia!” Troy scolded from his lounge chair. “You have to be gentle with the floaties. Are you hurting her? Are you okay, Everly, sweetie?”

  Tricia glared in his direction. “Yes, sweetie, is your mean big sister causing you any discomfort?” she mocked to Hissy. “You know, the whole world revolves around you, and I live my life only to serve your needs, so anything I can do—anything at all—to make your world a better place, why, just let me know.”

  Hope and Mei giggled, causing Everly to laugh, too. Her tantrum had run its course; now she was happily pulling her arms through the floaties.

  “Shouldn't your stepdad be at work?” Hope asked.

  Tricia rolled her eyes. “He wanted to spend the afternoon with ‘his girls.’Lucky me.”

  “Look at me, Daddy!” Hissy trilled as Tricia helped her down the pool steps into the water.

  “There's my girl!” Troy called.

  “I don't know why I take you anywhere,” Tricia muttered to her sister. “You're like… insecticide, and the cute guys I'm trying to impress are the insects.”

  “Did I hear something about cute guys?”

  The girls looked up and saw Leighton standing by the pool in a fuchsia bikini, surveying the scene coolly as she adjusted her sunglasses.

  “Get in!” Mei said cheerily.

  “Would you keep it down?” Leighton whispered. “God. You girls are so immature.”

  Hope tossed Tricia and Mei a knowing look. This was the real Leighton. The farm act hadn't fooled her. Any flickers of fun or unconceited behavior were mere aberrations.

  “So,” Leighton said, sounding bored. “Where are the cute guys?”

  Tricia tossed her head toward the deep end, where several boys were wrestling playfully. “They're kinda cute,” she whispered.

  Leighton pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and raised an eyebrow. “Those guys? I don't think so. What are they, like, thirteen? They're children.”

  “How about that guy? Is he more your speed?” Hope said, nodding toward an elderly man inching his way poolside with a cane.

  She exchanged high fives with Mei and Tricia, who laughed appreciatively.

  Leighton scowled. “Better not write him off. He might be your only hope for a boyfriend.” She pulled a lock of hair behind her ear. “Have you girls ever even had a boyfriend?”

  “Mei has a crush on…,” Hope blurted out, but was silenced by Mei's withering glance.

  “Who?” Leighton asked.

  Mei blushed and stared at the water. “Nobody,” she said in barely a whisper.

  “Right. So what's ‘nobody's’ name?” Leighton persisted.

  Hope tightened her lips. What a bigmouth she was. Poor Mei. The last thing she wanted Leighton knowing was that she had a crush on her stepbrother.

  “Nobody,” Hope repeated firmly. “I was just ragging on her.”

  Leighton looked from face to face. “You all know,” she said evenly. “Everybody knows but me.”

  “I don't,” Tricia said defensively.

  “Sure you do,” Leighton said with a trace of bitterness. She jutted her chin out indignantly. “As if I even care. You girls go back to gossiping about your little crushes. Don't let me stop you.”

  She spun on a barefoot heel, walked toward a lounge chair and settled in, carefully repositioning her sunglasses. Of course she looked gorgeous. Of course she looked cool. The tears glistening in her eyes were her little secret.

  … … …

  “You missed a spot.”

  Mei's mom pointed to a spot on the wall, and Mei brushed over it with green paint. Both mother and daughter were covered head to toe in paint flecks, and the worn white sheets they'd spread on the floor were starting to look tie-dyed.

  Mei was tired—she'd been painting for three hours now, ever since she'd returned from the pool in the middle of the afternoon—but she couldn't resist giggling at her mom. “You have paint on your cheek,” she said.

  “In that case, we better even things out.” Her mom dabbed a fingertip of paint onto the other cheek. “Maybe I'll start a new makeup trend. Green blush.”

  “You shouldn't even be in here,” Mei scolded gently. “Aren't paint fumes dangerous for pregnant women?”

  Mei's mom laughed. “So now you're an authority on pregnant women?”

  Mei shrugged. “I worry about you.”

  Her mom's brow knitted. She put her paintbrush back in the pan and tugged Mei's ponytail. “Thanks, honey, but I'm taking good care of both the baby and me. I promise.”

  Mei lifted her brush for another stroke, but her mom touched her arm lightly. “I worry about you, too, you know,” she told her daughter.

  “No, you don't. All you care about is the new baby.” Mei meant it to sound playful, but it didn't quite come out that way.

  “Mei,” her mother said. “Put your paintbrush down for a minute.”

  Uh-oh. Mei had said too much. “I want to hurry and finish the walls so I can start the mural tomorrow,” she said. She envisioned soaring trees, tangled vines, leaping monkeys, brightly colored birds and assorted furry creatures darting out of the underbrush.

  “I just want to talk for a minute,” her mom insisted, then motioned for Mei to join her on the floor. Mei reluctantly followed her lead, stretching out her legs and leaning back on the palms of her hands.

  “It's exciting to be pregnant,” her mother began, choosing her words carefully, “almost as exciting as when I was pregnant with you. The first one's always … special. Mei, you're my baby, too.”

