Jaclyn put her head in her hands. “I have no idea. Move to a desert island and never come back? Or maybe I’ll try to launch myself into orbit.” She remembered the poster in the guidance counselor’s office. Shoot for the moon, she thought. Hopefully you’ll miss and end up stuck in outer space forever.
Mr. Hanh rang the little bell on his desk and the class got quiet.
“Good morning! I hope everyone enjoyed the musical last night. Or the first half, anyway . . .” He gave Jaclyn a look. “The statewide exams are next week. I trust you all will study hard and do your best. As a reminder, cheating and sabotage will not be tolerated. Did you hear that, Jaclyn?”
Jaclyn was taken aback. “Of course, Mr. Hanh.”
“You’re not going to let tarantulas loose in the testing rooms?”
Jaclyn slumped down in her chair. Now she knew what Shane must feel like all the time. And it was awful. “No, Mr. Hanh,” she murmured.
After homeroom, she made her way down the hallway with Paige through a sea of dirty looks. She stopped in front of the art room. She saw through the window that Ms. Bicks had taken down her painting. The Star Artist of the Week frame was empty. Then they passed the auditorium. The doors were chained shut.
Mr. Collins walked by, carrying a cardboard box filled with a few things from his office, along with his moose costume. “Hello, Jaclyn,” he said coldly.
“Mr. Collins, I’m so sorry.”
“Me too. I don’t know what I’m going to do now that I’m out of a job. I just hope you enjoyed your moment in the spotlight.” He took a deep breath. “One more cup of hot cider, and then it’s goodbye forever.”
As he walked away, Paige could see that Jaclyn was on the verge of tears. “Come on,” she said, leading her into the nearest bathroom.
Jaclyn’s chest felt tight. She was breathing heavily. She tried to wipe away the tears from her eyes before they fell.
Paige gave her a paper towel. “Don’t worry, it’s not that bad!” she said.
“Yes, it is!” Jaclyn cried.
“A demon girl made you look like a conniving crazy person in front of the whole school and now she’s trying to take over your body. So what?” She winced. “Actually, that does sound really bad.”
Jaclyn let out a loud sob.
Behind her, the door to the bathroom flew open.
“There you are!” Fatima exclaimed. There was algae stuck in her hair, her jeans were caked in mud, and her leather jacket was dripping with water. She smelled like the inside of a dumpster. “You are not going to believe where I’ve been.”
Chapter Fifteen
Hot Potato
As Fatima sat in the auditorium watching the act one finale of Fog Island: The Musical, she wasn’t paying attention to the chaos unfolding in front of her. She was barely listening to Miss Carver’s shouts of anger as she stormed onstage and revealed Jaclyn beneath the curtain. Fatima was too busy thinking about the chorus of the final song, “A Trash Can Made of Sand”:
Everything ends up on Trash Beach,
Even what you thought was out of reach.
The ocean brings the trash to the shore.
Clean all you want; there will always be more.
It was at that moment that Fatima realized what she had to do. Forget the rest of the play; Jaclyn’s spectacular flameout was a grander ending than she could have ever written. She had to get to Trash Beach to find the Perfection Potion.
She explained everything to her parents—or, as much as they needed to know—and they drove her straight to the beach. The only light came from Fatima’s flashlight and a small sliver of the moon peeking out from the clouds. She sifted through mounds of trash, looking for the nondescript water bottle full of dark-blue liquid. While she was writing the musical, she had read a scientific paper about the currents that funneled all the junk in the water onto the beach. Since Shane had tossed the bottle into the ocean hours earlier, she figured it had to be on Trash Beach by now. She only hoped she could find it before the waves brought in a new batch of debris that would bury it entirely. At one point she thought she had found it, but it turned out to be a half-drunk bottle of Caffeine-Free Diet Blue. Fatima continued her search, but when an army of raccoons descended on the beach for a late-night snack, she knew she had to call it a night.
As soon as the sun rose the next day, she convinced her dad to drive her back to the beach. Mr. Ali knew that when Fatima had her mind set on something there was no stopping her. He sat on the rocks sipping coffee while his daughter stomped along the soggy sand, kicking away empty cans, looking under plastic bags, and trying unsuccessfully to dodge the incoming waves that crashed onto the shore. All in all, she searched the beach for three hours and twenty-six minutes, got knocked over by nine waves, and was pinched by exactly one cranky hermit crab.
