MATT JAMES
NICK HYDE
ARI SILVERS
TYSON BLANDERS
GEORGE MCGOWAN
FRANK PARSONS
KIRK DAVIES
SEAN MCCARTHY
RANDALL TANNER
JONAH BARKER
KEIFER PHILLIPS
BEAR ARVANITES
VINDAY PATEL
SERGIO RALETA
MICAH WONG
And next to it was the girls’ list.
NIA TATE
AVA ALLEN
SIERRA BLACKSTONE
MCKENZIE DARLINGTON
AMBER SMITH
ADIA STILLER
MEI WONG
ALYSON HERNANDEZ
MADDIE NARITA
LISA GREGORY
SIERRA STEVENS
LESLIE GOTTFRIED
SARAH RUINSKY
JANE COCKRELL
LIESA SALEEM
CLARA PESSEREAU
SHERRY WARE
RUBY KUMAR
JENNY GOLD
LEAH PFEIFFER
The List was so long that it ran to the bottom of the door. Of course, Squid’s name wasn’t there. But when I glanced at the girls’ list there were a couple of surprises. I still wasn’t on the Hot List, but Maddie had pulled up to number nine, even ahead of Sierra. Nia, of course, was still number one followed by Ava. Some things never changed, except friendships. I think Maddie’s sister, Gwen, had been right about seventh grade after all.
Chapter Ten
As I got out of the stall, I could hear Nia and Maddie speaking as they applied lip gloss by the sink. When they saw me walk out, Nia said, “Sorry you didn’t get on.”
“I don’t care,” I snapped.
“Are you mad at me because you don’t have the power of the List anymore?”
“No,” I whispered back.
“Because it’s beyond you. There’s this energy around the List.” She clutched her crystal necklace. “It’s big. It’s bigger than any of us.”
“People make the List, not energy from your crystal.” Then I lowered my voice even more. “I might not have the pen anymore, but I know how to get someone on the List. Look at Maddie. She started hanging with you, dresses the part, and then, voila, she’s on. It’d be true for anyone.”
“No, it’s so beyond that,” said Nia in her New Agey way.
“Exactly,” agreed Maddie.
Nia stood back and pressed her lips together. “The List’s like a perfect snapshot of hotness. It’s eerie.”
“It’s freaky,” said Maddie.
I had to speak up again. “It’s because you guys both got on that you think it’s all eerie and magical.”
“That’s so evil,” said Nia. “It has nothing to do with that.”
I stared at Maddie. “It’s simple. Like I said, you got contacts and started wearing Nia’s clothes. That’s why you’re on the Hot List.”
Nia glared at me. “You enjoy being mad, don’t you? It’s so sad. You just can’t handle us being friends.”
I swallowed and then said, “What I can’t handle is the way you go around acting like the Hot List ‘knows.’ People write the Hot List. Okay? It’s people.” I peered at Maddie meaningfully. “Hello. It doesn’t just appear.”
“Actually, I think it does,” snapped Nia. “Nobody ever sees anyone writing it up. Ev-er. I’m not doing it. And neither is”—she ticked off names on her fingers—“Maddie, Ava, McKenzie, Amber, or Sierra.”
“You think the Hot List has powers or something? It doesn’t. Trust me. Maddie is on the List now because she changed her look. That’s it. If I gave advice to the biggest loser at the school, I could get him up on the next List. No problem. It’s people who start acting like models who get on the List. The List doesn’t, like, give them a makeover. They do it to themselves.”
Nia grabbed my hand. “We’ve got to talk,” she said.
“Aren’t we, like, talking right now?”
She shook her head so her corkscrew curls bounced. “I’ve got an idea. But it’s kind of private. And involves both of us.” She pointed to the stall, the one on the very end. “In there.”
Only Nia would want to talk in a bathroom stall. She looked around at the other girls who began to stare at us. She shrugged. “Like I said, it’s private.”
“What about me?” asked Maddie.
“Sorry, just room for two,” said Nia.
