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Authors: Leslie Margolis

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Girls Acting Catty (11 page)

BOOK: Girls Acting Catty
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“Could anyone think that?” asked Rachel.

“Well, her unfortunate highlights tell us she's got really bad taste,” Claire pointed out.

“You're all wrong,” said Rachel. “I think she's a member of some alien race on a secret mission to harvest everything green.”

Yumi gasped. “What if she's related to my new cat?”

“She did attack Pepper, out of the blue,” I said. “And I could totally see Jesse doing something—”

Rachel grabbed my arm and shushed me, because Jesse was approaching again.

When she passed us this time she gave us a nasty look. Then she whispered something into Joe's ear. Something that made him grin and blush.

“I think I just lost my appetite,” said Emma.

“Once more, Terrible T and her Terrors have ruined lunch,” Rachel said.

“Forget about lunch,” said Emma. “They're ruining my whole life.”

We were all totally annoyed, but not just because of how Jesse was flirting shamelessly with Joe. We found lots of other reasons too.

We hated Nikki because she's rich and she lived in a huge mansion in Canyon Ranch and her parents have matching Mercedes convertibles. Yes, her dad owned the town's Mercedes dealership, but that wasn't a good enough excuse.

We hated Jesse because she followed Taylor around and did whatever she said, and she always wore and ate something green. Her blond highlights had dark roots and we were tired of her high ponytail. She always bopped her head back and forth when she walked to make it swing and Rachel pointed out that this was dumb, and show-offy, and probably bad for her neck, too.

We hated Taylor because she was bossy and braggy and she flirted with too many guys. She gossiped all the time, and her laugh was annoying and kind of fake sounding. She made fun of my cute shoelaces. And fine, maybe Rachel was right all along. Maybe it was obnoxious to brag to the world that you were going to be a huge singing sensation, who'd have sold-out shows on at least three continents, and a mansion in Beverly Hills, and loft apartments in New York, Paris, and Rome.

We couldn't think of a specific reason to hate Hannah. Rachel said her quietness was the same thing as snobbishness, but I didn't agree. Still, just being friends with Taylor, Jesse, and Nikki was obviously evidence of some serious character flaw.

chapter twelve
turkey-day terror

I
t was exhausting, hating everyone so much, and I was glad to have a few days off over Thanksgiving break.

Usually, my mom and I go to Seattle to spend the holiday with my uncle, Jake, and his partner, Shane. This year we were sticking around, though not at home. We had to go to Dweeble's friends' house for dinner. Except not Jason. Since he was spending Christmas with us, he was going to his mom's for Thanksgiving. They switched holidays every year. I figured this was a good thing, because the less time I spent around Jason, the less awkward I felt.

It's just too bad I wasn't paying attention when Dweeble told me his friends had a daughter my age. If I'd had a clue about who she was, I would've faked being sick and stayed at home.

Instead, I wound up face-to-face with Taylor Stansfield.

As soon as she opened the front door I took a step back, figuring we'd shown up at the wrong Thanksgiving—or at least hoping that was the case. But Dweeble acted totally normal, and led my mom inside.

“Hello, Taylor,” he said. “Please meet my fiancée, Jeanie. And this is her daughter, Annabelle.”

I stayed outside on the front step, hardly believing my rotten luck.

“Oh, I know Annabelle from school,” Taylor grumbled.

“What a coincidence.” Dweeble beamed down at me, like this was actually a good thing. “You never told me you and Taylor were friends.”

Um, friends? Was he kidding? What is it about old people who think that any kids who are the same age and happen to go to school together must automatically be friends? Taylor and I lived in two completely different universes.

Taylor grinned her icy, obviously fake grin.

If this is a nightmare, I'd like to wake up now.

Just then some woman— I'm guessing Taylor's mom, since she looked like an older and less evil version of Taylor— came to the door and gave Dweeble a kiss on the cheek. Then she turned to me and said, “You must be Annabelle. Please come in. I'm sorry about my daughter's manners. She didn't mean to keep you out here in the cold.”

Um, somehow I had a feeling that that's exactly what Taylor meant to do.

I walked into the house, which was crowded with mostly grown-ups, and some little kids. Much to my surprise, Nikki was there, too. Great. Now it was two against one. I was outnumbered.

Even worse, compared to everyone else at the party, I looked like a slob. Our Thanksgiving is always casual, so I was wearing jeans and the T-shirt I'd tie-dyed at Claire's a couple of weeks ago. It never occurred to me to get dressed up. Yet Nikki was decked out in a purple miniskirt with navy blue leggings underneath and gold ballet flats. Taylor had on a short silver dress and high black boots. She looked like a dancer in an MTV video. I hated to admit it, but they both looked totally cute.

I didn't know what to say to them, and they didn't know what to say to me. Clearly none of us was prepared to spend an entire evening together.

Luckily Taylor grabbed Nikki's hand and led her upstairs. The two of them whispered the whole way up. I was glad I couldn't hear what they were saying because it was so obvious they were talking about me.

I followed Mom and Dweeble into the living room, hoping to find some other kids my age. Kids I wasn't mortal enemies with. But all I found were a couple of babies, and Nikki's five-year-old twin brothers building a LEGO castle in the corner.

I sat between my mom and Dweeble and tried to stifle my yawns as the grown-ups all around me carried on another boring conversation about— you guessed it— the wedding.

When Taylor's mom came back into the room to replenish the cheese plate, she asked me where Taylor and Nikki had gone.

“I don't know,” I said, figuring she'd just let it go.

“What do you mean you don't know?” She looked around the living room, as if they'd materialize out of thin air.

“Um, maybe they went upstairs?” I said, finally.

“And they just left you here?” I could tell she was upset because the space between her eyebrows scrunched.