“So, long story short,” Fatima said, taking off her soaking-wet jacket and cramming it into the trash can next to the bathroom sink, “You owe me a new leather jacket. And”—she reached into her backpack—“I found this.” She handed Jaclyn the bottle of Perfection Potion.
Jaclyn and Paige tackled Fatima in a hug.
“You’re the best friend ever!” said Jaclyn.
“Yeah!” said Paige. “But you really do smell awful.” She took a step back.
Jaclyn sighed with relief. “I thought you left last night because you were mad at me for ruining the play.”
“Come on, it’s just a play. But I’ve got to warn you, my review in the school paper is going to be scathing.”
Jaclyn laughed. “After all this, that’s the least of my problems.” She hugged Fatima again. She didn’t even care about the garbage smell.
“What are you waiting for?” said Paige. “Drink it!”
But there was one more step. “I just have to heat it up first,” said Jaclyn.
The girls ran to the science lab. There wasn’t a class going on inside since the lab was currently being used to store all the science fair projects. Mount Vesuvius towered above the other projects, taking up a whole corner. The spider terrarium was back in its place by the window. Jaclyn put the potion into a beaker and heated it over a Bunsen burner. The liquid began to bubble. Jaclyn placed a glass thermometer inside. Paige and Fatima stared at her expectantly as she watched the red mercury rise.
“One hundred sixty-eight degrees exactly,” said Jaclyn. “It’s ready.” She grabbed the beaker with her right hand, then held it up like she was giving a toast. “Goodbye forever, Jackie.” As she brought the beaker to her lips, her left hand shot out and grabbed her right wrist. The nails were sharp. It was Jackie’s hand.
“Not so fast!” said Jackie.
Paige and Fatima jumped back in terror. Jaclyn was half herself, half Jackie.
Her right pigtail was neatly combed, and her left was fraying out of the elastic. Her right eye was brown, while her left eye was green and scowling. Jaclyn’s hand struggled against Jackie’s, one trying to pull the beaker toward her mouth, the other trying to push it away.
“Come on, Jaclyn, stay strong!” Fatima shouted.
Jaclyn dug down deep and wrenched the beaker to her face, but Jackie bit her arm. Jaclyn cried out. Jackie wrestled with Jaclyn and flung her across the room—which also meant she flung herself across the room. By the time she pulled herself up, Jaclyn was gone. She was all Jackie.
Jackie whipped her head around to face Paige and Fatima. “Jackie’s backie!”
“AAAGH!” Paige and Fatima screamed.
Jackie waved the potion above her head in victory. Miraculously, it hadn’t spilled out in the scuffle. “You think you can get rid of me?” she seethed. “Think again!”
She ran at full speed toward the science-lab door. Paige darted in front of her, blocking her way. Fatima tried to grab the potion from her, but she pushed her off, sending Fatima flying into the terrarium, knocking the lid off. The spiders scattered everywhere.
“Not again!” she cried.
Then, in a flash, Jackie grabbe
d the fire extinguisher off the wall. She clamped down on the nozzle. A cloud of white foam sprayed out, covering Paige from head to toe.
Paige wiped the foam from her eyes and Fatima pulled herself to her feet. But it was too late. The door to the science lab was open, and Jackie was gone.
Jackie tiptoed through the school, crouching down low whenever she passed a classroom window so she wouldn’t be spotted.
All the while, she muttered to herself, “Naughty, naughty Jaclyn tried to destroy me. Bad idea. Doesn’t she know I’m trying to help her? That I’m her only real friend? I’ve got plans. Big plans!”
She scampered down the hallway of padlocked lockers and quietly pushed open the door to the cafeteria. Tanya was working in the back, thawing the frozen food for lunch. Jackie breathed in deeply through her nose. “Mm. Fish cakes.” She drooled a little, then dropped to the floor and crawled under the tables toward the kitchen. She scooted around the counter and hid behind a stainless steel sink. She peered out and saw Tanya opening cans of green beans and dumping the contents into an aluminum serving tray. Next to her was a rack of trays filled with frozen french fries. Tanya emptied the last can of green beans, wiped her hands on her apron, and headed to the pantry.
