Revenge of the Teacher's Pets

by Jennifer Ziegler

  “It is?” Delaney said. “Then how come I didn’t get one? Or Darby?”

  I shrugged. “You guys didn’t ask.”

  I set the megaphone on the dining room table and ran my hand over the sleek white finish. It was a thing of beauty. It was kind of heavy and unwieldy, and it kept bonking people accidentally as I moved through the halls on our way out of school, but I didn’t care. It was the best thing about that silly Cheer Squad — maybe even the best thing about seventh grade so far. I knew I could do great things with that big white cone, I just wasn’t sure what they were yet.

  Lily pushed through the door to the kitchen. Right behind her was Alex, her fiancé.

  We all ran to him and hugged him, and Delaney bounced about, saying, “Alex! Alex! Alex!” the way she usually does when she sees him. He’d been working in Austin for a few weeks, and hadn’t visited in a while.

  “Hey there!” he greeted us, laughing.

  “You’re here!” Darby said.

  “I am. I have a couple of days off and thought I’d go see my favorite people in the world not related to me.”

  “Not yet related,” I corrected him.

  I loved seeing Lily and Alex side by side. It’s like they match — not like Darby, Delaney, and I match, though. Let’s say they were in a big group of folks, all jumbled up together, and you had to pair up all the people for some reason. You’d put Lily and Alex together, even if you didn’t know they were in love. Lily and Alex both have a sparkle to them. A special something that makes people feel good whenever they get near the two of them.

  “So,” Lily said, clapping her hands together, “tell us all about your first day of school.” She and Alex sat on the couch and Lily patted the empty cushion on the other side of her.

  “It was great!” Delaney said, leaping into the spot beside Lily.

  “It was okay,” Darby said, balancing on the armrest next to Delaney.

  “It’s hard to sum up in a few words,” I said, flopping onto the chair behind Mom.

  Lily laughed. “Fair enough. So how did you like Cheer Squad?”

  “It was great!” Delaney said.

  “I liked the jumping and cartwheeling,” Darby said, “but I didn’t like all the yelling.”

  “Are you kidding? The hollering was the best part,” I said. “I thought all that jumping around was ludicrous.”

  “Still no schedule change?” Mom asked.

  “We’re trying,” I said with a grumble. “But I don’t think Mr. Plunkett feels it’s a priority. I keep stopping by his office, but he just shakes his head and says, ‘Not yet.’ ”

  “Well, I hope you give Cheer Squad a fair chance,” Lily said.

  “You sound like Mr. Plunkett,” I grouched.

  “I mean it,” she said. “We’d love to see you all cheering on the sidelines, wouldn’t we?” She turned to Alex.

  “That’s right,” he said. “We’d go cheer for the cheerleaders.”

  I noticed the smiles they had on their faces — the relaxed-happy looks they always got when they were around each other. It made my angry feelings go quiet. And it made me want to focus on something else — the kind of something that was nothing but good.

  “So enough about us,” I said. “When are you two getting married?”

  Delaney immediately started bouncing on her end of the sofa. “Yeah, when? We want to help!”

  “We can help pick out food,” Darby suggested.

  “Or help you decide on a dress,” I added.

  “Oh! I know!” Delaney raised her hand as if we were still in school. “We can even dress up and be flower girls again, only with real flowers this time.”

  “You girls are sweet.” Lily smiled down at her hands and fiddled with her engagement ring. We waited to see if she would say anything more, but she didn’t. Alex just kept looking at Lily. He was smiling, but it seemed kind of nervous.

  “Oh! I know!” Delaney exclaimed, raising her hand again. “Tommy Ybarra said his aunt is getting married soon, and they’re going to use lassos! So since Lucas has been giving us lasso lessons, and Darby’s really good at it, maybe she could do that at the wedding.”

  “Yeah, I can help lasso you!” Now Darby was bouncing on the couch, too.

  Mom, Lily, and Alex started laughing. “I think I know what Tommy is referring to. It’s not the same kind of lassos as you’re thinking about,” Mom said. “There’s no actual roping involved. The priest just lays the cords on the bride and groom. It’s a lovely tradition.”

