by Lin Oliver
“Just you and me?” Sammie asked Alicia. Understandably, she didn’t sound all that enthusiastic.
“No, we’ll get all the kids in Truth Tellers together, and we’ll do something really fun. Like a costume party. Do you think your dad would let us have it here? We could make a bonfire on the beach and—”
“Roast hot dogs and make s’mores,” Sammie interrupted, her eyes lighting up. There’s nothing my sister likes more than gooey foods like mac and cheese or Rice Krispies Treats, but s’mores are her all-time favorite.
“Yeah, who needs Ben Feldman to have a good time?” Alicia said, holding up her hand for a high five.
“Right,” Sammie agreed, high-fiving her. “We can have our own fun.”
“So, Charlie,” Alicia said. “You go to Dodger Stadium and have amusements galore. We’ll have our own right here.”
“You sure this is okay with you?” I asked Sammie.
“I’m going to give it my best shot,” she said. And then she smiled. I couldn’t tell if it was a totally real smile or the kind you put on when you’re trying to smile.
“So then I’m going to tell Ben I’m going?” I asked.
“I believe that’s the usual procedure,” she said with her typical wisecracking tone. It was the old Sammie, the fun one.
A huge feeling of relief swept over me. Immediately, Sammie and Alicia started talking about themes for the party, and I ran into the living room to get my phone. I couldn’t wait to tell Lauren that I could go. Lauren and I were going to have so much fun deciding what to wear and how to do our hair and who we were going to sit next to on the bus. (Oh, did I mention that the invitation said a luxury party bus was going to take everyone to Dodger Stadium?) Of course, I wanted to sit next to Lauren, but then there was also the possibility that Spencer Ballard would fight her for the chance to sit next to me. That was too much to hope for.
When I called Lauren, it took her a few rings to answer. As soon as she picked up, I could tell something was wrong. Her nose was all stuffy, and she sounded like she had been crying.
“Lauren, what is it?”
“I have horrible news, Charlie.”
“What happened?”
“It’s my stupid dad. He’s all mad about my grades and says I have to get at least straight Bs or I’m in big trouble.”
“Okay, we can deal with that,” I told her. “I’ll help you study, and eventually your grades will get better.”
“Yeah, but he wants them better on this report card. There’s no way I’m going to get a B in history. Not with that impossible midterm coming up. If I don’t get a B, then I can’t . . .”
And then she burst into tears, sobbing so loud I couldn’t understand the end of the sentence.
“What, Lauren? What can’t you do?”
“I can’t go to Ben’s bar mitzvah.”
“He wouldn’t do that to you.”
“He would and he did.”
I was silent. I didn’t know what to say. I knew how awful I had felt when I thought about missing Ben’s party. But for Lauren to miss it, Lauren who was the leader of the SF2s . . . well, it was just unthinkable.
“We’ll come up with some way out of this,” I said, even though I didn’t see any way out. Lauren is not a good student in general, and she had been goofing off pretty seriously in history. She was going to have to ace that midterm, and acing midterms isn’t exactly what Lauren does best.
I heard her dad calling her in the background. I couldn’t make out every word, but he sounded pretty irritated.
“Listen, Charlie. I have to go.” She sniffled. “We’ll talk tomorrow. Meet me before school at our table.”
Then she hung up. Slowly, I walked back into my room. Alicia and Sammie were busy talking excitedly about their party. They were even going to make a banner that said WE’RE NOT INVITED BUT WE DON’T CARE. I picked up Ben’s invitation from my dresser, and as I ran my fingers over the beautiful paper, I wondered how it was possible that one envelope could be filled with so much trouble.
Chapter 3
“What are you doing up so early?” Sammie asked, rolling over in bed and rubbing her eyes sleepily. My sister is definitely not a morning person.
“I’m meeting Lauren before school. She’s in a crisis.”
“What happened? She chip her nail polish?”
“Funny. Remind me to say something nasty about your friends next time.”
