Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar

by James Patterson

  “It was actually kind of great,” I admitted.

  “I assume you had reasons for pouring pudding on Missy Trillin,” Ms. Jordan said. She tucked the pencil behind her ear.

  “Good reasons,” I replied. “Missy’s a bully.”

  Ms. Jordan pursed her lips as if she doubted my statement. “I’ve seen your permanent record. You’re a good student, Georgia. Or you were. Until you came to HVMS.”

  I shrug.

  “Are you at all worried about how your mother will react when she hears what happened?”

  I flushed red and hot, like a giant pimple. I meant to say “no way,” but it came out in a whisper as “yes.”

  “Hmm.” Ms. Jordan pulled the pencil out from behind her ear and scratched her scalp with it. “But your brother, Rafe, breaks rules all the time, doesn’t he?”

  “So?”

  The edge of her lip curled up. “So your mother should be used to it by now.”

  “I told you, I’m not Rafe.”

  “Mmm.” The school shrink leaned forward and stared at me like I was a frog she wanted to dissect. “Do you think, Georgia, that your physical deformity fuels your need to act out?”

  I felt like I’d just been punched in the face. I couldn’t think of anything to say… and then I thought of a lot of things to say. It involved a lot of words that would have to be bleeped out if I were telling this story on TV.

  But I didn’t say anything. I just sat there, breathing deeply.

  “I see I’ve struck a nerve,” Ms. Jordan said.

  “I’m going to class now,” I announced. Then I stood up and walked out of her office, leaving the rest of the shrunken heads behind me.

  Jeanne Galletta Is Actually a Princess

  After school, I headed back to the cafeteria to help Mr. Adell wipe down filthy tables. The bacteria bucket didn’t seem as gross the second time around. I guess my standards had gone way down.

  At least this time there were no Princesses watching my every move. Or so I thought.

  “Georgia?” Jeanne tapped on the glass door.

  I ignored her. Which wasn’t easy, by the way.

  I yanked the door open. “What do you want?” I didn’t sound too friendly, I guess, but I didn’t care. I scanned her hands to make sure she wasn’t holding any revenge pudding.

  “I, uh, I wanted to let you know that Missy, Bethany, and Brittany don’t want your band to play at the dance—”

  “Whatever,” I said, but Jeanne kept talking.

  “—but I told them to get lost.”

  “You—what?” I was so surprised that I dropped my smelly sponge.

  Jeanne looked over her shoulder, as if she were afraid someone might be spying on us. “I know Missy has… uh… personal reasons for not wanting you to perform. But she needs to get over it.”

  “Yeah,” I said. I was a little unsure how to respond. Jeanne was doing me a favor, but it was a favor that I wasn’t sure I wanted. Still, it was nice of her. “Um, thanks?”

  Jeanne nodded and turned away. She started for the door, then stopped and turned back. “Georgia, the other day, when I told you I liked your hair?”

  “Yeah?” I narrowed my eyes.

  “I just wanted you to know that I was serious,” she said. “I can’t stand Missy,” Jeanne added. “I wish I’d had the guts to pour pudding on her head.” Then Jeanne pushed open the door and walked out.

  I stood there for a moment, watching her walk away.

  My opinion of Rafe had just shot up about ten miles. Of course, it started out about fifteen miles below the surface of the earth, but still… maybe his taste in friends wasn’t so bad after all.

  Maybe he was the only person who knew a real princess when he saw one.

  Practice Doesn’t Always Make Perfect

  After detention, I hurried home for rehearsal. The dance was tomorrow night, so it was pretty much our last chance to really rock out before the Battle of the Bands. We even had an audience—Rafe, Rhonda, and Mom.

  “Wow,” Rafe said after about a half hour. “That was amazing.”

  “Really?” Patti asked.

  “Yeah—” My brother’s eyes were wide, like he was dead serious. “You guys sounded exactly like a tractor falling off a cliff.”

  “DON’T LISTEN TO HIM!” Rhonda said. “YOU GUYS SOUNDED GREAT!”

  I glanced at my mom. “Yes,” she said slowly. “I think you girls are… improving.”

