Too Cool for This School

by Kristen Tracy

  Where did you see my mom?

  I released a fake sneeze and tossed the note onto his desk. He read it and wrote back in less than ten seconds.

  In the attendance office.

  Why would my mom be there? Maybe Todd was wrong. Maybe my mom looked like another person’s mom. That had to be what it was.

  “Lane,” Ms. Fritz said, “We’re going to leave for the gym now. You should head off to your meeting.”

  The fact that I got to ditch PE was pretty sweet. Because I wasn’t the kind of person who was born with a strong desire to run back and forth and do push-ups while wearing our official school colors: yellow and black. Ooh. Maybe that was something I could tackle as class captain. Maybe I could make PE less lame by letting us wear non-school colors.

  As I left my classroom, I realized that I was a little stressed out. Various worries tumbled through my brain. Where would I stand in the group photo? Should I sit? Kneel? I really didn’t want to end up next to Derek. How did that guy even win? I thought the other winners would be like me. I guess Robin and Leslie looked beyond his plastic hair and saw something in Derek that I didn’t. Worry. Worry. Worry. I needed to learn the fifth grader’s name. But it wasn’t urgent. Because, really, why were fifth graders even in middle school? It was weird.

  When I got to the meeting room, there was a big paper sign taped to the door that said WELCOME, CLASS CAPTAINS. I walked through the door and noticed an entire table set up with cookies and crackers and punch and churros.

  “Grab whatever you want and take a seat,” Leslie said.

  “Thanks.” I picked up a paper plate and loaded it with sweets.

  “We’re all here now,” Robin said. “There is some paperwork involved with your captainship. Derek and Fiona are reading over the honor pledge. You have to agree to follow the six tenets of honor and sign it.”

  “Okay,” I said. I didn’t have a problem agreeing to be honorable.

  I took the honor pledge and my plate and sat down next to Derek, because that was the only empty seat at the table. I noticed Ava’s cello case leaning against the back wall. On days when she had practice after school, the principal had given her permission to store her cello in the meeting room. I was always impressed that Ava could carry her own cello. Housed in a canvas bag, that instrument was almost as tall as she was.

  HONOR PLEDGE

  I will not lie.

  I will not steal.

  I will not cheat.

  I will not tolerate unkindness.

  I will guard and respect the traditions I am inheriting. I will take ownership of my choices and do my very best.

  That sounded reasonable. I signed it as quickly as I could and handed it to Leslie so I could start eating my cookies.

  “Perfect,” she said as she placed it in my folder, and blinked her bright eyes at me. She applied her lavender shadow in such a way that her eyes looked surprised and happy all the time. I wondered if she’d show me how to do that.

  “Lane,” Robin said, frowning at me from across the table. “Do you have to leave early?”

  I shook my head. “No.”

  “I was just wondering, because I saw your mom in the office,” Robin said. Then she took a big bite of her churro.

  Why did people think my mom was in the office? Whose mom looked like my mom?

  “Before the photo, I have an awesome announcement,” Leslie said, leaning forward in her chair. “Ms. Knapp has agreed to be our faculty mentor again.”

  “That’s great,” Derek said. “She’s so laid-back.”

  “Exactly,” Robin said. “She agrees to everything.”

  “So let’s start by reiterating our theme,” Leslie said. She hopped out of her chair and raced to the white board. She wrote the word disco in big loopy letters.

  “And let’s also reiterate our class-captain nondisclosure policy,” Robin said, joining her at the board. “Don’t tell a freaking soul.”

  “When do we announce?” Derek asked.

  “Next month,” Robin said. “We’ll need to make posters for the big reveal and put them up all over school.”

  “How many posters?” asked the fifth grader.

  “A million,” Robin said. “We’ll blanket this place.” Then she burst out laughing.

  It was obvious that she loved being a captain.

  “We should also mention our budget.” Leslie said. “Before we announce, we’ll want to price fog machines, disco balls, and DJs.”

