by Meg Cabot
Because she and I weren’t even that good friends. We were frenemies, really. Which is a mix of friends and enemies. We’d started out friends, then become enemies, then she’d tried to become my friend, then I’d shoved a cupcake in her face.
And now, for some reason, she was still trying to be my friend.
I was sort of starting to regret saying I’d go to Brittany’s party.
Especially when I went home for lunch that day and yelled from the mudroom (which, for once, really was filled with mud, because it was raining so hard, Kevin and I got soaked walking from school), “Mom! What did you get for me to give to Brittany for her birthday? We have to give her something super good. Because Cheyenne O’Malley says you have to get something that costs equal to or more than whatever Brittany’s parents are spending on what I’m going to eat and drink at the party, not to mention the cost of my going to Glitterati and however much it’s going to cost for me to spend the night at the Hilton Hotel…Mom? Mom?”
But there was no response from Mom. Just…nothing.
Which was weird. Because she and Dad weren’t supposed to leave for the airport until later that night.
I followed Kevin into the kitchen, where Mark was already standing. He’d gotten home before us, since he’d ridden his bike…but that meant he was more soaked. He hadn’t even gone upstairs to change out of his sopping wet clothes yet, he was just standing there making a big puddle on the kitchen floor. At first I had no idea why.
Until I saw that he was staring at Mom. Mom, who was on the phone by the kitchen counter, with a very worried expression on her face. She was going, “Uh-huh. Of course. I understand. Oh, I’m so sorry. I’m just so sorry.”
What had happened? Clearly something very, very bad. Mom looked awful. Her face was pale and she was holding the phone so tightly, her knuckles were white.
I knew right away that something had gone wrong.
And I knew what it was, too.
My lie. My lie about how Mom was making me go to Brittany Hauser’s party had been found out.
I didn’t know who had told. Probably no one had done it maliciously (which means on purpose and to be evil). It had probably just slipped out.
And now I was going to get in big trouble. I would probably be grounded and I wouldn’t be able to go to Brittany’s party or to the annual Little Miss Majorette Baton Twirling Twirltacular.
Of course, I had brought it all on myself. But still. It wasn’t fair. I had only been trying to spare my friends’ feelings. It hadn’t been a lie to hurt anyone. I had done it so as not to hurt anyone.
I stood there in the kitchen trying to figure out what to do. Should I go to my room now, before my mom could send me there? Surely she’d let me have lunch first. My parents had never let me starve before. What was going to happen? Who was that on the phone? Mr. Hauser? Was my mom going to get fired? Could you get fired from a job you weren’t paid for? Probably, since my mom had had to audition for it in the first place.
I couldn’t believe how much trouble I was in. My mom really liked that job. And Harmony, Uncle Jay’s girlfriend, really liked my mom’s job, too. She was trying to get a summer internship with Lynn Martinez, the news anchor at the station that showed Good News! Now, because of me, that wouldn’t happen, either.
I had ruined everything.
I couldn’t lie about it, either. The one thing my parents hate more than anything in the world is lying. You can pretty much do whatever you want in my house, and you’ll get in trouble for it, sure.
But in my house, nothing will get you in bigger trouble than lying. That’s a rule. My parents can’t stand lying.
So though it might have seemed like a good idea to make up some big excuse about why I’d lied to Erica and Caroline and Sophie about my mom’s job being on the line if I didn’t go to Brittany’s party, I didn’t, because she already looked like she was in a bad mood…a bad enough mood that if I didn’t just confess, she might kill me on the spot.
“Mom,” I said, as soon as she hung up. “Listen. I can explain — ”
Mom reached up and pushed some of her hair from her face.
“Not now, Allie. That,” Mom said, “was your great-aunt Joyce. She threw out her back giving her cat, Mr. Tinkles, a bath. So now she won’t be coming to stay while your dad and I are at my cousin Freddie’s wedding…”
I closed my mouth. So, that hadn’t been Lynn Martinez or Mr. Hauser on the phone with my mom? No one had found out about my big lie? I was actually…safe?
