Sticks & Stones (12 page)

Ms. Sigafiss came back in and a hush fell over the room.

“That's better,” she said. “Now, what do you all need to be doing?”

I sighed as I buried my head back in my book. I couldn't wait to go to my other classes, where teachers actually did fun things with us. Ms. Sigafiss didn't seem to care about fun. All she cared about was making scary faces and keeping us quiet.

Quiet could be good, though. It gave me a chance to sneak another read of Jeg's note and squeal silently.
I'm going to the party! Amazing cake, look out!

I snuck a few sheets of notebook paper into my book so it looked like I was reading, and quickly added a couple finishing touches to my activity idea. After watching a little too much Discovery Channel the other night (it was for research!), I thought it would be cool if we learned how to make a shelter in the wilderness using sticks, rope, tarps, and other explorer-y things. It seemed like something a lot of people would be interested in—including Mr. Todd. I made sure to note that the tarps could definitely be blue.

After class, I dropped off my idea in his office. I had worked really, really hard on this, and I hoped it showed. I went home with a smile on my face and a nervous thump in my heart. It was winter break, and it'd be filled with food, fun, family, friends, and a massive Jeg party at the end. Exciting things were happening, and even though they were scary, too, I felt ready to take on whatever came next.

 

20

PARTY PREP

The night of the party, Mom asked me about twelve thousand million zillion times if I really, really, really wanted to go. I didn't know how else to tell her yes.

“I'm sure. Absolutely. Positively.
Sí, señora
.”

“But, honey, things have been so tense with Jeg. You haven't seen her once over break. Who are you going to hang out with?”

“Olivia. Or the Hannahs. Or Nice Andy. Or no one.”

“But won't you feel a little uncomfortable there? I could give Dr. Patel a call and see what he says about it. Or maybe I could go with you for a little while, just until you get settled.”

“Mo-om,”
I groaned. “I'm in sixth grade. Come on! Plus,” I added, “the only certain thing in life is doubt. Sticks and stones. Hakuna matata. Hocus pocus. Et cetera.”

Mom laughed. “Yes. Exactly. All of those things.” She pulled me into a forceful hug. “It wouldn't be cool for me to come with you. I know. You're growing up so fast.” She traced circles on my back with her fingers like she did whenever I couldn't sleep because I was itchy. Part of me wanted her to stop, but another part of me could stand there forever.

“I already slipped some maximum-strength cream into your purse,” she added. “Just so you have it. In case.”

I didn't say anything, but after a minute or two I looked up at her with pleading eyes. It was time for the hug to end so I could finish getting ready. And take the lotion out of my purse and put it in a top-secret hiding spot where she'd never find it. I was not going to be spending the night hiding in the bathroom slathering anti-itch goop all over myself, thank you very much.

Hopefully, there wouldn't be any major itches that needed gooping anyway.

Mom finally set me free, and I put the finishing touches on my outfit: a sparkly purple headband, dangly earrings, my classiest black-and-silver-striped socks, and shiny black boots. I considered adding my half-a-peace-sign necklace but left it on my dresser next to that lonely piece of gum.

I hadn't had a chance to throw that gum away yet, but I would.

“How do I look?” I asked Dad when we got in the car.

He quickly scanned me from head to toe and smiled.

“You look, um, sparkly!” he said.

I sighed as
SPARKLY
formed on my leg. He was right. I
did
look sparkly. But was that really the best word he could come up with?

Luckily, Mom had more than enough good words to contribute.

“You look so beautiful,” she said. “Very glamorous. Right, honey?” She elbowed Dad in the stomach and he jumped a little in his seat.
BEAUTIFUL
and
GLAMOROUS
popped up and felt good, but didn't do much to make all the butterflies in my stomach settle down.

“You've got to stop doing that while I'm driving!” he yelped. “It's not safe,” he said to Mom in a quieter voice. Then he took a deep breath and his voice went back to normal. “But yes. Yes. You're right. About Elyse. And all of that.”

