Class Favorite (4 page)

“Then come over on Saturday,” she said.

“Actually, I have plans with my best friend on Saturday.”

“Then Sunday,” she said. As she waited for me to answer, I felt like her eyes were challenging me. I wasn't sure what her deal was—just one hallway back I was thinking how self-assured she was, and now she was grilling me about coming over. I wasn't trying to blow her off, but I got the feeling she thought I was.

“The thing is,” I began, “my best friend and I have this movie thing that we do. We start it Saturday night and it goes until the Academy Awards on Sunday.” I smiled to show her that I was sincere, because I was. It was a big event for me and Arlene—I even got special permission to stay over at her place until the awards ended late on Sunday night.

“We have a huge TV and an amazing sound system at my house. You could both come over and watch. We could even dress up like the stars. I'll order Italian—I'll pay.”

The thought of watching the Academy Awards with someone other than Arlene would be like having a family portrait taken with your neighbor.

I guess I hesitated too long, trying to think up a nice way of explaining it to her, because she quickly said, “Oh, forget it. I don't mean to be pushy. I was just trying to be nice. Because, no offense, but you look like you just lost your best friend.”

I didn't know what to think, except that she had to be mistaken about what she had heard. For three years I'd been a nobody at this school. No one teased me and no one sang
my praises (of which I had none). Suddenly I wished I were as invisible as I had been yesterday.

“Don't look so worried,” Kirstie said, walking toward the stairwell as I stood immobile. “It's going to be fine, I promise,” she called, the last word echoing off the stairwell.

 

I didn't have much time to think about what Kirstie had told me.

When I got to Mrs. Everly's algebra class, I noticed a tampon wrapper beneath my desk. I stood frozen in the aisle, staring down at it. I tried to tell myself that it was only an unfortunate coincidence while trying to look normal and unfazed.

As everyone settled down and the bell rang, Sean Hurley, who could be cool when he wanted to but apparently never felt the need, coughed. He got a good laugh out of the people around him, so he did it again.

“On the rag!”
he hacked into his balled fist.

Richie Adams, a killer athlete and friend of Jason's, laughed so hard, he doubled over.

“Dude,” he gasped to Sean as he tried to control himself.

I sat up straighter as if they had nothing to do with me, then I covered the wrapper with my shoe as if it weren't even there. Everything was fine, I told myself. Just another day in algebra. It'd all be over soon, and then I could go home, slaughter my mother, and transfer schools. Then Shiner walked in.

“Hello, Sara. Period,” he began in an oh-so-normal-but-not-really voice. “How're you doing? Period. Have a good day. Period.”

What an idiot. He couldn't even get a mean joke right. A sick feeling came to my stomach as Shiner sat in his seat, and I could feel my heart pumping. Kayla Cane, whose skin was turning a weird orange the warmer the weather got, was giggling at something Richie said; when she caught me looking, her kohl-lined eyes glared back at me. Sean Hurley said from across the room, “Hey, Thurman. Need a quarter for the girls' room machine?” And then he flicked one at me.

It landed by my feet, and I stared down at it. My face burned hot red—a color I now absolutely hated. Everyone in class roared with laughter, which of course Mrs. Everly didn't notice because the woman is so deaf, she needs a hearing aid to hear herself talk. Rosemary Vickers, last year's Class Favorite, swatted Sean and told him to shut up, and I loved her for it. Right then I vowed that if she were nominated again this year, I'd totally vote for her.

Keeping my foot covered over the tampon wrapper, I leaned over and retrieved the quarter. “Thanks,” I said. “I was one short for the Coke machine.” I shoved it in my pocket and sat back in my seat.

When class started, I braved a look at Jason—he was looking right at me. He smiled a little smile and rolled his eyes. I rolled my
eyes back, feigning indifference, but I could feel my chin quivering, a huge sob trying to bust through. Maybe he felt my pain, having gone through some major, school-wide embarrassment himself earlier this year at football tryouts. I heard from Arlene, who kept up with such things, that he had lobbed a football toward a wide receiver, slamming the ball into the water table, and later got the wind knocked out of him by Keith Robinson, who is so scrawny, he makes Shiner look like the Hulk. Like my attempt at basketball tryouts, Jason didn't make the football team, but he's on the basketball team, and Arlene says he's pretty good. I took comfort in the fact that I had a fellow menace-in-arms when it comes to sports, at least a little bit.

All through class, I was tormented by thoughts of how word had already escaped about why I got those roses. I'd told Arlene, but I knew that there was no way she would break my confidence. Sure, she had told my sister about my basketball tryout debacle, but that was different. I guess in a couple of years I'd agree with her that it had been funny. Arlene had a big mouth, but she'd never betray me like this. I just didn't get it.

Thank God it's Friday
, I thought. The weekend meant Saturday night and all of Sunday with Arlene, checking out the Razzie winners online as well as the Academy Awards on Sunday. Things would get better quickly.

Then I remembered I still had to go home and face my mother.

3

Can You Turn Your Sibling Spats into Something Special?

True or False: When it comes to sharing clothes, your sister knows that what's yours is hers, and vice versa.

 

“You're
late
.”

That was the first thing Elisabeth said when I emerged from the sanctity of my room, where I'd hunkered down since coming home from school. She was already sitting at her place at the table, her wavy chestnut hair falling gracefully down her back.

