Dori coughed. “Thanks, hon,” she said weakly. “Bye, Jess.”
Well. If I’d known accidental near death was all it would take to make things hunky-Dori, I would have smuggled a strawberry into her lunch LONG AGO.
Since Dori wasn’t mad about what happened last night, I figured there was no reason for Bridget to hold a grudge, right? Two minutes later, I was crossing the street. I found Bridget wheeling her bike out of the garage. She was wearing workout clothes and a smile.
“Hey! I’m on my way out!” she said. “I’m so glad you caught me!”
“You are?” I asked. “Because I wanted to make sure that everything was okay, you know, after everything that happened at the party.…”
“Everything’s perfect! Gladdie insisted that I take all the leftovers!”
She unzipped her backpack. It was full of junk food from the party.
“Burke is going to LOVE ME. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!”
Then she pedaled away.
Wow. These confrontations had gone so much better than I expected. But I wasn’t done yet. I had the toughest apology ahead of me. It was the most difficult because I wasn’t exactly sure what I was sorry about.
“Hey, Hope,” I said into the phone. “I’m—”
“Sorry!” she blurted before I could apologize first. “I was such a bummer last night.”
It’s true. Hope was a bummer last night. And yet her apology was still unexpected. And, well, unnecessary. It was my PARTY!!! after all. And I felt responsible for everything that happened. I’d been under a lot of PARTY!!! pressure, and I was probably putting out a weird vibe that made Hope feel uncomfortable. It was the first time she’d ever been invited to my house, and I hadn’t even been there to greet her when she arrived because I was dealing with Manda-and-Sara drama in the bathroom. That’s not cool. So I couldn’t blame Hope for creating a little bathroom drama of her own later on in the party. Or, for that matter, bailing on the party altogether.
At least that’s how I’d sorted it all out in my head. But she didn’t give me enough time to take my share of the blame for her bummer.
“I’m also sorry that I can’t really talk right now, okay?” she said. “Bye!”
Then she hung up as quickly as she had apologized.
Huh.
So.
I’d accomplished what I’d set out to do: No one hated me. In fact, four out of five guests seemed to like me even more now than they did before the PARTY!!! And yet, even hours later, I still felt like there was business left unsettled. Maybe it was because my exchange with Hope had mattered the most—and satisfied me the least. Or perhaps it was because there was still one more person I needed to apologize to.
But I didn’t know Aleck’s phone number. And after the way I yelled at him last night, I doubted he would pick up even if I did.
Chapter Seventeen
After the great success of yesterday’s apology tour, I assumed I’d put all PARTY!!! talk behind me. I was wrong. In fact, as far as Pineville Junior High was concerned, the conversation about Saturday night was just getting started.
“You’re the girl who threw the party, right?” asked an eighth grader at my bus stop named Jazmin. She wears head-to-toe black, and her eyes are all raccoony from too much eyeliner. It’s like she’s in the Halloween spirit all year-round and not just in October. So she’s kind of scary, is what I’m saying. And she’d never spoken to me before, so her interest took me by surprise. Bridget answered all too eagerly when I didn’t reply fast enough.
“She is!”
Jazmin’s smudgy eyes bugged out.
“I heard a girl was poisoned! And cops arrested two prime suspects!”
Jazmin was waaay too excited about murder and incarceration.
“I was there!” Bridget chimed in. “It was like, whoa. Intense.”
I elbowed Bridget. Why was she encouraging this craziness?
“You know that’s not what happened! No one was poisoned. And no one was arrested.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Jazmin said.
“Dori had an allergic reaction to strawberry jelly,” I stated. “And Manda and Sara got picked up for being out after curfew. That’s it. The whole story.”
“I get it.” Jazmin winked like we were coconspirators. “You have to say that. To protect yourself.”
Then she bowed her head and slowly backed away as a show of respect.
The rest of the day only got weirder from there.
It was impossible to zone out during the bus ride to school because everyone was buzzing about the PARTY!!!
