Snapstreak

by Suzanne Weyn

  Vee grabs my arm. Her jaw drops.

  Lulu squeezes my shoulder on the opposite side. Her eyes grow ginormous.

  I’m glad they’re holding on to me because I think I’m going to fall over.

  “We. Have. To. Win. This,” Vee says in a quiet, intense voice.

  “Have. To,” Lulu agrees.

  “The Snapstreak must be between two students at schools in two different districts. We want this contest to bring kids in the different school districts closer and have them work together. Some experts worry that social media can create social isolation not only among individuals but also among different groups, whose members tend to only interact among themselves. Here at Channel Fourteen we want to see if social media can be used to bring groups together.”

  Heather May goes on: “The Snapstreak can’t have started before the beginning of this week. To enter, go to our website, Channell4News.com, and enter your name and school, along with the name and school of your Snapstreak partner.”

  Lulu and I both stare at Vee. “Didn’t you start Snapping with Gwynneth at the beginning of this week?” I ask.

  “Yes,” Vee says. “Tuesday.”

  “And is your streak still going?” Lulu asks.

  “Yep,” Vee says. “We exchanged Snaps yesterday. She filmed her dog rolling over and I sent her back a video Snap of Heidi Dog running up and down the stairs.” Vee checks her phone. The little fire symbol beside Gwynneth’s name has a number five in it.

  “Yes! Yes! Yes!” I cheer, pumping my arms in the air.

  “What’s going on?” Dad asks.

  “Boys Being Dudes are coming to Pleasant Hill!” I tell him, jumping into the air. Joe the drummer is coming to my school!

  Off in the corner I hear Lulu’s mother laugh like she’s just heard the funniest thing in the world. She’s talking to Vee’s dad. These two are definitely flirting. (It’s so weird when adults do stuff like that. You’d think they would be over all that by their age. It seems so . . . undignified.) I guess they’re both single, so they can do what they like. It’s still weird to think about, though.

  That night I lie awake in bed imagining Joe the drummer and me meeting at Pleasant Hill Middle School while he’s there to give the BBD free concert. I’m helping set up. We hit it off right away. He’s just crazy about me. He’s never met anyone like me. It’s magic. He goes on tour, but we write. Years go by and we fall out of touch. Then we meet again later on a city street. In the rain! I’m twenty-four and he’s twenty-seven. Our eyes meet and he remembers me from years before. It’s magic all over again! We live happily ever after, of course.

  The second thing I think about isn’t as good. What if Vee’s dad and Lulu’s mom start dating? Today they sure looked to me like they were heading in that direction. In my waking dream, I imagine Susan in a wedding dress and Tom in a tuxedo. Lulu and Vee are bridesmaids. After the wedding, they drive off together to their new home in Shoreham. Stepsisters!

  Leaving me all alone.

  Am I being silly? Probably. But they sure did seem to like each other a lot. A lot. A lot. A lot.

  Chapter 7

  THE FIRST THING I do is get in touch with Gwynneth. Luckily I thought fast and used my phone to take a video of Heather May on TV. I Snap it to Gwynneth and write WE CAN WIN THIS!!! at the end.

  Sunday is torture! I sit on my bed trying to do math homework but I can’t stop checking my phone. It’s almost impossible to pay attention to my work.

  The four-hour-warning hourglass appears around six at night. Time is almost up. At ten it will be twenty-four hours. If Gwynneth doesn’t reply by ten, the streak will be broken and we’ll have to start all over again—which pretty much means we won’t have a chance to win. I’m sure other kids have started their streaks by now.

  Should I send a message to find out why she’s not answering me?

  Does that make me a pest?

  Maybe she’s not answering me because she already thinks I’m a pest. What if she’s just Snapping back and forth to be nice? What if she only feels sorry for me?

  How pathetic!

  Oh, these worries! I worry about everything. My mind immediately goes to the worst thing that could happen. I have to stop it! It’s not good for me. Maybe Gwynneth simply hasn’t looked at her phone. (Ha! As if!) Maybe she lost her phone. (That once happened to me for two days—the two longest days of my life.) Maybe she saw it was from me and thought, Oh no! Not that pesky Vee again! Why won’t she bug off!? I’m not answering.