Maddie’s frown made me feel a little bit happy. She should know what it feels like to be left out, I thought. I put on my whatever face and bravely headed for the stall. But what was I thinking? What did the person on my most-annoying list have to say to me now? My back pressed up against the giant toilet-paper dispenser. “So what’s up, Nia?” I asked, pretending that I loved being stuck in a small space that smelled like bleach and bubble gum.
“You said you could get the biggest loser on the List.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So do it. ‘Cause I don’t think you can.”
“What?”
“Afraid? That you’re wrong.” She looked at me knowingly.
“I could do it.”
“If you can do it, then I’d do something completely psycho. Like”—she shut her eyes for a moment—“put on a fuzzy pink boa, tiara, and sparkly shoes, and in the middle of the caf, I’d give my crush the five things I like about him written on little heart-shaped pieces of paper.”
Wow. That was insane. Did I really care that much about Nia to take this on? The better part of me knew I shouldn’t, but a bigger part of me wanted to prove something. Like to Maddie how absurd the Hot List had become. And the fact that Nia could potentially, absolutely humiliate herself seemed like a worthwhile bonus.
“Cool,” I said. “I’d so love to see you do that.”
“But if you lose, you’d have to put on the tiara, pink fuzzy boa, and sparkly shoes. And”—she grinned happily—“in the middle of the caf do the five-things-I-like-about-you thing to your crush.”
“Is this, like, a bet?”
“Exactly.”
Ugh. That was as scary as the piece of paper that wouldn’t flush in the List stall and was swirling around the toilet.
“Okay,” I said. Because I was crazy at that exact moment. But mostly because Nia always made me feel like I was a loser. And I was so tired of it. When it came to Maddie, she had won the friendship battle. But I wasn’t some wimpy pushover.
Right now I was going to get a chance to show them what I could do.
I smiled and tried not to breathe in bleach and bubble gum smell. “Yeah, I’ll do it.”
“Great.” Nia fingered her colored beads. “You’ve got, like, a month to get some loser on the next Hot List.”
“Not a problem. But there’s one thing. How do I know that you’re not the one writing the List or one of your friends? I mean, you could just leave off whoever I pick.”
“I’m so not doing the List,” she said, holding up her hand. “I swear on my grandfather.” She blinked a few times. “He died last year, and, um, well, I wouldn’t swear on him, if it wasn’t true.”
As much as I didn’t like her fake-hippie, New-Agey-best-friend-stealing self, for some reason, I believed her. “We’re on,” I said and shook her hand. Her fingers were slimy from that mango moisturizer. “Now we just need to find this so-called loser.”
Nia smiled at me like she was actually genuinely happy, whereas usually she acted like I was a rock in her knee-high boots. “You said anyone,” she pointed out.
“Uh-huh.”
“So I get to choose.”
“Sure,” I said, trying to outdo her with confidence. “Bring on the loser.”
Chapter Eleven
A high-pitched squeal pierced through the bathroom.
“Boy!” screamed someone.
“Where?” Nia burst out of the stall, and, like a maniac, I rushed after her.
There stood Squid—SQUID RODRIGUEZ—staring at the List. He waggled his hips like he was aud
itioning for Dancing With the Stars. “Am I on it? I am, right? Right?” His eyes grew saucer round, and his tongue lolled out of his mouth. He looked like a giant puppy hungry for a treat.
“You’ve got to leave,” said Nia. “Now!”
“You can’t be here,” said Maddie.
“Sorry,” said Squid. “But I’m going in there.” He pointed to the Hot List stall. A bunch of girls giggled.
“Go to the boy’s bathroom, dude,” stated Nia in her very bossy leadership-council voice. She pointed toward the door. “It’s down the hall.”
The girls inside the List stall burst out and backed away.
“I didn’t mean you. I mean him.” She pointed at Squid. “I said leave. You’re a boy. This is a girls’ bathroom. You can find out if you’re on the List. But not in here.”
Squid cut the line and marched right up to the List stall door. I couldn’t believe he barged in like that. He was more of a geek/weirdo than I thought.
Everybody in the bathroom held their breath, which in the bathroom was probably always a good idea.
