Lucky for me, Tess was tall. Great to hide behind. Sydney was practically knocking people over to get to the front row. Anywhere Ashlynn’s pointing went, so did Sydney.
“You!” Ashlynn pointed. At Tess!
I gave her a nudge forward. And that’s when Ashlynn kept going.
“The girl in the black shirt with the sparklies!” Ashlynn said.
Tess wasn’t wearing a black shirt. She was wearing yellow. And there were no sparklies.
Oh no.
“Payton, she means you!” Tess squealed.
“She couldn’t mean me!” I protested, hiding behind her even more. “I was behind you! There was no way!’
“The lucky Dramatic Gecko is . . . hm . . .” Mrs. Burkle was looking, but luckily couldn’t see me behind Tess.
“Sydney!” I said. “You go ahead! I don’t want it!”
Sydney smiled and started forward.
“Not you,” Ashlynn said. “I said black shirt with sparklies. Hiding behind the tall girl.”
“Ah, you have selected Payton!” Burkle said.
“Bacon! Come on up!” Ashlynn said.
Everyone cracked up. I stayed frozen behind Tess.
“Actually, it’s Paaaaytttton,” Mrs. Burkle said, enunciating. “Payton! We’re waiting!”
Everyone turned to look at me. There was no way to get out of this. I trudged up to the steps and walked onto the stage.
Ashlynn smiled at me kindly, showing no sign of recognition. I knew this could not be good.
Fourteen
MATHLETICS AUDITORIUM
Finally!!!! We were at the mathletes arena!
Well, actually, we were seated in a school auditorium. But it was exciting, because we were all mathletes.
Three competing schools. Our school was in the middle row—Mrs. James’s group on the left side and Coach Babbitt’s on the right. Ox was seven seats to my right. I really wanted to try to work things out with Ox, but he was too far away.
So I would have to concentrate 100 percent on the math. I put on my concentration face.
“Thinking about how you stole your sister’s boyfriend?” Jazmine whispered to me.
Well, that explained why Jazmine forced her way through everyone to sit next to me. She wanted to distract me.
“I’m thinking about continuing my reign as mathletes champion,” I whispered back.
Two could play at that game. Ha.
A woman walked onstage, stood at the podium, and spoke into the microphone:
“Welcome to our school and our mathletic competition! I’m Dana Lindsley, Head coach of the home team.”
“Go, Gargoyles!” someone shouted from the front. Gargoyles? That’s even weirder than Geckos. The home team started chanting loudly: “Go, Gargoyles! Go, Gargoyles! Go, Gargoyles!”
“We are all looking forward to team spirit, good sportsmanship, and most especially . . . fun with math!”
Most of the audience cheered. Jazmine just sat looking bored. I clapped.
A man took the stage and introduced himself as the coach of the visiting team from Brooklyn.
“Go, Panthers!” He said into the microphone, pumping his fist in the air.
“Go! Panthers! Go! Panthers!” His team stood up, shouted, and pumped their fists.
Then Coach Babbitt walked out and took the Panthers’ coach’s place. The place went quiet.
“I’m Coach Babbitt of—” Screeeee! The microphone screeched.
“Ow!”
“Youch!”
Everybody plugged their ears and groaned.
“Sorry,” Coach said. “Feedback. As I was saying, I’m Coach Babbitt of the Geckos.” Scree! He paused, adjusting the microphone.
“Go, Geckos!” Nima shouted. She was sitting next to me, and I jumped a little, not expecting that loud volume coming from her.
“Go, Geckos!” someone down our row yelled. We all started cheering, but our timing was off. It sounded like “Go-Geck-Go-Go-Geck!”
“Okay, it’s fixed,” Coach Babbitt announced. Our team “cheer” stopped. “I will now read the rules and regulations from the official Mathletics Handbook. Rule one point on: All participants must be in the seventh or eighth grade,” Coach Babbitt began.
“Daddy!” a small voice called out. “Look at me!”
I froze. I knew that small voice. Everyone’s head turned to look toward the back of the auditorium. And there was Mason Case-Babbitt.
“Watch this!” Mason yelled. Oh. No. Way.
