Revenge of the Snob Squad

by Julie Anne Peters

  “Now?” Lydia said. “But school—”

  I lumbered off the field toward the clown target. My lardo legs picked up speed. Faster and faster, I charged for Erie Avenue and leaped off the curb. In my blind rage, I never saw the bus that hit me.

  Chapter 12

  If you’re thinking the same thing I was, that I was finally dealt the Death card, you’re wrong. I didn’t die. I woke up in the hospital with my mom and dad hovering over my head.

  “Oh, Jenny.” Mom kissed my face.

  Dad squeezed my hand. “You’re lucky to be alive,” he said.

  “Am I?” I had a headache that registered off the Richter scale.

  Mom said, “What kind of question is that, ‘Am I?’”

  Honest, I answered to myself.

  “Do you remember what happened?” Dad asked.

  “I fell?”

  “Right into an oncoming bus,” he said.

  “Really?” My eyebrows arched. “Did I total it?”

  Dad shook his head sadly. “ ’Fraid so.”

  “Good. Was it my school bus?” I hope, I hope.

  He didn’t get a chance to answer because the door opened and a nurse bustled in to check my vital signs.

  After she left Mom said, “What were you doing, running out in the street during gym class?”

  “Escaping,” I replied.

  “From P. E.?”

  Was that a joke? Did Mom actually crack a joke? I almost laughed. Instead I said, “No, from the aliens. Don’t you see them? They’re everywhere.”

  Mom blinked across at Dad. “She’s kidding,” he told her. “Or maybe not. She has suffered a major head trauma.”

  Mom muttered, “Thank God I got that psychologist’s appointment when I did.”

  That bolted me back to reality. “I have to go to the bathroom,” I said.

  Mom and Dad both helped me up. When my feet hit the floor, my head exploded. “Did I have brain surgery?” I asked. There were no bandages. Apparently they left the speech center intact.

  “You have a concussion,” Mom said. “The doctor wants to keep you overnight for observation.”

  The way I felt, he could keep me for suffocation. Dragging my corpse across the room, I didn’t notice her until I got to the bathroom door. Vanessa stood stock-still, staring. Not at me, at the wall. Or what was on the wall. A mirror. Lately, she had this thing about mirrors. She got lost in them.

  “Vanessa? Jenny’s awake,” Mom said as we passed.

  No response.

  “Vanessa!”

  Vanessa flinched and turned her head. “Jen.” She threw her arms around me. “Oh, Jen.”

  “Don’t squeeze,” I said. “I have to go.”

  She released me. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

  “Only when I breathe,” I said.

  “So don’t.” She sneered. A flicker of the old Vanessa returned to her eyes. But the flicker faded fast because she caught sight of herself in the mirror again and disappeared.

  When I came out of the bathroom, everyone was getting ready to leave. “Get some rest,” Mom said. “I’ll be back in the morning to pick you up.”

  Dad tucked covers up around me. “Are you hungry? I’ll have the nurse order you a meal.”

  Miraculously, I wasn’t hungry. Food was the last thing on my mind. Maybe my appetite center had been surgically removed. “Order me two meals for the morning,” I said in a yawn. Just in case.

  He and Mom kissed me good-bye. They dug Vanessa out of the mirror and left.

  No sooner had I figured out the TV remote control than the phone rang. It was Lydia.

  “Oh my God, Jenny. How are you?” she said.

  “Alive. Barely. I have a concussion.”

  “Is that all? I mean, that’s enough. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  Where had I heard that before?

  “We were so worried,” Lydia went on. “Especially when the ambulance came and took you to the hospital.”

  “I rode in an ambulance?” Rats, I didn’t even remember. “Bet that was exciting.”

  “No kidding. Everyone was screaming and crying. Even Ashley.”

  “She should cry,” I said. “It was all her fault.”

  Lydia babbled on for a while about how the bus screeched to a stop, but not before it dragged me under. How it swerved and crashed into the clown target. How Bozo was smashed to smithereens, and how Ashley ran screaming to the office to call 911.

  “Oh, sure. She probably called the PTA so they could sue me for blitzing Bozo,” I muttered.