Jackie knew that this was her chance. She snuck over to the rack and grabbed a tray. “Let’s play a game,” she whispered. She crammed the tray of fries into the oven, then turned the dial all the way up. “Hot potato!”
She ran back behind the sink and waited, hardly able to contain her glee.
By the time Tanya came back carrying a tub of ketchup, thin wisps of smoke were starting to seep out from the oven. “Huh?” She opened the oven and the smoke billowed out. “Oh my goodness!” Tanya said, clutching the edges of her paper hat. “Miss Carver’s gonna kill me!” She threw on oven mitts, grabbed the tray, and tossed it in the sink. While she was busy flapping her apron up and down to clear the smoke, Jackie went to work.
She bolted across the kitchen to an enormous vat. She opened the lid. Inside was the day’s batch of hot apple cider. “They think Jaclyn’s bad. They don’t even know what bad is.” She laughed softly. Then she poured every last drop of the Perfection Potion into the cider.
Chapter Sixteen
Hyde and Seek
Jackie ran from the cafeteria through the empty hallways, delighted by what she had just done. The students sat quietly in their classrooms, oblivious to the fact that their beloved hot cider was about to turn them into their worst selves. Jackie snuck out the front door of the school and hopped onto Jaclyn’s bike.
No! Jaclyn thought, though she didn’t have a voice to say it. I have to warn them!
Jackie could hear Jaclyn’s thoughts. “You can’t warn them,” she replied. “Won’t you ever learn, Jaclyn? If you can’t be perfect, no one will be perfect.” Jackie pedaled down the street. “Don’t worry, I’m in control now.”
Jaclyn wanted to cry out for help, to slam on the bike brakes and run back to school. But she was locked in a fortress inside Jackie’s body. And with every moment that passed, the walls got higher.
Jaclyn tried to shout, Turn back! But her shouts were merely nagging whispers in the back of Jackie’s mind.
“Relax!” Jackie implored. “I’ll take care of you.” She skidded to a stop in front of Fog Island Hardware and ran inside.
The woman behind the counter eyed Jackie suspiciously. “Can I help you?” she asked.
“No. I’ll help me!” Jackie said, grabbing a can of black spray paint from the shelf. She ran out of the store, cackling at the top of her lungs. She got back on the bike and pedaled away as fast as she could.
A bus drove by with an advertisement for the orchard on the side that said Fog Island Apples: The Best in the World! When the bus came to a stop, Jackie pulled up next to it and shook up the can of spray paint. She painted a line through the words Fog Island Apples and replaced them with Jaclyn Hyde.
The bus drove off. Jackie pumped her fist triumphantly. “Everyone will know the name Jaclyn Hyde!” She glanced around. “What’s next?”
Jackie biked around the corner to a local art gallery. The bell on the door jingled as she walked in. She examined the paintings on the wall. There was a landscape of a dandelion field, more realistic than even Ryan Knowles could paint. A man walked in from the back, wearing a paint-splattered smock. He staggered backward at the sight of the small, scowling figure at the front of his shop, but he didn’t want to be rude.
He cleared his throat. “Are you interested in that one? I painted it myself.”
Jackie whipped her head around, her green eyes crackling with malice. “No, you didn’t!” She took out the can and spray-painted Jaclyn Hyde over the artist’s name.
“What are you doing?!” the gallery owner cried, charging toward her.
“I’m expressing myself!” Jackie shrieked. She ran out of the gallery, the owner at her heels, then jumped on the bike and sped away. He raced after her on foot, shouting at her furiously, but Jackie just laughed. She lost him as she reached the town square. An elderly man in a heavy coat fed breadcrumbs to a flock of pigeons, but otherwise it was empty. In the center of the square was a big brass statue of Penny Pogwilly. Jackie slowed down. She jumped off the bike, and it crashed to the ground. She crouched down in front of the statue and read the plaque: “In honor of Penny Pogwilly, the founder of Fog Island.”
“Hmm.” Jackie tapped her chin. “This needs just one small fix.” She blacked out Penny Pogwilly’s name with the spray paint. In big sloppy letters on the concrete above it, she wrote JACLYN HY—
“Over there!” she heard.