That was when Nia and Maddie rushed in front of him. Squid tried to push his way past but they were stronger.
And bigger. Not that it was saying much.
So Squid ducked right under them and into the stall.
Being small had its advantages.
Once inside, he went, “Aha” and “Oh” and “Interesting.”
Maddie raced to my side. “What were you guys talking about? What did Nia want?”
I gave her a look: Like I would tell you. “Ask Nia.”
“Fine,” Maddie said, doing her frowny thing.
There were squeals as Squid exited the stall. Nia tried to grab him, but he slid out of her grasp.
“Get out!” she yelled. For a moment, I semi-liked Nia. She was so determined to be rid of Squid, and that was a positive thing.
Squid guarded his turf, so Nia pushed against him like he was a volleyball, and then he lunged forward and walked on his hands. With his skills, I could definitely see him joining the circus, especially the clown show. A bunch of girls screamed and yelled, “Freak!”
That’s when Mrs. Heidegger, the hall monitor, barreled into the bathroom. I quickly hunched over and pulled my hoodie down. Mrs. Heidegger raised her silver whistle to her mouth and inhaled a deep breath.
TWEEEEEEEEEEEEET!
I had to clap my hands over my ears because it was so ridiculously high and loud.
“Okay, clear out!” Mrs. Heidegger didn’t need to ask me twice. I slinked out as the custodian spotted Squid. “What are you doing in here, buddy?”
Squid shrugged. “I had an emergency.”
“Him,” Nia said as we moved down the hallway.
“Him what?” I asked.
She nodded and smugly folded her arms in front of her chest.
“He’s the one,” she mouthed.
Then suddenly, I got it. Squid. I had to get Squid Rodriquez on the Hot List in one month. Sure, I had been decent at doing some wardrobe consulting with Maddie when we were friends. But this was waaaaaay different. I wasn’t a miracle worker. I wasn’t some twenty-first-century saint or something.
What on earth had I gotten myself into?
Chapter Twelve
The Top Five Reasons Why Speaking to Squid Is Impossible
1. He’s weird and his weirdness might rub off on me like some kind of contagious disease.
2. He doesn’t talk—he screams. And he will probably let everyone know, while screaming, that I have helped him do something lame.
3. He is not a television set so I can’t turn down his volume.
4. He looks like a Lego figure—short, blocky, and cartoony. Only with Legos, you can take them apart and rebuild them into something better.
5. He smells like sweat socks and beef jerky.
Clumps of kids squeezed through the halls on their way to fifth period. So there I was, surrounded by other students, but still, I felt completely alone. This was because I knew I had to speak to Squid about getting him onto the Hot List. Part of me thought that this was ridiculous. I could avoid all of this by just sneaking into the bathroom and writing Squid’s name up on the next Hot List.
But there were too many problems with that plan. I could get caught. And I didn’t have the sparkly pen. Sure, I could buy something online, probably. But then, there was Squid. Unless he was actually hot, everyone would think my addition was a complete hoax.
I headed over to the south wing hallway where Squid and his friends usually hung out. We had a ten-minute break after fourth period, so a lot of people stuck by their lockers.
I easily spotted Squid because he was trying to walk up the front of his locker, just like those guys on YouTube. He charged forward, blasted halfway up, and then jumped down onto the floor, almost knocking down a couple of girls like they were bowling pins. I recognized them from being in the talent show last year.
They screamed, and he looked at them, wide-eyed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” said the taller girl with a cool pixie haircut.
The smaller girl readjusted her glasses, which had slipped down her ski-jump nose. “Dude, get a grip,” she said. “You don’t have superpowers.”
Squid grinned at them and pointed to his locker. “Oh, yeah, I do!” He rolled up his sleeves.
I could handle this. I cleared my throat and tried to act calm. “Um, Squid. I need to talk to you.”
“About the bathroom incident?” He pulled a detention slip out of his pocket. “Nice, huh? Your dad personally gave it to me.”
“Squid, I—”
He raised his hand. “Hold up and prepare to be a-mazed.”
