by Meg Haston
“We have to go,” I said. “Ella?”
But Ella’s eyes were wide, unblinking. “Monster,” she whispered again.
“Uh-oh.” Paige bit her lower lip.
“She’ll be fine. So you’ll set up the meeting?”
“First thing tomorrow.”
I gave Paige a quick hug, then led Ella down the stairs and outside. We cut across the crunchy grass and ducked through the hole in the picket fence that led to our property. I grinned, the brackets in my braces turning cold. This was the perfect solution. I’d get Gravity a rockin’ gig and lock down my place in the band in the process. Once Stevie realized there wasn’t room for her here, she’d slink back to Seattle, where she belonged.
A BIG STARFISH IN A LITTLE POND
Wednesday, 10:05 A.M.
“We’ll have a brief lecture this morning, followed by a lab activity,” Spinster Finnster wheezed in third-period Marine Bio the next morning. She whacked her chest with a closed fist and reached for the can of chocolate Ensure Plus on her desk. “You may take this time to choose a lab partner.” She lifted a skeletal finger. “A reminder to all students: If you haven’t turned in your permission slips for Monday’s field trip to the aquarium, you must do so by the end of the week.”
I swiveled to the right and pinned Molly’s hand to the lab table. “You’re mine, Knight,” I sang. I was dying to tell Molly that I’d already secured an amazing musical talent for the dance—namely, me—but I’d decided to hold off until the meeting Paige had gotten me with Dr. Phil. Just, you know, in case.
“Kacey! Oww!” Molly smiled through her whine. “Okaaay.”
Liv and Nessa exchanged meaningful glances, leaving Paige as the fifth wheel.
In the row ahead of us, Quinn glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, Molly. Want to pair up?”
“She’s taken,” I informed him.
Molly shrugged at Quinn.
“You can be in our group, too, Paige,” I said, nodding at her.
“Kacey.” Molly narrowed her eyes at me. “We’re supposed to pair off. If she’s in our group, it’ll make the group… odd.”
Paige leaned over me and slow-clapped. “I had no idea you knew your numbers!”
I tuned them out and searched the room for Zander. His usual seat was empty, and I hadn’t seen him all morning. With any luck, Stevie had suffered a tragic El-related accident on the way to school.
“What were you up to last night?” I asked Molly. “You never wrote back to my text about dance planning.”
“Sorry. I was FaceTimeing with the BF till bedtime. I was telling him about my new extracurric. And my mom said it was time to turn off the lights. He didn’t have to yet, since he’s fourteen—”
“You mentioned.” Nessa pulled a pink sticky note from her backpack and started sponging bits of lint from her structured velvet blazer.
“So I just put the phone next to me on the pillow.” Molly’s eyes glinted with naughty pride.
“All night long?” Liv asked incredulously. Then she flicked a dark curl over her shoulder. “I mean, no big deal.”
“Well, until, like, three A.M.,” Mols admitted, yanking the sleeves of her silvery tunic over her wrists. “Then I had to pee, and I didn’t want him to hear me flush.”
“All right, students. I assume you’ve all chosen your lab partners?” Finnster rasped. “Let’s get started.”
Paige bent over her notebook, pen poised for action.
“So. How’re the spy sessions going with you-know-who?” Molly whispered as Finnster embarked on what promised to be a brutal lecture on starfish.
“Good! You know. Fine.” I gnawed at my lower lip. I hated not telling her about Stevie. But what was I supposed to say? There’s this too-cool-for-school chick who might be trying to steal my band and the boy I have a crush on? You know, your ex-boyfriend?
“Did you find out if he likes another girl?” Her voice dropped even lower, and she inched her stool closer to mine.
“Not yet.” I tugged at the end of my ponytail, jiggling my leg at top speed.
“Restless Leg Syndrome,” Nessa diagnosed sympathetically, looking down at my thigh. “I saw the commercial.” Molly went silent. I couldn’t even look at her, for fear I’d give something away.
“Kacey. What’s going on?”
“I—um…” Molly had never been the most perceptive knife in the drawer, so the fact that she was picking up on my vibes meant I was sending out some pretty strong signals.
