That was bad. Bad for Prairie.
“Guess we’ll just have to steal it back,” Max said.
Like a firing squad, we took aim with our eyes at Ashley’s broad backside. “We’ll do it at lunch,” I whispered, “when they’re out of the room.”
“Let’s go, people.” Mrs. Jonas stood, checking her watch. “Everyone in line for lab.”
For the first time ever, people actually hustled to line up for science. They couldn’t wait to see our project. Hugh and Kevin paused by our desks. “Can I help you carry that thing?” Hugh asked.
“No, we’ve got it.” Lydia hefted up a corner.
I elbowed her hard.
“Oh.” She stumbled backward. “You can carry this side.”
Hugh grabbed the corner, which happened to be next to Prairie’s. Her freckles sizzled. No kidding—you could hear them.
“Here,” Kevin said. “I’ll take this edge.” His hand brushed across mine as he grasped my corner. The tingle up and down my arm lasted all the way to the science wing.
The Rat-o-rama Revealed was an unforgettable event. At least I’ll never forget it. Lydia, Prairie, and I performed a finger drumroll on the science sink while Max lifted the black silk tablecloth. Everyone gasped. Right before they burst into laughter.
“See?” Ashley squealed. “It’s just a bunch of junk.”
The whole class shook their heads and wandered back to their own projects. Except Hugh and Kevin. “So, how does it work?” Hugh asked.
Max retrieved Harley from his cage, where he was deep in rat dreamland, and plopped him down at the start. I set a Gummy Worm at one end of a gallon milk jug. Harley sort of quivered in place, then yawned, wiggled his nostrils, and scurried through the carton. He snarfed the worm in one slurp. I continued the trail of Gummy Worms over tubes, through cartons, and around the steering wheel. At which point Harley stopped. He was breathing hard. Suddenly he sprawled in place and fell asleep.
“Wow,” Hugh and Kevin said together. Kevin added, “Pretty neat.”
“Hugh, Kev, come on!” Ashley shrieked from the PC center.
They jumped. Before leaving, Hugh reached down and scratched Harley’s head. “What happens at the end?” he said, speaking to Prairie.
She froze in shock.
I smiled coyly. “It’s a surprise.”
Hugh smiled back at me. His eyebrows wiggled. “I like surprises.”
After he lumbered off, Prairie grabbed my arm. “Did you h-hear that? Hugh l-likes surprises.”
“If he likes surprises, we’ll give him a big one,” Lydia said. “After he sees your glamour photos, he won’t be able to keep his eyes off you.”
Prairie beamed. She looked so happy, I thought she might pop right out of her prosthesis.
Back in homeroom after science, Mrs. Jonas told us to line up for lunch. Lydia, Max, and I stalled around. “Girls, we’re waiting.” Mrs. Jonas cocked her head.
Max said, “We’ll catch up. We gotta feed Harley first.”
Lydia added, “Since we all brought our lunches today, could we eat here, Mrs. Jonas? We don’t feel right about leaving Harley alone.”
“Don’t worry,” Mrs. Jonas said. “I’ll lock up.”
I said, “What if he gets out while we’re gone? What if he chews up a library book?”
Mrs. Jonas flinched. The consequence of returning mutilated materials to the media center… well, it was too hideous to imagine.
“Okay,” she relented. “I assume I can trust you girls to clean up your mess.”
We all gave her our “totally insulted” look.
“Tell them to keep out of our stuff,” Ashley said behind her.
“Ashley, really.” Mrs. Jonas frowned.
We copied the frown and added a sneer to bolster its effect.
As soon as everyone was gone, we ransacked Ashley’s desk, looking for Lydia’s notebook. “It’s not here,” Lydia wailed.
“Let’s try Melanie’s desk,” I said.
No luck there either. But she did have a tube of blue eye shadow that I pocketed. Then immediately felt guilty about and lobbed back in.
Max said, “What about the guys? Hugh and that Rooney Tunes geek?”
I shot her a dirty look. Hearing my true love trashed was not to be tolerated.
Lydia started toward Hugh’s desk.
“You better not let Prairie find out that you think Hugh might’ve taken it,” I said.
The door flew open, and Prairie plodded in. “Hugh might’ve t-taken what?”
Our eyes darted around. “That’s who,” I said. “I mean, you. Taking you. Hugh is taking you to the dance. And we’re so jealous, we could spit.”