  I groaned. That was the best she could come up with, I thought. And she’s my mom! We must be really bad.

  We Stink was going to sink like the Titanic.

  Mari sighed. “Well, we’ll just have to get up there and do our best,” she said.

  “I’m not worried,” Nanci said. She pulled a bag of chips out of her backpack and ripped it open. “It’s our first gig—it’s okay if we aren’t perfect.”

  “It’s okay for you guys,” I grumbled. “It isn’t your school. Even if you embarrass yourselves, it won’t be in front of anyone you know.”

  “WHAT’S EMBARRASSING ABOUT BEING AWESOME?” Rhonda wanted to know.

  Nanci looked thoughtful as she crunched a chip.

  “Do you want to back out?” Patti asked.

  Yes, I thought. But then Missy’s evil, grinning face swam into my mind, and I realized that was exactly what she wanted. I’d rather do all Rafe’s chores for six months (which I was going to have to do anyway) than do something to make Missy happy. Besides, I couldn’t let Jeanne down after she’d stood up for us. “No,” I said at last.

  Mari smiled. “It’s going to be fine.”

  “Yeah,” Rafe agreed. “Like a two-hundred-dollar fine! For a noise violation.” He cracked up at his own joke.

  “Oh, be quiet, Rafe,” I told him. I gritted my teeth and looked down at my guitar. Don’t worry, I said to myself. You won’t be that bad.

  And even if you are, it doesn’t matter. Things can’t get any worse at school than they are now, right?

  Right?

  How I Became a Princess

  I swear I was about to tell Mom about the pudding and the detention and all of that the minute my bandmates headed home. Really. It’s just… I was a little worried that she wouldn’t let me go to the dance if I mentioned it. I wanted to make sure I said it the right way….

  “I CAN’T WAIT TO SHOW YOU MY DRESS FOR THE DANCE!” Rhonda said. She’d followed me home from school again to watch us practice, but somehow I didn’t mind so much. “WHAT ARE YOU WEARING, GEORGIA?”

  Mom cocked her head, as if she was interested in hearing the answer.

  “I… I haven’t thought about it,” I confessed.

  “WELL, THINK ABOUT IT!” Rhonda cried. “YOU’LL BE UP ONSTAGE!”

  “And it’s your first school dance,” Mom agreed. “Rhonda’s right. I’m taking you to Smythe and Smythe.”

  “The fancy department store?” I asked. I’d actually set foot in there only once before. A very tall, very scary-looking woman with no eyebrows squirted me with a bottle of stinky perfume. It took two days to get the smell off.

  So that’s how I forgot to mention my detention and instead ended up going shopping with Rhonda and my mom.

  I headed straight for the sale rack, where fashions come to die of humiliation.

  “None of these really seem like me,” I said.

  “WHAT ABOUT THIS ONE?” Rhonda asked.

  From Rhonda’s excited tone, I could only imagine what she had just picked up.

  Fortunately, my imagination was way off.

  “Oh, I love it!” Mom said, taking the hanger from Rhonda and grabbing my arm. “Georgia, you have to try it on.”

  So I did.

  I knew it was the perfect dress even before I stepped out of the dressing room. But when I came out, Rhonda let out a screech and tackled my mom in a huge hug. Mom said, “You look beautiful, Georgia.”

  I turned and gazed at myself in the three-way mirror. Beautiful? Well, she’s my mom. But I definitely looked pret
ty good.

  “IN YOUR FACE, MISSY TRILLIN!” Rhonda squealed.

  I smiled. Yeah, I thought. I look kinda princessy. In a good way.

  This could really work.

  The Strange Truth

  I was still wondering how to bring up the detention thing when Mom and I got home from shopping. But Mom made a beeline for her room and started digging around in the bottom of her closet. “What are you doing?” I asked.

  “You’ll see.” Mom grunted. Then she pulled out a battered old shoe box. She flashed me a triumphant grin and said, “Come sit by me.”

  It was actually kind of cozy there in my mom’s closet. She lifted the lid of the box. Inside was a pile of old photos.

  “Um, you can burn this one,” I said, picking up a picture of me dressed as a chicken for Halloween when I was three.