  “Our budget is tiny this year,” Robin said with a sour face. “But we consider these items essential for executing a successful disco party. It’s gonna reek of ambiance.”

  “And we might be able to purchase a used fog machine. And that could be cheaper than renting one for all three parties,” Derek said.

  Robin didn’t look thrilled. “We don’t want to buy heavy equipment. Renting is easier.”

  I liked how she put Derek right in his place. Why did he think we needed to buy a fog machine?

  “Any other suggestions?” Robin asked.

  I couldn’t think of one. And apparently neither could anyone else.

  “Let’s move on to the photo,” Leslie said. “I brought lipstick in case you need to borrow some. You should always wear more makeup for photos than you wear in regular life.”

  “The flash dims your natural coloring, Fiona,” Robin said, handing a colorful tube to the fifth grader.

  “Definitely not my color,” Derek said, passing the tube to me.

  “You are so witty,” Leslie said, blinking several times at Derek.

  No way. Was Leslie flirting with Derek? Did Leslie like Derek? Was that why he won? It really wasn’t fair that I couldn’t share this information with my friends. Because Ava loved a good crush story. Derek set the tube down in front of me but I didn’t pick it up. Wouldn’t that makeup have other people’s lip germs on it? Wasn’t that how you spread mono?

  “Let’s get going,” Leslie said. “Photos take place out front next to the cholla cactus garden.”

  “I hope I don’t get pricked,” Derek said.

  Leslie laughed like Derek was the funniest guy she’d ever encountered in a meeting room. It was nuts.

  I left the germy lipstick on the table and followed everybody into the hallway. And that was when I saw her. My mom.

  At first she tried to pretend she hadn’t seen me. She lifted a folder up, blocking her face from my view. But I’d already seen her, so that didn’t work.

  “Let’s follow our photographer,” Robin said, pointing to a guy with a white goatee wearing a cowboy hat.

  That guy was standing almost next to my mom. My surprise quickly turned to panic when I realized that the only reason my mother would be at my school was if something was terribly wrong. So I forgot about following the goatee guy and I raced up to her.

  “What’s happened?” I asked. My mind spun and spun. Oh no! There had to have been a terrible tragedy. Was it a death in the family? All four of my grandparents were no longer alive. So it wasn’t about them. I gasped. “What happened to Dad?”

  My mother could see that I was beyond alarmed, so she pulled me to her side. “Everything is fine.”

  “But why are you here?” I asked. Moms didn’t just show up to school when everything was fine.

  “Congratulations!” the secretary said as she passed me. “It’s always wonderful when family moves to town.”

  I had no idea what she was talking about. “Mom?” I said.

  “Lane,” Robin called. “We need to line up for the photo.”

  “I’m coming,” I said. But I wasn’t going to come until my mother told me what was going on. The only relatives I had lived in Alaska. Aunt Betina and her daughter, Angelina. Her father, Uncle Dave, had divorced Aunt Betina several years ago and was working in Toronto. My dad called him a deadbeat.

  “Your cousin, Angelina, is coming to town,” said my mother very cautiously.

  “Really?” I said. “I thought Aunt Betina loved Alaska. I
never thought she’d move.”

  “Lane!” Robin called.

  “Aunt Betina isn’t moving,” my mom said very quietly.

  That didn’t really make any sense. How could Angelina move and not Aunt Betina?

  And then my mother did something surprising. She called out to Robin. “Lane will be there in a minute. I need her help in the bathroom.”

  Why would my mother yell anything about a bathroom while inside my school? I wanted to die. Instead of dying, I hurried behind her to figure out what was going on.

  “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you,” my mother said, standing beside the paper-towel dispenser.

  “Tell me what?” I said kind of rudely. “I can’t be late for the photo.”

  “Listen, I want you to know that sometimes in life you find yourself doing something that lacks honesty,” she said. “And you do this thing not because you want to be dishonest, but because there is no other way.”

