You’re Invited Too (3 page)

“Ooookay.” Vi looks as if she doesn't believe me.

I slide my phone into my backpack. “Did your dad drive you?”

Vi sinks a little into her seat. “Yeah.” The whole dad-as-school-janitor thing is still kind of a touchy subject with Vi.

“Hey.” I poke her ribs with my finger. “At least now Linney'll have to use a solid navy fabric instead of orange traffic-cone stripes when she makes you a new moss dress.” Linney is like Vi's evil archnemesis—if an archnemesis can come with a French manicure and perfectly highlighted hair. She asked us to plan her
Project Runway
–themed party this summer, but what she really wanted was a chance to embarrass Vi. She ended up making this awful orange-and-white-striped dress (a total jab at Vi's dad's construction job) covered in Spanish moss.

I missed the whole thing since I was home studying, but Vi told me that Linney had insisted she'd hurt her ankle and that Vi was the only one who could do the dress justice by modeling it down the runway. She pouted and whined until Sadie caved. Becca offered to do Vi's hair and makeup, and then Vi found herself wearing the moss dress in front of half the seventh grade. But it turned out that everyone thought she looked fabulous and Linney's whole plan more or less backfired. I'm sure she's been trying to think of a way to get back at Vi ever since. For some reason none of us have ever figured out, Linney thinks that not having tons of money is a good reason to make fun of someone.

When Vi doesn't say anything, I add, “Get it? Since your dad's new uniform is navy blue? That's so much better than orange-and-white stripes, right?”

Vi smiles, but doesn't really laugh. Instead she runs her fingers through her blond waves. “You don't think anyone will notice, do you?”

“What? Your hair or your skirt?” I ask. She's wearing a cute polka-dot skirt that the old Vi—the one who lived in running shorts, flip-flops, and a ponytail, and who'd have passed up a million dollars if it involved her wearing a dress—wouldn't have even looked twice at.

Her face flushes red. “
No.
My dad.”

“Oh. No, I doubt it.” Or I hope not, anyway. Logically, no one should care. Vi's dad needed a new job, and he got one at our school. No big deal. Except people aren't always logical. No one wants their parents working at their school. Having your mom teach science, like Emily Fenimore's mother, is bad enough, but having your dad be the janitor is a hundred times worse. Especially if your name is Vi Alberhasky and you've been putting up with Linney Marks making fun of you since fourth grade.

At 7:59, Becca pokes her head in the door and waves. She points at me, mouths,
You, me, dance committee!
and does a little hip wiggle before darting down the hallway to the homeroom she shares with Sadie.

At eight o'clock sharp, the alarm goes off on my phone. I scramble to turn it off before Ms. Purvis notices. Maybe I don't really need to set a reminder that says
School!
It's not like I'll forget to show up or something.

While Ms. Purvis goes through the usual back-to-school announcements and rules (don't run in the hallways, keep your phones in your bags, don't stick gum under the desks, don't put live animals in your lockers, don't dump sand in the gym showers), I look around the room to see who else is here. I spot Anna Wright, who's captain of the It's All Academic team. Behind her is Linney, who's twirling her shiny hair around a cake-topped pen from her mother's bakery while Ms. Purvis reminds us to get everything we need from our lockers before the bell rings. Of all the seventh-grade homerooms (well, all three of them), Vi and I have to get stuck in the same one as Linney.

Homeroom is probably the most pointless period of the day. I mean, you don't actually learn anything. It's usually the class where I mentally walk through the rest of my day and make sure I haven't forgotten something important. The only thing useful about it today is getting books for all my classes. After paging through those, I go through all the vocab words I learned this summer to keep myself entertained. Finally the bell rings, and I can take off to English.

“What've you got next?” I ask Vi as we move toward the door.

“Spanish,” she says. “Room 114.”

“I'll walk with you. I've got English on the first floor.” We squeeze through the door—where Lance is waiting for Vi.

“Um, hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Vi's looking everywhere but at Lance. And we're still standing in the middle of the doorway.

“It would be nice if some people could actually
moo-ove
,” Linney whines from somewhere behind us.

At that I roll my eyes, grip Vi's arm in one hand and Lance's in the other, and pull them both clear of the door.

“Finally,” Linney mutters as she emerges from the classroom. She stops across the hall at a locker—right next to mine. Okay, this cannot possibly be a sign. If it is, I'm going to completely ignore it. Having to share the same general locker area with the most obnoxious girl in our class is
not
going to cancel out all the feelings of awesomeness this morning. This year is going to be perfect.

And it would be more perfect if Vi and Lance would actually talk to each other instead of staring at their shoes.

“So, Lance, where are you headed?” I ask brightly.

“Spanish,” he says. “First floor.” At least he's looking up now.

“Great. Same as Vi. Let's go.”

Vi's face goes even redder. This is making me really glad that I don't have to
¡Hola!
and
¡Cómo está?
next period. Hopefully, in English no one will be making moony eyes at anyone else, and people will actually look at each other when they talk.

“So, um, are you going out for soccer?” Lance asks Vi.

“Hi there, my favorite Pirate Pelicans!” Sadie arrives next to us before Vi can answer. “It's a new year! New pens, new calendars, new books. And new RSVP clients!”

“The books aren't really new,” I remind her. In fact, my English book looks like it survived World War III, and I think someone actually chewed on my
Concepts of Pre-Algebra
. I almost handed them right back to Ms. Purvis and asked for less-used copies.

Sadie waves her hand, like last year's germs don't mean a thing. “Now please tell me one of you is in Mr. Grimes's English class next. Becca already ditched me for art.”

“I am, and we were
supposed
to already be walking that way.”