Instinctively, I stepped backward, as I had seen Squid do this maneuver once before on the aspen tree by the soccer field. Actually, he tried it, like, eleven times, and then on the eleventh, he fell on his back. It looked really painful.
He zoomed toward his locker, but then suddenly stopped. “Sorry, it’s my dumb backpack.” Squid glared at his orange backpack with its crazy assortment of stickers. Then he tossed if off, and it thwacked onto the ground. The two girls—I didn’t know them that well—looked at each other, rolling their eyes as he tried it again, this time backing up farther so he could get a running start.
Squid sprinted faster and walked up even higher, landing harder on his rear. When he gazed at the muddy footprints, he gave a thumbs-up. It had been snowing a few days ago, but then it thawed, creating puddles of mud. And now that mud was on Squid’s locker.
The girls tittered and strolled away.
Elio McMan, a chunky boy with a bowl haircut and wearing a Star Trek T-shirt, stared in admiration. “I think you’re twenty inches from the top,” he lisped.
“Maybe, possibly,” said Gabriel Chowdry, a tall skinny guy with curly brown hair that stuck out like it had been shocked. He used his arm to measure the length of the muddy footprints. “But you can’t be sure, since we don’t have a measuring tape.”
Squid sat up, bounced over to the locker and patted his hands onto the mud-spattered locker. “Twelve and a half inches, dude.”
“Hey, Squid,” I said. “I seriously have to talk to you.” But he didn’t hear me because he and his buddies were too busy arguing about how high up the footprints went on the locker.
“You don’t know,” persisted Gabriel. “Not unless you measure it.”
“I can tell,” said Squid, putting his hand over his heart. “My hand is exactly eight inches tall.”
“My yo-yo string’s exactly twenty-two inches. I could measure it with that.” Elio cupped the yo-yo, then released it and put the string against the door. “Uh-huh. Twenty and a half exactly.”
“Squid!” I practically shouted. This was not what I wanted. I did not want a scene. This was bad. “Squid!”
“You like my footprints? Want me to walk up your locker, Sophie?” This was SOOOOOOOOOOOO wrong. What was I thinking?
“That’s okay,” I said, tryin
g not to scream. I was smiling, in fact. Squid shouldn’t see that I was annoyed. I was happy about this, really.
“Can we talk?” I said, keeping my voice even.
“Sorry.” Squid waved his hands in front of his face. “Whatever else I did to you. Sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I wanted to talk to you. About something. In private.”
“Private! She wants to talk in private!” yelled Elio, who was spinning his yo-yo around with his fingers so that it practically jumped off the string. “Ewwwww.”
“The digs chick me,” said Squid, grinning. Then Elio and Gabriel started slapping their thighs and shrieking just like two monkeys I saw in the Denver Zoo. Only those monkeys were way cuter.
Squid edged toward me. “What do you want to talk about, huh? Huh?” He opened his lips so I could see the red braces railroading his teeth.
“I’d like to help you, Squid. I’d like to help you get on the Hot List.” Ugh, did I really say that?
“Help me get onto the Hot List? Okay, now I know I’m really being punked.” He backed into his locker and mud from his footprints caked into his hair. “You didn’t want to help me less than an hour ago. So I want to know why. Be honest.”
“Why? Now, that’s a great question.” Why? Because of Nia, that’s why. Think happy thoughts. I smiled like Peter Pan (who I used to have a crush on when I was six) was about to carry me off to Neverland, which would be a much better option than being here with Squid.
“Why do I want to help you? Because I want to prove something to someone who’s extremely lame,” I said, which was the true part. “And you’ve got natural potential. The most of any guy in the school.” That was probably the hugest lie I’d ever told.
Elio and Gabriel were edging toward us. “Tell them to go away,” I urged. “This is strictly a private conversation.”
“But they’re my bros.”
“Squid,” I warned.
“Shoo,” he said. “Dudes, go away.” They, unbelievably, did take a few steps back.
“I still don’t get it,” said Squid. “You think I’m a freak.” He bugged out his eyes and pulled them down so I could see the whites. “Which I am.”
And he was happy about that fact, which I so did not get.
The Hot List Page 7