  Mei blushed and lowered her eyes. Why hadn't she kept her mouth shut?

  “This baby is going to enrich all our lives,” her mom continued, “but nobody could ever take your place.”

  Mei put her hands over her ears. “Mom!” she said, exasperated. “You don't have to say this stuff. I know, I know: you'll love us just the same, blah, blah, blah.”

  Her mother shook her head. “No. I'll love you just as much, but not the same. I'll love each of you differently, like you love each of your friends differently. They're all different people, and you have unique relationships with each of them.”

  Mei peered at the paint flecks on the sheets. She thought of the intimacy she shared with Hope, almost like they could read each other's thoughts. Then there was Tricia, the new girl, who was so smart and reliable. Elizabeth was starting to seem like a little sister; Mei felt just as protective of her as Hope did. And Leighton… what could you say about Leighton? She smiled at the thought.

  “I know you've had to make a lot of adjustments throughout your life,” her mom said softly. “Your dad dying…”

  “I don't even remember that,” Mei said.

  �
�I know, honey, but you still had to deal with it, and it's affected your life ever since. Then having a new stepfather… and now a new baby in the family.”

  “I'm excited about the baby,” Mei insisted. “And Stan is … okay.”

  They exchanged glances and giggled. “Truly,” Mei said, now feeling protective of Stan, of all people, “Stan and I are getting along fine. You don't have to worry about me, Mom.”

  “Moms always worry, honey. And even when I seem wrapped up in the baby, I always have one set of brain cells focused exclusively on you.”

  “Yuck, Mom. I thought Dad was the scientist in the family.”

  Her mom pulled a wisp of stray hair out of her face, then relaxed back onto her palms. “You're so much like your dad,” she said. “True, you get your artistic genius from me”—she laughed lightly—“but you've got your father's disposition: quiet on the outside, but always observing, always noticing every little thing. A real thinker.”

  “So Dad was a geek, too?” Mei teased.

  Her mom's eyes danced. “I remember the first time I met him. He was walking out of a classroom with his head buried in a book. He walked right into me.”

  Mei sat up straight and squeezed her knees toward her chest. “Did he ask you out right away?”

  Her mother chuckled. “If you consider a year later right away. He was so shy. I practically had to shove my phone number under his nose. And of course, I kept ‘accidentally’ turning up in places I knew he'd be.”

  Mei's brow furrowed. “So all that stuff really works? You know… ‘accidentally’ showing up where you know some guy will be?”

  Her mom looked intrigued. “Sounds like you've got some specific guy on your mind.”

  “No, no!” Mei protested, covering her face with her hands.

  “It's okay, honey. It's not a crime to have a crush, you know.”

  “No crushes!” Mei moaned through her hands.

  Her mom leaned in with a twinkle in her eyes. “So: Is he cute?”

  Mei giggled and lowered her hands. She was busted. “Not particularly,” she said coyly. “But he's really smart.”

  “And? Does he like you, too?”

  Mei blushed. “He barely knows I exist. I can't even bring myself to say hi to him.”

  “You and your dad: two peas in a pod.”

  A wistful look crossed Mei's face. Yes. She really was like her father.

  “I'm too young for a boyfriend anyhow,” she said.

  “Well, I can't help agreeing with that. But it never hurts to make new friends. He's smart, you're smart…. Look at what he's reading next time you see him, and make some astute observation to get a conversation going. Or sit next to him in class and borrow a pencil.”

  “Mother. That's so retro.”

  “I'm just thinking of icebreakers, that's all.” Mei's mother leaned forward and clasped her daughter's hand. “And that's all it'll take, sweetie: breaking the ice. You're a wonderful girl—smart, funny, caring. Once you move past your shyness, it'll be easy for guys to see all your wonderful qualities. And remember: friendship. That's all you need at this age, and that's the source of any great romance.”

  “Ah, romance,” Mei cooed, then crossed her eyes and stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth.

  “My little beauty,” her mother teased, wrapping her arms around her daughter. They plopped to the floor together, laughing.

  15

  Tricia hadn't even had a chance to call the next Right-Under Club meeting to order when Leighton strode purposefully over to the Problem Stick and held it aloft.

  “My turn,” she announced tersely.

  Tricia, Mei and Hope exchanged amused glances. They had giggled among themselves the past couple of weeks, speculating about what problem Leighton might share when it was her turn to hold the Problem Stick. A broken nail? A sudden spike in humidity making her hair frizz? With a life as complicated as Leighton's, the possibilities were endless.

  “What are you all looking at?” Leighton asked suspiciously, noticing their furtive glances.

  “Nothing,” Tricia said quickly. “Elizabeth's not back yet from her grandparents’ to report on old business, so I make a motion that we go straight to new business and listen to Leighton's problem. Do I hear a second?”

  “Second,” Mei said.

  “All in favor?”

  The girls all raised their hands.

  “Leighton,” Tricia said. “Let's hear your problem.”

  Hope sucked in her lips to camouflage her grin.

  Leighton shifted her weight and put a hand on her hip. “I've got a big problem,” she announced in a lowered voice. “A big problem.”