  “Oh.” Delaney looked disappointed.

  “Tradition,” I mumbled. I thought I’d done it silently, but Mom must have heard me.

  “Something wrong, Dawn?” she asked, turning around to look at me.

  I sank down lower on the chair. My happiness at seeing Lily and Alex was starting to lose power. Once again I felt weighed down by all the frustration I’d been carrying around. Plus, I was still a little sore at Mom for not helping us out. “It’s just … For some reason we keep hearing that word. Tradition. It makes me wonder, who gets to decide what becomes a tradition?”

  Mom shrugged. “No one in particular. But I guess in a way we all do.”

  “Well, in that case, I think there should be a tradition that little sisters always get to help older sisters plan their weddings,” I said with a nod.

  “So can we help you guys?” Delaney asked Lily.

  “Please?” Darby added, leaning past Delaney.

  Lily suddenly jumped to her feet. “Oh, goodness! Alex, it’s time for us to go.”

  “Oh. Right,” Alex said, rising from the couch. “We should get moving.”

  Lily shouldered her woven bag and together they trotted toward the front door. “Sorry,” Lily said as she stepped out onto the porch, “but we’ve got plans to meet some friends. Bye!” From behind her, we heard Alex say bye. Then the door shut. Soon we could hear Alex’s car start up and drive away.

  “Jiminy,” I exclaimed, “Lily was moving like Delaney there.”

  Delaney flopped over onto the cushions Lily and Alex had just been sitting on. “I don’t understand. Why won’t she let us help her plan her wedding?”

  “I think the answer is pretty clear,” Darby said in a small, solemn voice. “She doesn’t trust us after all the pandemonium we caused at her last wedding.”

  Delaney gasped. “Really?”

  Mom set her computer on the coffee table and stood up to stretch. We all looked at her. It suddenly hit me how quiet she was on the matter.

  “Mom, Lily wouldn’t leave us out of the planning just because of a little mayhem from long ago, would she?” I asked.

  “Well …” Mom’s face crimped up as if she were wincing in pain. “I’m sure that doesn’t help.”

  “But, but … we love Alex!” Delaney said. “We can’t wait to see them get married! We wouldn’t do anything to hurt their ceremony. Plus, we only caused that ruckus so that she and Alex would get back together!”

  “Girls.” Mom held up her hands like stop signs. “I know you want to help, but you need to let Lily do this her own way. After all, it’s her wedding.”

  “But we should get to do something,” I said. Darby and Delaney nodded.

  Mom let out a long sigh. “Look, even if you don’t get to help, there’s no reason to be upset. You love Lily and you love Alex and the important thing is that they’re together — right?”

  “I guess,” Darby said.

  “Sure,” Delaney mumbled.

  I hunched over, resting my chin on my hands, and made a vague noise that could be interpreted as an agreement.

  But it wasn’t.

  * * *

  “I call this meeting to order,” I said, pounding my fist on my headboard.

  “We sure are having a lot of these lately,” Delaney said to Darby.

  I ignored her and kept going. “This evening we convene to discuss a historic event: the wedding of our sister, the amazing Lily Brewster. First up on the agenda: How do we get to h
elp plan the wedding? Anyone have ideas?”

  Darby shook her head.

  Delaney shook her head.

  For a full minute, the three of us looked at one another. It was the sorriest meeting ever.

  “Come on, gang,” I said. “We have to be part of this — we just have to. And if they won’t involve us, we’ll have to figure out some way to help on our own. We’ve been part of a wedding before, so we know about the tasks involved.”

  “There’s invitations, fancy outfits, cake …” Delaney counted on her fingers.

  “But it wouldn’t be right to just start ordering things for Lily and Alex,” Darby said. “It’s their wedding.”

  “Also, we have no money,” Delaney added. “Also, we don’t know when it will be yet. Or where. Basically, if you do the math, what we have equals zero info.”

  “There’s got to be something we overlooked. Some important part we can play and start working on now.” I frowned at the distant trees, where the sun was hiding behind. “I can try to wheedle more information out of Mom. Delaney, maybe you should ask Tommy and the other Ybarras about his aunt’s wedding. And find out more about those lassos.”

