Queen of Likes (20 page)

Dad grins. “I'll keep that in mind.”

My Stats:

2 crazy dogs in the park who think they're vampire wolves or something

1 phone—Ella's, not mine

1 injured ankle—Ella's, not mine

6 muddified streamers

1 awesome dad

1 best friend who's the best best friend in the world

Mood: Not bad but a little nervous

My dirt-speckled sneakers splash in the puddles outside school. Bailey, of course, will be wearing a pair of new flats. I take a deep breath and peek into the gym. I'm in jeans and a regular T-shirt. Nothing special. I feel a little plain, a little dumb, but I try not to think about it.

Megan sweeps the floor while Janel drags tables around the perimeter. A bunch of girls who I don't know so well are flitting around setting chips and pretzels out on a big, long table. There are little tables where people can sit in groups around the edge of the gym. The DJ is setting up on the stage. Kids are pulling out the legs on long tables. Others carry other tables and line them up along the wall. More volunteers set out paper cups and a lemonade dispenser. Teacher chaperones help kids bring in bags of ice and snacks from the cars.

Meanwhile, Bailey stands in the center hunching her shoulders. She wears new white tennis shoes but the rest of her looks tired. Her eyes aren't sparkly. There are rings under them. Maybe you can't always sleep if you want to be perfect.

Bailey glances at her phone and then at Megan. “Where is Ella? She's supposed to be here with the decorations.” Bailey's voice rises in panic. “I know she's late, but people, this is ridiculous!”

“She can't come.” I move out of the doorway and head toward Bailey.

Both Bailey and Megan whirl around. Bailey stares at me, blinking. Janel puts down her table and eyes me suspiciously

“I'm here,” I say in a louder voice. “Because Ella is in the hospital.”

The expression on Bailey's face completely changes. “Oh my gosh. Is she okay?”

“I think so. But she fell off her bike and hurt her ankle.” I take a deep breath. “So she asked me to help.” For a moment I expected Bailey to shout “YOU? YOU are going to help?”

But she doesn't. She doesn't say anything at all.

Bailey smiles and says, “Wow, Karma. Thanks for coming. So you have Ella's decorations?”

“That's the thing. When she fell, all of the streamers and stars and moons fell into a puddle and got—”

“Muddified?” finishes Janel.

“Exactly,” I say.

Bailey pulls on her chin and stares at dozens of pieces of strings dangling from the ceiling. “We've spent hours hanging those.” She glances up at a clock in the gym. “The dance is starting in forty minutes. And without the moons and stars, it's going to look so dumb.”

“It's all right. I've got Ella's phone.”

“Okaaaaay.” Bailey's eyebrows rise up into a question.

“She has all of the stars and moons on Google Drive.”

“Awesome,” says Bailey.

“Yeah.” I pull out Ella's phone. “We can look at them now.”

Bailey pops her hand over her mouth. “Her phone's all cracked.”

Megan leans forward. “If it's all wet, you're supposed to put it in a bag of rice.”

“Yeah, but I just used it.” I press the on button.

Nothing happens.

It's time for me to beg. “C'mon. C'mon, please.”

Megan clucks her tongue. “Seriously. Rice works. I thought you'd know, of all people.”

I try again, even shake it. “Wake up!” More nothing. “Nooooo!”

Behind me the kids hanging lights turn to gape. Even some chaperones hauling a carton of bottled water stop to stare.

Bailey closes her eyes. “Really, Karma? Everything you touch gets messed up.”

My heart sinks. “Not everything. We can still get those moons and stars printed out.”

“The school computer lab,” says Bailey.

“Perfect!” I twist my hair into a bun and rub the back of my sweaty neck.

Bailey clutches her clipboard. “Okay, I'll go with Karma and . . .” She looks at Megan and Janel.

“I'll check on the volunteers,” says Megan.

“I'll look after the food,” says Janel.

“Excellent.” Bailey hands them her clipboard. “Just check things off the master list. Mrs. Grayson's in the parking lot unloading water bottles from her car.” Mr. Brindle, the head custodian, examines the electrical cords for the DJ station.

“Anything else, Bail?” asks Megan as Bailey takes a few steps toward the door. I trail behind.

“Mrs. Grayson said to check the floor for screws, nails, anything sharp. Sometimes kids take off their shoes when they dance, and we don't want anyone getting hurt. Maybe you could grab a few volunteers and do a quick sweep with the push brooms before we go?”

“Sure thing,” says Megan.

As I take in all of the scurrying volunteers and adults transforming our gym into a magical dance hall, I start to think that Bailey really could run something big when she gets older, like a hotel, or maybe a country.

We trudge over to the main hallway and pull open the door. But it doesn't open. Bailey tugs and the handle rattles, but the door's locked. A sheen of sweat shines on Bailey's face and smeared eye shadow. And for the first time, her hair doesn't look so neat. It's kind off-center. It makes me happy to know that sometimes, maybe once a century, Bailey isn't so perfect.

“Unless we get those stars and moons up quick, we're themeless,” Bailey says frantically.

“Custodian,” I say, snapping my fingers. We race back to the gym and skid into the room. I flag down Mr. Brindle, who's holding an extension cord. “Can you help us?” I ask.

Bailey says, “We need to get into the computer lab. It's an emergency.”

Mr. Brindle plugs in the extension cord. “Always something,” he grumbles.

I look at Bailey in panic.

“No worries.” Mr. Brindle smiles. “Come with me.”

The second Mr. Brindle lets us into the lab, I fly to a computer and get onto Google Drive. I stare at Ella's stars and moons. Most of them are regular-looking, but she also has the funky ones with swirling colors and big eyes wearing sunglasses and wings. These are the stars and moons she made before I told her to make the regular kind. They really are cool, though. Sometimes it's good to save things, and that makes me think about the historical society. On an impulse, I print them out along with the regular ones.

