Too Cool for This School

by Kristen Tracy

  I actually didn’t think the luau was very fun. The music felt too goofy and it didn’t make you want to dance. Our class was going to love our disco theme. When I closed my eyes, I could imagine everybody in my class dancing their butts off. Too bad I couldn’t tell anybody about our disco theme yet.

  “Theme parties bum me out,” Mint said.

  “Why?” my mom asked as we turned down a road lined with aging, mud-colored, stucco homes.

  “Because you don’t get to be yourself. You have to pretend to be a totally different person.”

  “Good point,” my mom said, giving me a quick smile.

  “I totally disagree,” I said. “I think theme parties are awesome. They give you the chance to be yourself and wear interesting costumes. And this year we have the best theme ever.”

  “Ooh. What is it?” Mint asked.

  I wasn’t even tempted to break my allegiance to my class captains and tell her. “We don’t tell anybody until we make the official announcement at school.”

  “Ooh. I hope I’m around long enough to find out what it is,” Mint said.

  “Yeah,” I mumbled. But that wasn’t how I felt at all.

  11

  Mint may have driven me nuts, but she drove Ava totally bonkers. One day, out of the blue, she started sending me text messages about how to get rid of her.

  Ava: Go on a hunger strike until your parents send her back.

  Ava: Lucia and Rachel and I will join you on the hunger strike. Ava: Poison her.

  Ava: Put her into contact with people who have the flu until she gets it.

  Ava: Or find somebody with chicken pox! Does Javier still have them?

  Ava: Turn your back on her! Save yourself!

  I never knew how to respond to these texts. It felt as if Ava wasn’t joking around.

  Mint’s arrival also put a real strain on my relationship with Todd. Because even though Ava had clearly explained girl code to Mint at our pj party, Mint was terrible at remembering it. Especially the part about hijacking boys. She talked to Jagger and Todd like they were long lost friends every day before class started.

  Day Two: Hi, Jagger. Nice shoes. I bet you’re a super fast runner.

  Day Three: Hi, Todd. Did I ever tell you about a fishing captain I knew whose last name was Romero? He was a local hero. Until he get lost at sea. The Bering Strait is so dangerous.

  Day Four: Jagger! Do you need more gum?

  And then came the worst of it. During the fifth day of her stay with us, I learned the truth about how close Mint was getting with Jagger and Todd. Because Ava texted me all about it.

  I was not prepared for this text at all. I was getting ready to go out to dinner to a fancy restaurant to celebrate Mint’s first week of school.

  Ava: Do you know that Mint texted Todd and Jagger a photo of Alaska?

  I could hardly believe what my phone was telling me. I just stared at it. Why would Todd and Jagger want Mint to text them a photo of Alaska? I didn’t even have pants on yet. I was still picking out which pair to wear. But clothes could come later. I had to text Ava back.

  Me: NO FREAKING WAY! HOW DID SHE GET TODD’S NUMBER?

  Ava: You should ask her. Then forbid her from texting Todd. And Jagger. He’s my crush. Mine. GIRL CODE!!

  Me: Are you sure she’s texting Jagger?

  Ava: Like a machine. 4 times yesterday.

  Me: How do you know this?

  Ava: I sneaked a look at Jagger’s phone.

  Me: You need to stop doing that!

  Because Jagger and Ava sometimes walked to school with a group of seventh graders, Ava would make an excuse to borrow his phone and then glance at his history.

  Ava: I’m learning important stuff. Don’t judge!

  Me: Sorry. Just worried.

  Knock. Knock. Knock.

  I jumped a little and dropped my phone.

  “Lane? Are you ready for dinner?” my mom asked. “We have six o’clock reservations.”

  This was ridiculous. First, I still hadn’t put on pants. Second, we never went anyplace that required reservations. Why did we have to celebrate Mint’s first week of school? It sucked.

  I chose a pair of black pants that flared at the bottom. Ava thought they looked like cowgirl pants, but I didn’t think she had seen enough cowgirls to make that assessment. “Where is Mint?” I asked. She’d asked to be dropped off at my dad’s work after school. But she couldn’t have stayed there all day. That would bore a person my age to death.