Mason was balancing on the back of a seat! He hopped to the seat in the row ahead of him. Hop! Hop! Mason was jumping across the tops of the seats and headed down toward the mathletes.
“Mason!” Coach Babbitt’s voice boomed. “Get down before you get—”
“Whoa!” Mason lost his balance and disappeared in between rows. The room was still quiet, until Mason started to wail.
“Ow!!!” he shrieked. “Mommy!”
And there was Counselor Case racing down the aisle. She zoomed into the row where Mason was and picked him up. Mason quieted down.
“He’s okay,” Counselor case called up to her husband. “Sorry. We just arrived in the city, and Mason’s a little overexcited. He’ll behave. Please, continue.”
Some people from the other schools started giggling. Not the Geckos. We knew from experience how much trouble Mason could be.
“So,” Coach Babbitt said, his voice a little shakier than usual. “The competition consists of two rounds. First, the workbook round, where you will each fill out and answer ten questions to the best of your ability. There will be a break, while the judges score them, and then the team with the highest total score will be announced. Then, the individuals with the top twenty highest scores will compete onstage in the head-to-head lightning round.”
“You forgot the calculator rule!” another small, familiar voice yelled. And there, walking across the stage, was Mason’s twin brother, Jason. He reached up and took the microphone from his stunned father.
“Rule number two,” Jason began.
“He said ‘number two’!” Mason shouted from his mother’s lap in the back row.
Now everyone was swiveling their heads from the stage to the back row. Jason to Mason back to Jason.
“They’re twins!” a girl from another school exclaimed, and the room broke out in giggles.
“Excuse me,” Jason said. “This is serious. Rule number two states that calculators are allowed in the workbook round, but they are forbidden during the lightning round.”
“I have my very own scientific calculator, see?” he said, holding it up.
What was that?
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a small figure racing by, down the aisle. Mason! I schlumped down. At least this time I was not their tutor. I was not in charge of them. Mason and Jason had nothing to do with me.
“Hey, Emma!” Jason yelled into the microphone. “Hi! I know you’re going to beat everyone here tomorrow!”
By now Coach Babbitt had come out of his stupor and was trying to wrest the microphone out of Jason’s hands. Mason raced up onto the stage.
“I see Emma too!” he yelled, jumping up and down. Then he bent over and stood on his head.
Everyone in the audience was cracking up. Except me, of course. I schlumped farther and chewed my hair.
“This is a fiasco,” I muttered.
“This is hilarious,” Jazmine said. “More boy toys for Emma. You’ll never be able to focus now.”
“Be quiet, Jazmine,” I said. I was fed up with Jazmine James and embarrassed by the twins I tutor and annoyed that my big New York City trip was being ruined.
“We’re supposed to be on the same team,” I hissed at Jazmine.
“There is no ‘Jazmine’ in ‘team,’ ” Jasmine said. “I plan to take number one in individuals, and that’s all that matters.”
Wow. I intended to get first place myself, but I was also rooting for the Geckos. Jazmine James had been my nemesis since the day I’
d met her. She was mean and selfish then, and obviously nothing had changed.
I looked at the stage and sighed. Coach Babbitt and Counselor Case had corralled the boys and were carrying them off the stage. Things hadn’t changed there, either. Mason and Jason were still the terror twins.
I closed my eyes to block out everyone—Jazmine, the twin boys, even Ox. Nothing on this trip was going as planned.
I hoped Payton was having fun right now, because everything here seemed to be one big mess.
Fifteen
BACK AT THE THEATER
“Ashlynn, what a wonderful thing you are doing,” Mrs. Burkle said as we stood in a room off the stage where the set pieces and costumes were stored. “Giving a Drama Gecko a backstage look at being a star.”
The rest of the Drama Geckos were in the theater. I could hear them being sent back to their chaperones and groups. I had a sudden longing to be back with Sydney, Jazmine, and even Mrs. James again. Even that would be better than this.
“If someone else wants to do it, they can,” I said. “I, um . . . might be catching a cold. Achoo!”
I fake-sneezed.
“I don’t want to get the star of the show sick,” I said, sniffling. “I better go back to the hotel with everyone else.”