  “Are you kidding?” Mom chuckled. “That’s adorable!”

  “Here it is!” Mom held out a photo.

  “Who’s that?” I asked.

  “It’s me!” Mom actually laughed. “At the sixth-grade dance.”

  “You?” I stared at the photo. “Wow. It’s kinda weird how I really don’t look anything like you did in sixth grade.”

  Grandma Dotty appeared in the doorway. “Why would you two look alike?” she asked.

  “Mother, do you mind?” My mom pushed the closet door shut. For a minute it was dark, and I couldn’t see anything. Then Mom reached up and pulled the light chain. Maybe it was the overhead lighting, but my mother’s face looked weird.

  I should’ve brought up the detention right then. Instead, I whispered, “What’s up with Grandma?”

  “What do you mean?

  “I mean, you’re my mom, but Grandma Dotty doesn’t seem to think we should act alike or look alike. Is she… okay?” I was starting to worry about Grandma’s mind. It was like her brain was taking longer and longer vacations from her body. I didn’t blame it—I wouldn’t want to be stuck in her head all the time either.

  “Tell her, Jules,” Grandma said from behind the closet door. “She’s smart—she’ll figure it out. Tell her, or I will.”

  “Mother, would you just—leave! Please!”

  Mom had never yelled at Grandma before—not in front of me. This was getting seriously weird. But I heard Grandma Dotty’s footsteps leaving the room, and then Mom sighed.

  “Georgia, I’ve got something I need to tell you,” she said, looking down at the funky sixth-grade photo of herself. “But I don’t know how to say it.” She sounded so freaked out that I thought she was getting ready to tell me all about the birds and the bees. To which I can only say:

  YUCK.

  “Um—don’t worry, Mom. I learned all about that stuff in health class last year,” I said.

  Mom chewed her lip. “No, Georgia…” She took my hand and pressed my fingers really gently. “Sweetheart, I don’t know how to say this, so I’m just going to say it….”

  Sorry. That transcript may not be entirely right. My brain sort of short-circuited after the word “adopted.”

  But it made sense. It explained everything. Why I didn’t look like Mom. Why I didn’t act like Rafe.

  Grandma Dotty’s brain wasn’t being eaten by worms.

  My life was.

  Jules Explains It All

  When Rafe and Leo were born, I was so happy. But Leo got sick. And then he died,” Mom went on.

  “It’s still really, really hard for me to talk about. I didn’t want to leave the house—ever. I didn’t want Rafe to leave the house. I wouldn’t let him play with anything hard, or touch anything that had been on the floor, or even sit on the couch, because he might fall off. I was going crazy, and I was making us both miserable. And that was when I realized that I needed more to think about, not less. I needed another outlet. I had all this extra love to give, and you needed someone to love you. So I adopted you.”

  Mom stopped. She stared at me like she was trying to read my mind. I could tell she really wanted me to understand….

  But I wasn’t sure that I did understand.

  “You adopted me to replace Leo?”

  “No,” Mom said, but her strange, shaky voice made it sound like “maybe” to me.

  Rafe and Leo were twins. I could never take Leo’s place. No wonder I always felt like I had to be perfect—like I wasn’t quite how I was supposed to be. I wasn’t.

  Because I wasn’t Leo. And I never could be.

  I’m Not Going

  I didn’t tell my mom about the detention. What would have been the point? Clearly, I wasn’t going to the dance.

  I went to my room and climbed through my window, onto the roof of the back porch. That’s where I go when I want to be alone.

  I looked up at the sky. The moon was lopsided—almost round, but not quite. There are too many lights where I live, so I could see only one or two stars.

  “Are you going to make a wish on one?” Rafe asked. He was leaning halfway out his window.

  I thought of all my usual wishes, like winning the lottery, becoming a famous Disney Channel star, rocking out at the Battle of the Bands….

  None of those wishes seemed to matter anymore. “What’s the point of wishing?” I asked.

  Rafe shrugged. “Maybe it’ll come true. Do you mind if I sit out here with you?” “Yes,” I told him.

  “Great,” Rafe said, and climbed out his window to join me.

