by Nancy N. Rue
Baby Hope jerked as if she’d read Sophie’s mind. Her eyes searched the ceiling, and her arms flailed at her sides. The telltale crumple wrinkled her brow.
“Don’t cry,” Sophie said. “Come on, don’t cry. I don’t know what to do if you cry.”
Hope let out a frightened squawk and turned her head to the side.
“Don’t fall off,” Sophie said, leaning her stomach against the changing table.
A mind-flash of her baby sister tumbling to the floor almost blinded her. Sophie scooped the tiny body up in her arms and held her against her chest.
“Don’t cry,” Sophie whispered to her. “I would never let you fall.”
Hope stopped wiggling. The next squawk settled into a sigh, and she breathed tiny whisper breaths against Sophie’s neck. Sophie closed her eyes, but she couldn’t imagine anything. She could only be right there, holding her baby sister.
“Looks like you two are getting along pretty well,” Daddy said from the doorway.
“You should take her.” Sophie pressed against her father until he took the baby from her.
Then she fled to her room on the edge of tears. The thing she’d feared all along had happened. She’d started to love a sister who would never be okay.
Nine
The ants-in-the-pants feeling kept Sophie’s mind itching until Monday morning. No answers yet, but Dr. Peter had said to keep asking.
So she took the camera to school, just in case, and went to Mr. Stires’ room to put it away before first period. The storage room wasn’t open yet. He was still in his puffy down jacket, pulling at his mustache as he listened to Julia Cummings, who had her back to the door. Sophie didn’t have to see her face to know it was her so-sweet-it’s-disgusting voice.
“I’m not trying to get her in trouble,” Julia said. “I just wish you’d talk to her before we have our next lab. I don’t want to end up with some other animal’s insides on me — ”
Julia stopped as Mr. Stires’ eyes flickered toward Sophie. When Julia glanced over her shoulder, Sophie had the strange sensation that Julia had already known Sophie was there.
“Just leave the camera on the desk, Sophie,” Mr. Stires said. “I’ll put it away.”
Sophie did. As she turned to leave, she caught a satisfied smirk on Julia’s face.
“Why is she just now tattling to Mr. Stires about the lizard brain?” Fiona said when Sophie told the Corn Flakes in the gym. “If she wanted to get you in trouble, she would have said something to him right away.”
Darbie gave an elaborate sigh. “We always have to have drama. We just get done with Brooke, and now we have the Pops again.”
“Oh — my — gosh,” Kitty said.
Sophie turned in time to see Brooke bound into the gym wearing Pepto-Bismol-pink tennis shoes and neon-purple track pants with matching jacket.
“Those are Cassie’s shoes,” Willoughby whispered.
Kitty nodded. “And I’ve seen Anne-Stuart wear that workout suit.”
Fiona pushed the stubborn strip of hair away from her eye. “But Anne-Stuart didn’t accessorize with a boa.”
Sophie stared as Brooke pulled a lime green string of feathers out of the jacket.
“Just what do you intend to do with that?” Coach Yates, of course, yelled. Her face looked double-pinched.
“It’s for my ch — ”
“It’s mine.” Julia flashed Coach Yates a plastic smile. “I’m letting her use it.” She turned oh-so-sweetly to Brooke. “I didn’t mean for you to bring it to class. That’s for later.” And then she winked.
“A wink is not good,” Willoughby told the Corn Flakes when they were gathered on their court. “In Corn Pop world, that means something is their little secret.”
“An evil secret,” Kitty put in.
“Don’t let’s be doddering on about that now,” Darbie said. “She’s not our responsibility anymore.”
Sophie felt a pang as she caught the ball Jimmy tossed to her and headed for the serving position.
“Sophie,” Fiona whispered from outside the court where she was waiting to rotate in.
“What?” Sophie said.
“You’re not going to leave it alone, are you?”
“Leave what alone?”
“Brooke — and the Corn Pops.”
“You’re supposed to serve now,” Maggie called from the net. Sophie held the ball in one hand and swung the other arm back.