  “Aye-aye.”

  “And Darby, you should do some research on the internet.”

  “Okay.”

  I studied Darby’s thoughtful face as she made note of this on the pad of paper she was holding. “Actually, Darby, maybe you should go ask the Ybarras and Delaney can surf the internet.”

  Darby shrank back against the wall. “No, not me. Delaney’s better at that stuff.”

  “She’s right, you know,” Delaney said to me. “And she’s better at researching things online.”

  “But we’re trying to get Darby to stop being such a fraidy cat around people. We all agreed.”

  “She’s also right,” Delaney said to Darby.

  Darby looked down, hunching her shoulders. She reminded me of a turtle trying to tuck its head into its shell. “But can’t I do something else?” she mumbled. “Lily’s wedding is just too important. You don’t want me to accidentally make mistakes.”

  “She’s right, too,” Delaney said.

  Darby did have a point. I tapped my finger against my chin, wondering what to do. Then finally, I got one of my brilliant ideas.

  “Fine. Darby researches online and Delaney goes around asking folks. But” — here I paused for dramatic effect — “this means Darby has to go introduce herself to our new neighbors.”

  Darby gulped. “I do?”

  “Yep. Right now.”

  I used to think the brown-brick house down the road from us was really pretty, but as I trudged toward it late that afternoon, it seemed kind of menacing. The side facing the street had two high windows with awnings at the second-story level and a double front door below. It reminded me of a sinister creature with two heavily lidded eyes and a mouth wide enough to swallow me up.

  I usually walk the slowest of my sisters, mainly because I like to look at things as we go. I find cool stuff this way, like interesting rocks or wildflowers or even money. Today, though, I was walking extra slow. I was nervous about knocking on the big mouthy door and talking to someone I’d never met. I can easily do things like that with my sisters beside me, mainly because they do most of the talking. But alone? The thought made a fuzzy feeling sweep over my face, and my hands trembled, rattling the shiny silvery gift bag I was holding.

  We knew that when you first meet neighbors, you’re supposed to bring something to give them, usually baked goods. We’re not sure why, but it seems it’s tradition. Delaney said it’s a celebratory “welcome to the neighborhood” gift. I thought it was more of a “you’re probably super busy moving in and can’t find your pots and pans yet, so here’s some food” gift. Dawn said it should be a “we’re nice people, so please don’t call the cops if you hear Delaney scream” gift.

  Anyway, since we didn’t have baked goods on hand, we put a box of chocolate Pop-Tarts in the bag. We figured it still counted because it was baked pastries, even if we didn’t bake them.

  Finally I ran out of road to walk down and was facing the house. As I gazed up at it, I felt what I first thought was an earthquake, but it was just my limbs going jittery. I thought about running into the trees next to the yard and living with the raccoons for as long as I wanted to … or at least until the Pop-Tarts ran out.

  Suddenly I heard from behind me, “Keep moving!” It was Dawn’s unmistakable voice, over the megaphone. They were watching me from the edge of our yard.

  I knew they were right. I had to get over my shyness. Someday I was going to be chief justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, and to do that, I had to be able to look strangers in the eye and talk to them. But then, justices wear long robes, so no one would see if my knees were shaking. Today I was wearing shorts.

  I stepped off the curb and headed down the sidewalk toward the front door. At the top of the driveway was a bicycle. It was a pretty aqua color and had a metal basket hanging from the handlebars. It was so lovely, it made me feel better. Anyone who had a bicycle like that couldn’t be too bad. But even though I felt a little braver, I still held the gift bag in front of me with both hands, like a shield, as I approached.

  The big front door was set in a nook. I felt like I was getting swallowed up, even though the recessed porch was all decorated with potted plants and a welcome mat that actually said welcome. There was also a ceramic garden gnome with a white beard and tall red hat, whose right hand gestured toward the door. Actually, the garden gnome was a little creepy. His eyes seemed to follow me, and I couldn’t tell if he was smiling in a happy way or a sinister way.

  “Here goes,” I said to myself. Or maybe I said it to the gnome.

