I grabbed some sheets of newspaper from the bin beside the fireplace and stuffed them under the kindling. I lit the newspaper on fire with a new match, then turned around. “Ready?”
Olivia waved the paper with the mean girls’ names on it in the air. “Ready.” She tossed it in the fireplace. We all stood back, waiting for the paper to catch fire. But the newspaper hadn’t ignited the kindling, which didn’t ignite the logs. The names just sat there, turning slightly tan, smoldering on a log.
Why was this taking so long? I glanced at the clock above the fireplace. It was already seven fifty-five, and we wanted to watch a movie that started at eight.
“Light already!” I cried. I looked around for something else to put in to make the fire happen. I grabbed the extra black and green pom-pom and tossed it in.
WHOOSH! There was an instant, blazing fire.
Taylor clapped her hand over her face, covering her nose. “Ew! That stinks. Why is there so much smoke?”
“Uh-oh. I think we just polluted the entire house,” Olivia said.
Mom came running down the stairs, fanning the air. “What happened? Is everything okay? What smells so badly?”
I shrugged, trying to look innocent. “I made a fire?”
She fiddled with something inside the fireplace. “You forgot to open the flue. How many times do I have to remind you about the flue? Then again, how often do you try to start fires on your own?” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “What’s the occasion?”
“Um, nothing. Just thought it’d be cozy,” I said.
She opened a couple of windows in the living room and a strong fall breeze rushed into the room. So much for cozy, but at least we weren’t getting poisoned by burning plastic. Mom peered into the fireplace again. “What’s in there, anyway?”
I couldn’t tell her that it was a pom-pom. She’d call the Environmental Protection Agency to report me. “Oh, just some, um, shredded paper I was using to get it started,” I said. “From the, um, paper shredder.” Fortunately it looked as if the paper with the mean girls’ names had already been incinerated.
“That was very smart of you, recycling something that’s already been used. Thinking of the environment. I like that. Nice job, Madison.” She smiled and then headed back upstairs.
Nice job? That was a close one, I thought as I collapsed on the sofa. If my eco-mom found out we were tossing pom-poms into the fireplace, she’d probably send me to jail herself. “Well, that’s that. I guess we can put the mean girls out of our minds for a while. Does anyone else feel funny? Sort of different?” I asked.
Olivia laughed. “Why would I feel different?”
“I don’t know.” I rubbed my arms. “I just got the shivers.”
“That’s because your mom opened the windows. Remember? Let’s close them and get some snacks before the movie starts!” said Taylor.
“And then let’s paint our nails,” said Olivia.
“Okay. First, I’m going to put this away, somewhere safe. I’ll be right back.” I picked up our time capsule box and brought it out to the garage, where we have tons of storage space. I set it on a shelf up high, above the boxes of surplus hair products. Then I grabbed some of our snacks and went back into the living room.
“You always hog the sofa, Olivia. A little room, please?” Taylor was saying, pushing at Olivia’s legs.
“What? I do not,” said Olivia, pushing back.
“Move over,” Taylor urged, pushing Olivia.
“Hey.” Olivia glared at her.
“Great, guys.” I sighed. “While you were arguing, we missed the opening. Everyone knows the opening scene is the best one in the whole movie.”
“If you hadn’t taken so long to start the fire, maybe we wouldn’t have missed it,” Taylor said.
“Come on, guys. Lighten up!” said Olivia. “We’re just supposed to be having fun, kicking back.”
“You’re right, you’re right,” I said. “Pass the pickles.”
We started laughing, and suddenly, everything was just fine between us. Better, even. We’d removed the mean girls from our lives. What could be better?
Chapter 8
I didn’t do much over the rest of the weekend. I spent a lot of time designing our Endangered Animals Club T-shirts; maybe nobody would join, but if we could sell shirts to the rest of the school, we could still raise money for the cause.
Mom had put up the money for a hundred blank tees, and we’d gotten iron-on designs and some fabric paint at the fabric store. While Taylor was at a meet in Portland, Olivia and I spent all of Saturday afternoon designing, painting, and ironing. Each shirt would be unique, a one of a kind creation. A collectible, really.