“Okay.” Fiona sighed. “Find out what you can. I’ll cover for you.”
Sophie popped the ball up with her fist. She didn’t care if it went over the net. Fiona had given her the first reason to smile in a long time. Maybe this was a little bit of an answer.
After class, Fiona walked backward in front of the rest of the Corn Flakes, chattering away about some complicated vocabulary word they just had to know. Sophie dawdled by the ball basket until Cassie and Brooke passed through the doorway and headed for the locker room, heads bent together. Cassie was whispering, but Sophie knew Brooke’s version of a whisper could be heard from a hundred paces. Sophie gave them about ten and followed, ears perked up.
Cassie sounded like she was saying, Mutter mutter mutter mutter.
Brooke said, “I haven’t had a chance yet.”
“Mutter mutter mutter,” said Cassie.
She put her arm around Brooke and pulled her closer, so that Sophie couldn’t even hear her muttering.
“Wicked!” Brooke said.
They turned into the locker room with Sophie behind them. She hurried so she wouldn’t lose them at the next turn past the showers. When she rounded the corner, only Cassie was standing there with her back to Sophie, blocking her way.
“Um, excuse me,” Sophie said.
Cassie didn’t answer or budge.
Sophie tried to get past her, but Cassie moved with her. When Sophie jockeyed the other way, Cassie was right there.
“Could I please get by?” Sophie said.
Cassie looked over her shoulder. “Oh, sorry.” Her voice had as much expression as the recorded lady on voice mail. “I didn’t see you there.”
“So — could I get by?” Sophie said.
“Sure.”
Cassie stepped aside so Sophie could pass between her and the row of shower stalls. But Sophie didn’t get a foot farther before someone grabbed her arm and yanked her behind the first curtain.
“Hope you like cold water!” Brooke said.
The faucet squeaked on, Brooke leaped out of the stall, and Sophie was soaked by liquid ice cubes. Gasping and groping, she finally threw herself out through the shower curtain. Cassie and Brooke were nowhere to be seen.
Shivering right down to her bones, Sophie sloshed down the hall, clothes dripping near-icicles on the floor. Ahead of her, damp footprints led not to the locker area, but in the other direction, straight to a door marked SUPPLIES.
“You always leave a trail, Brooke,” Sophie said out loud. She pushed the door open and slipped inside.
It was dark, but Sophie found a switch on the wall and lit up the storage room. Brooke was hidden from the knees up behind an open shelf unit full of paper towels and toilet tissue. At the bottom, though, were a pair of Pepto-Bismol-pink tennis shoes and two legs clad in neon purple.
“I see you, Brooke,” Sophie said. “You might as well come out.”
“I don’t got nothing to say to you.”
Sophie rolled her eyes. When did Brooke not have anything to say?
“All I want to know is why you pushed me into the shower,” Sophie said. “I’m freezing.”
“Serves you right. You’re just a troublemaker.”
“Me?” Sophie’s voice squeaked upward.
“Don’t play innocent.” Brooke’s pink shoes shuffled. “I know about you.”
“Know what?”
“You’re the one who made all of Julia’s and Anne-Stuart’s friends hate them.”
“What are you — ”
“You’re the one who made Tod Ravelli
hate me.”
Sophie stopped interrupting. The girl who didn’t have anything to say was on a roll.
“You’re the one who got me suspended too,” Brooke said. “Since you’re all buddy-buddy with Coach Ninooni — or whatever his name is.”
Sophie wrapped her arms around her shivering self, but she was hot on the inside. The Corn Pops had been at work on Brooke, but there was no way to prove it. If she let Brooke talk long enough, she’d probably spill it, but what good would that do? It would be Brooke’s word against the Pops’, and Brooke hadn’t exactly built a reputation for being trustworthy.
But something tripped up that thought. Getting the Pops in trouble wasn’t what mattered. It was keeping Brooke out of trouble.
“I don’t know why you had to do all that stuff to me.” There was a quiver in Brooke’s voice. “I thought you were my friend — putting me in that movie and everything.”