“Yeah, r-right.” Prairie flung her pack over her desk chair and added, “You d-didn’t tell me we were eating in the classroom. I had to ask M-Mrs. Jonas where you guys were.”
“I was just coming down to the cafeteria to find you,” I lied. Max dropped a book behind me, and I scootched over in front of Hugh’s desk to hide her handiwork.
“What are you doing in Hugh’s desk?” Prairie asked.
Was I getting thinner? Don’t I wish. Max’s eyes bounced off mine. Lydia said, “We think one of the Cyborgs stole my notebook.”
“Not Hugh,” Prairie said. Her eyes narrowed.
“No, not Hugh,” I quickly agreed. “We think it was probably Ashley, but we can’t find it in her desk, so we figured she’s probably passing it around.”
“Right.” Lydia pushed her glasses up her nose.
“It’s not here,” Max mumbled as she shoved Hugh’s books back inside his desk. “Let’s try Rooney’s.”
“Now, wait a minute,” I said.
Everyone looked at me. “He doesn’t have it,” I said.
“How do you know?” Lydia asked.
My cheeks flared. “I just know. Even if it was offered to him, he wouldn’t take it.”
“S-same with Hugh,” Prairie said.
“So, Jenny.” Lydia smirked. “Are you in love with Kevin Rooney?”
I clucked. “Get real.” To remove her bloodsucking eyes from my face, I added, “Go ahead. Look. You won’t find it.”
All the time they searched Kevin’s desk, Prairie and I stood back, arms folded. “It’s not here,” Lydia said.
“No duh,” I said back. “Look, if Ashley took it, she still has it. She probably stashed it somewhere, like in her bra.”
“I’m not looking there,” Max said.
Prairie giggled.
“In fact,” I continued, “she’s probably reading it to everyone in the cafeteria at this very moment.”
Lydia gasped. “You may be right, Jenny. Why don’t I go buy a hot lunch and check it out. You guys keep searching around the room. It’s a pink spiral. With the name of our science project in purple puffy paint on the front. You can’t miss it.”
As Lydia yanked open the door, Max called across to her, “Bring me back some chocolate milk.”
I called, “And an extra hunk of spice cake.”
They all looked at me. “For Harley,” I whimpered.
Chapter 13
Lydia’s mom was not what I expected. I expected someone tall, like a dancer, with rock-solid thighs. Instead, she was short, like a shrimp, with flabby thighs. I could tell because she wore shorts. The only thing tall was her hair. Teased to Tennessee. Even more surprising, she had this soft voice. And she seemed nice. Obviously Lydia had inherited her father’s genes. Not that Lydia wasn’t nice; she just had a terminal case of megaphone mouth.
After Dr. Marianne Beals greeted us in her sweet, soft way, Lydia hustled us back to her bedroom. “My mom said we could use any of these costumes we want, as long as we don’t ruin them.” Lydia lifted the lid on a large metal trunk beside her bed. Max tromped around the bed and threw herself lengthwise across the frilly bedspread. No springs squeaked. “Hey,” Max said. “Is this a water bed?”
“Yes,” Lydia replied. “And my mom’ll kill you if she sees you on it with
your boots.”
“Let her try,” Max muttered.
“Ooh, I want this!” Prairie pulled out a pink feather boa and draped it around her neck.
“Yeah, and I’ll take this.” I removed a leopard-spotted bodysuit, size one. Lydia opened her mouth to say it, but I saved her the embarrassment. “Just kidding. Unless I wear it on my head.” It snapped into place, and I flung the legs and arms back like long dreadlocks. Prairie and Lydia hyena-howled.
Prairie said, “Ooh, Max, this is d-definitely you.” She unfolded a red silk cape with matching mask. Two little devil’s horns stuck up from the top of the mask. Max’s eyebrows arched.
“I have dibs on this,” Lydia said. She grabbed a long, skinny rod from the bottom of the trunk. With a flick of the wrist, she unleashed it. A Japanese fan arced across her face.
“Gorgeous,” Prairie breathed.
There were enough sequins in that trunk to spark a fireworks display. After we pawed through all the costumes, Lydia said, “Okay, Prairie. You’re first.
Pick out an outfit. Then come sit at my vanity table and I’ll do your hair and makeup.”