Sammie yawned and threw the pillow over her head. She had gone to bed late the night before. After Alicia went home, Sammie sat down at our computer and got into designing an invitation to their “Not Invited” party. She had decided that the front should say COME TO OUR COSTUME EXTRAVAGANZA, but she was having trouble because the word extravaganza was too long to fit on her screen, and besides, she wasn’t sure if everyone would know what it meant.
Sammie had already fallen back asleep in the time it took me to grab my backpack, brush my hair, and open the door to our room. As I tiptoed into the living room, I was hoping our dad was still asleep, but there he was, sitting on the couch, eating a bowl of granola.
“Hi, Dad. Bye, Dad. I have to be at school early.”
“Got your tennis clothes?” he asked.
“Don’t need them.”
“Isn’t today the day you girls are working out with the tennis team?”
“It’s tomorrow, Dad. Friday, remember? And we’re not working out. We’re participating with the girls’ tennis team in an exhibition match at Lincoln Middle School.”
“Oh, right,” he said, going back to his granola. He is totally focused on our tennis in real tournaments because he wants us to do well and get college scholarships. But as far as exhibition matches at school or just regular fun tennis, his only interest is that we don’t get injured.
“You’ll have to be careful not to get injured,” he called after me as I left.
What did I tell you?
I walked the four blocks to school really fast. There was a thick morning fog, typical for late October at the beach, and I didn’t want my hair to get all frizzy from the dampness. Plus, I wanted to get there early because I was worried about Lauren. She had already texted me that she had gone to her dad and begged him to change his mind, but he had refused. She said she had been crying all night.
When I got to school, I hurried to the outside lunch pavilion next to the cafeteria. It’s where everyone eats except when it’s raining. The SF2s sit at the same table every day, and I’ve been sitting with them almost every lunch. I still can’t believe it’s my table. It feels awesome to be included.
I was surprised to see the other girls from the club already there with Lauren. Jillian Kendall was sitting next to her, drinking her usual morning strawberry-banana smoothie. Not that I’m jealous, but I just want to say that Jillian spends more on smoothies in a month than I spend on my entire wardrobe for the semester. Brooke was sitting across the table from Jillian, looking into her cell phone and putting on gold lip gloss. She has this cool app that turns your iPhone screen into a mirror, and because she’s obsessed with lip gloss, she gets a lot of use out of it. She uses it way more than the calculator app, that’s for sure. At the end of the table was Lily March, who always dresses so creatively, but today looked especially great in her silver ballet flats and rolled-up jeans. She was flipping through a three-ring notebook and writing down a list of numbers on a yellow pad, twirling one finger around and around her curly black hair. She was concentrating so hard she didn’t even look up.
I don’t know why I was hurt to see everyone else there before me. I guess I thought that Lauren had called only me, and that the two of us were going to work out her problem together. I hadn’t realized everyone else would be invited. But then, Lauren had been best friends with these girls ever since elementary school, and of course she was going
to call them in a time of crisis. I told myself that I shouldn’t feel hurt.
“Have you heard?” Brooke said as I slid onto the bench next to her. “Lauren’s father has gone totally mental. Do you think my lips are too sparkly?”
“The gold looks good with your tan,” I told her. Brooke looks like all the pictures of California girls that are always featured in fashion magazines and on TV. Blond hair, white teeth, golden tan, sparkly lips. I’ve never met anyone who glows like she does.
Lauren was dabbing her eyes with a tissue. She didn’t look good. Well, she didn’t look good for Lauren. She’s so pretty that it’s hard for her to ever look really bad. Her eyes were red rimmed and puffy, and she had bitten her nails down to little nubs.
“Oh, Charlie, this is a total disaster,” she said when she saw me, her eyes welling with tears. “I tried to tell him that I’m terrible at history, but he wouldn’t even listen. He said I was lazy and only interested in my social life.”