There was a beat while we all held our breath.…Did this mean Mom and Dad wouldn’t be going to Cousin Freddie’s wedding? Or…
“I guess your uncle Jay will be staying with you instead,” Mom finished.
Mark, Kevin, and I all looked at one another. It was really hard, but we restrained an urge to high-five one another. Even though we were all sorry for Great-Aunt Joyce and the pain she was going through, hearing this was like hearing that Christmas and our birthdays had all come at once. Uncle Jay was staying with us for a whole weekend, instead of Great-Aunt Joyce? It was truly a miracle. Whatever had happened to make Great-Aunt Joyce throw out her back while giving Mr. Tinkles a bath (and who gave cats baths? I could understand it if the cat was an outdoor cat who got into a fight with a skunk or something. But Mr. Tinkles is an indoor cat…and not a show cat like Lady Serena Archibald), it could not have happened to someone who deserved it more. I mean, why make someone eat tomatoes when they make her feel like she is choking? That is nothing but mean.
“It’s not funny,” Mom said, seeing our smiles. “Great-Aunt Joyce is a very kind person.”
Um…not really, Mom.
But you can’t always change moms’ minds about things.
“And don’t think it’s going to be like last time Uncle Jay stayed over,” Mom went on. “There will be no hide-and-seek in the dark with bicycle lights on your heads. There will be no Hot Pockets morning, noon, and night. I am going to have someone look in on you to make sure you kids are being fed properly.”
This made us curious. Because I am the oldest, and naturally it is my job to do these things, I asked, “Who?”
Mom was already flipping through her address book.
“Harmony, of course,” she said.
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RULE #6
A Present Should Come from the Heart
The next morning I wasn’t in a much better mood than the day before, despite having gotten to make my own pizza in a real restaurant kitchen. Mom had left a note that said, since the limo was coming for me at noon, I still had to go to my ballet lesson with Madame Linda at ten o’clock.
Who could concentrate on ballet when a limo was coming to pick them up and take them to Glitterati?
It was horrible to have to stand there in a boring black leotard and pink tights and do battement tendus and pliés at the barre with the rest of the class when all I could think about was how I was going to be leaving for Glitterati in two hours! Madame Linda had to slap my thigh three times because I wasn’t concentrating on my turn-out (and pardon me, but that hurt)!
And at the end of the class, when we did révérence, I did not get to wear Madame Linda’s tiara (no surprise). A couple of the girls asked me why I was in such a rush to get out of there when I was jamming my shoes and leg warmers into my backpack, and I got to say, all casual, “Oh…a limo is coming to my house to pick me up to take me to Glitterati.”
At first they were all, “No way,” but then I explained it was for a birthday party, so they were pretty excited for me.
That got me feeling pretty good…
…until Uncle Jay was pulling into the driveway for home, and I saw Erica and her family, along with Sophie and Caroline, all getting into the Harringtons’ minivan to go to Missy’s Twirltacular. Erica and Caroline and Sophie saw me and smiled and waved. I waved back. I couldn’t open the window because it was raining kind of hard. But I think Caroline and Sophie and Erica all yelled, “Have fun!”
Then they got into the van, all giggling and poking one another and having fun, and shut the door. Then Erica’s dad drove away.
And that was that.
Except that it was kind of like they’d closed the door on my going with them.
And I couldn’t help feeling like I had made a terrible mistake.
Only I hadn’t. Right? I mean, who wouldn’t rather go to Glitterati in a limo than to a gymnastics contest in a minivan? Um, hello. Me.
As soon as Uncle Jay stopped the car, I got out of it and ran upstairs to put on my best party clothes (purple shirt, jean miniskirt, yellow leggings, and orange cowboy boots) and try to get into a party mood. I put on some dance music and danced around my room, scaring my adorable kitten Mewsie, who crawled under the bed.
But when I looked in the mirror, I realized the party clothes and dancing hadn’t done any good. I was still regretting not going with Erica and those guys to see Missy perform at the Little Miss Majorette Baton Twirling Twirltacular. The first events were due to start any minute.