I looked at my dad's empty chair and felt the enormity of my day. “You're ugly,” is what I said back to her as I took a seat.

“Just because you have no plans tonight doesn't mean the rest of us are losers who have all the time in the world,” she
said. I knew Elisabeth had a date later that night. By the time she was my age, she's already had three boyfriends.

“Don't call me a loser, loser,” I said back.

“Girls,” my mother said in a vaguely warning tone as she brought a pitcher of iced tea to the supper table. “Be nice, now. It's Valentine's Day.” She sat down, then cut a slice of meat loaf and held it out to me, waiting for me to bring my plate closer.

“I'm not hungry,” I grumbled. Mom held the meat loaf in midair, as if expecting me to change my mind. I responded with,
“Mother.”

“I'll take that, Mom,” Elisabeth offered, matching my mother's horrific trill of happiness. “I'm
starving
.”

“Elisabeth, sugar, you're most certainly
not
starving,” Mom said. This was one of her pet peeves. “Children in Africa are starving—dying of hunger, bodies wasted, stomachs bloated. You're just hungry, I'm sure.”

I gave Elisabeth a
ha-ha
grin.

“So, Sara,” Mom began, smiling as she sipped her iced tea. “Did anything interesting happen today?”

“Yeah, actually, something did.”

“Excuse me?” Mom held her glass above the table, frozen, just as she was about to set it down.

“Yes, ma'am,” I corrected. “Something
did
happen. I was completely humiliated in front of the entire school because of you.” My heart was pumping in my chest, and I knew I'd get
in trouble if I spoke to her too loudly or sharply. “Mom, I can't believe you would do that. Why did you do that?”

I wasn't looking at Elisabeth, but I could feel her grow still with interest. She was going to love making fun of me for this one.

“What are you talking about,
at school
?” Mom asked.

“The
flowers
?” I said, unable to believe she was even asking.

“Hey, why'd she get flowers?” Elisabeth chimed in, her voice thick with jealousy.

“Your sister is now a woman.” Mom actually said this with a straight face.

“Mom! Come on!” I wailed.

“What's this about school?” Mom asked again. “I had Arlene's mom deliver them here so they'd be waiting for you when you got home.”

“Well, guess what? She sent them to school, and everybody found out about them. You're so embarrassing!” I yelled, a cry forming way in the back in my throat.

“You sent her flowers for her
period
?” Elisabeth's eyes squinted as she tried to comprehend the unreality of it.

“Slow down, Sara,” Mom said, ignoring Elisabeth. “There must have been a mistake. I
think
I told her to send them here. . . .”

“Oh, wow . . . ,” Elisabeth muttered from across the table, the hungry smile gone from her face.

“That's just great,” I said. “It doesn't matter now, Mother,
because everyone at school found out who sent them and why. I might as well die and move to Waco.”

“Look, honey. I'm sorry about the mix-up, but this
is
a big event in your life. And if you need any help learning how to—”

“Mother! I can't believe you! You're so humiliating!”

“Watch your mouth, young lady,” she said, pointing her fork at me.

“You're such an embarrassment,” I continued. “Everyone in my class was making fun of me. Do you know what that's like?”

“Oh, honey.” Mom sighed. “I really am sorry. I meant to have them sent here.”

“Well, it's too late,” I said, folding my arms across my stomach. I knew Mom was being sincere, but her nice gesture was turning into one whopper of a problem for me. “Nobody in the entire school even knew who I was before this. Now
everyone
knows who I am.” My vision became blurry from the wetness in my eyes as I picked up my napkin to wipe at them. “Just because you and Dad split up doesn't mean I need you to obsess over me.”

“Sara, I was just trying to do something nice.”

“You're only making everything worse.”

“That's enough,” she snapped. “Now, I'm sorry the flowers were sent to school instead of here, but I had the best of intentions, and you know it. The least you can say is thank you. Just go on to your room. I've had about enough of this.”

“Fine! I don't care,” I yelled as I threw my napkin on the table.

“Sara! One more word out of you . . .”

I stomped down the hall and slammed the door to my room.

 

I lay on my bed, my face mushed in my pillow, sticky from crying. The day had been more than I could handle.

I sat up, rubbed my swollen eyes, and took a deep breath.

I picked up my so-outdated see-through phone and began dialing Arlene's number. I had totally lost it at dinner, but I told myself I was allowed the freak-out, considering. Now, though, I had to pull myself together and figure out how to fix this. I had to make sure Arlene hadn't told anyone about the flowers, and ask her if she knew of any gift-bearing pranks against me. It couldn't wait until our Razzie/Academy Awards party on Saturday.

When Arlene answered her cell, I could hear girls laughing in the background, and a distant horn honking.

“Is this a bad time?”

“What? Oh, yeah, it's fine. Knock it off!” Arlene called, her laugh coming through muffled on the phone, as if she were covering up the mouthpiece. Someone squealed, and there was more laughing.

“Forget it,” I said, not wanting to talk about the flowers with the other girls listening. “I'll talk to you later.”

“We just finished practice,” she continued. “I'm with Megan, Rachel, and Ellen. Rachel's sister Betsy is taking us to get something to eat.”