“Although you do look kind of sick, it’s probably just nerves,” Ashlynn said. “I’m sure you’re not used to being around a celebrity.”
“Nothing to be nervous about,” Mrs. Burkle said. “We already see what a friendly, generous person Ashlynn is.”
Ashlynn flashed me a (fake) smile.
“But I don’t know who my roommates are!” I said. “I won’t know where to go!”
“I’ll send one of our parent chaperones to pick you up,” Mrs. Burkle said to me. “Enjoy, you two!”
“Wait! You’re leaving me alone with her?” I said, panicky. I needed witnesses! Ashlynn was totally going to torture me. I just knew it.
“I have an adult guardian with me at all times,” Ashlynn said. “Because of my age. So you’re fine.”
“Wonderful,” Burkle said.
“But—” I said.
“No buts!” Burkle said. “Payton, I shall leave you now. Make us Geckos proud! I can only imagine what a fabulous time you two will have here in the heart of the theater!”
I could only imagine Tessa and Reilly and Sam and Nick . . . sigh. Everyone was all, Yay! Let’s go see the hotel! Let’s go see our rooms!
Except me! Because I was stuck here! With Ashlynn, and Jane, who came up to us.
“I just adore your shirt.” Ashlynn smiled at me. “TC Couture, isn’t it?”
“It is an adorable shirt,” Jane said innocently. “It seems like something Ashlynn would wear. You two have the same taste in clothes.”
“I know, right?” Ashlynn said. “I so totally would have worn that shirt . . . last year.”
The insult went right over Jane’s head.
“Ah, memories. I’m remembering when Bertha Burkle and I first met as two young thespians,” Jane said. “Oh, the glory of friendships formed over the theater. You two chitchat and get to know each other.”
She left us alone.
I took a deep breath and waited for it.
“Payton,” Ashlynn said. “Payton, Payton, Payton. What a surprise.”
“For me, too,” I said.
“I was surprised you didn’t tell all your friends that you knew me,” Ashlynn said. “You would have gained popularity points for sure. Between knowing me and your shirt, you could be the coolest Dramatic Gecko today.”
“I wasn’t sure you recognized me,” I said. That, and I knew she had such great potential to humiliate me, which was proven true anyway.
“I didn’t,” Ashlynn said. “You’re so much paler now. But I definitely recognized my shirt and was like, Hey! That’s my old shirt that I gave to . . .”
Don’t say it don’t say it . . .
“Summer Slave!” Ashlynn laughed.
She said it.
“Isn’t this the most amazing coincidence?” Ashlynn said. “My Summer Slave is here. And about to be my Stage Slave!”
Her what? Stage Slave? Nooo! Not in NYC! I’d already done my time under the stage for community service. I’d done my time!
I had to say no. I thought about what Emma used to say to me at camp.
“Just stand up for yourself,” Emma said. “Just say no to her. She’s manipulating you.”
“But this is the only way I can get the coolest clothes for middle school,” I had said to Emma. “I just have to do it for a couple weeks. Then I’ll never have to do it again. I’ll never see this girl again.”
Augh! I didn’t know I’d see her again.
“Hm, you could clean my dressing room!” Ashlynn said, tapping her finger on her chin. “It’s totally trashed.”
“I’m not cleaning your dressing room,” I said firmly.
“We don’t have a latrine here,” Ashlynn said. “Remember latrine duty, and we were all like, What does that mean? Ew! Cleaning the bathroom? Gross. So I got you to do it, remember?”
How could I forget? I traded for a tank top and jeans. Oh, crud, the jeans I was wearing right now. Ashlynn and I both looked down at the same moment.
“Hey, you’re wearing my jeans too!” Ashlynn said. “Wow, I knew you were a Fashlynn wannabe but, whoa. How embarrassing. Don’t you even have any clothes of your own?”
Yes. Yes, I did. But I wanted to wear my coolest clothes, the ones that would fit in NYC best. Which of course were Ashlynn’s shirt, jeans, and . . .
Oh no, I realized, this would only get worse. The dress I had brought to wear to the show tonight? Also Ashlynn’s.