“I was trying to be your friend,” Sophie said.
“No, you weren’t!” The metal shelf unit shook, and a roll of toilet paper tumbled to the floor.
“Would you come out of there before everything falls off?”
Sophie said.
“No.” Brooke’s voice twisted, as if that was the only way she could keep back tears. “I hate you. All I was to you was Project Brooke. My friends showed me.”
Sophie felt as if she’d just been slapped — and that she deserved it.
In the silence, Coach Yates could be heard down the hall, yelling, “Who left this shower on?”
Brooke stumbled out from behind the shelves, face blotchy. The ends of the green feather boa hung forlornly from the bottom of the purple jacket, and one sleeve was wet. “Are you gonna tell on me?” she said.
Sophie closed her eyes. Brooke didn’t even think about that before she dragged me into the shower.
“All right,” Coach Yates yelled, “you have two minutes before the bell rings.”
Brooke looked wildly around the supply room like she was searching for an escape hatch. Sophie’s heart pounded. This might as well be happening to her.
After all, she thought, it’s my fault. I have to at least try to fix it.
But her “helping” had messed things up before, and Sophie knew it. She’d wanted to fix Brooke and she’d just made her hate the Flakes instead.
Just keep asking the questions. Wasn’t that what Dr. Peter had said?
Which way do I go? she prayed to eyes she couldn’t see.
“One minute!” Coach Yates yelled.
Her voice was getting farther away. Brooke wedged herself between Sophie and the door.
“They said you’d tell on me, but they’ll swear I never came near you — ”
“I won’t tell, Brooke,” Sophie said, “if you’ll give me one more chance to help you.”
“Help me with what? I’m just fine the way I am — my friends say so.”
Sophie pulled her chin in. “Julia and them?”
“Yes — they really like me — they don’t try to change me!” Before Sophie could point out that the Corn Pops had all but done plastic surgery on her, Brooke shoved her aside and flew out of the room.
Sophie felt like a soggy, shivering lump of failure as she dragged herself out too. When she turned the corner toward the now-empty locker area, she ran into Coach Yates (as Fiona would say) “literally.”
Coach Yates looked from Sophie’s drenched clothes to the front of her own sweatshirt, now bearing a wet Sophie-print.
“What in the world happened to you, LaCroix?”
“Um, I was in the shower,” Sophie said.
“With your clothes on?”
Sophie could only nod.
Coach Yates put up her hand. “I don’t even want to know.
You have fifteen seconds to get dressed.”
Sophie was cold and deflated when she got to Miss Imes’ classroom. Julia and Anne-Stuart were just inside the door, and they both spattered laughter into their hands at the same moment. From the glow in their eyes, Sophie figured Brooke had completed her assigned task even more successfully than they could have imagined.
But, then, they never did have much imagination, Sophie thought. Fiona and Darbie, on the other hand, were gaping at her like they were dreaming up the worst.
Before she could get to them, Miss Imes said, “Bad time of year to be walking around with wet hair, Sophie.”
“Sorry,” Sophie said.
Miss Imes’ eyebrows pointed up. “Sorry for what?”
For everything, Sophie thought. She slunk to her desk, slid into her seat, and closed her eyes. She even put her hands over her glasses. But she could still hear the twist of hurt in Brooke’s voice when she said, I hate you. All I was to you was Project Brooke. There was definitely no room in Sophie’s mind-picture for Jesus.
But somehow she had to believe he was there. I’m trying really hard to follow you, she prayed silently, but would you please show me where we’re going?
When Sophie looked up, Fiona was giving her a bug-eyed stare and pointing to her hair as if to say, What’s with the wet head?
There was no way to communicate back — not with Miss Imes gazing pointedly in every direction. But seeing Fiona made Sophie think of something. As she scribbled down the problems from the board, her mind raced.
How did Brooke find out the Flakes referred to her as Project Brooke?