“Dori was unconscious for five minutes!”
“Manda and Sara got handcuffed!”
It was ridiculous. Even Burke got into it, which was a bit bizarre because up to that point I was pretty sure Burke didn’t even know who I was.
“You throw a killer party,” Burke said. “Get it? Killer? Heh, heh.”
I could tell that he was feeling pretty proud of himself for coming up with this pun on his own. His chest was all puffed out like I was supposed to be awestruck by the fact that he was acknowledging my existence. And I was fine with playing along for Bridget’s sake. That is, until he popped a Coco Loco mini into his mouth. A Coco Loco mini my grandmother had invented and I had made with my very own hands for the sleepover. Not that he knew that.
“Mmmmm,” Burke said, returning his attention to his girlfriend. “Home Ec is the best thing that ever happened to you!”
And Bridget got all swoony, and I got annoyed. I was so close to telling Burke the truth, but then Bridget gave me a pathetic, pleading look that took all the pleasure out of it for me. Was her relationship with Burke so rocky that she needed to take all the credit for my and (mostly) Gladdie’s hard work in the kitchen? IT List #4: When all else fails: CANDY. Maybe this Must Do also applied to boyfriends.
I got off the bus and saw right away that a small crowd had formed around the other IT couple of Pineville Junior High. Dori was telling everyone about her Near-Death Experience. Scotty stood behind her as if he were ready to catch her if she fell backward into a faint, which was a poor strategy because science has proven that fainters fall forward, but whatever.
“I saw a bright white light,” Dori was saying to the enraptured audience. “I was drawn toward it. But then, all of a sudden, something pulled me away, and I came back.”
She paused dramatically.
“I guess it wasn’t my time to go.”
All this drama over strawberry jelly.
STRAWBERRY JELLY.
Dori was too busy being fawned over by a circle of oohing and ahhing admirers to notice me. But Scotty saw me. And I saw him. And in that split second of connection, he unmistakably rolled his eyes at me as if to say “I KNOW MY GIRLFRIEND IS TOTALLY BOGUS.” And as much as I appreciated that I wasn’t the only one aware of Dori’s fakery, there was no way I was about to encourage any more bonding between me and Scotty, because things were messy enough already.
I ditched that scene as swiftly as possible and headed straight for my locker. Halfway there, Hope tapped me on the shoulder.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” I said cautiously, not knowing what kind of mood she was in. She was smiling, so that was a positive sign.
“Is it me? Or is the entire school talking about Saturday night?”
“I know, right?” I replied. “It’s crazy.”
And it was about to get even crazier.
Manda and Sara were blocking my locker, holding court to a mixed crowd of seventh- and eighth-grade girls and guys. I was sort of surprised to see Mouth and Cheddar among them. Aleck was elsewhere, which was fine with me because I wasn’t ready to apologize to him yet.
“It was like an episode of COPS!” Mouth was boasting.
“We saw those flashing lights, and we were like, ‘we out!’” Cheddar added.
“Mouth and Cheddar ditched us! We were so mad,” Manda said, not sounding very mad at all.
“
Omigod! So mad,” Sara said, also not sounding very mad.
I was wondering when “Mouth” and “Cheddar” had become their official names outside Mr. Pudel’s workshop when the warning bell rang and the crowd dispersed and MANDA AND MOUTH TOTALLY KISSED EACH OTHER.
LIKE, ON THE LIPS.
“Bye, babe,” Manda said to Mouth.
“See ya later, babe,” Mouth said to Manda.
“MANDA AND MOUTH ARE BABE AND BABE?”
Usually all-capsy questions like this stay in my head where they belong. But this one escaped.
“Omigod! You don’t know?” Sara asked. “Manda and Mouth are a thing now. And it’s all because of your PARTY!!!”
Honestly, the whens, wheres, and hows of this union were unimportant. But I had to know the whys. I approached the new couple, who were still attached to each other despite having already said their good-byes.
