Um, okay. Back to my bag. In my left zipper pocket is my hand sanitizer, which is lavender and smells AMAZING. There’s my pack of tissues, which I used half of at lunch. There’s a tinted lip balm with SPF in raspberry pink, and a compact mirror my uncle Ron brought back for me from Scotland. I know, the thistle is ADORABLE! Even though he says he got it for me because I’m prickly, which, WHATEVER, Uncle Ron. Seriously.
There’s a little travel-size deodorant for pit emergencies, my pick-comb, because you NEVER, ever, ever, EVER just brush natural curls, EVER. Unless you’re using an old toothbrush and smoothing out your baby hairs. Um . . . I think that’s—no wait. There’s an extra scrunchy and a headband—because BIG HAIR needs backup gear, and—OH!!! There’s my lace headband! I thought I had lost it!
Wow—note to self: clean out purse more often.
So, that’s it! That’s what’s in Serena’s bag! Tell me, people—what’s in YOUR bag? Am I missing something important here? Do you have a pack for Lady Days? Or, heck, maybe you have a bag for Dude Days? What ARE Dude Days? Serena says what you carry tells people a lot about you—so make sure it’s organized—and keep it cute.
That’s my story, and I’m out . . .
And yay! Except for scratching my forehead and that weird face I made about Uncle Ron, this vlog was almost perfect! I think I’m almost ready to start posting these.
7
Last-Second Solutions
ON FRIDAY, JUST AFTER the seventh graders introduced our guest speaker, our vice-principal, Mrs. Henry, announced that she needed to see the following people after student assembly: Harrison Ballard, Cameron Jones, Serena St. John, Hyung Kim, Eliana Morales, Ally Leonard, and Sunita Trivedi.
I tried to concentrate on Mr. Anderson’s talk about volunteering at the wildlife museum but couldn’t. I wasn’t sure what Mrs. Henry wanted, but I was pretty sure I wouldn’t like it.
Mrs. Henry is . . . particular. She’s stylish, like my bibi. Mrs. Henry always wears a suit with matching shoes, so she’s all in one color. And, like Bibi, she always has her reading glasses on the end of her nose, but never looks through hers. She does stuff like using beets to make pink cupcake frosting instead of just a tiny drop of food coloring—because food coloring is terrible for you, and beets are good. She also brings her juicer to school during test week and hands out little paper cups of celery and carrot juice between classes.
FYI, carrot juice tastes like what would happen if you let construction paper, white glue, and a lot of sugar soak together in a cup of water, and then drank it.
It’s dis-gust-ing.
I also knew I probably wouldn’t like whatever it was Mrs. Henry wanted me for, because she wanted Harrison Ballard too. Harrison is . . . a lot. He’s always been the biggest boy in our class, but coming back from summer this year, he’s now five foot eleven—so he’s big and tall and loud, with huge brown curls and brushy eyebrows and light-brown skin. He wears plaid shirts every day and has been carrying a briefcase since the second grade. He used to pick his nose, but now he just rubs his nose on his sleeves, which in my opinion is not any less gross.
Harrison likes to lean his elbow on my head, because, he says, I’m a short little Hobbit, like those small, half-human people who lived underground in the Tolkien books my mom likes. Which—whatever—not everyone can be a giant boy mutant. JC is just a little taller than I am, but Harrison never bothers her. JC says it’s because Harrison loves me so much there’s nothing in his briefcase but little pieces of paper with my name on them. She says she saw them.
That isn’t funny. That’s creepy.
I hope JC’s just kidding.
Student assembly had barely ended before Harrison was standing in the aisle next to my seat. He stared down expectantly. “Well, Hobbit?”
“I’m not talking to you, Harrison,” I mumbled, getting up.
Harrison followed me up the aisle anyway. “I didn’t know you joined Student Senate.”
It took four steps before Harrison’s words made it into my brain. “What?”
Harrison loomed over me. “Student Senate,” he said, adding, “man, you’re short.”
“I’m not short, I’m just not a mutant giant,” I told him like I always do. “And what do you mean, Student Senate?”