“You know something, don’t you?” She bounced in her seat. “About Zander. Tell me.”
I sighed. “Yesterday at rehearsal, one of Zander’s friends from Seattle showed up. She’s visiting for a couple of weeks.”
“Like, a girlfriend? Do you think he likes her?”
“I don’t know yet,” I said truthfully. “But we’ll have plenty of time to find out. She’ll be at school for the next couple of weeks. She might even move here.”
Molly’s forehead wrinkled like a boxer puppy’s.
“That’s all I know, though. But you’ve got Phoenix and everything now, so you probably don’t even care, right?”
“Yeah. Right.” Molly pursed her lips into a thin, pensive line. Her lashes fluttered slightly, the way they always did when she felt torn about something. During a trip to the mall last year, she’d been so undecided about a one-shoulder top that the salesgirl had asked if she was having a seizure.
The door inched open at the front of the class, and Zander ducked inside. “Um, Ms. Finnster? Sorry I’m late, but I was just in the office. I, uh, have a guest.” He produced a folded pink slip from the back pocket of his jeans.
“Quite all right, Mr. Jarvis.” Finnster frowned through her bifocals at the note.
Zander opened the door a little wider, making room for Stevie to strut across the threshold. The room went silent, and Quinn, Jake, and Aaron snapped to attention. In a sleek black moto jacket, low-slung army-green cargos rolled up at the ankle, and round-toed rose-gold snakeskin pumps, she looked like the cover model for a Chicago Public School Girls: Cool Chicks Edition calendar.
“This is my friend Stevie from back home,” Zander announced, half to Finnster and half to the class. “She’ll be here for a couple of weeks.”
“What’s up,” Stevie said coolly, stuffing her hands in her pockets. Her moto jacket lifted, revealing a momentary flash of belly ring.
Molly slapped my thigh. She’d spent all summer trying to get her parents to agree to a belly ring. When they said no, she ran away to my house for an entire long weekend.
“Class, let’s all say hello to Mr. Jarvis’s sister, Sheila,” Finnster prompted.
“Hiiii, Sheila,” we droned.
The clacking of Stevie’s heels on the linoleum floor was the only sound as Zander and Stevie took the empty seats next to Paige. Being this close to Stevie made my skin itch.
“What is everybody staring at?” Molly said into my ear. “She’s not that hot. Right?” Sweat was starting to make her temples shine, and her eyeliner was smudged at the corners. Even her hair looked deflated. The very idea that she might not be the hottest girl in the grade seemed to be sucking the life out of her.
“Well…” Liv stared while Stevie consulted her iPhone.
Quinn whipped around and winked. “If you need a lab partner, Sheila, I’d be more than happy to volunteer.”
“It’s Stevie, moron,” Stevie said without looking up.
“Ooooooh,” the guys hooted. Jake and Aaron elbowed each other.
“Feisty,” observed Quinn approvingly.
“That’s offensive to women,” Nessa announced.
Molly shushed her, then flicked her hair to get Stevie’s attention. “Hey! New girl.”
Stevie sighed dramatically and looked up. “Yes, B-list Barbie?”
“Whoa.” Paige pushed back her stool. Nobody talked to Molly like that, no matter how cool her shoes were. And even Paige knew it.
Nessa and Liv gasped.
&nb
sp; Molly opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Not even air. I’d never seen this kind of horror in my best friend’s face. Not even last semester, when she had an allergic reaction to her mom’s plumping gloss and had to come to school looking like a Real Housewife with a botched lip job.
“Mols?” I whispered, trying to catch her eye. “Molly? Are you okay?”
“Now that you all have partners, let’s move ahead with our laboratory exercise.” Finnster reached for her walker. “You will all find safety goggles and gloves in the drawers under your tables.”
The snap of latex gloves brought Molly back to life. She turned toward me. “Kacey.” Her breathing was labored. “I can’t even—I don’t—”
“Don’t worry, Mols.” I grabbed her hand and squeezed reassuringly. “She’s going down.”
SHRINK RAPT
Wednesday, 12:02 P.M.
Just two minutes after the lunch bell, I stood outside Philippa Meyers, Psy.D.’s office, hand poised to knock.