“So… you two, huh?” I said, having a hard time looking at them.
“I love the bad boys!” Manda gushed.
“I love her HUGE…” Mouth gestured right at her chest. “Heart.”
Manda giggled, and I turned away before they started another round of good-byes.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Hope said, sympathetically patting me on the shoulder.
She knew I didn’t want credit for getting this new couple together. But there was no need to worry, because someone else was proud as could be to call himself matchmaker.
“Looks like I made a love connection!” Aleck bragged in Woodshop.
“Yes. Thanks to you, I’m getting up close and personal views of Mouth’s…” Ack. “Mouth.”
Mouth had memorized Manda’s schedule and found time to sneak quick kisses before and after every class. I don’t think I need to remind you how much this grosses me out. My position on public displays of affection is pretty straightforward. To me, PDA stands for: PLEASE. DON’T. ACK.
“‘Mouth’ is a weird word, isn’t it?” Aleck said, obviously changing the subject but not really. “The more you say it, the weirder it sounds. Mouth. Mouth. Mouth.”
I should have been relieved that Aleck was talking to me at all, considering how rudely I dismissed him on Saturday night. But he hadn’t even given me an opportunity to apologize before annoying me all over again.
“Why don’t you keep your ‘mouth mouth mouth’ shut for a while?” I said, deliberately taking a stool as far away from Aleck as possible.
This would prove to be a pointless gesture.
“You’ve all made tremendous progress over the last six weeks,” Mr. Pudel announced to the room. He grandly swept his hands toward our gallery of birdhouses, napkin holders, and spoons. “It’s time to take it to the next level.”
“Ooh! Ooh!” shouted out Aleck. “Sporks?”
“No, not sporks,” Mr. Pudel replied genially.
“Sporks must be the next next level,” Aleck said in a loud whisper to Mouth, who had just slipped into the classroom five minutes late.
“You could all benefit from learning the art of cooperation,” Mr. Pudel said. “Your next assignment will be a collaboration between you and a partner.”
Around the room, alliances were already being made. Mouth and Aleck bumped fists.
“Dude, we’re a team.”
As the Only Girl in the Room, there was a moment there when I thought I might be lucky enough to be the odd one out. I’d get to work on the project all by myself! That positive thinking lasted until Mr. Pudel completed his thought.
“A partner of my choosing,” he said with special emphasis.
Everyone groaned. Teachers love pairing up students instead of letting us exercise our right to choose partners for ourselves. It always goes terribly. Teachers inevitably mess with the delicate social order by pairing up Hots with Nots or ex-boyfriends with ex-girlfriends or crushers with crushees. Either they’re totally clueless, or they love creating drama. I haven’t figured out which.
Anyway, in accordance with the Inevitable Laws of Terrible Teacher Partnering, there were many boys in the class who would make bad partners for me, but only one person who qualified as the worst. And that’s precisely who I got.
“Aleck and Clem,” Mr. Pudel shouted.
Of course.
After naming the other pairs, Mr. Pudel continued, “You can design and make anything you want, but you have to work together.”
We all just sat there, awaiting further instructions. Apparently there were no further instructions.
“Now get to work!” Mr. Pudel commanded.
Everyone scurried around the room, switching up their seating arrangements to work with their new partners. Aleck thumbs-upped merrily from across the room, showing off his bloodred half manicure from my PARTY!!! I charged at him as if I were a bull and he a cape-waving matador.
“Why does this keep happening to me?” I asked.
“What?”
“This!” I said, circling my hands wildly in the air between us.
“By ‘this,’” Aleck said, mimicking my out-of-control gesture, “do you really mean me? Why do I keep happening to you?”
Why did Aleck keep happening to me?
Ack.
When Aleck says things like that, I understand why Manda and Sara call him a weirdo. I mean, who says things like that?
Aleck does.