And I wasn’t going to be there to support Missy. Or to enjoy any of the delicious popcorn they’d be serving to the spectators in the middle school gym. Or to see any of the amazing twirlers, coming from as far away as out of state, in their beautiful twirling costumes, all competing for a chance to win golden trophies as big as me.
I mean, yes, I was going to get to ride in a limo, and go to Glitterati, and do all this other stuff I’ve always wanted to do.
But all of a sudden, the closer it got to the time for me to go, the less fun the idea of going seemed to get.
What was wrong with me? All of my dreams were coming true! I was about to get to ride in a limo!
“So, have you got everything?” Uncle Jay asked as I came down the stairs, dragging my overnight wheelie bag behind me, thump, thump, thump, one step at a time. “Your toothbrush, your pajamas, some clothes for tomorrow?”
“Yes,” I answered. Kevin and Mark were pushing all the furniture in the living room back to make space for our family tent. Since Kevin was so upset about me getting to ride in the limo and stay in a luxury hotel, Uncle Jay had said they could have “boys’ time” while I was gone. “Boys’ time” meant they got to set up our family tent in the living room (since it was so wet outside) and pretend that they were world explorers, then watch adventure movies and eat adventure food, the kind you could only cook over an outdoor fire, such as campfire beans and hot dogs.
Only Uncle Jay had said they could cook them in the fireplace in the living room instead of outside.
I wondered what Harmony was going to say about this when she stopped by to check in.
“Good,” Uncle Jay said. “What about your present for the birthday girl?”
I stared at Uncle Jay blankly. “Didn’t Mom leave that with you?” I asked.
Uncle Jay looked back at me just as blankly.
“No,” he said. “She just left me a hundred bucks to feed you all.”
“She didn’t say where Brittany’s present was?” I could feel something rising in my throat. What I felt was panic. I’d been right: Deciding to go to this party had been a terrible idea. “I can’t go to Brittany’s party without a present!”
“Hold on, hold on,” Uncle Jay said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. “I’m sure it’s around here somewhere. Let me call your mom and ask her.”
Uncle Jay dialed the number for my mom’s cell phone, while I stood at the bottom of the stairs, icy fear gripping me. What if my mom forgot to buy a present for Brittany? I couldn’t go. I wouldn’t be able to show my face at Brittany’s party if I didn’t have a present that cost equal to or more than the cost of the food I would consume at the party. Not to mention however much it would cost for my picture at Glitterati, or my share of however much a room was at the Hilton Hotel —
“Oh, hi, Liz?” Uncle Jay was saying into his phone. “It’s Jay — no, no, the kids are fine. Yeah. No, it’s still raining. Well, drizzling. What are they doing? Oh, we’re just about to sit down and play some of those educational board games you left out — ”
“Uncle Jay.” Mark walked over, carrying one of Mom’s Waterford crystal vases she and Dad got as a wedding present. “Where should I put this so it doesn’t get broken as we set up camp?”
“Hold on, Liz,” Uncle Jay said. He pointed toward the dining room. “In there, champ.”
Mark nodded, and carried the vase away.
“So, listen,” Uncle Jay said into the phone. “Allie was wondering where you put the gift for Brittany. She’s just about to get picked up for the party.” Uncle Jay listened for a minute. Then he nodded. Then he handed the phone to me. “She wants to talk to you,” he said.
I took the phone from Uncle Jay and pressed it to my ear. “Yes, Mom?” I said.
“Allie, honey,” Mom said. She sounded funny. Maybe it was because she was so far away. Or maybe it was because she was staying at her mom and dad’s house, and everyone was getting ready for Cousin Freddie’s wedding, and someone had stolen a golf cart again and driven it onto the tennis court. In any case, she didn’t sound good. “I forgot Brittany’s gift.”
These were not the words I wanted to hear. They were so not the words I wanted to hear, my throat closed up and for a second I couldn’t breathe.
“Mom,” I gargled. “No!”
