Lost in Rome (17 page)

Shannon said, “You need to send 'em right away, don't you?”

I could feel Eryn rolling her eyes.

Piper asked a hundred questions: “What's a chain letter? . . . Who sent it? . . . Why? Can you send it back? . . .

Why not? How come I didn't get one? . . . Huh?”

I didn't answer her; I responded to Shannon. “I don't have any stamps or envelopes, and I want the good luck today.”

“Why don't you e-mail it?” Shannon asked. “You could do that right now on your phone.”

Piper said, “Problem solved. Shannon is supersmart. . . .” She continued to ramble on while I typed the letter quickly with my thumbs. I reread it to make sure I hadn't made any mistakes. I put my name on the bottom and didn't put Clare's. When I finished, Piper was still talking. “She gets As in college. That's a lot of hard work.”

I hit the send button on my phone, and e-mail chain letters went out to three friends from summer camp. “Okay. It's done. Let the good luck begin!”

Eryn snickered.

“What?” I asked.

“Oh, nothing,” she said with a smirk. “Let me know how that works for you. On second thought, don't. That would mean you'd be talking to me.” She made a grossed-out face that I caught in the side mirror. “But any moron knows that you can't e-mail a snail-mail chain letter. It's cheating. And chain letters have a way of messing with cheaters.”

Piper said, “Uh-oh.”

Uh-oh?

I couldn't have any
uh-oh
.

Not today.

A
s soon as I walked into science class, it looked like Eryn might have been right. “Miss McGlinchey,” Ms. Geneva called to me. “Please report to the front of the classroom for a demerit.”

A demerit?
I didn't get demerits. I followed all the rules all the time, to avoid getting demerits. I followed the rules even when demerits
weren't
involved. I flossed, waited twenty min utes after eating to swim, and wore SPF 50 sunscreen every day.

I took the yellow paper from her hand. For each demerit you got, you missed one recess. If you got five, you were suspended from school for a day. Ms. Geneva must have read the puzzled look on my face. She gestured toward my feet. “Your socks.”

I looked down. One black, one blue.

OMG! Somehow, for the first time in my history of wearing kneesocks, I had accidentally mismatched them.
But that could happen to anyone, right?

I sulked all the way back to my desk.

“What the heck?” Carissa looked shocked as I sat back down.

“My stupid socks don't match,” I grumbled.

Carissa chuckled. “You can hardly tell,” she said a little bit too loudly.

“Shh,” I said. “Or you'll get one too.”

“Oh, like that would be something new. You know they named a desk after me in detention. Not many people can claim that.” Carissa missed a lot of recesses, and she'd been suspended twice. On those days, she said she'd sat on the couch all day eating popcorn and watching on-demand movies—R-rated. Her mom was home way more than mine but never had a clue what Carissa did. Carissa's life was kinda the opposite of mine.

The teacher said,
“Mademoiselle Carissa Lyons, fermez la bouche!”
Everyone has to take French as part of Wilmington Prep's curriculum, so we both knew that was a teacher's polite way of saying “Shut up.”

•  •  •

Considering all the preparation I'd done, I was way more nervous for my speech than I should've been. I sat on the stage, in mismatched socks, in front of the entire eighth-grade class. This speech would seal the election for me. I'd worked hard on it, and it was—how can I say this so that it doesn't sound like I'm bragging?—perfect! I had nothing to worry about.

I imagined the scene as though it was frozen in one of my lucky snow globes: I'm on stage delivering my last sentence, but before I finish, the room booms with applause. Kids stand up and cheer. My opponent is so intimidated, she walks offstage—she doesn't stand a chance. She knows it. I know it.

The principal introduced me and my opponent, Avery Brown, and she explained that we each had four minutes.

I was up first. I stepped to the podium and began:

“Fellow classmates,” I started confidently, “my name is Meghan McGlinchey. I want to be your class president for three very important reasons. First, I am filled with Wilmington Prep school spirit. . . .”

I looked into the crowd and noticed that everyone was talking to each other like I wasn't even there.

I held up two fingers. “Secondly.” Still the crowd talked among themselves. I could hear them like a rumble. Why weren't they listening to my amazing speech? I was being very clear, articulate, and was holding up fingers.

Principal Jackson came out from behind the stage's curtain and walked over to the podium, where I was already talking about point number three and holding up three fingers.

“Excuse me,” she whispered, interrupting my flow.

I whispered back to her, “What's the matter?”

“The microphone—” She flipped a switch with her thumb, and her words bellowed: “IT ISN'T TURNED ON!” She moved it away from her mouth. “It is now.”

My fellow classmates laughed.

They hadn't heard a single perfect word I'd said. I started over. “My name is—”

The girl who was keeping time in the front row said, “One minute.”

One minute?

“Reason number one . . .” I raced.

“Number two . . .” I spoke faster, threw up two fingers.

“And number three—”

“Time!” the timekeeper said.

Principal Jackson walked out clapping her hands. “Thank you, Meghan.”

“B-but,” I sputtered. “The mic.”

“Very good job. Next we have Avery Brown.”

I passed Avery as I went back to my chair and she approached the podium. She said, “Bad luck for you.”

It was.

What have I done?

Also by Cindy Callaghan

Just Add Magic

Lost in London

Lost in Paris

Coming Soon

Lost in Ireland

(Previously titled
Lucky Me
)

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children's Publishing Division

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This Aladdin hardcover edition August 2015

Text copyright © 2015 by Cindy Callaghan

Jacket illustration copyright © 2015 by Annabelle Metayer

Also available in an Aladdin M!X paperback edition.

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Jacket designed by Jessica Handelman

Interior designed by Hilary Zarycky

The text of this book was set in Berkeley Oldstyle.

Library of Congress Control Number 2014950428

ISBN 978-1-4814-4282-4 (hc)

ISBN 978-1-4814-2603-9 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-4814-2604-6 (eBook)