Sophie glanced at Julia and Anne-Stuart, who were calculating away with their sharpened pencils as if math were their sole purpose in life. Brooke said her “friends” had told her — people who “really liked her” and “didn’t try to change her.” Sophie gnawed on her stubby pencil. It was crystal clear to her that the Corn Pops didn’t like Brooke, and that they were trying to change her — and using her in the process.
And then Sophie took in a huge breath that threatened to drag her eraser down her windpipe.
The Corn Flakes don’t like Brooke, either. And Brooke was right. All we did was try to change her.
“Miss Imes?” Julia said, in a voice as sweet as pancake syrup. “Would you show me how to do number five? I know you explained it, but I need you to show me.”
Sophie eyes sprang open.
Show me. I need you to show me.
Brooke hadn’t said, “My friends told me.” Sophie could almost hear her quivery voice again in her mind. She’d said, “My friends showed me.”
But what did they show her that actually said the words Project Brooke? Where was it ever written down? At the risk of being pierced by Miss Imes’ pointy look, Sophie scanned the room.
Vincent? No, he and Darbie were always behind the camera.
Fiona? She never wrote anything down. She just dictated to Maggie, who recorded everything — even stuff that didn’t have anything to do with the movie.
Sophie’s pencil fell out of her hand, and she didn’t bother to pick it up. She closed her eyes and heard Darbie say, Brooke’s always going through everybody’s belongings.
Sophie watched the clock, fear fingers squeezing the breath out of her. Five long minutes until the bell rang for lunch. An eternity before she’d be able to get to Maggie.
Ten
When the bell finally ended math class, Sophie told Fiona and Darbie everything as they sailed to their lockers.
“So you think Brooke saw the words Project Brooke written in our Treasure Book?” Fiona said.
“How could she?” Darbie said. “Maggie would never let her near it.”
Sophie talked over her shoulder as she took the last turn into the locker hall. Fiona and Darbie practically ran to keep up. “Brooke said Julia and them showed her.”
“So you think one of the Pops saw it in the Treasure Book?” Fiona said.
Darbie scowled. “How? You know Maggie wouldn’t let one of them get a sniff of it.”
“I don’t have the answers.” Sophie shook her head. “We don’t even know if Maggie wrote it down in there. We just have to ask her.”
Maggie, Willoughby
, and Kitty were already at their lockers when Sophie squealed her tennis shoes around the end of the row. She took the last few steps in one leap.
“You’re not supposed to run in the halls,” Maggie said.
“You could get in trouble — ”
“Maggie!” Sophie said. “Did you ever write the words Project Brooke in the Treasure Book?”
Maggie blinked. “I wrote everything down.”
Fiona stuck her head between them. “But did you write down those exact words: Project Brooke?”
“Yikes, Fiona,” Willoughby said. “Why are you all up in Maggie’s dentalwork?”
Fiona pointed to Maggie’s backpack. “Could you just look?”
Maggie squatted and unzipped her pack, which was on the floor. She grew as still as a stump.
“Isn’t it in there?” Fiona said.
“It’s in here. Just not in the place I always keep it.”
Sophie’s heart nearly stopped as Maggie held up the Treasure Book. Or, at least, what was left of it. Its former shiny purple cover was all jagged strips that hung from the binding like a tattered flag. Some of the cuts dug deep into the pages.
“How long has it been like that, Mags?” Fiona asked.
“I didn’t know it was like that!”
Sophie knelt beside Maggie. “How did somebody get in your backpack?”
“Or did you leave the book out someplace?” Kitty said.
“I never do that!” Willoughby said, “Well, then somebody got into your backpack somehow — ”
Sophie put her hands over her ears. “Stop!”
The Corn Flakes froze as one.
“Sorry, Mags,” Fiona said. “It’s not your fault.”
The bell rang, and Darbie shooed them all toward the cafeteria, explaining to Kitty, Willoughby, and Maggie what Brooke had said to Sophie in the supply closet.
Maggie trudged next to Sophie, hugging her bag to her chest. She didn’t utter so much as a grunt even when they were all settled at the table. Nobody opened a lunch. Sophie thought she might be sick.