  I have to stop!

  At 9:42 I glance at my phone and I have one Snap. Gwynneth!!

  In the fire icon the number five turns to six. Yes! The six-day Snapstreak has been saved! Yes!

  Whew! That was close! Now I have twenty-four hours to Snap back. But I still don’t know if Gwynneth is willing to do this with me or not.

  The Channel 14 News website takes forever before it loads. Come on! Finally it’s up. “The Snapstreak contestants duo must attend schools in different districts, but only one free concert will be awarded. It is up to the contestants to decide how and where the concert will be shared,” I read out loud from the rules and regulations section.

  I take a screenshot and Snap it to Gwynneth.

  She responds instantly.

  “Let’s get hopping—into the winner’s circle,” she says with the voice adjuster giving her a low, rumbling voice.

  This is going great! The stuck-up Queen Bee impression I had of Gwynneth at the beginning is changing. She seems kind of fun and wants to actually get to know me.

  What will I say about myself?

  And then it hits me! This is an unbelievable opportunity. No one knows me at Shoreham. Not yet. I can change anything I don’t like about myself just by saying it. It’s the chance of a lifetime! I just have to tell Gwynneth and she’ll tell everyone else.

  Is this dishonest?

  Yes.

  But I don’t have to actually lie. I can just . . . use hyperbole! We learned about it in English class. Hyperbole: exaggeration for the sake of emphasis. I always remember it because I like the way the word sounds. Hyperbole.

  Now I have to think carefully. What do I want the kids at Shoreham High to think about me? What would I like to change about myself?

  I get off my bed and look at myself in the mirror. I sometimes wish I wasn’t quite so tall. Ethan Myers is one of the tallest boys in the eighth grade and he isn’t even taller than I am. I know the boys will all have a growth spurt later on, but I’m even tall among the girls. It can feel awkward towering over everyone else. There’s not much I can change about that, though.

  But if I can’t change my height . . . I can pretend I have an awesome career as a model. Why not? I love fashion. People say I’m pretty, that I should model. So what if I have no photos? I’m a runway model. Definitely!

  That’s a good one.

  Am I popular? Not super popular. I’m normal popular. I have my close friends, Lulu and Megan. I say hi and chat with a bunch of other people, too. I don’t get invited to every single party but to enough of them. I could present myself as being MORE popular.

  One of my faults is impatience. I am extremely impatient. I know that about myself, and once again, I’m now impatient to get started on my new image makeover. (That’s it! It’s not dishonesty, it’s an image makeover.)

  Sitting back down on my bed, I begin Snapping back to Gwynneth.

  Then I type this:

  V-Ness

  I was a child model and I still model. Mostly runway modeling.

  I was almost elected class president. I lost by one vote.

  I love lacrosse. I play on the JV team even though I’m still in 8th grade.

  I once appeared on a dancing competition show.

  I can’t wait to start school at Shoreham High.

  I read it over and decide it’s not lies. I could be a model if I got discovered or someone showed me how to apply. I ran for class president and didn’t lose by a ton of votes. I do love lacr
osse and plan to try out for the high school team. I’ve taken dance lessons since I was six and I’m a good dancer, so it could happen someday that I manage to appear on TV.

  How likely am I to get caught in these lies? I added the part about being a runway model so I don’t have to produce print ads. I didn’t claim to be class president, and did run. They don’t list the names of girls’ lacrosse team players on the school website. And I only said I appeared on the dance show. I didn’t say I competed. I think I’m safe.

  The only real, true lie is number five. I’m scared to death to go to Shoreham High in the fall.

  My door is open and Dad knocks. “Come on in,” I say, putting down my phone on the bed next to me. He sits on the edge. Heidi Dog scampers in and settles by his feet.

  The concerned expression on Dad’s face makes me worry. “What’s up?” I ask.