They wouldn’t be pictures of animals. Middle schoolers were way too old to go for that. Instead they were colors, random words, and patterns. They were very artistic, if I do say so myself.
By the end of the afternoon, we’d only finished twenty T-shirts, but we’d worked so hard that when Taylor’s mom called on their way back into town and invited us to meet for pizza, we jumped at the chance. We stopped by Olivia’s so she could quickly feed her bazillion pets, then Mom dropped us off at Payneston Pizzeria, promising to be back in an hour to get us.
I opened the door of the pizzeria just as someone else was coming out. “Oh!” she gasped, nearly falling over as she juggled the large pizza box in her hands.
I noticed her black boots right away. It was Poinsettia. “Um, hi,” I said.
“Hey!” She smiled. “How’s it going?”
I wanted to tell her about the ceremony the night before, but it just wasn’t the time or place. Especially not when I noticed Kayley’s mom sitting right next to Taylor’s mom. We weren’t the only ones meeting at the pizzeria.
“Great,” I said, smiling.
“Have a good night!” she called over her shoulder as she disappeared down the street.
“Who was that?” asked Olivia as the door closed behind us.
“Poinsettia,” I whispered. “The stylist who cut and colored my hair.”
“Why are you whispering?” Olivia whispered back.
I laughed. “I don’t know!”
We hurried over to Taylor, who was waiting for us at a table near her mom’s. We asked her about the meet, and told her about our T-shirt-making afternoon.
Meanwhile, Cassidy, Alexis, and Kayley were sitting in a circle of three at their own table, talking and gossiping. They didn’t even turn around or acknowledge our presence. So much for ceremonies.
The moms were spilling over, mingling from table to table, talking. Our table and Cassidy’s obviously weren’t going to blend.
“Pizzas are on the way,” said Taylor’s mom, giving us a sympathetic glance. “Here are some quarters.”
Taylor, Olivia, and I made a beeline for the Star Wars pinball machine. We took turns playing, laughing at each other and scoring bonus points.
Within minutes, Cassidy, Kayley, and Alexis were standing beside the machine, watching us.
Funny thing, they didn’t want to talk to us. They just had to butt in whenever we tried to do something different than them.
“Really. You’re still playing that,” said Cassidy.
“Actually, I’m still winning at it,” I said, hoping this would remind her that not that long ago she used to compete right beside me. We’d kept a running tally all through fourth grade.
“I’m so bored,” said Alexis, leaning her elbows on the machine and resting her chin in her hands.
“You’re blocking my view!” Olivia complained, leaning over her and trying to push her aside.
“I’m just saying, this is so boring compared to last night,” Alexis went on.
My eyes widened in surprise. “Why? What was last night?” Did they know about our night, what we’d done? But how could they?
“The eighth-grade dance,” Kayley said meaningfully.
“Oh, that.” I tried to act like it was no big deal to us. “How was it?”
&
nbsp; “Oh. My. God. It was so much fun,” said Cassidy. “We were there until, like, ten. We danced the entire time.”
“How did you get to go?” asked Taylor.
“Everyone on cheer got to,” Alexis explained, “because we’re, like, important to the football team winning.”
Olivia frowned. “That doesn’t seem fair.”
“No,” I agreed. “Not really.”
Cassidy shrugged. “You shouldn’t have quit, I guess,” she said to me.
I just looked at her, trying to figure out what she really meant. “Whatever.” She’d never once seemed upset about my quitting before. Maybe she wasn’t upset, though; she was too busy gloating. Was I supposed to stay on cheer just so I could go to eighth-grade dances?
“Then how did you get in?” Taylor asked Kayley.
“Didn’t I tell you? Um, I’m doing some stuff with the cheer squad now. Handsprings and stuff,” Kayley explained. “They needed more athletics in their routines.”