“What are you supposed to be interested in?” Brooke said. “A bunch of old Egyptian dudes with weird names like Ramses and Tutan-blah-blah, who wore headdresses and locked themselves up in pyramids with their servants and their jewels?”
“It’s Tutankhamen, airhead,” Jillian said, polishing off the last of her smoothie. “They called him the ‘boy king.’ Remember, he had this completely gorgeous burial mask that was made of real gold.”
“Look who’s the expert on ancient Egypt.” Brooke snorted.
“I got really interested in their jewelry,” Jillian explained. “Man, those Egyptians had some serious bling.”
Actually, I was impressed that Jillian knew anything about the pharaohs of ancient Egypt. Of all the kids in the SF2s, she’s by far the worst student, probably because she spends every night watching reality shows about housewives and models and teen moms. Right after I met her, she told me she was allergic to homework, which is a funny thing to say except at report-card time, when I imagine that joke doesn’t give her mom and dad a real big laugh.
“What am I going to do, you guys?” Lauren said. “My future is bleak.”
I didn’t have a good answer, so I just reached out and gave Lauren’s hand a squeeze.
“Okay, here’s the deal,” Lily said, putting down her pencil and flipping the notebook closed. “I’ve written down your scores on all the quizzes and tests in your notebook. You got a B on one quiz, so it proves you can do it.”
Lauren’s eyes brightened a little.
“However,” Lily went on, “you’ve also gotten two Cs, one F, and a C-minus on the unit test on the beginnings of civilization.”
“That test was really hard,” I said, trying to make Lauren feel better.
“And boring,” Jillian added, tossing the empty plastic cup into the nearby trash. I wanted to take it out of the trash and put it in the recycling container next to it, but I didn’t want anyone to think I liked fishing around in random trash cans.
“You have a C-minus average,” Lily said to Lauren. “That’s the bad news. The good news is that if you get an A on the test Monday, you’ll get a B-minus in the class.”
“Which technically counts as a B,” Jillian said.
“Dodger Stadium here you come,” Brooke said, giving Lauren a hug. “Problem solved. Nice work, Lilykins.”
“There’s one thing, guys,” Lauren said, still sounding a little unsure. “How do I get an A on the test? I’m not good at history.”
“You’ll just have to study really hard,” I told her. “If you memorize everything, you’ll do okay.”
“Will you study with me, Charlie? You’re really smart.”
“Sammie and I have a tournament all day Sunday at Sand and Surf Tennis Club,” I said. “And we have to train on Saturday. But it’s only Thursday today, so we have after school today and tomorrow to study. I’ll come over.”
“Oh, I can’t tomorrow night,” Lauren said. “I’m supposed to meet Ryan at the football game. He’s invited me to sit with the eighth-grade boys. I can’t miss that.”
“But, Lauren, this is really important,” I urged.
“Like the football game isn’t? Come on, Charlie. It’s a big step in my social life.”
The lunch pavilion was starting to fill up with students arriving for school. The cafeteria sells these really great cinnamon buns and a lot of kids come early to buy them for breakfast. I noticed that Brooke had lost interest in our conversation and was standing up, waving to a group of boys walking in from the carpool line. One of them was the General, her sort-of boyfriend. His real name is Dwayne Dickerson, but all the SF2s call him the General because he always dresses in camouflage cargo pants. He was walking next to another guy, Sean Patterson, who is the best athlete in the whole school. He’s the top scorer in three sports—soccer, basketball, and baseball. I’m an athlete, too, so I can tell you that’s pretty hard to do. You have to have a real natural talent.
“What’s up with the sad faces?” Sean said as he and the General arrived at our table. “Looks like somebody died. Or lost a game.”
“Lauren’s having parent problems,” Brooke answered, looking directly at the General even though it was Sean who asked the question. “She has to bring up her grades.”
“I feel your pain,” the General said. “My dad’s on the same campaign. You can do it, though, Laur. It’s all about time management.”
