Hannah Smart, Operation Josh Taylor (10 page)

Rachel opens her mouth to answer, but then suddenly, grabs a scrap of paper off my desk and scribbles
French horn
. She looks at me, widening her eyes, waiting for me to nod that she's right. Instantly, I grab the paper, scratch out
French horn
, and write
trumpet
, which I'm positively sure is the right answer. OMG, I'm so happy she didn't say French horn.

“Rachel, you've got nine seconds left,” the DJ says.

“Um … I'm not sure,” she squeaks out, “but I think … oh …” She sighs heavily. “I'm not sure.”

I furiously poke my finger on the piece of paper. I can't believe she's not saying it.
Just say
TRUMPET
! Just say it!!!

“I think … it's the trumpet!” she finally blurts out.

“Ohhhh, I'm sorry Rachel, that's not the right answer. Actually, Josh and his parents all play the trumpet. Being his biggest fan, I'm surprised you didn't know that. French horn was the answer I was looking for.”

The Big News

I
don't know how much more disappointment I can take. I've been trying so hard to be positive but now I'm worn out. I'm tired of trying. I'm tired of being almost there and then failing. For a “successful little businesswoman” I don't feel very successful at all.

November is a blur, an awful grey blur of high-fives and squeals and little giggling groups of girls. Obviously, they got tickets. And then there's Scarlett and her stupid V.I.P. tickets. Honestly, I think if she goes on about them one more time, I'm going to seriously lose it. And then there is Rachel. She never did want to talk about the interview, or the lie, and she never brought up the radio contest, either. I really don't deserve her as a friend, but I'm so glad she is, because she's the only person who's keeping me from going nuts right now.

My parents have finally stopped arguing, but I still catch Mom crying every once in a while, and I hear them whispering sometimes, too, like they have some big awful secret, a horrible secret I don't want to hear. They keep saying we need to talk about something. I keep saying
later
. Honestly, I'm afraid they might be planning to get a divorce, which would be the worst thing that could ever happen, which is why I keep saying
later.
I think maybe they need more time to work things out, and as long as no one says the word out loud, there's still a chance to fix it. Unfortunately, there is no more time.

“Hannah, you can't keep saying later,” Mom says with a frustrated sigh. “We need to talk.”

“I'm really busy right now, I was just about to practise the guitar.”

“Hannah, you don't own a guitar.”

“I know that. I borrowed Rachel's.”

“But why, Hannah? You don't even play the guitar.”

“Exactly, that's why I need to practise!”

“Hannah, come have a seat,” Mom says, patting a chair by the kitchen table.

This is it. Here it comes. I guess I can't put it off any longer.

Mom and Dad exchange a worried glance and then they both stare at me like they're waiting for me to say something.

“Okay, just say it!” I finally blurt out.

“Well,” she says, rubbing the back of her neck, “we've been trying to talk to you about this for a few weeks now, but you wouldn't listen, which wasn't a big deal at the time because the decision wasn't final yet.” She glances back at Dad. “But now it is, as of today.”

“Final?” I ask, as a lump rises in my throat. “As of today?”

“Yes, as of today,” Mom almost whispers.

Suddenly, my world is spinning. I just want it to stop. I'm not ready to hear this. I just want everything to go back to the way it was, before all the arguments and whispering and crying.

“I know,” I yell, “I know what's going on. I know everything!” I shove my chair back and tear off up to my room. I try to fight back the tears, but realize it's no use, so I bury my face in my pillow, but instead of crying, I scream. I scream because I'm frustrated, I scream because I have no control over what's going on in my life, and I scream because I'm just so tired. How could I be so happy in September and so miserable now? How could my life get so totally messed up so fast?

Exhausted, I drift off to sleep until the sound of knocking wakes me up. My dad is standing in my doorway, holding a plate of supper.

“Can I come in for a sec?” he asks, smiling.

“Fine,” I answer.

“I'm sorry you're so upset over what's going on,” he says, putting the tray on my desk. He sits down on the edge of my bed. “Hannah, it's not going to be that bad.”

“Tell me, Dad. How is it not going to be that bad?”

“Listen, this is going to be good for us. We're all going to be better off.”

“Better off!” I shriek. “You're getting divorced! How could we possibly be better off?”

“Divorced?” he says, raising his eyebrows. “We're not getting divorced.”

“What?”

“We're not getting divorced, Hannah,” he says, shaking his head.

“You're not? Seriously? Are you sure?”

“Positive,” he answers, chuckling.

I heave a big sigh of relief. “I totally thought that's what you were going to say. I was so scared.”

“No, it's nothing like that.”