“Why didn’t anyone ask me?” Taylor wondered out loud, which was odd, because I didn’t think she’d actually be interested. Still, it’s nice to be asked, I guess.
Kayley slipped some quarters into the machine and gently made room for herself, where Olivia had been playing. “It’s who you know.”
I glanced over at our tables, glad to see the pizza had arrived. The sooner we could eat and not hang out with our former friends, the better. No matter how good we felt, they always found a way to make us feel bad about ourselves.
So far, all we’d gotten out of our Friday night ceremony was new toenail polish.
Chapter 9
On Monday morning, I locked my bike next to Taylor’s, and we started walking toward the crowd gathered in front of school, looking for Olivia. For some reason I was spacing out, and at first I didn’t notice Bethany Peck, a girl from my homeroom, who was walking beside me.
“Fine, don’t say hi,” she muttered as she passed me—in the kind of way that a person has to notice.
“What? Sorry! Hi!” I called after her.
“Whatever!” Bethany called over her shoulder.
“What was that about?” Taylor asked as we looked around for Olivia.
“I spaced and forgot to say hi,” I explained. “She took it really personally.”
Taylor shrugged. “She’s sensitive.”
“Not usually,” I said. Then again, not only did I sit next to her in homeroom, we were also lab partners in science, so I guess me not saying hi did seem pretty rude.
Olivia ran up to us, panting and out of breath. “So, talk to anyone yet?” she gasped.
“Just Bethany. Why? And what happened, did you run here instead of catching the bus?” I asked.
“No, I’m just—you won’t believe it. You will not believe it,” she said.
“Especially not if you never tell us what it is!” Taylor said.
“Everyone’s talking about it. Everyone,” Olivia said. “At the dance Friday night, there was a smoke bomb. A stink bomb. Whatever you call it. The building had to be evacuated at, like, eight o’clock. The dance was basically canceled.” She stopped to take a breath. “You know what that means?”
I felt my heart start beating faster. “Cassidy didn’t mention that on Saturday night. That means she didn’t actually go to the dance. She was faking it!” I cried. In a weird way, that made me very happy.
“Let’s go bust them,” said Taylor. “Ooh, this is too good to be true.” She started toward Cassidy and Alexis, but then stopped and looked at Olivia. “You’re sure it’s true, right?”
“Yes, I heard about ten people talking about it on the bus,” Olivia said. “Listen, if you two aren’t brave enough, just say so.” She started to march toward Cassidy.
We quickly followed her. I walked up to Cassidy and briefly remembered all the things I’d put away—or fanned the flames with—that used to be part of our former friendship.
The flames—wait a second. The fire—the big whoosh!—had happened just before eight. It had stunk up the whole house. Had the stink bomb happened at the same time? I felt a shiver as I stopped beside Olivia and Taylor. Suddenly I was freezing.
“So,” Taylor began, “do you want to tell us more about the eighth-grade dance? And how you danced until ten?”
“What? We never said that!” Cassidy laughed. “Everyone knows the dance got, uh, called off after the electrical thing—”
“Stink bomb,” Olivia corrected her. “Smoke filling the gym.”
“Right.” Cassidy’s face turned slightly red.
“What would you know about it, anyway?” asked Alexis. “You were probably home polishing your Girl Scout badges.”
“Were not,” Olivia said. “Anyway, they’re not made of silver. You can’t polish cloth. You wouldn’t know because you didn’t earn any—”
“What did you do, then?” Kayley demanded.
“Not much,” I admitted. “Watched a movie. Sat around not making up phony stories about dances we’d never been to.”
“Hey, nice shoes.” Cassidy suddenly pointed to the brown-and-pink sneakers I was wearing. She was totally trying to change the subject. “Where’d you get those?”
“See you around,” I said, and we kept walking into school.
“That went well,” Taylor commented. “Especially considering we totally caught them in a lie.”
“She’s probably going to mock my shoes later, on the Peeps,” I said. “I mean, they’ve been nice to us before. Then remember what happened afterward.”