Harrison peered into my eyes and gently knocked his big knuckled fist against my forehead. “Hello? Is anyone in there?”
I ducked away, intending to return a fist to his squishy stomach with considerably more force, but Mrs. Henry’s, “Ladies and gentlemen,” in her zero-tolerance voice straightened me up fast. I jumped away from Harrison like he was on fire.
Not that it made any difference, since he followed me down to the front of the auditorium and sat right next to me.
Sigh.
Mrs. Henry listened as Sunita called roll, declared that we had a quorum, and sat back in her seat. Our vice-principal looked at us over her gold-rimmed glasses.
“Thank you, everyone. Serena, this is your first time serving with our senate group, so I want to especially make you welcome. This is a big responsibility, but I know you’re up to it.” Mrs. Henry gave me a pointy little smile, which probably meant that I should be quiet and nod, but my hand raised without consulting my brain.
“What is it, Serena?” Mrs. Henry’s brows raised.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Henry, but I’m not on the senate. I don’t know—”
“Mr. Van felt that since you’ve been such a big help as a class ambassador, you’d be a valuable addition to our senate body.”
Or, which was more likely, Mr. Van was trying to make me feel better for letting Leilani take my job. My voice rose. “Mrs. Henry, I don’t know anything about being a senator! Mr. Van didn’t even ask! I—”
Mrs. Henry cut in. “This is an opportunity, Serena, for a young lady like yourself to stand up and speak out. I know you can do it. If you have further questions, why don’t you see me after the meeting? We only have a few minutes, and while this is not an official senate session, the best thing you can do to learn about how we do things here is just to watch, all right?”
But . . . but . . . I swallowed the words, seeing the other students eyeing Mrs. Henry and me with nosy interest. Grinding my teeth, I gave in, giving Mrs. Henry a short nod.
“Thank you. Now, let’s hear how preparations are going for our Red Ribbon Week this month. Ms. Chairman? You have the floor.”
I ignored Sunita as she talked, fuming. Mr. Van is not my favorite teacher anymore, and I don’t like Mrs. Henry at all. Brigid Ogan has way too many special events—everyone is so over Red Ribbon Week. Also, Student Senate is pointless. Last year, Fallon helped revise the Brigid Ogan Student Constitution when she was a seventh-grade senator. She acted like having a constitution made a difference, when everyone knows that teachers and Mrs. Henry are the ones who make the rules. I hate it when teachers pretend that what kids want matters. Adults do not listen.
“And, Serena, maybe you and Harrison can head up the Student Participation subcommittee,” Sunita was saying. “Ally had a great idea that we can run it like a second Spirit Week, with crazy sock days and stuff like that.” Sunita looked at me. “Just brainstorm a week’s worth of ideas and be ready to present them at the regular meeting.”
What?
I was still trying to figure out where it all went wrong when the meeting was over. Harrison picked up his briefcase and walked out of the auditorium.
“Wait,” I blurted, hurrying after him. “I don’t even know what a subcommittee is! And what’s a quorum?”
Harrison shook his head. “Serena,” he said patiently, “the best thing you can do to learn about how we do things on Student Senate is just to watch, all right?”
I punched as fast as I could, but I still missed. Harrison’s mutant giant laugh echoed down the hall. Ha-ha-ha!
Dork.
8
Sipping with the Enemy
“DO EITHER OF YOU know the answer to number thirteen?”
I w
as on 2Face again, doing homework with JC and Leilani. Hearing a murmur from the other person in the room, I scanned to the top of my paper and answered out loud. “Sure, JC . . . I got 148.04.”
There was a pause—a long one, where I could only see the top of JC’s head. She was probably doing the problem again and checking my answer against her own.
Sure enough, the next thing she said was “That’s not right.”
“It’s right. I multiplied it out again. I’m doing all the division problems first, and then—”
“Yeah, but Lani says it’s 148. You’re supposed to round it to the nearest tenth.”
I grimaced. “I know that. If you’d let me finish, I was going to say that I was doing all the division problems first, then going back and doing the rounding.”