“Greg,” Mom said in the same kind of voice she used on me when I was in trouble. I wondered what Dad was in trouble for, but it was hard to pay attention to them. We had just passed the Ferris wheel at Navy Pier, so I knew we were only minutes away from downtown. I squirmed around in my seat. Couldn't Dad drive any faster?

A million zillion years later, we finally pulled up to the hotel on Michigan Avenue. It was about a thousand stories high, and two humongous men in black suits stood in front of the door.

Mom turned around, smiled all big in a way that made me nervous, and asked, “Want me to walk in with you?”

I wanted to say
No way
, but the words wouldn't come out. There was no reason I needed to be nervous; I had been to tons of Jeg's parties just like this. And even though this time there would be closer to a hundred and fifty people (instead of just the regular fifty), it would be fine. And fun! But the noisy pounding in my heart didn't seem to agree.

“I can do it,” I said in a shaky voice. I rubbed my arms and tried as hard as I could to remember the words that were under my sleeves. They were mostly good ones.
I
was mostly good. I could do this on my own. I could. I would.

I forced myself to get out of the car before I changed my mind.

“Bye,” I called, waving.

But Mom and Dad didn't budge until I told my name to the Suit Guys and walked through the door. And even then it was hard to tell if they really left. But I kept moving, following the signs to the elevators and getting in. When the doors shut, I knew I was really, truly on my own.

For a second I thought about pressing 1 and going right back down to the ground floor. I imagined myself running past the Suit Guys and back into the car, which was probably still there, waiting for me to do just that.

And that was exactly why I couldn't.

 

21

JEG AROUND THE WORLD

The elevator opened on the seventy-fifth floor, the one that said
Penthouse
next to it on the buttons. As soon as the doors opened, a huge sense of relief washed over me. This was just a Jeg party, and I would have friends here, and there would be
such good cake
. My mouth watered just thinking about it.

The hotel was decorated like fifty thousand other countries all at once, and they were all extremely fancy. A red carpet started right outside the elevator and continued for miles, it seemed like, twisting and turning in thousands of different directions. It had to be longer than the red carpets that actual celebrities had at their birthday parties. On my right, there were walls made out of glass, giving way to an incredible view. I could see the entire city, the lake, the TVs that were on in all the nearby buildings, and all the teeny people who were watching them. To my left, there were signs. “Jeg Around the World!” they announced in huge, sparkling letters.

I poked my head into each room I passed. They were all named for a different country. There was a taco/nacho bar in Mexico, henna tattoos in India, crepes in France, and clog dancing in Ireland. It was a typical Jeg party. Actually, it was a little less crazy than usual. I hadn't even seen any famous people yet.

I couldn't find Jeg or Olivia anywhere, but I did see pretty much everyone else in the entire school. They all passed in their little groups, and some of them gave me funny looks, but I didn't mind. I was busy Jegging around the world. Also looking for cake. Where in the world was the fancy cake?

I popped into China and opened a chocolate-covered fortune cookie.
Be wary of a tall stranger,
it said. Well, that was weird; I didn't know any tall strangers and I didn't plan on meeting any. But I would certainly eat the tasty cookie.

When I turned around to go to the next country, there was Liam, in the doorway, standing there like he was waiting for me.

I thought back to the fortune. Tall? Yes, he was. A stranger? Well, sort of. Even with the six magical days of going out we'd had, there was still a lot about him I didn't know, probably. He could be a stranger, sure. But I wasn't going to be wary. I was going to be awesome.

“Hey,” he said.

A shiver zoomed down my spine from the sound of his voice.

“How's it going?”

“Great!” Calm down, self. That came out in a
way
-too-excited kind of voice.

“Cool.”

He studied me, and I studied right back. There was a sparkle in his eyes that made me think he was figuring out the meaning of life, but maybe he was really figuring out more ways to make me nervous (if me being more nervous was even possible). Or maybe he was just thinking about French-fry pies. I might never know.