  “I just got off the phone with the real estate agent, and there’s been a new development,” he says.

  “We’re not moving?” I ask eagerly. “That’s okay. I can live with that! Not a problem.”

  He smiles, but sadly. “No. The opposite. A couple has made an offer on this place if they can move in by the end of this month.”

  “End of the month?!” I cry out. “That’s only three weeks away!”

  “I know. But I need someone who can move in right away. I can’t afford to make two mortgage payments.”

  “Move in three weeks! That’s crazy! There’s three months of school left. No way, Dad! I’m not going!”

  “I’m sorry, Vee. I didn’t expect this either,” Dad says.

  His phone rings and he fishes it from his back pocket. It says SUSAN VANCE. “Why is Lulu’s mother calling you?” I ask.

  Dad gets a shifty look, like he’s embarrassed about something. “I left her a message and she’s calling me back.”

  “Answer the phone,” I say.

  “She’ll leave a message. I’ll call her later. You and I are talking now.” The call goes to voicemail. I hope Lulu is all right. I can’t imagine what else he and she could be talking about. Thinking about Lulu reminds me of something. “I’ll live with Lulu! She invited me to,” I tell him.

  “What?” Dad couldn’t look more shocked. “What?”

  I never mentioned it to him before because I knew he’d say no. And I wasn’t so sure I wanted to do that, anyway. The pigsty of a room and all. But now everything has changed.

  I can’t leave school before the end of the year. I simply cannot. It’s one thing to be the new kid on the first day of ninth grade, when everyone is new to the high school—that’s tough enough. But to come in toward the end of eighth grade? It’s just . . . unthinkable.

  “Does Susan know about this?” Dad asks.

  “Lulu asked her. She’s thinking about it,” I say. “I’m sure it will be all right.” More hyperbole. But I’m desperate.

  “Susan never mentioned this to me,” Dad says.

  “Maybe she . . . uh . . . forgot,” I say. “Since when are you guys such buddies that she tells you everything?”

  “We’re not, but we spoke at the Hardwicks’ house yesterday and then again this afternoon. I’d imagine it would have come up. That’s strange,” Dad says.

  “What did you talk about today?” I ask.

  “Oh, this and that. We had a pleasant conversation yesterday and I simply wanted to get to continue it.” I scratch my head. This is odd. I can’t think about it, though. I have more important things to concern myself with.

  Dad gets up off the bed. “I know it’s a lot to deal with, Vee. I’m sorry. Now I have to go tell Eric. I’m sure he won’t be any happier about it than you are.”

  Is he kidding?! Eric! Eric will barely even notice that he’s in a different school as long as he has his video games. I’m the one who’s in a crisis here.

  Dad kisses me on the top of my head and leaves. I realize that I’ve been using Gwynneth as a distraction, trying to convince myself that if I befriend her, everything will be all right. But it won’t be all right. Gwynneth or no Gwynneth—I’m going to miss my friends at Pleasant Hill, especially Megan and Lulu. I’ve been with most of them since kindergarten. Kindergarten! And I was planning on graduating from high school with them, as well.

  I was only kidding myself, thinking I could create a different me, a more popular, athletic, glamorous me. My classmates know me and most of them like me as I am. That’s worth a lot more than asking new kids to like some made-up phony self. What was I thinking?

  From the floor, Heidi Dog whimpers to be picked up. She’s too short to climb onto my bed on her own. Leaning over, I lift her and plunk her down beside me. “That’s a good girl,” I say, scratching her between the ears. It would be kind of tough leaving Heidi Dog behind if I go live with Lulu, but it wouldn’t be forever.

  Heidi Dog can’t seem to find a comfortable spot. She walks all over the bed. Her brush is on my dresser so I go get it. Maybe brushing her will settle her down. It might settle both of us down.

  Even though it’s past ten o’clock, I’m dying to talk to Lulu. I know she’s still up. She always is, even though she’s not supposed to be on her phone after ten. (Neither am I, actually.) I have to at least text her, though. I need to know if I can live with her.