“But, honey, listen,” Mom said. “Just tell Brittany that it’s my fault, that I forgot, and that I’ll drop her gift off next week — ”
“Mom.” In front of me, Uncle Jay’s face began to swim. That’s because my eyes had begun to fill with tears. “You don’t understand. I can’t go to Brittany’s party without a present!”
“Yes, you can, honey,” Mom said. There were some kind of crashing noises in the background, and I heard a voice yell, “Oh, no. Freddie!” “Oh,” Mom said. “I have to go. But, Allie, just explain to Brittany that I had to go out of town for a wedding and that I’ll drop her gift off next week. She’ll understand, I promise you. I’ll talk to you later, sweetie. Bye-bye.”
I handed the phone back to Uncle Jay, even though I couldn’t see him very well through my tears.
“She hung up,” I said. “It doesn’t sound like Cousin Freddie’s wedding is going very well.”
“Big surprise,” Uncle Jay said. He didn’t know Cousin Freddie, but he knew of him. He put his phone back in his pocket. “What did she say to do?”
“She said she’ll drop Brittany’s present off next week,” I said. Now the tears were coming, spilling out of my eyes and trickling down my cheeks. “But you don’t understand. I can’t go to this party without a present! Not with these kinds of girls. Brittany and her friends…they used to call me Allie Stinkle. They’ll make fun of me if I don’t bring a present.”
“Well,” Uncle Jay said. “Why do you want to go to a party with a bunch of people like that, anyway?”
This was a very good point. Suddenly, more than anything, I wished I had gotten into that van with everyone going to the Little Miss Majorette Baton Twirling Twirltacular over at the middle school.
“I don’t know,” I wailed. By this time, Mark and Kevin had come over, lured by the sound of my tears.
“Why is Allie crying?” Mark wanted to know.
“She doesn’t have a present for Brittany’s party,” Uncle Jay explained.
“Oooh,” Kevin said, looking concerned. “That’s bad.”
This just made me cry harder.
I really couldn’t even remember anymore why I’d said I’d go to this stupid party in the first place. Nothing was turning out the way I’d imagined. All my good friends were off having fun without me, and I was left with nothing but mean friends, who were going to kill me because I didn’t have a present for the main mean girl.
“We have to go to the mall really quick,” I said, doing my best to wipe my eyes with the sleeve of my purple shirt. “We have to buy Brittany a present that costs equal to or more than whatever her pare
nts are spending on what I’ll be eating at her party, my photo at Glitterati, and the cost of my share of the room at the Hilton Hotel.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Uncle Jay said. “First of all, we don’t have time to go to the mall, because your ride is coming any minute. And second of all, I don’t have any money.”
“How can you not have any money?” I asked him. “You just said Mom and Dad left you a hundred dollars!”
“That’s for us to eat with while they’re gone!” Uncle Jay cried. “I’m not blowing it all on a present for some girl who used to call you Allie Stinkle.”
Mark started laughing. “Allie Stinkle! That’s a good one.”
“Shut up, Mark Stinkle,” I said to him. “Don’t you have any money of your own?” I asked Uncle Jay. “You have a job at Pizza Express!”
“I’m not spending my hard-earned money on a birthday present for Brittany Hauser,” Uncle Jay declared, “a girl you don’t even like. And that thing about how the present has to cost a certain amount — that’s just insane. A present should come from the heart. And so should an invitation. Why did this girl even invite you to her party if she calls you names?”
“Because,” I said, “I think her mom is impressed that our mom is the star of a TV show. Even though Mom doesn’t get paid for being on Good News! But Brittany’s mom doesn’t know that.”
Uncle Jay made a face. “And why do you want to go to this party again?”
I didn’t want to have to bring up the limo and Glitterati and The Cheesecake Factory and the hotel thing. I just pressed my lips together and glared at him.
Finally, Uncle Jay said, “If you’re so concerned about bringing a gift to this party, go upstairs to your room and find something in it that you think this girl would like and bring it down here and I’ll wrap it for you.”
My mouth dropped open. “I can’t give Brittany Hauser a used gift!”
Mark, who is a boy and doesn’t know anything about girl stuff, started laughing at this idea. Even Kevin, who is only six, looked appalled.