I hated how he looked at me with those dumb sparkly eyeballs of his. It was different from when anyone else looked at me. He wasn't just noticing my shirt or my hair or the teeny piece of fortune cookie that was probably stuck in my teeth, the things everyone else saw. It felt like he was trying to see right through me, trying to see the real person I was instead of the cool one I was trying to be.

“Stop,” I said.

“Stop what?”

“Looking at me like that!”

“How am I looking at you?” He smirked like he already knew the answer.

“Cut it out!”
Holy high heels, did I really just say that?

His lips relaxed into a thin smile.

“You've sure gotten sassy,” he said.

Oh, hey,
SASSY
. That word didn't seem to know if it wanted to hurt me or help me. It just kinda made me jumpy.

“A lot of things have changed,” I said, trying to make my voice stop wobbling. It was not the most cooperative.

“Yeah.” He nodded. “You did great. Thanks.”

I didn't know what he meant by that, but I was definitely going to take any compliments I could get, especially if he was the one giving them.

“You're welcome!”

We stood there looking at each other for what felt like hours. Liam didn't say anything more, but he didn't leave, either, or start talking to any of the other people who kept going in and out of the room.

I lingered, my heart thumping and making me feel like I was going to pass out any second, but in the very best possible way.

When he finally smiled one last time and wandered away, that feeling went away with him, all the way to Israel. It was only down the hall, but still. I wanted it back
so bad
.

I sat down for a second to catch my breath. My heart was racing out of control. I glanced at my thin silver watch. Liam had talked to me for a whole four minutes! Maybe this had been his sneaky way of telling me he still liked me. Why would he talk to me for so long when there were so many people to hang out with and even more fun things to do and eat? Why did he give me that weird compliment that didn't make any sense? Why did he thank me, even though I had no clue what he was thanking me for? Maybe he was nervous. Maybe he
finally
liked me again!

I grinned like a total baboon. Maybe we could get back together! But first there was the pesky matter of breaking up with Nice Andy. Well, a girl had to do what a girl had to do. I could take care of it. Probably.

I sprinted out of the room and into the next one.

“G'day, Mates!” a giant green sign announced. Oh, how nice. I had run right into Australia, where Olivia was posing for a picture with a blow-up kangaroo.

“Guess what.” I grabbed her arm once she'd passed the kangaroo to the next person in line. “It's not official, but I think Liam and I are going to get back together. Don't tell.”

“That's so exciting!” she said. “What happened?”

“I don't know. We were talking for a little while. I got a feeling.”

“That is so great!” she squealed. We held hands and jumped up and down a few times. (Okay, a hundred times. Whatever.) We sounded just like the Loud Crowd, but I was way too excited to care.

“Want to go surfing?” Olivia asked, looking toward a corner of the room where several surfboards were set up against a green screen. Someone was filming your rides and then editing the video to make it look like you were really surfing in the ocean. I was kind of surprised that Jeg's parents hadn't arranged to move an actual ocean to Chicago especially for the party.

“Yes, I do,” I said, and off we went.

“Surfin' USA!” Olivia sang as she surfed.

I joined in.

“Surfin' USA!” Neither of us knew the rest of the words to the song, so we kept repeating those two over and over again until we were laughing too hard to sing.

When our turns were done, we wandered out of Australia.

“Where should we go next?” Olivia consulted her map of the two floors where the party was. It listed each country along with its room number and activities.

“Don't think about it,” I told her, snatching the map out of her hands and crumpling it up to make a point. “Let's just go…” I looked around. “That way!” I pointed down the stairs to my right. “Come on! Surfin' USA!” I encouraged. Surfin' USA had nothing to do with taking the stairs to the right. It didn't matter.

“Okay!” Olivia laughed. “Surfin' USA!”

“Wouldn't it technically be Surfin' Australia?” I asked as we ambled down the stairs to the next floor.

“I don't know,” she said. “Don't think about it.”