  Heidi Dog has finally found a comfy spot and I begin brushing her. She stretches out. She loves being brushed.

  I’m so confused about the whole living-with-Lulu thing. Part of me wants to do it. It would be better than moving. And another part of me doesn’t want to be separated from my family. Maybe if I discuss it with Lulu things will seem clearer.

  Before I do that, I have to delete that stupid Snap I was about to send Gwynneth. What a dumb idea! I must have been crazy. It would have been impossible to keep all those lies going. And how embarrassing if I got caught!

  My phone doesn’t seem to be on the bed where I’m sure I put it down. Leaning off the side, I search underneath. No. Not there. “That’s strange, Heidi Dog,” I say. Where could my phone have gone?”

  That’s when I see a light glowing beneath Heidi Dog. There it is! My dog has been sitting on my phone all this time. Gently I move Heidi Dog and pick up my phone.

  And I see a PINK ARROW.

  OMG! It sent! The five big whopping lies I was about to tell Gwynneth. That I DID JUST TELL GWYNNETH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  I feel totally sick inside. Now what?!

  Chapter 8

  SO VEE SENDS me this strange Snap just as I’m about to turn off my lamp and go to sleep. I can’t ignore it because she needs me.

  Luloony

  What? What? What’s the matter?

  V-Ness

  Did your mom decide if I can live with you or not?

  I need to know now!!!!

  Luloony

  What’s the rush?

  V-Ness

  Dad says we have to move by the end of the month

  Luloony

  !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  V-Ness

  I know!!!!! Did you ask?

  The truth is . . . I didn’t ask. I didn’t think Mom would agree to it, and I don’t think Vee’s dad would say yes, either. Do I want to live with Vee? Yes and no. If Vee lives with Mom and me she won’t have to move. That’s the yes part. Do I want to share my room with Vee? Not really. Vee is a bit of a neat freak. Her bedroom always looks like the clean squad just swept through. I don’t know how she lives like that. To me, my bedroom is the only place in the house that’s mine alone. Mom encourages me to be tidier, but she doesn’t actually enforce it. Vee would insist I clean up. (She can be very bossy sometimes.) And then it wouldn’t feel like my room anymore. I’m a creative person. When I’m in the middle of a drawing, I can’t be expected keep my colored pencils in an orderly line. If I write a poem longhand on a pad, I need to be able to tear out the pages that aren’t right and throw them away. If the trash can is filled, I can’t stop to empty it. I would break my creative flow. When I finish my
artistic projects, the last thing I want to do is clean up. I’m too worn out.

  But what kind of friend would I be if I didn’t at least ask Mom if Vee can stay? Not a very good one.

  Luloony

  I’ll go ask Mom if she’s decided yet.

  V-Ness

  Thnx. You are the best. Got to

  Luloony

  Kk. See you tomorrow.

  Stepping into the hall, I check to see if the light is still under Mom’s bedroom door. It is! From outside her door, I hear that she’s talking to someone on the phone. Laughing. There’s also a second voice. She’s on speakerphone.

  Should I knock? I wait a few minutes. More laughing. I can’t stand out here all night.

  “Come in,” she answers when I knock.

  She sits on top of her bed in her pajamas, her phone on the bed beside her. “One second,” she says to the person on the other end.

  “I have a question,” I say. She raises her eyebrows as if to ask what my question is. “It’s not a quick question,” I add.

  A male voice comes from her phone. “Go ahead. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  I look sharply at the phone. I know that voice. But from where?

  “Okay. Good night,” Mom says to the phone.

  “Who is that?” I ask. I don’t mean to sound judgmental or disapproving, but that’s how my voice comes out. I have no reason to disapprove. Mom and Dad have been divorced for more than two years. Mom can have man friends—even a boyfriend—if she wants to. I’m just . . . I don’t know . . . surprised.

  “Just a friend,” Mom answers me. “What’s your question?”

  So I sit beside her on the bed and explain about how Vee has to move in a month and can she live with us. “Live with us?” Mom says. “We don’t have an extra bedroom.”