“That’s not how I would do it,” Leilani’s voice sounded tinny through the speaker.
JC agreed, sounding anxious like she always did about math. “Yeah, Serena. What if you forget? Then they’re all wrong.”
I sighed. How many times did we have to do this? “I won’t forget. I have it written down as a step. That’s what Mr. Van said to do—to break up a problem and do it in steps, remember?”
“Uh-huh.” JC sounded distracted, and I swallowed a sigh. JC and I did homework on 2Face a lot even before her surgery and everything. If I couldn’t be right there with her, it was the next best thing. I didn’t know how she’d done it as a three-way call, though. That was some kind of paid service, and Fallon and I could only have the free one. Still, since JC hated math, her parents got her all the help they could get. And it helped her to talk to me AND Leilani. Even though I could barely hear Leilani’s voice, I felt upset and ignored, but I was trying my best not to be a baby about it. JC was my best friend. If doing math with both of us helped JC understand it better, I wouldn’t be a good best friend if I complained.
Right?
After a long moment, JC spoke again. “Have you done any word problems?”
“Eew, no,” I jumped in. “I wish Mr. Van wouldn’t give us so many of those. Twelve for one assignment is ridiculous.”
“I know, right? Okay, Lani says the first one is—”
“Wait, don’t tell me!” I exclaimed. “I can do it!” I didn’t need math help, especially not from Leilani Camacho, no matter how smart Mr. Van thought she was.
“Well, hurry up,” JC said. “We’re almost done, and Lani did the word problems first.”
“How are you almost done?” I complained. “I’m on fifteen, and didn’t you just ask me about thirteen?”
“Lani’s done, and I’m almost done,” JC repeated. “And I’m going to hang up pretty soon. Lani’s mom brought boba tea, and I want mine.”
I looked up from my paper. “Wait. Leilani’s at your house? Right now?”
JC’s face came back into focus, and she panned the camera around. “Look, she’s right here. I told you she was going to do math with us!”
I opened my mouth to say I wished JC had invited me over, then bit my tongue. I didn’t want to sound pathetic. “I know, I just thought . . .” I shook my head. Boba and homework help and Leilani. And here I was, at home with my water bottle, doing problems all on my own. “Um, never mind. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay, I’ll call you tonight. Ooh! There are these little crepe things you’d like, Serena! I’ll have to ask Mrs. Camacho how to make them. Oh—listen, Lani says to tell you she’ll call you later.”
She will? I said a hurried goodbye, but JC had already ended our session.
I hadn’t said anything to Leilani Camacho since the Thursday Mr. Van gave her my class ambassador job. As far as I’m concerned, we don’t need to talk to each other ever.
Leaving behind my word problems, I wandered into the living room. I found the distraction I was looking for sitting on the couch and playing a game on her phone.
“Hey, Flea? What are we doing for Halloween?”
My sister didn’t look up. She’s doing this thing where she ignores Mom and me when we use her baby name. I kind of don’t blame her, though; Mom called me “Rena-Beana” for ages.
I sighed loudly. “Fallon?”
“What?” She looked up at last.
“Halloween. It’s coming up soon. What are we doing?”
“Who’s this ‘we’?”
I rolled my eyes. Jeez, my sister was so annoying. “You know what? Never mind.”
Fallon smirked down at her phone. “Sharyn and Laine and I are going to the corn maze at Ardenwood.”
I sighed and wandered into the kitchen. Last year, Mom worked on Halloween, so Fallon went to NewPark Mall’s haunted house in her Hogwarts robe, while JC and I ordered pizza and watched a movie while we handed out candy. JC liked handing it out in our neighborhood, because unless all her little cousins came over, there weren’t enough kids in hers. That night, Fallon and her friend Sharyn crashed our party like an hour into the movie. Even though they made fun of what we were watching (The Dark Crystal is the best movie ever, and my sister has zero taste) and ruined what was supposed to be our private pizza party, Sharyn gave us facials and crazy manicures, and Fallon brought out her colored chalk and we all striped our hair. We let them eat the rest of our pizza for that.