Uh-oh. I didn't like the direction this was heading in. “I'm pretty happy hanging out down here.” I patted the red and yellow plaid pillow next to me and tried to look comfortable.

“Don't be silly,” said Mrs. Stansfield. “Come with me.”

I looked to my mom, who was no help at all. “Go ahead,” she said.

So I had no choice but to peel myself off the couch and follow Mrs. Stansfield.

Climbing upstairs felt like walking the plank on a ship. Like I was just seconds away from plunging into shark-infested waters. Which, come to think of it, would've been preferable.

Mrs. Stansfield knocked on Taylor's door and then walked in before anyone answered. “Hi, girls. I know you didn't leave Annabelle downstairs on purpose. And I know that you're going to include her in your game now.”

“It's not a game. We're playing Wii,” Taylor said, all snotty. “Nikki brought over
Rock Band II, Special
Edition
. You know—the one I've been begging you for, for months.”

“Didn't we just get you that last Christmas?”

“No, that was
Guitar Hero
, which is totally out of date.”

“Well, you'll have to make do, somehow,” said Mrs. Stansfield.

“And you'll have to live with the fact that you're seriously stifling my music career.”

Taylor's mom turned around, and finally noticed I hadn't followed her into the room. “Do you want to join them, Annabelle?”

Trick question. If I said no, would I be able to go back downstairs? Or would that just seem like I was dissing Taylor and Nikki?

I hesitated for too long, which seemed to annoy them. Or maybe it was just my presence.

“Come on in,” said Taylor's mom, not leaving me with any real choice.

Taylor and Nikki smiled at me—at least until Mrs. Stansfield left. As soon as the door closed, their smiles turned into sneers.

“This wasn't my idea,” I reminded them.

“Whatever,” said Taylor.

“I didn't even know Ted knew your parents.”

“Hey, you live on Clemson Court, right? Across the street from Rachel?” asked Nikki.

I nodded.

“What's your address?” she asked.

“Number eighteen,” I said. “How come?”

Nikki grinned. “I used to live in that house when I was little. Before we moved to Canyon Ranch.”

“Really?” I asked.

Nikki nodded. “It's such a cute little place.”

“Cute” might have been a compliment coming from someone else. But somehow I knew that Nikki meant cute as in small. It was the way she said it, the tone of her voice. Like she thought she was better than me, just because she lived in a bigger house. Which was dumb but also funny, because if she saw the tiny apartment my mom and I used to share, she'd really act snobby.

I know it was a stupid thing to be upset about, but knowing that I lived in Nikki's old house— her
used
house— annoyed me. At the same time, I wished I were there right now.

Maybe I could pretend I had food poisoning. I'd just eaten three cheese cubes. Is it possible to get sick from cheese cubes?

Taylor turned off the TV and said, “Let's do karaoke instead.
Rock Band
is kind of lame.”

Nikki flinched, but cued up the karaoke machine without a word.

“You can go first,” said Taylor, handing her the mic.

As “So What” by Pink blared from the tiny speakers, Nikki stood up, swayed her hips and held the microphone to her lips. Nikki's voice was okay but not amazing. She did have some good dance moves and she was an excellent high-kicker. Not that I'd say so.

As soon as the song ended, Taylor said, “I'm next.” She chose a Jonas Brothers song, and she actually sounded pretty good.

Then the two of them sat down and studied the list of songs in the machine. It was annoying sitting there like I was someone's kid sister foisted upon them, or worse— like their audience.

“Let's do a classic,” said Nikki. “Like ‘Popular.' ”

Taylor cued up the song.

“You mean from
Wicked
?” I blurted out, before I remembered my plan to stay silent. “I love that play. I've seen it three times.”

“No way,” said Taylor. “Tickets are so expensive, I had to beg my parents to take me once. What are you, rich or something?”

“If she was rich, she wouldn't live in that little house,” said Nikki. “Even I only got to see it once.”

“I'm not rich,” I said. “But my mom is good friends with the director of the play and he got us tickets, and I loved it so much, he let me come back twice more. For my birthday last year I took my two best friends, and we got to go backstage and meet the cast and everything.”

Nikki and Taylor glanced at each other. They were impressed, I could tell. And I didn't mean to brag. I was only being honest. But I was glad I told them. I know I shouldn't have cared, but I wanted to be more than the nerdy girl they had to hang out with. The one who didn't shave her legs and wore clown shoes.

“How does your mom know him?” asked Taylor.

“They used to date. Like, ages ago. When my mom was in high school. He was her first boyfriend.”

“Omigosh. What if they got married!” said Taylor.

“Your stepdad would be the director of
Wicked
,” said Nikki.

“Unless they got married years ago. And then he would be your real dad.” Suddenly Taylor's eyes got wide. “He's not your real dad, is he?”

I shook my head. “No. It's always been just me and my mom. Except for now, since she's marrying Ted.”

As I said it, I realized things would never be just me and my mom again.

“I love weddings,” said Taylor. “What are you wearing?”

“I got this blue dress that has sheer sleeves and a shimmery skirt.”

“Sounds fancy,” said Nikki.

I nodded. “It is, because I'm the maid of honor, actually.”

“That's so cool!” Nikki practically squealed.

I looked at them, trying to figure out if they were being sarcastic or what. It didn't seem that way. It was more like they'd forgotten they were supposed to hate me. “You think?” I asked.

“Um, yeah,” said Taylor, like I was crazy for even having to ask. “It's like the biggest honor there is.”

“So, can we meet him?” asked Nikki.

“Ted?” I asked. “Sure, he's right downstairs. But I thought you already—”

“She means the director,” Taylor said, impatiently.

BOOK: Girls Acting Catty
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