  “She’s still with your father,” my mom said. “She really hit it off with his co-workers. They’re teaching her how to prune.”

  Why did she want to become friends with my dad’s co-workers? Yuck. Mint was becoming more like bacteria every day. Spreading. Spreading. Spreading.

  As my mom and I drove to the restaurant, I thought it might be a good time to complain about my cousin and get a little sympathy.

  “I cannot wait for her to return to Alaska,” I said.

  My mother groaned. “Don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”

  I stared at her. “I absolutely mean it. She’s weird. And she makes my life difficult.”

  “She is a good person,” my mother said.

  It was amazing that in just a few days my cousin had figured out a way to poison my family’s minds. Why did they like her so much? She was a total mess. “You’re only saying nice things about her because you don’t have to go to school with her,” I said.

  My mother pulled into the restaurant parking lot. “That’s not true. I like my niece. She’s spunky. And I’ve talked to Mr. Guzman and he says that Mint is getting along fabulously with everybody at the school. He said he’s never seen anything like it before.”

  Whoa. My mom was talking to Mr. Guzman about Mint? She shouldn’t be doing that. Mint was temporary. We needed to treat her like an exchange student who we sort of hoped we’d never see again. Unless we happened to travel to Alaska. Which, based on what she’d shared with me about their bear population, I hoped we never did.

  “Well, Mr. Guzman is wrong. She doesn’t get along with everybody,” I said. And I thought about telling her how Mint’s behavior made Ava, Lucia, and Rachel, and me basically want to vomit. But I didn’t say that. I thought of something to say that my mother could not disagree with.

  “Showing up to a new school and changing your name to an ice cream flavor is lame.”

  My mother turned off the engine. Then she looked at me with a stern expression. “When I was in college, my first semester, I told people that my name was Clarice.”

  “Is your name Clarice?” I asked. I’d only ever heard people call her Claire.

  “No. Changing my name was a fun thing to do. I understand where Mint’s coming from. She’s exploring her identity. So stop judging her.”

  I blinked several times. I just couldn’t relate. Because I liked my identity. So changing your name didn’t seem like a fun thing to do at all.

  “Clarice is a better fake name than Mint,” I said, trying to stop the fight. Really, I didn’t want to start an argument with my mom. I just wanted her to understand where I was coming from.

  “It’s her middle name,” my mom said with a frustrated tone. “Lots of people decide to go by their middle names. And she didn’t pick the name Mint. My sister did.”

  I nodded. Because she had a point.

  When we walked inside the restaurant, I spotted Mint right away, because she was wearing a plastic bib with a picture of a big orange crab on it.

  As we approached the table, she waved furiously at us. It annoyed me for several reasons. The biggest being that my mother returned her wave. With a lot of enthusiasm.

  “They let you pick out your own crab,” Mint said, jerking her thumb toward a fish tank.

  I did not plan to murder a crab for my dinner. And I said that. “I’m not killing an animal for my meal.”

  Mint tilted her head. “Are you eating only salad?”

  My mom laughed at this and sat dow
n in her chair. “Crustaceans aren’t for everyone.”

  But this sort of bothered me. Because it made Mint sound more mature than me. And she wasn’t. On her first day of school she braided her hair with a pajama belt!

  “I think I might get the crab too,” my dad said.

  “I feel like splurging tonight as well,” my mom said, picking up her menu.

  I was stunned. Everybody at my table was going to kill a crab. At first, I was disgusted. But then I felt left out.

  “What do they come with?” I asked.

  “You get your choice of three sides,” Mint gushed. “I’m getting papaya salad, garlic noodles, and braised string beans.”

  I felt caught off guard. I didn’t really want to eat those things, but suddenly dinner felt very competitive.

  “What a fantastic selection,” my dad said. “But I bet the portions are enormous. I don’t think I can tuck away a whole crab. Would you like to split?” He reached across the table and touched my mom’s hand.