  I sighed. Actually, I had meant yes, I do mind, not yes, come sit with me. But Rafe was being nice, and I didn’t really have the energy to tell him I wanted to be alone.

  Rafe didn’t say anything. He just lay beside me, looking up at the lumpy moon.

  “Did you know?” I asked into the night air.

  There was silence from him for a long time. Out in the yard, a lonely cricket chirped. I was starting to think maybe Rafe had fallen asleep or something, and I was about to poke him, when he said, “Yes.”

  “When did Mom tell you?”

  “She didn’t have to. I remember.”

  I felt dizzy. I was glad I was lying down.

  “That’s why Mom always gives you all the attention—that and your leg.”

  “All the attention?” I repeated. “Are you serious?”

  “If I didn’t act crazy, Mom wouldn’t even remember I was around,” Rafe said. “It’s been that way since the day we brought you home.”

  The day we brought you home. There was something about those words that made me start to cry. I tried to do it as quietly as possible. Tears leaked out the sides of my eyes and trickled into my hair.

  “You’re my sister, Georgia,” Rafe said. “You always have been.” And then he took my hand, and I thought I might just break into jagged little pieces.

  I blinked back my tears and swallowed hard. “So, like, are we supposed to hug now?” I asked Rafe.

  “No, thanks,” he said. “Your breath is as bad as your band.”

  “I knew you were in there,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Never mind.”

  “So, isn’t your dance tonight? Why aren’t you getting dressed?” Rafe rolled over onto his side so he could look at me.

  “I’m not in the mood,” I told him.

  “You’re going to bail on the band?” Rafe sounded shocked.

  I hadn’t thought of that at all. Rafe was right—I couldn’t just let down Mari, Nanci, and Patti. And Sam. I’d promised to dance with him. If I didn’t show, he’d have spent three dollars on Mr. Bananas for nothing.

  I rolled over so that I was facing my brother. “You’re right,” I told him.

  My brother grinned at me. “As usual,” he said.

  “This is a deep moment, Rafe—don’t ruin it.”

  “Sorry.”

  My First Middle-School Dance (Will I Ever Forget This Moment?) (I Have No Idea.) (Meh—I’ll Probably Forget It.)

  I stood in front of the double doors, breathing deeply. I could hear music coming from the dance on the other side of the wall. You can
do this, I told myself. Just walk in.

  But I couldn’t make my feet move. Missy had gotten into my head, like a fly that just keeps buzzing around and around until it drives you crazy. I could already hear all the nasty things she would say: “Get out of here, LIMPY! Just DRAG yourself right back out the door. Your dress is totally LAME.”

  There was only one thing to do.

  I pushed open the doors and gasped. The gym looked incredible. The dance committee had done something amazing with silver balloons and silver netting that hung down from the ceiling. And I have no idea how they got the place to stop stinking of sneaker fungus, but the entire gym smelled like Missy’s shampoo.

  In one corner, there was a table loaded with cupcakes and cookies. And at the far end of the gym was a stage with a red curtain. Glittery silver letters spelled out BATTLE OF THE BANDS!

  My stomach flipped like an Olympic gymnast. I couldn’t believe Missy had managed to pull off a theme like “Moonlight in Venice” in the gym.

  “Hey!” Sam tapped me on the shoulder. “You look great. I really like your dress.” He gave me a huge, dimply smile.

  My flipping stomach returned. It was really going for a gold medal.

  “Thanks!” I said. He was looking cute too, but I didn’t know how to say so without sounding dorky. So I ended up with, “I like your tie.”

  “I knew you’d like it,” he said. It had monkeys on it.

  I blushed. He picked out that tie for me! My stomach tried to kick its way past my rib cage. I wanted to think of something to say, but I guess my brain was on a break. So I stood there awkwardly for a moment, watching my classmates on the dance floor. The disco ball sent doughnuts of light spinning around the room. It was kind of like being in a snow globe.

  “Do you want to dance?” Sam asked.

  “Of course she doesn’t.” The voice came from behind Sam. “Do you think she wants to limp all over the floor?” Missy stood there in her sparkly princess dress, with her glossy hair and Ultrabrite teeth, sneering at me.