“That’s what I was telling her,” I chimed in. “If she skips the football game tomorrow and doesn’t make any other plans, she can just do nothing but study her head off.”
“Whoa, easy there, chief,” the General said. “That’s pretty extreme. We don’t want her brain to explode.”
Everyone laughed, and within five seconds, the topic switched to where they were all going to meet up before the game. I was frustrated because I knew how hard I’d already been studying for that history test, and Lauren hadn’t even opened a book. Our teacher had even said that spelling counts, and if you’ve ever tried to spell the names of the pharaohs of ancient Egypt, you know how hard that is. There are all kinds of h’s and k’s and m’s that you can’t even begin to sound out.
When Ben Feldman arrived at the table, wearing his usual plaid shorts even though it was a damp, foggy morning, everyone stood up and applauded. Sean did a fake bow as if Ben were the king of a major country.
“All hail to the chief of party givers,” he said.
Everyone complimented him on the awesome invitation. It turns out that Ben’s dad works for the Dodger front office (I’m not sure what that is, but I was too embarrassed to ask), and that’s why he got to hold the party at Dodger Stadium. It was cool because Ben seemed really excited about the event. When he said he was studying hard for his bar mitzvah and had to memorize a lot of passages in Hebrew, I whispered to Lauren, “See, you’re not the only one who has to study hard.” But she didn’t pay any attention because she was distracted by Ryan’s arrival in the lunch pavilion.
He strutted in like he owned the school, his sunglasses draped around the back of his neck. Sammie was tagging along behind him. Honestly, she looked like she had just rolled out of bed, which I’m sure she had. If you ask me, she could have at least pulled her hair back into a ponytail instead of letting it just sit there on her head looking like a squirrel had built a nest in it.
“Hey, rich kids,” Ryan called out as he approached our table. “How’s life in the fast lane?”
I was the only one who cringed at that remark. Everyone else laughed—and not at Ryan but with him. Ryan has an amazing ability to make people love him. Even though Sammie and I think he’s a total goofball at home, the kids at school think he’s so funny. He’s just got that Ryan touch that makes you feel like you’ve known him forever. He doesn’t care what he says, because whatever comes out of his mouth sounds friendly and totally natural.
Sammie found Alicia right away, standing with another one of their friends, Sara Berlin. She’s a tall girl who has hair so big and frizzy that she looks like one of those poofy French poodles at a dog show. I saw Sammie immediately pull a paper out of her backpack and launch into an animated conversation with them. No doubt she was showing them her designs for the party invitation and trying to figure out a way to fit EXTRAVAGANZA on the page. I was grateful she wasn’t passing it around at my table.
When the bell rang and it was time to head for homeroom, I naturally took my place next to Lauren. Spencer came up and walked in between us for a bit, and I could feel my cheeks getting all pink. He had no idea how completely adorable he was, just laughing about how his dog had chased a cat up a tree and then got scared when the cat hissed at him. It’s really nice to see a guy who loves animals the way Spencer loves his dog. On a shallower note, it’s also nice to see his dimple come out when he laughs.
I wanted our conversation to go on forever, but Spencer is in Mr. Boring’s homeroom with Lauren, and that’s in the bungalows, so he and Lauren and a couple of the others had to head off in another direction. I’m in Ms. Hamel’s homeroom, which is in the main building, and to my complete surprise, I found myself walking into the building with Sean. He seemed to kind of push Brooke and the General aside so he could get to me. I checked my hair nervously as we walked and hoped my lip gloss was still shiny.
“Too bad about Lauren,” he said, falling into perfect step with me.
“She’s going to have to really apply herself.”
Oh my goodness, Charlie. Did you say that? I don’t know how that sentence managed to come out of my mouth. It sounded like my dad talking. He always tells Sammie and me that we are going to have to apply ourselves if we want to move up in the rankings. Sean didn’t seem to mind, though.
“My older brother, Clark, had a grade issue for a while,” he went on. “He got kicked off the football team.”