  I must’ve drifted off, because I woke up the next morning thinking it was all a dream. When they brought in my breakfast tray, I realized it was a nightmare.

  Oatmeal. Gag. I hate that stuff. And two heaping bowlfuls. Dad was true to his word. Just as I lifted the phone to dial Domino’s for a pizza, the lights went out.

  “Surprise!” The Snob Squad leaped around the corner. Well, Lydia leaped. Max and Prairie sort of shuffled in.

  “What are you guys doing here? Shouldn’t you be in prison?”

  Max smirked. “Probably.”

  “We got the day off,” Lydia said.

  I looked at her. “You mean you ditched?”

  She grinned.

  “Your mom’s going to kill you.”

  “So what?” Lydia said. “We had to see you. They wouldn’t let us up without an adult, so we snuck in.”

  “How do you f-feel?” Prairie asked. She clenched the bed rail. “We thought for s-sure you were dead.”

  “No such luck.”

  Max clucked. “Anything busted?” she said.

  “Just my head. I get out today.”

  They all exhaled in relief. Max elbowed Lydia. “What?” Lydia said.

  Max growled at her.

  “Oh, yeah.” Lydia unzipped her fanny pack. “We brought you a present.” She pulled out a bag of Tootsie Roll Pops and shook it over the bed.

  “You guys are the best,” I said. “Rip that sucker open.”

  While everyone chose a flavor and unwrapped a sucker, I made room for them to sit on the bed. Max pulled up a chair instead and rested her army boots on the rail. Out of the blue Lydia said, “Are you ever going to tell us why you hate Ashley Krupps so much?”

  It froze me mid-slurp. Out in the hall a cart rolled by and a beeper sounded. Max got up and shut the door.

  They all waited. How long could they wait? Their silence was making me mental. “Okay”—I took a long lick—“here goes. I had this friend, Zoe. Zoe Zarlengo?”

  “I remember her,” Max said. “Long, thick braid. Like an Indian.” She motioned down her back.

  I winced at the memory. “Right. The rest of you wouldn’t know her since you didn’t go to Abrams Elementary. Anyway, Zoe and I were best friends in fourth grade. Zoe was the best friend I ever had.” I removed the sucker from my mouth and added, “The only friend I ever had.” A lump lodged in my throat. Just thinking about Zoe made my heart ache.

  “So what about Ashley?” Lydia said.

  “Shut up.” Max scootched her chair closer. “She’s getting there.”

  “Fifth grade started out good,” I said. “I mean, I hated school. It’s not easy for a fat girl, you know? I wasn’t as fat as I am now, but I was overweight. I always have been. I was born fat. Like a birth defect.” What a stupid thing to say. My eyes met Prairie’s, and she nodded understanding. Thank goodness.

  Max said, “You’re not fat.”

  I said, “Lydia, give Max your glasses.”

  Lydia clucked.

  Max said, “You should see my uncle Mel, you want fat.” She puffed out her cheeks.

  I could’ve kissed her. Probably not a good idea. “Anyway,” I went on, “at least school was bearable with Zoe there. She always defended me. Stood up for me if somebody said something mean, which happened about six times a day. She ate lunch with me. If we had to pair up for stuff, she picked me.” The lump grew to a lemon and wedged in my esophagus. I coughed. I
t wouldn’t budge.

  Prairie handed me a glass of water with a straw. After I sipped, she took it back and held it.

  My throat hurt, but I forced myself to continue. “Right before spring break Ashley decides to form this secret club. The Sacred Circle of Sisterhood.”

  “Oh, brother,” Lydia said. “I can guess what happened. She asked Zoe to join and not you.”

  “No, she asked both of us, which was a shocker. But there was a condition. This certain thing you had to do to be voted in.”

  Lydia gasped. “You had to strip in front of everyone?”

  Where did she get this stuff? “No, but close. You had to reveal a secret. Not about you, about a friend. You had to prove to the other sisters that you trusted them with your life. Whatever you told them would go no further than the sisterhood because everyone was sworn to secrecy.”

  Lydia clucked. “And Ashley told?”

  Max said, “She’s getting there. Shut up.”

  “Stop telling me to shut up,” Lydia snarled.