While Lydia brushed out Prairie’s braids, I loaded up on flashy jewelry. Even though none of the outfits would fit, there was enough chiffon to wrap around my bulk several times.
A knock sounded on the door. “Get that, Jenny,” Lydia said. A row of bobby pins fell out of her mouth.
I hopped across the room and opened the door. Lydia’s mom asked, “How’s it going in here?”
“Good,” I answered.
She glanced at my getup and smiled. “Can I help with makeup or anything?”
I twisted my head toward Lydia. She’d teased Prairie’s hair into a giant haystack and stuck a peacock headdress on top. It looked like there’d been a barnyard brawl, and the rooster lost. “Uh, maybe—”
“No,” Lydia cut me off. “We’re fine.” She met Prairie’s panicked eyes in the mirror and added, “Well, maybe, if you’re not too busy. I guess I could use a little help with the hair.”
“You know I’m never too busy for you.” Lydia’s mom frowned at her. “Or your friends.”
Lydia gave me a look like “Puh-leaze.”
Dr. Beals padded in barefoot and took the brush from Lydia. We watched as she styled Prairie’s hair into a big bouffant and curled her bangs with a curling iron. Obviously she’d had a lot of practice with that look. As Lydia’s mom fitted the headdress in place, Prairie said in a sigh, “It m-must be fun being a Las V-Vegas showgirl.”
“Not really,” Lydia’s mom said. “It’s too much work for too little money. And the hours stink.” She told us how she worked all night, then studied for college until three or four A.M. Afterward she slept for a couple of hours, then got up to practice for a new show or prepare for the next performance. “What a life.” She shook her head. “I don’t miss it.”
Behind her, Lydia faked violin playing.
Prairie sighed again. “I’d like to t-try it.”
“Me, too,” I said.
“Yeah, right.” Lydia rolled her eyes.
Her mother whirled and shot Lydia a dirty look. “Whatever you can do or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius, power, and magic in it. Goethe,” she quoted.
“You go, girl. Oprah,” I quoted back.
She laughed. And I didn’t even have to explain the joke, like I did with Dr. Sid sometimes. A thought struck me. I wished Lydia’s mom was my therapist. I bet she could solve my problem.
“There we go,” she said to Prairie. “What do you think?” With a final flourish, she brushed blusher across Prairie’s cheekbones and stepped back. Prairie gazed into the mirror. She licked her pink lemonade lips and smiled. “G-gosh” was all she could say.
“Prairie, you’re beautiful,” Lydia said. “Hugh won’t know what hit him.”
That perked Max up. “Hit who?”
Lydia’s mom said, “Okay, who’s next?”
We scrabbled to get in line. Even Max, although what she wanted wasn’t exactly your classic glamour makeover. A few minutes later, smiling through black lipstick and electrified frizz, Max spun on the vanity seat and pronounced, “Shazam.”
“Scary,” I mumbled.
Lydia was made up to resemble a Japanese geisha girl, in a silk kimono with her hair wound in a bun. Two glittery silver chopsticks stuck out each side of the bun.
Dr. Beals suggested I play an Arabian harem girl. With all that chiffon, it was perfect. She gelled my hair in waxy waves all over my head and outlined my lips with ruby red lipstick. Thick eyeliner and thicker mascara made me look like the Queen of Sheba, whatever she looks like.
“Let me take the pictures,” Max said. “My brother taught me how to use a camera.”
Prairie didn’t have a problem with that. She retrieved the camera and film from her backpack and handed them to Max. While Max loaded the film, Lydia said, “We need a backdrop. A chair against the wall or something.”
“I know.” Lydia’s mom snapped her fingers. “Follow me.”
She led us to her bedroom and a comfy overstuffed armchair. At least it would’ve been comfy if there hadn’t been a ton of trashy romance novels on top of it. Stacking the books on the floor, she said, “Lydia, go get that set of black silk sheets from the back of the linen closet.” Smiling at us, she added, “I knew I’d use those sheets again someday.” Her gaze strayed over our heads and down the hall. She seemed kind of sad. The way Mom did sometimes when I caught her alone.