  “Of course,” my mom said to him, placing her other hand on top of his.

  Then everybody looked at me. I couldn’t believe it. Did my parents expect me to split a crab dinner with Angelina Mint Taravel? This. Was. Not. Happening.

  “You don’t have to split,” my mom said. “I know you don’t want to pick out a crab for dinner.”

  The way my mother said this made me feel like a complete child. I mean, it was like the whole table thought I was a baby. I was twelve. I should have been able to pick out my own crab. So I stood up and stated that very clearly.

  “I can select my own crab,” I said. “If everybody else is eating crab, then I want to eat crab too.”

  My dad frowned at me sympathetically. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to do that,” I said.

  “You’re not picking out your own crab,” my mom reminded me. “You’re picking out one to share.”

  “I know. I don’t mind sharing a dinner,” I lied. “But I want to be the crab picker,” I explained, pointing to myself. My stomach tightened at the thought of selecting which crab would die. But I couldn’t back down in front of Mint. I had to show my parents that she wasn’t that special. “Mint, let’s go to the tank.”

  And she stood up and grabbed my arm in a hugging way (that annoyed me) and off we went to select our crab.

  Standing in front of the tank, watching all these orangey claws reach toward the glass begging for freedom was tough to take.

  “You look totally sad,” Mint said.

  And I couldn’t hold in my frustration any longer.

  “Ava says you texted Todd,” I told her.

  Mint put her arm around me, and gave me a strong squeeze. It made me want to puke.

  “Well,” she said, “he texted me first.”

  I almost fell into the crab tank’s glass wall. That was impossible. There was no way Todd texted Mint first.

  “When did he text you?” I didn’t believe a word of it.

  “Two days ago,” she said. “He was asking me a question about Jagger.”

  This was terrible. Did Jagger really like Mint? Really? Jagger was cool and funny and interested in Ava.

  “Well, you can’t like Jagger,” I said. “He’s Ava’s.”

  Mint shook her head slowly. “Nobody told me that. How was I supposed to know?”

  I thought back to the trampoline party. Ava had tried to keep that a secret. But it was sort of obvious. At least to people with normal social intelligence.

  “Wait a minute,” I said. “I thought you liked Tuma.”

  Mint’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “Did he tell you that?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t talk to Tuma. But you met up with him at Skull Coast and picked out shirts together.”

  “I like his style,” Mint said. “But I do not like Tuma. I’ve already given him the friendship talk. And we’ve both agreed that we don’t want to be anything more.”

  “What?” I asked. She’d been at my school for one week and she’d already managed to have a friendship talk with a guy? She was out of control. I needed to start laying down some boundaries.

  “I don’t want you to text Todd anymore,” I said. “It’s a girl code violation.”

  “Really?” Mint asked. “Because he says the nicest things about you.”

  This blew my mind. Todd Romero was texting nice things about me to my weird cousin?

  “Show me your phone!” I said. “What did he say?”

  She shook her head again. It was so annoying when she shook her head. “I left my phone in your dad’s car. I thought it would be rude to bring it to the restaurant.”

  How lame was she? Todd was texting her about me and she doesn’t tell me.

  “Don’t you want to pick out a crab?” Mint asked.

  I focused on the tank. The crabs crawled around looking so pathetic. I lifted my finger to the glass and pointed at a doomed crab’s face.

  “They can tell what’s about to happen. Their eyes are filled with fear,” I said.

  Mint pointed at the exact same crab. “That’s its butt,” she said.

  My cousin was so annoying.

  “Fine. You pick it out,” I said. I didn’t care if we get the one with the scared butt or not. I power walked back to the table and sat down.

  “You don’t have to eat a crab,” my mother said, leaning over and patting my arm. “You can get chicken teriyaki. Or a hamburger. Or I bet they have a grilled cheese sandwich on the kids’ menu.”

  Yeah, right. I was not going to eat a grilled cheese sandwich off the kids’ menu while Angelina Mint Taravel ate our crab. Never! I could eat half that stinking crab.