  Max flinched. “Okay, put a lid on it, Lydia.” She smirked. Lydia whapped her. “Go on, Jenny.”

  Without even getting to the chewy chocolate center, I stuck my sucker stick side up in a bowl of oatmeal. It was too hard to talk and lick. And there was such a sour taste in my mouth anyway, a sweet sucker was a waste. “I thought the club was a stupid idea, but Zoe wanted to join,” I said. “She had this fatal flaw. She wanted to be popular. So we accepted the invitation. One night, a Friday night”—it made me queasy just to remember—“we were both asked to come to Ashley’s house to meet with the sisterhood. To be interviewed. It was really spooky. Ashley led us downstairs to the basement. All the lights were turned out, and there was black construction paper over the windows. A card table was set up in the middle of the room with a candle burning on it. Three other people sat around the table. They wore sheets over their heads so we couldn’t see who they were.”

  “Like devil worshipers,” Lydia breathed.

  “No doubt. Ashley asked us both to wait in another room while they got ready. It was the laundry room, which, if you’ve ever been alone with a washer and dryer in the dark, you know how creepy that is.”

  “I d-do,” Prairie said. “Once when I was little I g-got locked in the laundry room.” She shivered. “I thought for sure the b-boogeyman would jump out of the dryer and g-get me.”

  “The boogeyman would’ve been better than Ashley Krupps,” I muttered. “She asked Zoe to come out first. Zoe was gone about an hour, or at least it felt that way. I couldn’t hear much, just some muffled giggling. When Zoe came back, she was smiling. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ she said. I remember that now. Oh, God.” I covered my face with my hands.

  An orderly whooshed through the door to retrieve the breakfast tray. “You didn’t eat much,” he said. “Not hungry?”

  “Not crazy,” I mumbled. “Help yourself.”

  He looked at the oatmeal with the sucker stuck in it and made a face.

  “It just grew there,” I said.

  After the orderly left, Lydia gripped my leg through the covers and said, “Tell us the rest.”

  “Ow. Okay, don’t get a hernia.” I exhaled a long breath. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. The sisters sat me in a chair and made me hold out my palms. Then Ashley dripped candle wax on my wrists.”

  “Ouch. Didn’t that h-hurt?”

  “It hurt like crazy. I still have a scar.” I showed them my right wrist. “Ashley recited some chant, then told me about the initiation rite. About the secret. She said Zoe had passed. That she’d revealed a secret about me, and that I should tell one about her. That surprised me. I didn’t remember telling Zoe any secrets. And I didn’t want to tell what I knew about Zoe. She was my friend. But…” I stared off toward the bathroom wall. I wished Vanessa was there. Maybe she could show me how to lose myself in the mirror.

  “But what?” Lydia shifted on the bed and bounced my head. The headache roared back with a vengeance.

  I looked at Lydia, at the others. In a small voice I told them, “But I didn’t want Zoe to be in the club and not me. You know?”

  “Of course we know.” Lydia patted my kneecap. “Go on.”

  I gulped. “I only knew one secret about Zoe. So I revealed it.” Time stopped. The room whirled.

  “What was it?” they all said at once.

  I widened my eyes at them.

  Max shook her head. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.”

  “No, I want to. It doesn’t matter now, anyway.” Suddenly my stomach hurt. It felt like knives were in there, stabbing at flesh. That, plus the sore throat and the headache. Where was a doctor when you needed one? Close to convulsing, I continued, “I told them Zoe’s real name was not Zoe Zarlengo.” A moment passed to let them take that in, to let my heart begin beating again, before I added, “That’s all I said—at first. But of course Ashley needed to know Zoe’s real name. She said if I wanted to join I’d have to tell the whole secret. To prove I trusted the sisters.”

  “So you did,” Lydia said.

  “Yeah. I told them Zoe’s name was Kayla Ferguson.”

  The Snob Squad exchanged confused looks. “I don’t get it,” Max said. “So what?”

  “Ashley wanted to know why Zoe was using a false name. She wouldn’t let it go. She kept badgering me. Finally I told her the truth. I didn’t know. All I knew was that it was this big secret and I promised never to tell.”

  Prairie asked, “So w-what happened?”