We draped the sheets over the chair, where Prairie posed like Cleopatra. Max snapped shots from all different angles. Then Lydia lounged across the cushion, pretending to be all sexy. I took over where she left off. Lydia’s mom cracked up. She said drama was my true calling. We were all giggling pretty good, but when Max posed like a demented demon, with that cape and mask, we literally screamed. Dr. Beals got such a stitch in her side, I thought we might have to call an ambulance.
Too soon the film was gone. Lydia’s mom said, “I don’t know about you all, but I’m famished. I bought snacks; they’re out in the kitchen.”
We nearly trampled each other getting there. Okay, I nearly trampled everyone. On the dining-room table was a tray of assorted pastries; cut-out cakes and cream puffs, chocolate eclairs, frosted cookies. Drool pooled at my feet. I felt sick. All the willpower in the world couldn’t keep me from those cream puffs.
Lydia said, “I hope you brought your food diary, Jenny.” She turned to her mom. “I forgot to tell you, Mom. Jenny’s on a diet.”
My face flared. “It’s not a diet. It’s a nutrition plan.”
Dr. Beals frowned. “Why? You look perfectly fine to me.”
Not only did I want her for my therapist, I wanted her for my mother.
Chapter 14
“Dad, could I go to another child psychologist?” I asked him on Sunday afternoon while I helped stuff dirty clothes into the washer downstairs.
He poured about a gallon of liquid Cheer into the tub and closed the lid. “Why? You don’t like Dr. Sid?”
“I don’t think Dr. Sid is really helping me with my… problem. I mean, I haven’t lost any weight. In fact, I gained three pounds over the weekend.” He didn’t need to know about the pastry orgy at Lydia’s.
“I believe the idea is for you to help yourself.” Over the empty laundry basket, Dad met my eyes.
“It is?” I threw up my hands. “See? Why didn’t he say that? Instead he has me seeing this anorexic dietician and keeping this stupid food diary. Which I would be embarrassed to show anyone.” Which I lied about losing and hadn’t written in for days. “It’s dumb.”
Dad sighed. He brushed by me and started up the stairs. “So, what do you want to do?”
“See another psychologist. Like I said. There’s this lady I know, Dr. Beals. I’d really like to go to her.” There was danger in this request, I knew. The possibility existed that everyone would find out I was seeing a shrink. Not the Snob Squad so much; they’d understand. I?
??m talking about everyone in school. Ashley, Melanie, Mrs. Jonas, Kevin. Kevin? “Uh, never mind,” I said.
“No, wait.” Dad twisted around at the top of the stairs. He sighed. “I’m not totally convinced these so-called professionals are worth what they charge. But hey, if you think someone else could help you, let’s do it.”
“I don’t know.” My eyes strayed out the back door. Two mourning doves cuddled together in the crab apple tree, cooing. “Maybe it isn’t the therapist. Maybe it’s me, like you said.” I dodged under the laundry basket and waddled away. “Guess I’m just defective.”
“Don’t say that.”
I headed for my room.
“Jenny?” Dad called after me. “Let’s talk about this.”
I shut the door, and shut him out. In my room I stuck on my earphones and rusted out my brain to heavy metal music.
On Monday morning, Prairie brought the pictures to school. “Overnight p-processing,” she said. “They cost six dollars and forty-nine cents. Plus the film, it c-comes to about two dollars and fifty cents each.”
Lydia and I scrounged in our purses and paid up. Max said, “I owe you.”
“No p-problem. You gotta see these. C-come on.”
We jammed into the girls’ restroom and shut the door. “Open it. Hurry,” Lydia said. She was so excited, I thought she’d wet her pants. We were in the right place, anyway.
Slowly, carefully, Prairie lifted the flap of the photo envelope. She reached inside and pulled out the first picture.
“Oh, my God!” Lydia shrieked over Prairie’s shoulder. She wrenched the picture out of Prairie’s hand. “My God. If anyone sees this, I’ll be the laughingstock of school.”
You already are, I almost said. Maybe I did. “Let me see.”
“No way.” Lydia slapped the picture against her chest.
“It can’t be that bad.”
“There’s m-m-ore,” Prairie sang. She showed us another one of Lydia, and we howled.
Lydia grabbed the picture and cringed. “All right.” She took a deep breath and narrowed her eyes. “Let’s see the rest of you.”
Prairie passed around the stack of photos. My glamour photos were, in a word, hideous. Worse than hideous. I looked like a hussy, humpback hippopotamus. In ballet pink, if you can imagine.