Before she could finish, she saw the gallery owner and the woman from the hardware store standing next to a police officer. They were pointing right at her.
“Whoa—gotta boogie,” said Jackie. She leaped on the bike and tore off down the block. She took a hard right into an alley and pumped the pedals as hard as she could.
“Can’t get caught . . . can’t get caught . . . ,” she muttered to herself. “I know—how about a little Hyde and seek?”
She rode past the orchard and turned onto the street where Jaclyn lived. She heard the sound of a siren in the distance. She reached Jaclyn’s house. She could see through the front window that Jaclyn’s dad was at the kitchen table, working on his computer. Then she saw Jaclyn’s mom driving up the street, heading home for lunch.
Jackie parked the bike around the side of the house where no one would see it, then ran to the back, searching frantically for a hiding place. She spotted the shed surrounded by weeds near the edge of the yard.
No! Jaclyn thought. No one will ever find us in there.
“Exactly!” said Jackie.
She ducked into the shed and closed the door behind her.
The shed was cold and drafty. The scent of mold lingered in the air. It was so packed with junk that there was barely enough room to move around inside. Jackie stepped over a half-empty bag of potting soil, careful to avoid a pair of rusty garden shears on the ground.
In the dim light, Jaclyn could barely see through Jackie’s eyes. She was completely walled off in her fortress. She thought about Dr. Enfield’s lab mice, and a chill ran through her.
Is this it? Jaclyn thought. Am I trapped in here forever?
“Don’t be sad, Jaclyn,” said Jackie. “It’s better this way. You need me.” Jackie ducked underneath a ladder and pushed aside a shovel that was leaning against a stack of old newspapers. She swatted away a cobweb that was hanging down from the ceiling. She had almost reached the back when she tripped on a cardboard box that was crammed in the corner.
She glanced down at the box. Written neatly in marker on the top were the words DO NOT OPEN.
Don’t look in there! Jaclyn thought.
“Ooh! A secret! I like secrets!” said Jackie. She knelt down and opened the box. She picked up the first piece of paper she saw. It was the failed lava formula. Then, beneath it, a seventh grade algebra test with Jaclyn’s na
me on it. At the top, circled in red marker, was the grade: C+.
Jackie’s lip started to twitch. “What is this?”
She grabbed the next paper, Jaclyn’s sixth grade essay on the American Revolution with a B- grade. Jackie’s blood boiled as she dug through the box. There was a vote count announcement from the student council election when Jaclyn had come in third. A crumpled-up piece of piano music that Jaclyn had once tried to play but never mastered. A birthday card Jaclyn had made for her sister with the word birthday misspelled. Jackie saw all the evidence of Jaclyn’s imperfections, a hidden history going all the way back to her kindergarten report card when she got a “Needs Improvement” in sharing.
Jackie trembled with rage. “What were you thinking?!” she snapped. “You fool! What kind of a hiding place is this? Right behind your house?” Then she saw the rest of the boxes. There was a whole stack of them, each box labeled DO NOT OPEN.
“What if someone found these boxes? How could you be so stupid? Oh, I know, because you’re a C+ student. Because Jaclyn Hyde is the least perfect person to ever exist. This is exactly why you need me! This is exactly why I can’t ever let you out again!” Jackie kicked the boxes, and the contents spilled out onto the floor.
Jaclyn was petrified. She felt like she was getting carved up by Miss Carver, except it was Jackie doing the ranting.
“I guess this is just one more thing I have to fix for you, Jaclyn!” Jackie stomped over to the dusty barbecue grill and lifted the lid. On the grate was a box of matches. She picked it up.
What are you doing? Jaclyn tried to scream.
“Destroying it all. You can thank me later,” said Jackie. She took a match out of the box.
Jaclyn tried to fight against Jackie and somehow stop her from lighting the match. But it felt like the harder she fought, the weaker she became.
I hate you! Jaclyn shouted. This is all your fault!
Jackie struck the match.
In the light of the flame, Jaclyn saw all of the evidence of her failures scattered across the ground. One thing caught her eye. A pink, headless ceramic flamingo. Jaclyn hadn’t seen it since she’d hidden it in the box in third grade. But why had she hidden it in here in the first place? It wasn’t her fault that the flamingo wasn’t perfect.
Jaclyn Hyde Page 9
