by Betsy Haynes
"Some fish have ways of providing their own light, just as you can with a flashlight. Some have even evolved to the point where they don't have eyes because eyes are useless in the deepest parts of the ocean. Everybody over there," he commanded, pointing to the table with the fish tank on it. "This is a saltwater tank, and it's just like the water in the sea."
"And in our bodies?" asked Melinda.
"That's right."
"Eeeyew!" said Whitney, sniffing the water.
"Let's prove that there's stuff in the water and that the deeper you go, the more light it cuts out," said Mr. Dracovitch.
For the next half hour the class ran all kinds of experiments, shining lights through the tank at sensors on the other side, looking at water samples under microscopes, and mixing them in test tubes with various chemicals. Christie became so engrossed in what they were doing, she was surprised when the bell rang, ending the period.
"Okay, everyone," said Mr. Dracovitch, pulling a straw hat out of a paper bag that had been sitting on the table. When he put it on, his toupee slipped down over one ear, and the class laughed. He looked sheepish as he straightened his wig.
"Monday we're going to be farmers. Not just ordinary ones, but farmers from the future. We'll learn how to farm the seas. If you'd like to wear a red bandanna or straw hat like mine to class, feel free. Okay, class dismissed."
"Neat," said Dekeisha as they all gathered their things to leave. "That was a great class."
"Mr. D is definitely a fun teacher," said Melinda.
Curtis stuck out his lower lip in a fake pout. "I know I'm a better fish than Christie. I should have found the pizza slice."
"I don't know if you're better than Christie, Trowbridge," said Melissa, "but you're definitely a fish."
Whitney stared daggers at Melissa.
"That's the first class I've ever had pizza in," said Curtis, ignoring the whole thing.
"I wonder if we could talk Mr. Dracovitch into bringing a pizza every time," said Christie. "I'd promise to be on time and to hang on his every word, if he would."
"Whoops!" said Melinda, stopping as they walked out the door. "What are those guys doing?" The rest of the class crowded around her to see what she was talking about.
Richie Corrierro, Clarence Marshall, and Joel Murphy were standing in the hallway with their hands behind their backs. Christie was surprised to see Matt Zeboski with them.
"Teenage mutant ninja brains!" Richie yelled at them.
"Yeah," said Joel, assuming a karate pose. "We know you're really superintelligent aliens from outer space and you've come to take over Wacko Junior High from us mere earthlings. Well, we won't let you!"
The kids in the PEAK class could only stare at them.
"We'll fight you to the death," Matt said, shaking his fist. The corners of his mouth twitched as he tried to keep from laughing. "Fire, hero students of Wacko!" he yelled. "Protect our school!"
The boys raised plastic straws and blew a volley of spit wads at the PEAK kids. A wet glob hit Christie on the forehead. She held up her notebook to shield herself as the boys reloaded their straws.
Just then Mr. Dracovitch came out of the room, and the boys ran down the hall, laughing and shouting at the tops of their voices.
Mr. Dracovitch looked after them with a questioning expression on his face, then smiled at the PEAK students and said, "Good afternoon, everyone."
The PEAK kids looked at each other as they picked spitballs off their clothing.
"I can't believe this," said Dekeisha. "It's disgusting."
"Me, either," agreed Melissa. "Let's turn them in to the Teen Court."
"Maybe we shouldn't," said Curtis slowly. The others looked at him questioningly.
"Why not?" asked Christie.
"We're supposed to be smart, aren't we?" Curtis asked.
They all nodded.
"Well, if we can't handle a bunch of dummies, then we must not be as smart as we're supposed to be. Let's put our abundant brains together and see what we can come up with," Curtis continued, pushing his glasses up on his nose. "I'll be in charge. I'll call you all over the weekend to get your ideas. Agreed?"
Whitney looked up at him with stars in her eyes. "Agreed," they said in unison.
Christie heard herself agree with the others, but deep down she just wished the whole problem would go away.
CHAPTER 8
Christie was all ready for her date with Chase by the time her mother called her to dinner that night. When she walked into the kitchen, she was immediately struck by her parents' silence. A feeling of foreboding came over her as they ate. Finally, her mother put down her fork and looked at Christie.
"There's something you need to know, Christie." Her mother hesitated as if searching for the right words. "Your father's company has asked him to take the job in London, and we've agreed that he should accept it."
Christie stared at her in disbelief and then looked at her father, hoping he would say something that would make it sound less definite. He gave Christie a thin little smile that seemed to be an apology.
"I feel bad that your mother has to change her career because of it, and that we have to move you," he said, "but lots of families move because of job changes. The timing is never right, but when you look back at it, the experiences you're going to have and the new friends that you'll meet will make it all worthwhile. There's no place quite like London, and we won't be that far from the European continent. We'll go on lots of holidays, as they say in England, to France and Germany and the other countries."
Christie took a deep breath. "When will we have to move?" she asked.
"We thought the break between semesters would be best," said her mother. "That way you can start school right away over there. If we wait until summer vacation to move, it'll be three months before you have a chance to make friends. I've already talked to the superintendent of schools here. He thinks my assistant principal can take over as principal at Mark Twain Elementary for the remainder of the school year."