Vi and Lance are back to looking at their shoes. I really should just leave them here and let them mumble and stand in the hallway by themselves. They had no problem talking to each other before the Great Moss Dress Incident, so I don't know what's changed now. They used to joke around and speak in this whole other sports language that I never understood. But ever since Vi rocked that awful dress, it's like they've forgotten how to form sentences around each other. Becca swears it's because at that party Lance realized that Vi was cute. But I don't see why that means they have to act all weird. I mean, if a guy liked me, I'd either tell him I felt the same way or I didn't. Easy, right?

“I'll go— Oh, hey, look! There's Mr. Alberhasky.” Sadie's on her tiptoes, looking down the hall. She waves.

I turn, and sure enough, there's Vi's dad, in his navy-blue janitor's jumpsuit, pushing one of those bright yellow mop carts toward the lockers across from us. He's even got his usual Tar Heels cap on.

Vi actually looks up, and her eyes widen. “I, um, I . . . Let's get to class.” She takes off without us.

“Hi, girls!” Mr. Alberhasky shouts as he pulls out the mop.

Vi stops dead in her tracks as pretty much everyone in the hall turns to see who's talking so loudly.

I'm so embarrassed for Vi, but I don't want to ignore Mr. Alberhasky, who's never been anything but nice to Sadie, Becca, and me. So I wave at him and smile. Then I push through to Vi, with Sadie and Lance on my tail.

I'm just about to ask Vi if she's okay when a fake laugh (seriously, it sounds like
heh-heh-heh
) drowns out the usual hallway noise.

“Is that
you
, Mr. Alberhasky? I didn't know you worked here. Sorry about the iced coffee.” Linney stands right next to Vi's dad, empty coffee cup in hand. Which, I might add, we aren't even allowed to have in school. “You don't mind taking this, do you?” She tosses the empty cup into the black plastic garbage bag hanging from the front of Mr. Alberhasky's cart.

And he smiles at her. But it's not a real smile, because he knows Linney, and he knows how awful she's been to Vi.

Linney bounces—I swear, she's actually bouncing—toward us. “I didn't know your dad was working here,” she says to Vi. “How . . . nice.”

Vi gets this look on her face as if she's ready to pounce. I glance at Sadie, and without saying a word, she grabs one of Vi's arms while I snag the other.

“It
is
nice, Linney, because not only can Vi's dad bring her pizza and Coke for lunch, but she also doesn't have to ride the bus,” Sadie tosses out.

Linney's laugh
heh-heh-heh
s after us, like she's some cartoon villain.

“I
knew
this would happen,” Vi finally says as we round the corner toward the stairs.

“Please, you faced down her moss dress and her hideous idea of a cake topper this summer,” Sadie says. At the very first birthday party we planned, Linney thought it would be hilarious to substitute a hobo and Little Orphan Annie for Scarlett and Rhett from
Gone with the Wind
. Vi was not pleased. After all, she was the one who'd ordered the cake from Linney at her mom's bakery, and it was pretty obvious that Linney had changed out the figurines on purpose to insult Vi and her dad.

“And you've got us to back you up,” I add as I push open the door at the end of the hallway that leads to the stairs.

“And me, too,” Lance says from behind us.

All three of us whip around. Vi's face turns all red again. I don't think any of us realized he'd followed.

“Your dad is the best,” Lance goes on. He runs his fingers through his short brown hair. “I think it's pretty awesome that he's working here. He'll be able to come to all the soccer games.”

And right then and there, I could kiss him. I mean, not really, because yuck. But he is one seriously nice guy, and I hope he and Vi can actually figure out how to talk again.

“Thanks,” Vi mumbles.

“Well, if Linney doesn't lay off, I know exactly where to borrow another tube of green paint,” Sadie says as we reach the first floor. She's the one who accidentally-on-purpose covered Linney in green paint during art class last winter when Linney made fun of Vi's green-tinged chlorinated pool hair.

Vi smiles, just a little.

We stop outside the Spanish room. Lance runs his hand through his hair for probably the ninetieth time.

“So, um, Vi . . . you know how Founder's Day is coming up?” he says.

Vi gets this wide-eyed, panicked look on her face. And she finds her voice. “Yup, it's the weekend after next. Okay, see y'all later.
Hasta la vista.
” And she disappears into the classroom.

Lance's shoulders sag. “Bye,” he says all halfheartedly to me and Sadie.

“What was that all about?” I ask Sadie as we move to the next room.

Sadie grins. “I think Lance was trying to ask Vi to the Founder's Day dance. Hey, you want to go see if there are any new decorations at Party Me Hearties after school?”

I shake my head (and maybe shudder a little at the mention of Party Me Hearties, which wouldn't be so bad if it wasn't called Party Me Hearties). This is going to be one interesting year.

The most important day of the year for Sandpiper Beach!

Sandpiper Beach was founded in 1769 by Jebediah Bodington, but you knew that, didn't you?

Join us as we celebrate our town's birthday with a Founder's Day celebration for the ages!

Activities will include:

The annual early-morning King Mackerel Fishing Tournament
♦
An epic town-wide yard sale
♦
The Sixth Annual Sandpiper Beach Founder's Day Shuffleboard Tournament sponsored by Shuffleboard Dan and the American Shuffleboard Alliance at nine o'clock sharp Saturday morning
♦
Afternoon sailboat races
♦
A delicious fish fry (all proceeds benefit the Sandpiper Beach Volunteer Sea Turtle Association)
♦
All capped off by the annual Founder's Day dance at the pavilion
♦
Post–Founder's Day Sunday brunch at the Church of the Victorious and Forgiving Holy Redeemer

Festivities start at the marina at dawn and go into the night!