At least when I was Summer Slave I’d gotten clothes for it. But as Stage Slave I would get nothing.
I needed to do it. I needed stand up for myself, once and for all. I closed my eyes so I couldn’t see her smirking at me. I took a deep breath.
“Ashlynn,” I said.
“Ashlynn!” a voice also said at the same time. Louder and more forceful than mine, that’s for sure.
I opened my eyes. I had a quick glimpse of a woman in black sticking her head in the door. But that’s all I saw of her because my attention went elsewhere fast.
“They are driving me up a wall,” the woman said. “The dog walker didn’t show again. Here they are.”
“They” were three little poofballs that she popped through the door. One. Two. Three!
Three little fluffy dogs! All of them were little, white fluffballs.
“Oh, how cute,” I said.
And oh, how . . . spazzy! They were yapping and running right at me. And then three poofballs were jumping all over my legs.
“Mother!” Ashlynn yelled.
“I’ll be back after my nail appointment,” the woman said. “Ta-ta.”
“Um, down, girls!” I said. “Or boys.”
They were jumping all over and licking my jeans. And my sneakers. And . . . I saw a little orange dust on one of the dogs.
Oh yeah—the cheese-puff explosion! The dogs were going crazy licking the cheese puff crumbs from my clothes.
And not just licking, chewing. And ouch—biting.
“A little help here?” I said. “Ashlynn? Random dogs are attacking me?”
“They’re not random,” Ashlynn said, calmly applying lip gloss. “They’re mine.”
I leaned down to pull one off my shoe. And another one jumped up and latched on to my hair.
“Your dog is attached to my head!” I said. “Can you please call your dogs off?”
“Down, Bebe,” Ashlynn said in a bored voice. “Down, Barbra. Down, LeaMichele.”
The dogs jumped even crazier. Yeesh. They didn’t listen to her and they didn’t even acknowledge her. But they were all over me. And they were really cute, even though seriously insane.
Then one of the dogs rolled onto her back and panted at me.
“Oh, cute,” I said. “I’ll scritch your belly if you don�
��t eat my head.”
I started scritching her belly. Then the other two dropped in front of me also.
Suddenly I was scritching three dog bellies.
“They’re totally annoying,” Ashlynn said. “I got them because I saw this Mera Padley bag? And I found out it was a dog carrier. So I got some dogs. But they won’t all fit in the bag, so it was useless.”
“Ashlynn, they’re so cute,” I said. “Come here. Scratch a belly.”
“Uk, no,” Ashlynn said. “They’re getting fur all over your—my—TC Couture T-shirt.”
Her cell phone rang.
“Yes.” Ashlynn rolled her eyes. “Fine. I said, Fine.”
Ashlynn hung up and turned to me.
“Time for your grand tour,” Ashlynn said.
“Oh!” I said. Cool! A tour! Maybe she was just kidding about me being her Stage Slave, after all. Or at least, whoever was on the phone told her to be nice to me?
Whatever. I’d take it.
“Follow me,” Ashlynn said.
Ooh, where were we going? A rehearsal area? The dressing rooms? The costume room?
I stood up and tried to brush fur/cheese puff dust off of me. The dogs started running around in circles, yapping again.
“Can you grab the leashes?” Ashlynn said, and didn’t wait for an answer.
Okay, that was more of a challenge than it sounded as I had to chase the dogs around in their circles and try to grab their trailing leashes. Finally I had all three.
“Ready!” I told Ashlynn, slightly out of breath.
Ashlynn waved for me to follow her.
“This way, Bebe! Or is that Barbra?” I said. I held out the leash to Ashlynn.
“Do you mind holding their leashes?” Ashlynn asked me.
“All three?” I looked down at the dogs tangling up in their leashes as they started jumping at my jeans again.
The dogs started yipping louder. They were excited to go where we were going. So was I!
Ashlynn pushed through a door and we were—
Outside in a teeny courtyard in the back of the building. The dogs dragged me over to a small patch of grass and started sniffing. Barbra—or was it LeaMichele—squatted down and—
“You’ll need this,” Ashlynn said, tossing me a small box.
What?
Times Squared Page 8