Bailey smiles at the goofy ones. “These are fun,” she says, glancing at the computer screen.

“I agree.”

She points to something else on Google Drive. “What's that?”

I shrug and click past it. “Nothing.”

“It says photo collage. It's not nothing. I want to see.”

I open it up. It's the photo collage I made. The ones showing Bailey singing, Janel dancing, Ella drawing, Milton P. doing LEGOs, and even Auggie playing ukulele.

“These are awesome,” says Bailey. “I always knew you were a great photographer.”

I can't help smiling.

“Print them all out,” says Bailey. “It goes with our theme—
Shoot for the moon
. We can put them up.”

“Really?” I look up at the clock on the wall. “The dance starts in thirty-five minutes.”

“We'll make it in time.”

So I print out the photos, too.

We sprint back into the gym and pass Mrs. Grayson and some volunteers hauling water. “Oh, you got the decorations,” she says. “Perfect.”

“Of course,” says Bailey.

Mrs. Grayson heads over to the refreshments table, and Bailey hands out stars and moons to volunteers to hang on the strings. Soon we are admiring how great everything looks. The lights dim. The disco ball is up and spinning. Dots of light swim around the gym. A steady beat pounds out of the speakers. The dance starts in thirty minutes. And everything does look awesome.

Suddenly I see someone I'm not expecting to see. It's Ella, on crutches, hobbling into the gym. She wears a supercute crop top over skinny jeans, but she looks pale. I rush over.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

She nods and I run to get her a chair to settle down in. Bailey pushes a table in front of us and sets down a cup of water. Immediately Janel and Megan rush over.

“Oh my gosh,” says Bailey. “Is your leg broken?”

Ella shakes her head. “My ankle's just sprained.” I think about giving back her broken phone, but I want to wait for the right moment. If there is such a thing.

“Does it hurt?” asks Janel.

“Just a little.” Ella brushes her long dark hair off her shoulders. “No dancing. Just watching.”

“I'm superglad it's not broken,” says Megan.

Megan glances at the stars and moons as volunteers continue to tape them onto the strings. “Hey, you printed out all of them.”

“Yes,” I say.

“They
all
look so good, especially the stars with sunglasses.”

Ella smiles, and that's when I start to push the messed-up phone out of my pocket, but Ella stares at something else. The stack of papers in my left hand. “What are those?” she asks.

“Just some photos I took,” I mumble.

She bends over to peer at them. “Portraits, Karma. These are really good.”

I push her phone back into my pocket as Ella shuffles through the photos. “This one of Janel is awesome,” she says. “Her jeans are sparkling with light. How did you do that?”

“I'm not so sure.” Other girls are coming over and poring over the photos,
ooh
ing and
ahh
ing. And suddenly I'm thinking about the portraits I'm going to do of the founders of the synagogue. That's going to be so cool.

In the gym, Bailey smiles at my portraits. “They're amazing. Put them up, people. Tape them up to the walls.”

“On any bare strings,” adds Megan.

Bailey surveys the room. “Much better than crepe paper and store-bought decorations. I-L-Y!”

“I-L-Y!” says Megan.

“I-L-Y,” says Janel.

“I-L-Y,” says Ella, which is best of all.

The gym looks truly transformed. My photos decorate the paper-lined walls. Ella's moons and stars spin around on strings. Tiny, sparkly blue-and-white lights weave around the tables and along walls. The DJ plays upbeat, danceable tunes. It's 6:15. The dance starts in fifteen minutes. The volunteers have mostly stopped working since everything is about done. Mrs. Grayson collects a few boxes from the pizzas that were eaten earlier and unstacks folding chairs. A few other kids flit around, excitedly chatting, taking a break before the dance officially starts.

Ella sits at a table so she can rest her leg. “I'm so glad you're all right,” I say, munching on some chips. “And that your bone isn't broken.” Then I stare at the floor. “But your phone—” I pull it out of my pocket. “It's not so great.” I meet Ella's eyes. “It's not even turning on now.”

Ella leans forward to examine it. She cups the phone in her hands, staring at the web of cracks. The corners of her mouth pull down into a frown. Bailey and the Bees sit on the other side of the gym by the ticket table, counting change. I hold my breath.

“I'm so sorry about what happened,” I finally say. “I'm sorry about everything.”

“It'll be fine. Anyway, my parents have insurance for the phone.” She smiles as if it's all really okay.

“So we'll both be phoneless for a while, since Flippie doesn't count.”

“Actually, you won't be phoneless.” Ella grabs her plaid tote bag and opens it. “Because you, Karma Cooper, have”—she hands me a phone—“this.”

“What?!!!!!!!” I gasp at my raspberry-colored cell. “Floyd! But how? I don't understand.”

“Life is full of miracles.” Ella laughs as she watches me brush my fingers over the screen.

“Oh my gosh. I love you! I-L-Y! I-L-Y!”

Across the gym, girls turn to look at us.

I blink a few times and rub my eyes to see if I'm imagining this. But no, Floyd sits in my own hot little hands. Yes, truly hot because the gym swells with heat and stuffiness. But it's okay. All the decorations and kids and music fade into the background.

“Seriously. How did you get my phone?”

Ella smiles a huge smile. “Your mom came by the hospital to see me. When she found out I was going to the dance, she wanted me to give it you. She told me that she's really proud of you, Karma.”

I search her eyes. “Are you serious? My mom said that?”

She leans forward. “Uh-huh. She knew that your flip phone was limited. She said you can have Floyd back for good, with certain conditions.”