Yes. Aleck is weird for sure, but that’s what makes him interesting. And he’s also consistently kinder to me than any of my other friends. This boy/girl stuff is so confusing. Why is it socially acceptable for Manda to make out with Mouth but totally uncool for me and Aleck to be just friends?
But I couldn’t say any of that, of course. Who says things like that?
Besides Aleck, that is.
So this is what I said instead: “I’M NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE IN THIS CLASS.”
Aleck took a step back and gave me a measured look.
“But you are in this class,” Aleck said. “And I am your partner on this project.”
“So?”
“So let’s make the most of it,” he said. “Let’s make something awesome.”
He extended his fist. Part of me wanted to punch him. The other part of me knew it was pointless to resist. So I bumped knuckles right back. I consider this gesture to be my unspoken apology for my slumber-party rant, and Aleck’s grin his silent acceptance.
Chapter Eighteen
Hooray for cross-country practice! The only guaranteed drama-free part of my day!
Until today.
OF COURSE.
“You tired, Notso?” Shandi asked during our warm-up stretches.
“Not especially,” I said as I reached for my toes. “Do I look tired?”
“You look like you had quite a weekend,” Shauna said.
Uh-oh.
“Who knew you were such a rebel?” Shandi asked.
“It’s a good thing you didn’t invite us,” Shauna said. “Attending parties thrown by criminal types like you could sully our fine reputation.…”
Wait.
WHAT?
Whoa.
The Sampson twins knew about what happened on Saturday night? I guess Hope really wasn’t exaggerating when she said the whole school was gossiping about my PARTY!!! Even eighth-grade Hots!
“Wickywickywhoopwhoopwickywicky.”
Padma was beatboxing. Then she started rapping.
“Notso, Notso, brains and innocence. Throws a party, gotta call the ambulance!”
“I didn’t call 911,” I said, trying to set the record straight. “My sister drove Dori home.…”
But Padma was on a roll.
“Notso, Notso, sweet and eager to please. Throws a party, and gotta call the police.”
Okay. I couldn’t exactly dispute that one. Gladdie had called in a favor to her friends in the police department.
“Don’t believe the hype,” I said. “It was kinda boring.”
“You know what I did on Saturday night?” Molly asked.
This got everyon
e’s attention because Molly hardly ever talks.
“What?” we all asked.
“I can’t remember.” She paused. “Now that’s boring.”
And we all laughed and sprawled out on the gym floor to stretch and laughed some more. The girls were all being jokey about it, but their message was clear: They all wished they had been a part of the infamous sleepover. Unlike everyone else who had expressed regret in not having been there, these were girls I actually knew and liked and should have invited. I’d been too caught up in my own paranoia about being excluded to see that I’d actually excluded them!
My teammates cheer for me in good races and bad. They congratulate me when I’m up and comfort me when I’m down. But it honestly had never occurred to me that Padma or Molly or especially the Sampson twins would want to be invited to a slumber party at my house. Even worse, it had never occurred to me to invite them. I felt like such a jerk.
Thankfully, the Sampson twins changed the subject.
“So, Halloween,” said Shauna, twisting her hips to the left.
“We have a fantastic group-costume concept,” said Shandi, twisting her hips to the right.
And then they exchanged supersecret twin smiles.
“The best part about it is…” Shauna began.
“The whole team can take part!” Shandi finished.
Padma and Molly stood upright from their lunges and eyed each other warily.
“You want us?” Padma asked.
“Heck yeah!” Shandi said. “It’s really…”
She shot a quick look at me before zeroing in on her twin.
“A team effort!” they said together.
Padma and Molly pumped their fists into the air.
“Yesssssss!”
I touched my toes, avoided eye contact, and felt conflicted.
“Yo, Notso. Do you already have a costume planned?” Shandi asked.
Did I? I hadn’t discussed the Chibi Girls—or the periodic table, for that matter—with Manda or anyone else since Saturday night.
“We thought it would be cool if the whole team did this together,” Shauna continued. “It might encourage more girls to go out for the team next year.”