  “I don’t understand what you’re telling me,” I said.

  “I’ll give you the truncated version,” she said. “Aunt Betina finally decided to marry Clark. And they’ve decided to honeymoon for a month. Her child care fell through. Angelina is coming to live with us.”

  Honeymoon for a month? Child care fell through? What kind of terrible mother was Aunt Betina?

  “Stop making that face,” my mother said. “This will be a once-in-a-lifetime chance for you and your cousin to bond. It will be good for everyone.”

  “Uh, I don’t know about that, Mom,” I said. We didn’t have a spare bedroom, so I tried to imagine where Angelina would sleep. My room? There was only one sixth-grade class at my school, so that meant she’d be in my class. Would she eat lunch with me too? Would she expect to hang out with all my friends? For how long?

  “I was hoping for a more positive reaction,” my mom said.

  “How long will she stay?” I asked.

  “A month,” my mom explained. “I told you her child care fell through.”

  “A month!” I stared at my mom like she was crazy.

  “It’s the perfect amount of time for two people to bond.”

  I’d only met my cousin a couple of times at family reunions, and we hadn’t really bonded during those times. I tried to remember what she looked like and how she behaved, but I couldn’t.

  “The school district wouldn’t allow a visitor to come for a month. So I had to change Angelina’s permanent address to ours. That’s why I’m here.”

  “Really?” I asked. That seemed illegal. “When is she coming?”

  “Friday,” my mother said.

  “Friday!” I yelled. That was way sooner than I expected.

  The bathroom door creaked open. It was Robin. “Hey, I’m sorry, but we really need Lane out front. We’re paying the photographer by the hour. Plus, he needs to get to a dog show.”

  “Okay,” I said.

  I turned to leave, but my mother put her hand on my shoulder and stopped me.

  “I think it would be best if you didn’t tell anybody about this,” she said. “We’re fudging the rules a little bit.”

  I flipped back around so quickly that I banged into my mother’s bulging purse. “I just signed an honor pledge five minutes ago.”

  She took a deep breath and rubbed my back. “I don’t want you to lie. Just don’t discuss our situation with anyone.”

  First I couldn’t discuss anything related to being class captain or having a disco theme. Now I couldn’t discuss anything about my inbound Alaskan cousin. I felt a little bit burdened by all this secrecy.

  “Go, go, go,” my mother said, pushing me toward the door.

  “I want to talk more about this when I get home,” I said, sounding way too much like a parent.

  “Absolutely,” my mother said.

  I hurried outside and found everybody standing in a line in front of a bunch of prickly cacti.

  “Finally. Why don’t you kneel in front?” Leslie said.

  I liked the idea of being front and center, even if that meant I had to kneel in a dirt patch while wearing tights. When the photographer told us to smile and say the word “burrito,” I buried all my worries inside of me, gave him a big grin, and said, “Burrito.”

  No, I wasn’t happy about how my mother had handled this situation, but I guess sometimes things happen in a way that we didn’t mean for them to happen. And we do our best and just move forward. Right? It was only for a month.

  “Are you okay down there?” Derek asked as the photographer moved his tripod closer.

  “I’m okay,” I said. I didn’t know why Derek annoyed me so much.

  And then, right as the photographer clicked the last photo, I felt a flicking sensation on the back of my head. I flipped around to see Derek’s finger curled in a position to flick me again.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t resist.”

  I was stunned. Derek shouldn’t be flicking my head during our group photo.

  “Don’t flick me,” I snapped at him. “I don’t like it.”

  He smiled. “Okay,” he said. “It will never happen again.”

  And I hoped that was true. The last thing I needed on top of all my problems was to be harassed by a fellow class captain. No. He needed to keep his flicks to himself. My life was complicated enough.

  5

  Later that night, during our family meeting, my mother agreed that it was way too weird for me not to mention Angelina’s visit to my friends.