“You guys feel free to be pessimistic. But I, for one, am claiming this as a brand-new Monday,” Olivia declared, speaking very clearly. “I wore my Monday underwear and everything. I have to do the morning announcement today. Mr. Brooks gave me a week off to get my pronunciation back, and my time’s up. Could one of you come upstairs with me for formal support while I do the broadcast?”
“I think you mean moral support,” I said.
“Whatever. Support,” she urged. “You can make sure Cassidy doesn’t pull anything.”
“Okay, sure,” I said.
We quickly stopped by my homeroom, and Ms. Thibault gave me a hall pass so I could go upstairs with Olivia. She’s really cool about things like that—she gets that it’s not life or death whether you are in homeroom for attendance and early morning study hall. At the same time, I knew she’d check with Mr. Brooks later on, to make sure I actually did show up at the taping studio like I said I would.
In the studio, Cassidy gave us a sweet smile, like she hadn’t totally thrown me under the bus when it was my turn to do the morning announcement. She was completely nice to Olivia, helping her get ready, and even warning her when the camera was about to start rolling so she didn’t sit there looking into a mirror and trilling about the rain in Maine.
Lucky Olivia.
“Good Monday morning, Panthers! This is Olivia Salinas, with this morning’s update,” she began. “First, a serious story. As many of you know, at approximately eight o’clock on Friday night, the eighth-grade dance was interrupted—hey, anyone else out there notice all the eights? Go ahead, play the lottery. Eights to win!” She smiled. “Okay, back to serious. The dance was tragically cut short, because I think it only started at seven thirty, not that I’d know because nobody invited me.…
“Anyway,” Olivia continued, “someone set off a stink bomb. PU. Not as in Payneston University, but as in PU, that really smelled horrible. Or so I heard on the bus. On the plus side, the school found out the sprinkler system works just great.”
I thought Mr. Brooks was about to have a panic attack. He looked at Olivia, and then at Cassidy, and then back again, and then over at me, like I’d had anything to do with it.
“I didn’t write any of that,” said Cassidy. “What she’s saying?”
“She’s kind of a free spirit sometimes,” I said quietly.
“Anyone having any information about the stink bomb is instructed to contact Principal Monroe,” Olivia con
tinued. “You know, funny thing. I went to a bonfire on Friday night myself. Anyway …” She finished the news report and listed off the school events for the day.
“You may have missed the first meeting, but it’s not too late to join the Endangered Animals Club,” she said. “In fact we’re selling T-shirts for just ten dollars each, and they’re really cool, each designed by me—”
Since when was it her designs?
“As you may already know, I’m in charge—”
Wait a second, I thought. Wasn’t I co-chair?
“So, come to our next meeting, whenever it is, or buy a T-shirt. And on a personal note, anyone who doesn’t sign up or get a shirt is just plain ignorant, misinformed, and stupid. Have a great day, Panthers!”
As Cameron shut off the camera, I glanced at Cassidy to gauge her reaction. “It wasn’t what I gave her,” she said, sounding defensive. “After, uh, last week, Mr. Brooks reviews all the text himself.”
Olivia stood up and looked over at me from the news desk. “How’d I do?”
“Um …” I shrugged. “Slur much?” I said without thinking. I coughed, hoping to cover up the fact I’d just insulted her.
“What?” Olivia asked. “What did you say?”
“Do you think you could possibly sssslur your esses any more?” I said. Then I put my hand over my mouth.
“Yeah. Not so good.” She winced. “But you try talking with this stuff in your mouth.”
“What?” Mr. Brooks looked so shocked that he was temporarily unable to form sentences. “What was with that last comment? Ignorant and stupid?”
“Oh, that? It was a joke. Ha-ha.” Olivia faked a very, very, insincere laugh.
Mr. Brooks frowned. “Miss Salinas, you should know, in fact, it should be ingrained in you, that we don’t use those sorts of words in our school.”
Olivia nodded. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Totally sorry. I guess.”
“The whole thing was out of control, out of bounds,” Mr. Brooks continued.
Meanicures Page 6