“Well, what's going on then? Why all the arguments? Why all the whispering, and why are Mom's eyes always red?” All of a sudden I panic. “Are you sick? Is Mom sick?”

“No, no, no,” he assures me, shaking his head again, “we're both healthy and madly in love, okay?”

“Okay.” I nod. “So then what's going on?”

“Well, honey, you know how hard you worked to earn that money for the concert?”

“Yeah,” I say, feeling more confused than ever.

“Well, when you work really hard on something it doesn't always turn out the way you expect. Sometimes it's difficult to understand how all your hard work will pay off in the end.”

“I'm still waiting to understand,” I say.

“What's to understand? Look how much you've learned over the last few months. When you started all this ticket business, you were disorganized and didn't know what you were doing. Look at you now, a successful business under your belt, and an appearance on TV! You handled that interview like a pro, you know?” Dad smiles and punches my shoulder. “You're a winner, Hannah.”

“I feel like a loser,” I mutter.

“Hannah, you never lose when you accomplish something. You become a stronger, better person.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“So, just like you, I've been working hard for quite some time now trying to accomplish something. And guess what?” Dad pats my leg. “It hasn't turned out the way I expected.”

“It hasn't? What do you mean?”

“Well, you know that promotion I was given a few months back?”

“Yeah.”

“I worked really hard to get that job, and once I got it, I realized that it wasn't for me. I'm not good at being a supervisor. I realized I don't like being the one telling everyone else what to do; I like to be the one doing it.”

“Okay, could you just tell me what is going on?” I finally interrupt.

“So, after all of the hard work and training I went through to get that promotion, I'm finally in the position to take on some exciting, new challenges.”

“Dad,” I say, sighing in complete and utter frustration, “would you please get to the point?”

“Well, not too long ago, an amazing opportunity just fell in my lap.”

“What was it?” I ask anxiously.

“So, turns out you're not the only one in the family who's a natural in front of the camera,” he says with a wink. “You are looking at the brand-new meteorologist for Channel 9 News in Maine.”

“Maine?” I say, my forehead creasing. “You're going to be a weatherman on TV in
Maine
?”

“Yes I am,” he says proudly.

“So, you're moving?”

“No silly,” he says, laughing, “
we're
moving.”

“We're moving?”

“Yup! On December thirty-first, we're headed for Maine!”

The Cat's Out of the Bag and Has Her Eye on Rachel

S
uddenly
, everything is starting to make sense … the arguments, the long hours, the whispered conversations, and OMG … the travel guide with a lighthouse on the front. Was it from Maine? Probably!

I can't believe we're moving. I'm leaving the only home I've ever known … and Rachel. How can this be happening? And to make matters even worse, like,
HORRIBLE
, we're leaving on December 31, the night of the Josh Taylor concert. Even if Rachel and I could still somehow magically get tickets, I can't go. Dad says the plane tickets are bought and there's no changing them; the station wants him to start on January 1. Unbelievable!

I just got the best and the worst news of my life in the space of five minutes. I don't know whether to be relieved or completely and utterly devastated. I guess I feel both really, if that makes any sense. When it comes down to it, I would rather move to Maine than see my parents getting divorced.

But Maine, what is there in Maine, anyway? I'll tell you what, lobsters and lighthouses, and none of my friends! What if my new neighbourhood has no kids? What if my school is huge? I mean it's the middle of the school year; everyone has friends already. What if they all hate me? I'm going to be friendless!

Even if I do somehow manage to make a friend, I'm sure she won't be a Rachel, because Rachels are rare, one-of-a-kind people, who just don't go randomly showing up in your life every day. What am I going to do without her? What am I going to do without my sweet, wonderful Rachel, who is always there for me no matter what?

I
really
need to talk to her and tell her what's going on. I know she'll be upset, but at least we can cry together. I roll over on my bed, grab my phone, and start dialling.

“Hi, Mrs. Carter. Is Rachel there?”

“I'm sorry Hannah, Rachel is at Scarlett's house.”

“Pardon me? What?” I cough. “Did you say Scarlett?”

“Yes, she's at Scarlett Hastings's house.”

“I … I don't understand,” I stammer.

“Hannah, Rachel must have told you she's doing a project on fashion history.”

“I don't remember,” I admit.

“Well, Scarlett's mom is a fashion buyer, and she offered to let Rachel interview her.”

“When?”

“Today, after yoga class. I mentioned Rachel's project to her and she just offered. Isn't that great?”

“Wow,” I say, trying to imagine Rachel attempting to interview
that woman.

“Can you ask her to call me when she gets in?”

“Sorry, Hannah, it will have to be in the morning. By the time she gets home it will be late.”

How could she be with Scarlett Hastings when I need her now more than ever? This is awful!