  Conversation was okay at first, but then it turned rotten. Mint started making demands.

  “Lane, I’ve been wondering if I could borrow one of your dresser drawers,” she asked. “You can pick which one.”

  Why would she wait to mention this in front of my parents? She’d ambushed me. Did she want my parents to think I was some sort of drawer hoarder incapable of sharing? Because I wasn’t. It just never occurred to me that Mint would need to unpack her duffel bag. She seemed to enjoy keeping all her belongings hidden inside it.

  “Of course Lane doesn’t mind,” my mother said, speaking for me.

  “You should take two drawers,” my dad said. I shot him a look. Was he kidding?

  “Good idea,” my mom said. “One for socks. One for your bras and underwear.”

  “Mom!” I said. Why did she need to say that in public—and in front of my dad?

  “Is that okay, Lane?” Mint asked, blinking at me in a kind way.

  “Sure,” I said. “I can clean a drawer out tonight.” I tried to pretend that my dad hadn’t said two.

  “But I think two drawers would be better,” my mom encouraged. “Give your cousin a little room.”

  Wow. My mother’s logic was totally messed up. It would be better for Mint to have more room. Didn’t she see that meant I’d have less room?

  “You are such a trouper,” my dad said.

  “I really appreciate all your help,” Mint said. “You’re awesome.”

  I watched her grab a dinner roll from the basket and split it open with her thumbs. Then I felt a hand on me and I jumped a little. But it was my mom.

  “You really are awesome,” she said in a sappy way.

  Gag. What would my cousin ask for next?

  “So are you learning anything interesting at school yet?” my dad asked.

  Mint nodded enthusiastically. “I have learned a ton about New Mexico.”

  Then she listed the most random facts about my state. She made it sound really weird. Which it wasn’t.

  Santa Fe is the highest capital city in the United States. In October, Las Cruces makes the world’s largest enchilada.

  Hundreds of thousands of bats live in the Carlsbad Caverns.

  The first atomic bombs were developed and tested in New Mexico.

  An extraterrestrial spac
ecraft with aliens may have crashed in Roswell.

  “You’ve got a mind for facts,” my father said.

  “Well, I want to remember all this stuff so I can tell my mom about it. I think she’d really like it here,” Mint said.

  I didn’t like the way that sounded.

  “You mean like when she visits?” I asked, hoping the answer would be immediate.

  Mint sat straight up and grinned. “Yeah, but wouldn’t it be great if she came and fell in love with it and we moved here?”

  The room spun a little.

  “That would be great!” my mom said. “It would be so much fun having you and Betina around.”

  “And Clark,” my dad said. “Let’s not forget anybody.”

  “Right,” Mint said, letting her grin fade.

  I decided not to freak out at the table, because I figured the odds of Mint and her mom and new stepdad relocating were low.

  When our crab arrived, I wished I had been staring at a hamburger.

  “Just accept that this is going to be pretty messy experience,” my dad said, tying the ends of his bib together.

  “Here you go,” Mint said, handing me what looked like a pair of pliers. “Are there any parts you’re craving? A particular leg or claw?”

  This poor animal looked so dead. And the chef had arranged the condiments so our crustacean appeared to be clutching a ramekin filled with pink sauce.

  “I’m going to start with our beans,” I said.

  The sound of people cracking open a crab was very unsettling. Also, crab juice squirts very far.

  “This is delicious!” Mint said. “In Alaska, I feel like I’m always eating salmon in the fall. Crab is a nice change.”

  “I wish we had that problem,” my dad said with a chuckle.

  “We should buy tickets and go,” my mom said. “Every year I think about visiting.”

  “Ooh,” Mint said. “Do it!”

  That was when I swallowed wrong and began choking on a bean. My mom gently slapped my back. As quick as I could, I grabbed my water to try to wash it down.

  “No,” I said. “Not Alaska.”

  “But you’ve never been,” my dad said. “I bet you’d love it. They have moose there.”