"That's only a month and a half away," said Christie.
"We know, sweetheart," said her mother.
"The longer we drag it out, the more painful it will be," her father said. "The best way to handle a thing like this is to get it over with."
Christie felt a swelling in her throat. "May I be excused?"
There was a look of pain in her mother's eyes. "Yes, you may."
Christie sat at her desk with her face in her hands. She had tried to make believe that this wouldn't happen, that her father's company would decide cither not to fill the job or choose someone else. She had known it was foolish to believe that her friends would come up with an idea to keep the Winchells from moving, but she had. Now she had to face the cold reality. They were going to move.
The name, London, England, sounded so strange. What would the kids be like there? She knew they spoke with an accent she wasn't used to, and she had heard that some of their accents were really thick. Would she be able to understand them? What did they do for fun? What kinds of places did they go to? What music did they listen to? Would they think she was weird?
A stranger, that's what she would be. She would be worse than a stranger; she would be the only kid in her class who didn't even know how to behave. Tears trickled down her cheeks.
The doorbell rang in the distance, and a minute later her mother knocked softly on her door.
"Christie, Chase is here. Do you want me to tell him you're not feeling well?"
Christie panicked. She had forgotten all about Chase. And her face, it must be a mess.
"No. Tell him I'll be right down."
Christie went to her bathroom and scrubbed her face. She patted cold water on her eyes to try and take the redness away, then gray eye makeup to further disguise it. She put on the lightest touch of lipstick and respritzed her wrists with perfume. This time she put a small dab behind her ears for good measure. She couldn't have the move to England ruin her first date with Chase.
&n
bsp; And maybe my last one, she thought. A month and a half was such a short time.
Chase was waiting in the living room with her parents. When she walked in, he was in the middle of telling them about San Diego.
"You wouldn't believe the aircraft carriers the navy has stationed there, Mr. W. And they have guided tours on some of them. I bet you'd have a great time taking one of the tours."
"I'd like to, Chase. Oh, here's Christie."
"Wow," said Chase when he turned to look at her. She felt he really meant it.
"Just for the record, Chase," said Mrs. Winchell, "eleven o'clock is Christie's curfew."
"Sure, Mrs. W. No problem," he said as he ushered Christie out the door.
"I heard what Richie, Joel, Clarence, and Matt did, and I can't believe it," said Jana as Christie joined The Fabulous Five by the theater entrance. Chase was in the ticket line with Randy, Tony, Keith, and Shane. Chase's mother had driven him and Christie, but they planned to walk home.
"I especially can't believe that Matt Zeboski was in on it," said Beth.
"Well, he was and they did," said Christie. "And if Mr. Dracovitch hadn't come out of the room, they would have done it again."
"Spitballs, yuck!" said Melanie. "How icky."
"You're telling me," agreed Christie. "And the one that got me on the head was sopping wet."
"I still think you ought to report them," commented Katie.
"Curtis doesn't want to. He thinks we should be able to figure out a way of stopping their teasing ourselves."
"You know Curtis," said Katie. "He wants to be in charge of everything in the world. If we'd let him, he'd declare himself king of the Wacko Junior High seventh-grade class."
"What does Curtis want to do?" asked Jana. "Start the Great Spitball War?"
"I can see it now," chimed in Beth. She pointed her fingers like guns. "The PEAKs and the—whatever you want to call them—passing each other like intergalactic spaceships and firing salvos of laser spitballs at each other. It may go down as the greatest battle of all time."
"How about calling them the PUKES?" asked Jana. "It fits them."
Christie raised her eyebrows. "What does PUKES stand for?"
"Let me think. What about . . . uh . . . People U Kan't Even Stand?" asked Katie.
"I love it!" exclaimed Christie. "Even using the letter U for the word you and spelling can't with a k is dumb, like something they'd do."
"The problem is they'll never figure out that the words are misspelled," said Beth, laughing.
"That's okay," said Christie. "Everyone else will know."
"Are you going to tell Chase about what they did?" asked Melanie.
"There's no reason to say anything to him, and please don't tell the other guys, either. They might say something to Chase, and he might think he has to do something." Christie sighed. "All I know is, I'm tired of being made fun of because I make good grades. I'm tired of being teased, I'm tired of boring classes, and I'm tired of having to make A's all the time."
"Gee," said Melanie. "I didn't think I'd ever hear Christie Winchell talk like that."
Christie's throat tightened again, and she kept quiet because she wasn't sure that she could control herself.
Chase and the others laughed all through the movie, but Christie had a hard time concentrating on it. Her mind kept wandering to the move to England. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't visualize herself there. Every time she attempted to make a mental picture of herself in a London scene, it wouldn't work. The people she tried to imagine would be shadows, and the buildings would half form and then fade away. She was glad when the movie was over, and she could talk to her friends instead of thinking.
"The part I liked best," said Chase, laughing, "was where the crooks were chasing Steve Martin, and his car started falling apart."
"Yeah," said Keith. "When the rear axle came off, I nearly split."