I couldn’t help but think that Halloween this year wasn’t going to be anywhere near as fun. Not with JC stuck at home, not even getting to hand out candy. Not with Leilani hanging around.
So Leilani was supposed to call me tonight. I scowled as I rummaged in the kitchen cupboard for Mom’s tin of Godiva. If I had to chitchat with the enemy, I needed hot chocolate.
SERENA|SAYS
I need to find theme music that’s exactly six seconds long . . . I don’t like this one. Anyway.
What’s up, World? It’s Saturday, and—
[loud vacuum cleaner noises from the behind the door]
FALLON!!!
[vacuum grows louder]
FALLON! I’M PICKING YOU UP ON THE MIC!
[door opens]
I’M TRYING TO PRACTICE MY VLOGGING!
[vacuuming pauses, continues another few seconds, then stops for good]
What’s up, World? It’s the weekend, and it’s time for another Serena Says STORYTIME!
Welcome back to my vlog!
JC’s been on my mind, so it’s time for a best friend story . . . Did I ever tell you about the time JC and her family took us to Gilroy Gardens and we totally danced in a Memorial Day parade? It is one of the MOST JC things to have ever happened in the history of our friendship, and it’s SO her.
SO. We were in the fourth grade—I was nine, and JC was going to be ten—and JC had begged and begged and begged her parents to take us to Gilroy Gardens because she wanted to ride the rides there and see the giant puzzle trees and all that. And so, the park had just opened for the season, and the sun was out, and it was all gorgeous and everything. Gilroy Gardens Main Street had this whole thing for Memorial Day—you know, marchers with flags, and this whole dance troupe in costume and a band with drums and flutes and whatnot. And so we get there, and everybody is lining up on the parade route, and I was still SUPER short back then, and so Mr. Gerardo told me to get right out front of everyone, and we stood and watched the parade. They were amazing—there were all of these dancers and gymnasts, and people with flags and people doing cartwheels, and I was THERE for it, right? I mean, I’m standing out in the best spot on the whole parade route, I’m with my best friend, and I am INTO it.
So, they had some, I guess, square dancers? They were dancing in pairs, and they were, I don’t know, kind of galloping along, doing these steps, and people were kind of clapping along with the music, and then they would kind of split up and dance with someone from the crowd, right? And I thought, “Oh, that’s cool, the people in the crowd are part of the parade too.” Then, all of a sudden, they were in front of me! And this guy held out his hand for me, and I took it, and he spun me around, just danced me around, and suddenly, I was a part of the parade. It wa
s AMAZINGLY cool. It was SO fun. I totally could not dance, but he just kind of spun me around and pretty much held me up off the ground. All I know is, it went by fast, and then he kind of turned me around, and set me down, and boom—he was gone.
And I had NO idea where I was.
I mean, duh, I was at Gilroy Gardens, and I was on the parade route. But the guy who had danced with me had kind of screwed up, and he hadn’t danced me back to where I’d been. He’d danced me around into the crowd, and I was this short, runty little nine-year-old, trying to see over the heads of all of these people to figure out where I was.
And then I heard JC screaming: “SERENA! SEREEEEENA!”
And people are starting to laugh. And I’m like, “Where are you?” And I start pushing forward . . . and then I find the parade again, and there’s JC, in the middle, dancing in a circle, trying to find me. And the parade is going AROUND her, and people are trying to move her back to the side, but no, she’s standing RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE of this whole parade, turning in a circle over and over again, yelling, “SERENA! SEREEEEEEEEENA!”
I shoved my way to the crowd, and I ran over to her—SO totally relieved. I thought I was going to be lost in that crowd of tall people for the rest of my life. I was like, “JC!” and I grabbed her hand. And then she grabs my other hand and starts trying to dance like the dancers. We were TERRIBLE—she didn’t know the steps any better than I did, but I was just so happy to see her I was like, “Sure, let’s dance!” I mean, we couldn’t go back to watching the parade like normal people—right? Not after we’d been awesome and part of everything—
This is stupid. I’m not going to cry about something that happened a long time ago. I’m not going to cry.
Serena Says Page 3