A
fter a night of bad dreams and tossing and turning, I wake up exhausted. I really wish I could have talked to Rachel last night. She always knows how to settle me down when I'm freaking out. I guess I could have messaged her, but this news is way too huge. I need to talk to her face to face. Only now that it's about to happen, I'm dreading it.

At school, I go to our usual meeting spot, on the bench in the front lobby. It doesn't take long before she arrives.

“Hey,” I say, forcing a smile.

“Hi. Mom said you called last night.”

“Yeah … um … so how were things at the Hastings Mansion?” I ask.

“Oh, pretty good. She was actually really nice.”

“Who, that witchy lady? Scarlett's mom? Are we talking about the same Claire Hastings?” I say, squishing up my nose.

“Yeah, she even gave me this.” Rachel holds out her arm, showing me the Bench label running up the side. “It was a sample she brought home, and Scarlett didn't want it.”

“Really,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief, “she didn't want it?” I mean, who would just give away a brand-new Bench jacket? Hmmm … what does Scarlett want?

“Okay, forget about Claire Hastings,” Rachel suddenly squeals. “I've got some awesome news!”

“What?”

“Guess who is in a bidding war on eBay for Josh Taylor tickets?”

“Um, you?”

“No, us! I went online last night and put a bid in. Even if we have to spend it all, we're going to that concert Hannah!” she exclaims triumphantly.

“Oh … that was so sweet of you, Rachel, but … but I can't …”

“What do you mean, you can't?” she says, letting out a snort of laughter. “You're kidding, right?”

“No, I'm not kidding.”

“Hannah, you're being weird. What are you talking about?”

“We're moving,” I blurt out.

“No, you're not!”

“Yes, I am, Rachel,” I answer, feeling the sting of tears welling in my eyes.

“You're moving?” she cries, now panicked, “When? Where!”

“At the end of the month,” I reply, as my eyes start to flood, “we're moving to Maine.”

“Hannah Smart …” says Scarlett, suddenly appearing behind us, “did I hear right?” Her grin couldn't be any more enormous as she holds her hand up to her ear and asks joyously, “Did you say you are moving to Maine?”

“Yeah, Scarlett, you heard right,” I say angrily, wiping the tears from my cheeks.

Just then, Anika and Missy come rushing over. I was wondering where the bookends were.

“What's going on?” Anika demands, her eyes darting from face to face.

“Oh, terrible news, girls,” Scarlett says, bringing her hand to her chest. “Hannah is moving!”

“Why is that terrible news?” Missy whispers, tilting her head, confused, “I thought we didn't like Hannah.”

“Well, on the bright side,” Scarlett says, her eyes gleaming, “nobody knows Hannah there, so she
might
be able to make a few friends. Well, at least for a while, until they find out how she operates.”

“How I
operate
?”

“You know, how you take advantage of your friends and basically treat them like crap.” She narrows her eyes. “Right Rachel? Isn't that what you were saying last night?”

Rachel's mouth falls open and she stammers, “No, no. I didn't say that. You misunderstood what I meant.”

“Oh, did I?” Scarlett says shrugging. “My bad.”

“What did you say?” I ask Rachel.

“I just said that you like getting attention, but I meant …” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Well, you know how you are …”

“Yeah, Hannah, you know how you are,” Anika says smugly, crossing her arms.

“Yeah!” Missy sneers.

Scarlett runs her hand along her Gucci scarf as a satisfied grin creeps across her face. “Oh, BTW Rachel, my mother is bringing in a new shipment of designer clothes and accessories next week … really cool samples, all hot new stuff. Anyway, she told me to invite you over, which is kind of a big deal because we'll get to pick out loot before it even makes it into the stores.”

“Before it even makes it to the stores?” Anika practically swoons.

“Are we invited?” Missy asks, her eyes wild with excitement.

Scarlett puts her finger to her lips to tell the girls to be quiet. “I got these last time.” She points down to her boots and beams. “They're limited-edition UGGs. Awesome, right?”

“Why does your mother want to invite me?” Rachel asks.

“She thinks you're totally smart, and a good influence.” Scarlett glances over at Anika and Missy and frowns. “Anyway, you'll be needing a new BFF when Hannah moves away, and frankly, I'm getting bored —” she curves her hand at the side of her mouth and pretends to whisper “— with my current circle of friends.”

“What does she mean?” Missy asks, looking all around. “Does she mean us?”

“Shut up, Missy,” Anika snaps, obviously hurt by Scarlett's sudden interest in Rachel.

Although, I don't think Anika has anything to worry about; Rachel would never fall for Scarlett's tricks.
NEVER EVER
! I mean she's too smart for that, right? Right! At least I hope she is.