  “Oooh,” Hope said under her breath, then burst into sputtered giggles with Mei.

  “Order,” Tricia said sternly. “Leighton has the floor.”

  Leighton shot an icy glance at Hope and Mei, then tightened her grip on the Problem Stick.

  “My cousin's getting married July tenth,” she continued. “I don't even like her, so I figured I could get out of it easily enough. But my mom is insisting that I go.” She hmmphed indignantly.

  “What's the big deal?” Tricia asked.

  “The big deal,” Leighton said evenly, as if it should be obvious, “is that my whole family has to go. And since my mom has ruined my life by adding Clueless Kyle Clayton to the family, that means he has to go, too.”

  She paused for dramatic effect so the gravity of her situation could sink in.

  Hope gave an exaggerated yawn. “So his cooties rub off if you're in the same room?” she asked.

  Leighton glared at her. “For your information, there are going to be lots of cool people at the wedding, including a certain high school hottie I've been crushing on for months. Does the name Scott ring a bell?”

  “You're too young for high school guys,” Mei said.

  “Oh, thanks, Mommy,” Leighton snarled. “True, Scott is totally hot, and true, he sends me flirty instant messages every single day, and true, everyone knows we'd make the most awesome couple ever, but Mei's right: I should spend all my time playing hopscotch.”

  She tossed her brown hair over her shoulder. “You girls are so immature.”

  “How do you even know a high school guy?” Tricia asked.

  “He saw my Web page and sent me an IM saying we should hook up.”

  Tricia cringed. “Hook up,” she repeated. “Leighton, do you know what that means?”

  “Uh, duh!” Leighton responded. “It means he wants to be my boyfriend.”

  “Are you sure?” Tricia persisted. “I have some cousins in high school, and…”

  Leighton tossed her hands in the air in exasperation. “Would you chill? Just because you guys are clueless about high school boys doesn't mean I am. You are so unsophisticated. I'm, like, ten times more mature than all of you put together.”

  “Scott is too old for you,” Hope said evenly. “And if we're so immature, why are you hanging out with us?”

  Leighton narrowed her ocean green eyes. “When will you be old enough for a boyfriend, Hope? When you're thirty?”

  Hope blushed and stared at her lap.

  “Girls! Focus,” Tricia barked. “We're a club, remember? We're supposed to support each other. And we aren't here to judge. We're here to help.”

  Leighton sneered at Hope. “And it just so happens that I have totally gone out of my way to try to help Kyle.”

  Hope snickered.

  “I give him pointers on how to dress, and how to fix his hair, and how to stop using big words that nobody understands,” Leighton continued. “So I've tried. But he refuses to take my advice, and I refuse to let my reputation go right down the drain because of him.”

  “Yeah, you'd hate for people to think you approved of using big words,” Hope said. “Like ‘superficial,’ maybe. Or ‘arrogant.’”

  “What are you talking about?” Leighton demanded, and Hope sucked in her cheeks again to squelch a grin.

  “Hey, I helped y
ou with your little spa day problem,” Leighton reminded her.

  “Leighton's right,” Tricia said. “Whatever her problem is, it's our mission as Right-Unders to try to help her solve it. So think ‘helpful.’” She shot a disapproving look at Hope, who flung her hands in the air in surrender.

  “Fine,” Hope said. “Helpful.”

  “This wedding is going to be a nightmare,” Leighton continued. “A band will play at the reception, and I just know Kyle's going to humiliate me by dancing.”

  Hope held her tongue.

  “There he'll be,” Leighton said, “flapping his arms like a chicken on the dance floor, probably with his fly open. I'll die. I'll just die.”

  She handed the Problem Stick to Tricia. “That's my problem.”

  Tricia propped the stick against the cedar wall of the tree house. “Girls, you've heard Leighton's problem,” she said. “Now it's time to come up with solutions. Your five minutes starts”— she glanced at her watch—“now.”

  Tricia, Hope and Mei opened their notebooks and started writing. Hope wasted no time. “GET OVER YOURSELF,” she penciled in bold letters, then sighed and flipped to a blank page. As a Right-Under, she was supposed to take her responsibility seriously. But how could anyone take Leighton seriously? She was off-the-charts obnoxious. Nothing would help her more than being brought down a peg or two. Actually, that would be a service to humanity in general. But, particularly with Elizabeth absent from the meeting and with only three solutions in the bowl, she didn't want her answer to stand out like a sore thumb. Helpful, she thought grumpily. Helpful.

  Mei didn't know where to begin with her blank sheet of paper. It was a problem to be with Kyle? Sign her up for that problem. Why did she have to be so shy? Her mother was right. She needed to loosen up a little. Why couldn't she just walk up to Kyle and start a conversation? Maybe he'd notice her mural….

  “Time's up!” Tricia announced.

  “Oh, give me just one more minute,” Mei pleaded.

  Tricia nodded. “One more minute.”

  Mei finally scribbled something on her paper.

  “Time's up,” Tricia said a minute later. The girls folded their papers twice and placed them in the Solutions Bowl.