  I said, “Ashley must’ve figured out the reason. And she must’ve run right upstairs after we left and told her father about it, too, because the cops were at Zoe’s house by the time we got there. What’s worse is, on the way home, Zoe said she made something up about me. She said I had a twenty-two-year-old boyfriend and we were going to elope. No one believed it until she showed Ashley a picture of her brother and me together. Oh, man.” Tears welled in my eyes.

  Prairie handed me a Kleenex. I blew my nose. “I never saw Zoe again. I found out later that her mom was hiding her and her brother from their dad. They’d been running from him for years. She must’ve guessed what I did. I never even got to explain. I never got to say good-bye.” The last word came out a squeak because a torrent of tears burst through the dam. They’d been storing up for a year, and now they all flooded forth.

  The Snob Squad just let me cry it out. Lydia patted my leg the whole time.

  Once I’d wadded up an entire box of hospital Kleenex, Lydia said, “Ashley Krupps is a snake.”

  I sniffed. “If she ever tells you she’s sworn to secrecy, just stab her in the back. Like she did to me.” Tears threatened again.

  Max stood. “Tonight. Peacemobile. Sleep-over,” she said. “We’re gonna kick Krupp’s butt from here to kingdom come.”

  Lydia and Prairie both nodded agreement.

  I had no idea where kingdom come was. But those were the words I’d been longing to hear. I looked around and thought, I love you guys. I wish I could have told them.

  Chapter 13

  The Snob Squad left right before Mom showed up to bring me home from the hospital. That afternoon I had a lot of time to think. Usually I can veg out in front of soaps all day when I’m home sick, but today I couldn’t put the brakes to the brain. I relived the whole Ashley incident, even the end, when I felt so guilty. When I knew in my heart I’d betrayed Zoe. Even if Ashley had held a gun to my head, I should never have revealed Zoe’s secret. What are friends for if you can’t trust each other? Trust is a precious bond. You can’t form a club. You can’t pledge trust.

  During a commercial for Kraft macaroni and cheese, the big revelation came. It wasn’t Ashley’s fault. She didn’t hold a gun to my head. She didn’t force me to say a word. I should’ve known not to believe her. I should’ve gone with my gut instinct, especially when Ashley said she was sworn to secrecy. The only thing Ashley Krupps is sworn to is building herself up by tearing others down. She always
has. She always will.

  It was my fault Zoe went away. My fault. I missed her. I miss her still. The worst part is wondering where Zoe is now, how she’s doing. Wondering if she’s found a new best friend. Knowing Zoe, she has. She was such a great person. I just hope her new best friend is a better friend than I was.

  Mom said I could go to the sleep-over as long as I took it easy. What I took was a box of Eskimo Pies.

  Handing them out, I said to Max, “I know I didn’t exactly die, but do you think I’ve experienced enough misery, suffering, loss, and defeat?”

  Max just clucked.

  “What are you talking about?” Lydia said.

  I explained about my tarot cards. About the swords. About the Death card.

  “The D-Death card?” Prairie shuddered.

  “It doesn’t mean death,” Max said. “At least not physical death. The Death card only means a change of consciousness. Like death of the old self and rebirth of the new.” At my awed expression, she shrugged. “So I know how to read tarot cards. So what?”

  “It could mean physical death,” Lydia said. “It could mean we should firebomb Ashley’s house.”

  “We don’t know where she lives,” I said. “And even if we did—” I stopped and took a deep breath. This was risky, I knew. “Let’s just forget it.”

  “Forget what?” Lydia said.

  “Forget about taking revenge on Ashley Krupps.”

  “What!” Lydia squeezed her Eskimo Pie, and it plopped out of the wrapper onto her lap. While she wiped it up, she said, “You mean just forget all the mean and horrible things she’s done to us? Not get back at her at all?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  “But she lied to you. She almost got you killed! She made you get hit by a bus.”

  We all let that ring in our ears. It sounded stupid, even to Lydia. You could tell by the red in her cheeks.

  “I ran into the street,” I said. “I got hit by the bus. And I betrayed my friend Zoe. Don’t get me wrong. I hate Ashley Krupps, but I think it’s a waste of time to keep thinking up ways to get her. Nothing’s going to change. She sure isn’t.”