“Girls?” Dr. Phil’s soothing voice sounded from behind the door, along with the prolonged notes of some kind of chanting music.
I jumped back. She had a freaky way of sensing when someone was loitering outside her office. I wondered if she could also sense that I’d run out of clean underwear this morning and was wearing bikini bottoms beneath my hot-pink tights.
“Kacey?” Paige nudged me forward, and we stepped inside the lemongrass-scented office.
“Kacey Simon.” Sitting at her desk by the window, Dr. Phil popped a handful of raw almonds into her mouth. “And our esteemed seventh-grade president.”
Paige bowed her head ceremoniously.
“Oh, please.” I plopped onto the couch with a huff. Just being in this office put me in a bad mood. The lavender walls clashed with the mustard-yellow armchair, and the trickling stone fountain made me need to pee.
“I’m glad to see you girls.” Dr. Phil rose, her gray-and-black maxi skirt floating around her ankles as she settled into her armchair. She propped a pair of green, fabric-soled flats on the coffee table. “Paige mentioned you have some feedback about the dance, although I believe I heard another student was chairing the planning committee.”
“Yes, Molly Knight.” I perched so close to the edge of the couch I was almost falling off. I refused to get comfortable. If you weren’t careful, you could end up curled in a ball, sobbing about how your little sister had more finger paintings on the refrigerator door than you’d ever had as a kid, and seriously, didn’t… [sniff] your mom know… [sniff] how that made you feel?
“But Kacey’s handling some of the more important… details.” Paige wedged herself between me and the couch arm.
“Right. Like… the music. I know who we should hire to play the dance.” I held my breath. The busted couch springs squeaked beneath me with Paige’s excitement.
“Oh, good. I’m glad you have some ideas. I actually have a list of school-approved DJs somewhere around here…” Dr. Phil rummaged through one of six piles of paperwork at the foot of her chair, tossing an old Trib out of the way and frowning at a Pottery Barn catalog. “If I can get my hands on it, you girls can take it back to the planning committee and decide at your next…” Her voice trailed off. “Has anybody seen a green Post-It?”
“Actually, you don’t have to worry about the Post-It,” I said graciously. “I think it would be really cool if we hired a band, and—” I stopped short as Dr. Phil’s gold-coin earrings swung from side to side.
“I’m afraid a live band won’t work.” Dr. Phil tapped the diamond nose stud in her nostril, probably worried she’d lost it along with the green Post-It. “It’s school policy. With a DJ, we can approve the song list ahead of time. A band is just a little more… unpredictable.”
“Wait. What?” I scooted even further toward the edge of the couch. “But—so you’re saying a live band isn’t even an option?”
“I’ll tell you what that is.” I’d momentarily forgotten about Paige, until she unleashed her outrage just inches away. “It’s censorship. It’s Marquette being the Man, flexing its Man muscles, and stomping on the People for no reason.”
Dr. Phil’s rosy lips twitched. “With its Man muscles?” she asked.
“No. With its Man foot,” Paige huffed. “Just… whatever. It doesn’t matter. My point is that this is unfair.”
“I have to say, I—” Dr. Phil lifted her brows in my direction. “Off the record?”
I nodded. Maybe.
“I agree with you. It’s your dance, and as long as the music is appropriate for middle school, I think you should be able to choose.”
“Great!” My heartbeat returned to normal and I stood up. “Then it’s settled. Thanks for your time.”
“Unfortunately, I don’t make the rules.”
I dropped again.
“I’m sorry, girls, but there truly is nothing I can do. I’m relatively new here, and I just don’t have much pull.” The shrink shook her head, sending locks of short dark hair across her forehead. “But I’ll catch up with you as soon as I find that DJ list. Deal?”
Deal? My entire body tensed. Clearly, Dr. Phil had no idea what was at stake here. My band. My best friend. My future. No way was I going to stink of incense for the rest of the day without getting what I wanted.
I stared straight at Dr. Phil. Direct eye contact was one of her most powerful school-shrink weapons, but she wasn’t the only one who could stare a girl down. “Paige is right. This isn’t fair. A band can get their songs preapproved, too! And the band we want to hire is a student band! From Marquette! So we’ll be promoting extracurricular activities… and being… well-rounded, and stuff.”