  “She can’t just appear out of nowhere,” I said. “I’ve got to prepare my friends for her. Ava has a difficult time adjusting to new people.”

  My dad laughed at this. He felt Ava was spoiled. But we all had our hang-ups, and I didn’t have time to get into that with him. Basically, the way we left things at the family meeting was that I was allowed to tell my friends that Angelina was staying with us while her mother and new husband got things ready for their move.

  “Don’t think of it as a lie,” my mom said. “Because you never know. Aunt Betina and Clark may decide to move here.”

  My dad shook his head. “Your sister will never leave Alaska.”

  And so that was how it was handled. That was what I was allowed to say.

  I should probably have done a better job preparing my own life for Angelina’s arrival. I should probably have emailed her or texted her or returned her single phone call to me. But even after listening to her message four times, I didn’t quite know what to say.

  ANGELINA: Hi, Lane! Your mom gave me your number. This is so great! I am super excited to see you again. At the last family reunion I remember that you had a toy horse named Buttermilk. Are you still really into horses? I like animals too. I mean, I LOVE the outdoors. Okay. I’m rambling. Call me back if you have time! Your mom says you’re really busy. She says that you just won class sergeant. So cool! We don’t have those in Alaska. Congratulations! See you Friday.

  Class sergeant? I think Angelina’s message was a tipping point for me. On Friday, when my parents were ready to pick her up at the airport, I just couldn’t make myself join them.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come?” my mom asked as she tied her jacket belt around her waist.

  I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “I’d better not. I’m behind with some important stuff.”

  “I think it’s fine if she wants to hold down the fort. We’ll be back in thirty minutes,” my dad said.

  “Maybe we should get a sitter,” my mom fretted.

  “I’ll be fine,” I said.

  My mother finally agreed. “Okay. But try to do something productive.”

  Sometimes my parents treated me as if I was nine.

  “I’m working on my creative writing homework,” I said, lifting up my spiral notebook. “Mr. Guzman told us to write a poem from the point of view of one of our chairs.”

  “Really? I hope you say kind things about my butt,” my father joked, shaking his rear end back and forth.

  “Gross,” I said
.

  My dad laughed again. “What a weird assignment. Can you believe that, Claire? Her teacher wants her to pretend she’s a couch.”

  “A chair!” I called after them right as they slammed the door.

  I decided it made sense to write the poem from the point of view of our wingback chair, which sat closest to the door. That was where most of our guests liked to sit. Of all the chairs in our house, it had the most severe butt dent. I’d only made it as far as the title, “Confessions of a Wingback Chair,” when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number. So of course I was hoping it was Todd calling me from a random phone. I wanted to let it ring four times so I didn’t look too eager, but I couldn’t stop myself from picking it up on the second ring.

  ME: Hi.

  LESLIE: I’m so glad you answered. It’s Leslie.

  ME: Cool. Hi, Leslie. I didn’t recognize your number.

  LESLIE: Haven’t you programmed my number into your phone yet? You should really program all the class captains into your phone. Do you need me to email you those? I don’t have time to do that now. I mean, I’m in a wicked hurry.

  ME: Um, emailing them later works.

  LESLIE: So what are you doing?

  ME: I’m at home. Writing a poem.

  LESLIE: Awesome. You are so deep. So do you have a pen?

  ME: Yeah.

  LESLIE: Okay. Write this down. You need to make two dozen cookies for our cookie basket for Ms. Knapp. We like to look grateful, especially at the beginning of the year. Robin is making peanut butter. Derek is making magic bars. Fiona is making lemon squares. And I’m making chocolate chip. We need a fifth kind.

  ME: Wow. Ten dozen cookies for Ms. Knapp?

  LESLIE: Teachers like to share. Moving on. Robin thinks the basket should have a vegan option. Do you know a killer vegan recipe?

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  LESLIE: Is that your doorbell? Do you have to go?

  ME: No.

  It was the first time a class captain had called me. It seemed like I should stay on the phone until she had to go.