"You guys," said Katie. "You think only the men are funny. I liked it when he finally got home and Bette Midler was chewing him out for being late, and all he had was the steering wheel in his hands. That was funny."
"I liked that part, too," said Melanie.
"What did you like best, Christie?" asked Jana, looking closely at her. "You've been awfully quiet."
"Yeah," commented Randy. "You've hardly said a word."
Christie shrugged and tried to smile. "I guess I thought all of it was pretty funny," she fibbed.
"Come on," said Chase, nudging Christie's shoulder with his. "You have been quiet. What's up? Tell old Dr. Collins what's wrong." He looked at the others for appreciation of his humor.
Christie shrugged again.
"Do you feel okay, Christie?" asked Shane.
"You don't look like you do," Jana offered.
Christie took a deep breath and decided to tell them. "You know I told you we might move to London," she said to the girls. "Well, it's for sure now."
"Oh, nooo!" wailed Melanie.
Katie, Beth, and Jana stared at her with shocked looks on their faces.
"What's this London stuff?" asked Chase, glancing quickly at the girls. "What are you talking about, Christie?"
Christie explained about the decision to move to London between semesters.
"Oh, wow," said Randy, shaking his head. "I can't imagine your not being around, Chris."
"That's the understatement of the century," said Melanie. "Is it absolutely, positively a sure thing?"
Christie nodded. The table fell silent as suddenly no one knew what to say next.
"If you have to go someplace, it could be a lot worse," said Melanie brightly. "England's where all the super rock stars, like Adam Ant and Geoffrey Williams, come from. And I just love British accents."
"And the theater," added Beth. "They've got great theater there. If I were going to London, I'd spend all my time going to the theater."
"If I went to London, I'd want to visit the Old Bailey," said Katie.
"What's the Old Bailey?" asked Keith.
"The Old Bailey is only the most famous court of law in the world," answered Katie.
"Isn't that where the lawyers and judges all wear funny white wigs?" Tony asked. "I hate to tell you, Your Honor, but you'd look funny in one of those."
Christie knew her friends were trying to cheer her up.
When it was time to go, Jana, Katie, Beth, and Melanie gave Christie big hugs, and the boys looked at her sadly.
"What was it like when you moved here from San Diego?" Christie asked Chase as they headed toward her house.
"Not too bad, but I adapt easily. Besides, I met you guys, didn't I? Back in California I didn't have any real buddies. Most of the guys were jealous because I was so good at sports."
"I thought you hung out at the beach and played volleyball and wind-surfed."
"Oh, sure, but that doesn't mean you have to be friends with the people there. A lot of the guys were losers, and I didn't want to hang out with them, anyway. Hey," he said, brightening, "why don't we stop at McDonald's and have a soda?"
Christie looked at her watch. "I shouldn't. I'm supposed to be home by eleven, and it's a quarter to."
"What difference will it make if you're fifteen minutes late? Come on. Nobody's going to hang you."
"But I'm never late."
Chase laughed. "Maybe you ought to be late sometimes, so they'd appreciate you more."
"Appreciate me?"
"Sure. They expect you to make all A's, be good, and make curfew, and then they don't even ask you if you want to move to England. My folks quit setting curfew for me a long time ago. I never kept it, anyway."
Christie looked at him thoughtfully. In a way Chase was right. Would it really make a difference if she was fifteen minutes late? She was always trying to please her parents and teachers, but when it came down to something really important, like the move, they hadn't even asked for her opinion. She pushed aside the feeling of guilt that was niggling at the back of her mind.
"A soda sounds l
ike fun. Let's do it."
CHAPTER 9
Christie closed the door behind her.
"Christie?" Her mother's voice came from the living room.
Christie looked at her watch. It was ten minutes after midnight. She squared her shoulders and marched into the room. Her mother was sitting on the sofa with a blanket over her legs and a book lying in her lap.
"It's way past the time you're supposed to be in. What happened?"
"Chase and I went to McDonald's after the movie, and we just didn't notice what time it was getting to be."
Her mother looked at her thoughtfully. "You should have called, Christie."
"When I realized I was late, I hurried. I would have been later if I had stopped to call."
Her mother took a deep breath, then apparently decided not to pursue the discussion and got up. "Well, it's past both our bedtimes. I'll see you in the morning," she said, and kissed Christie on the forehead.
Christie was lying on the couch in her bathrobe the next morning looking at magazines when her father came into the room.
"You're getting a late start this morning, Christie. Are you ready for our tennis match?" Saturday and Sunday tennis was a ritual with Christie and her father. It was his hope that she would become good enough to turn pro someday. Christie wondered if she would ever be good enough to play in the Wimbledon tennis tournament. Now, that was definitely something she'd be interested in seeing when they moved to England.
"No, thanks, Dad. I'm too tired."
"I heard you come in last night. You were a little late, weren't you, young lady?"
For a moment irritation with her father filled her, but it faded as quickly as it had come. "Just a mistake, Dad. Chase and I were having such a great time talking, we didn't notice what time it was."
"I can understand that," said her father, chuckling. "Chase is quite a talker. Well, if you change your mind, let me know. I feel like I've got a hot racket today and might even be able to beat you."