  The double doors were right in front of me, but for some reason I couldn’t knock. On either side were rectangles of glass — only not glass you can see through, more like the bubbly looking glass they make shower doors out of. I wondered if someone inside could see my shadow. Maybe they’d just open the door on their own? If they did, what would I say? I could say hi … and then what? My brain couldn’t think of anything. And that was a major problem. I couldn’t just say hi, shove some Pop-Tarts into the person’s hands, and then walk away.

  My breath was all fast and ragged and my feet started stepping backward all on their own. A thought came into my mind. My sisters can’t see me. It was true! I could say I knocked, but the people weren’t home. Only … Dawn would probably make me come back. So maybe I should say that they were home and were nice. I could say I gave them our baked treats and they thanked me.

  But what would I do with the gift bag? I couldn’t bring it back or they’d know I fibbed.

  I turned all different directions, trying to decide. Finally I just left it hanging on the gnome’s outstretched arm and ran out of there.

  When I got to the road, I started walking again. My shaky nervousness about meeting people had gone away, but now I felt a new shaky nervousness about lying to my sisters. Plus, since I’m terrible at lying, I knew they’d see the truth the second they laid eyes on me.

  My feet started slowing down again. I was not looking forward to seeing Dawn and Delaney. As I came around the bend, I was relieved to see they weren’t in the yard anymore. Mom probably heard the megaphone and made them come inside. That bought me some time.

  “Good evening!”

  I was so lost in thought that the voice made me jump, even though it was friendly. Glancing in the direction it came from, I saw our neighbor, Mrs. Neighbor, sitting on one of the white wicker chairs she keeps on her porch.

  Mr. and Mrs. Neighbor have lived across the street from us our whole lives. Before they retired, they were teachers. Mrs. Neighbor taught reading and Mr. Neighbor taught math. Whenever Mr. Neighbor sees me and my sisters walking into town together, going single file so that we won’t stick out in the road and get hit by cars, he calls out, “Make way for ducklings!” And they always let us play in their sprinklers when it’s hot out and offer
us lemonade or ice cream during the breaks. For some reason, though, we didn’t spend as much time doing that this past summer. Probably because we were hanging out with Lucas more, or helping Aunt Jane with her move.

  Realizing that made me feel kind of bad, and my feet made the decision to walk over to Mrs. Neighbor instead of continuing toward home. I trotted down her walkway and stood at the base of her porch steps. “Hi, Mrs. Neighbor,” I said. “How are you?”

  “Fine, fine. How was the first day of school?” she asked.

  I lifted one of my shoulders. “Okay, I guess. Not as good as other first days of school.”

  “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. She gestured toward the other chairs on her porch. “Why don’t you come up and chat for a while? I could pour you a glass of iced tea and …”

  That’s all I heard. Because right at that moment, a movement caught my eye. I turned my head and saw someone coming down the road on a bicycle — an aqua-colored bicycle. And inside the front metal basket sat a shiny, silvery gift bag.

  I panicked. It’s the only explanation I have for what happened next.

  As soon as I recognized the bike and our gift, I knew it was the new neighbor, and I didn’t want that person to see me. So, quick as a flash, I dove behind the hedges that surrounded Mrs. Neighbor’s front porch.

  I stayed crouching in the dirt, with leaves and twigs poking me everywhere. As the bicycle came closer, I could see the person riding it. She had a familiar haircut — short in the back and long in the front. Wanda, the girl from my history class!

  Once her bicycle was way down the road, I slowly crawled back out onto the sidewalk.

  “Darby, honey?” Mrs. Neighbor was staring at me with wide, worried eyes. “Are you okay?”

  I realized how crazy I probably looked, so I figured I owed her an explanation. “Well … I am, but at the same time I’m not,” I said. I climbed the porch steps and sat down in one of the other wicker chairs. As I sipped a glass of iced tea that she offered, I told her about how my sisters were trying to help me get over my shyness, and how they told me to go introduce myself to the new neighbors — only I couldn’t go through with it, and it made me feel ashamed. So when I saw Wanda, I decided to hide.