Dr. Phil opened her mouth, probably to protest, but I kept going. “You guys are always saying you want to support your students. By hiring a student band, you’re encouraging kids to get involved! And haven’t you seen those public service announcements? People who don’t get involved in their school wind up, like, outcasts, and on drugs and stuff. Then they drop out of school. Which means the entire administration would be out of a job. So—”
“Whoa. Whoa.” Dr. Phil cut me off. “Slow down. I’m going to need a little more information first, okay? Tell me a more about this band.”
“It’s called Gravity, and a bunch of seventh-grade boys are in it.”
“And Kacey,” Paige added.
“Right. And me. But we’re really, really good. And we just want to show a little school spirit by playing the dance.” She didn’t argue, so I bit my lip and went in for the big sell. “It’s just that after all the trauma with my braces and glasses and lisp and everything, I just… I’ve been feeling like I don’t really have a purpose, you know?”
Paige stifled a snort, forcing a fake cough.
“And I think playing the dance would make me feel…” Was a sniffle or an eye dab overkill? I settled on a medium-length shuddery sigh. “… whole again.”
Aaand, scene.
Dr. Phil looked me straight in the eye and… slow-clapped.
My jaw dropped. “Hey! Aren’t you supposed to just sit there and listen?”
“Abort, abort,” Paige muttered.
“I’m sorry, Kacey.” Dr. Phil smiled, shaking her head. “I thought you deserved credit for a truly inspired performance.”
“But I’m serious!” My voice cracked—for real this time. “It really would make me feel better. And I swear: We’re really, really good.”
“It’s true,” added Paige. “She’s not just being an egomaniac, although I could see how you would think that.”
I kicked her swiftly in the shins.
Dr. Phil rubbed her chin, her expression suddenly serious. “You understand the position I’m in, though, don’t you? I can’t go to the principal and make a case for you without ever having heard—”
“Here! Just listen for a few seconds, okay?” I clawed at my Channel 5 messenger bag. My fingers were slick with sweat, but I managed to grab my phone. A text notification popped up on the
screen.
ZANDER: U COMIN’ TO REHEARSAL THIS PM?
I hit IGNORE and scrolled through my list of Gravity MP3s. I found my favorite: a duet Zander and I had done of an Aerosmith song.
I pressed the PLAY button, turned up the volume as loud as I could, and held my breath.
The sound of Zander’s guitar emanated from the speakers, followed by our harmony. Zander and I were more in sync than the nerdy all-dude a cappella group that practiced in the hall during lunch. Unlike the Do-Re-Migos, we sounded cool. Smooth. Professional, even.
Dr. Phil’s head listed to one side, and she bobbed her head along with the beat. “Wow,” she said, sounding surprised.
“Wow, as in, we can play the dance?”
“Wow, as in, this is pretty good. And I’m a huge Aerosmith fan, so I’m tough to impress.” There was still a note of hesitation in her voice. “But you guys are talented.”
When the song came to an end, a heavy silence settled over the room. Something was holding Dr. Phil back, and if I didn’t figure out what it was, I was done. Out of luck. Over. Kap—
“We’ll do it for free,” I blurted. “The money you were gonna use to hire a DJ can go back into the seventh-grade budget. So we’re getting involved and giving back.”
Dr. Phil shook her head slowly, tiny almost-dimples surfacing in her cheeks. “Kacey Simon, you drive a hard bargain.”
“And?”
“Okay. And I’ll talk to the principal.”
“You rock.” I grabbed Paige’s hand and whisked her out of the office before Dr. Phil could change her mind.
THESE HALLS AREN’T BIG
ENOUGH FOR THE BOTH OF US
Wednesday, 3:09 P.M.
That afternoon when the girls and I congregated at my locker, Molly was still fuming over Stevie’s diss.
“I can’t even believe she talked to me like that in front of everybody.” She kicked the vent on the locker next to mine, leaving a jagged scrape on the toe of her brand-new equestrian-style boots. “Ugh!” She flung herself against the painted locker door. “Now Sheila owes me a new pair of boots plus an apology.”