by Nancy N. Rue
Sophie searched her face. Fiona was smiling and shaking her head, even as she clapped.
“Too bad they aren’t class,” Fiona said. She hooked her arm through Darbie’s. “But we know who is.”
Wow, Sophie thought. Just — wow.
Melting with happy relief, she latched onto Kitty with one hand and waved Maggie over with the other. The Corn Pops hadn’t bothered to invite her onto the stage, and Maggie looked like she’d rather be standing with her Corn Flakes anyway. Maggie got to them just in time to smile at Daddy, who had his back turned to the stage completely and was filming Sophie and the girls with a victory grin on his face. He usually only looked like that when the Dallas Cowboys won.
There were shamrock-shaped cookies and green punch and certificates for all the participants after the show. The Corn Flakes gathered around Darbie to see what the prize in the envelope was.
“A boat tour of the Chesapeake Bay!” Darbie read.
“Just as long as somebody else is steering,” Fiona said.
They grinned at each other.
Once Sophie hugged her family and Boppa and Aunt Emily, she skipped the food and went in search of Dr. Peter. He was hanging out near the punch bowl wearing his enormous green top hat.
“Sophie, me lass!” he said when he saw her. And then he dropped his Irish accent, and his eyes grew soft.
“Did you like it — was it okay?” Sophie said.
“Oh, Loodle,” he said. “It was fabulous — and you know I would never lie to you. I’m so proud of you.”
“I messed up a little. I wasn’t supposed to cry that much at the end.”
“Why not? The rest of us did.” He cocked his head at her. “You weren’t acting then, were you?”
“No,” Sophie said. The second prize and the bravos were fizzling out of her. “I was crying because they were laughing. I guess the Corn Pops and the Fruit Loops really are that hateful.”
“You think they were laughing to make you look bad?” Dr.
Peter said. “It didn’t work, did it?”
Sophie shook her head. She felt like she was going to cry again.
“Okay, Loodle, dish. What’s going on?”
Sophie looked over her shoulder. “We’re having a session right here?”
“No, this is just two friends talking about why you feel bad.”
“Because our mission — it failed. We wanted everybody to understand about Darbie and how hard her life was and how there are more important things than being popular and winning and stuff. Fiona got it — right while she was up on the stage — but none of the other kids did, and they were the ones we were doing it for. They were the feet we were trying to wash.” Sophie smacked at a tear with her fingers. “I just wanted them to understand.”
Dr. Peter leaned down, almost covering Sophie with the brim of his hat. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” he said. “I think they understood very clearly. They saw themselves up there in those kids that threw rocks and shouted mean things, and they were embarrassed. That’s why they laughed.”
“No offense, Dr. Peter,” Sophie said. “But Corn Pops and Fruit Loops don’t get embarrassed.”
“Not for long, but they do have that ‘oops’ feeling for a bit of a moment before they cover it up. Just look over there.”
Dr. Peter winked, just like a leprechaun, Sophie thought, and nodded his hat toward the stage. There were the Corn Pops, still in costume, flipping and splitting and backflipping, and completing each move with outstretched arms and a dazzling smile — like they were going for gold at the Olympics. It made Sophie feel itchy. There was performing, and then there was just plain old showing off.
For a minute Sophie thought Dr. Peter was wrong. None of them looked the least bit embarrassed about the fact that they were doing an encore that nobody was watching. Until Sophie saw a wavy-haired person slip off the front edge of the stage and look back, cheeks blotchy-red and shoulders curving almost to meet at her chest. Willoughby shook out what had survived of her bun, folded her arms across the front of her sequined top, and walked stiffly away. Behind her, the Pops gathered for a pyramid and B.J. yelled, “Hey, where’s Willoughby?”
Willoughby gave a nervous laugh and disappeared into the crowd of parents.
“Embarrassed by her own kind,” Dr. Peter said. “And what did she do?”
“She laughed,” Sophie said. “But by Monday she’ll be hanging out with them again.”
“Not unless somebody else gets to her first.” Dr. Peter gave her another leprechaun wink and said, “Happy St. Patty’s Day, Loodle. I’ll see you soon in my office. Looks like we’ll have a lot to talk about.”
And then with a twinkle, he was gone too.
Sophie stood there for a minute watching the Fruit Loops tearing down the streamers with karate chops and the Corn Pops showing off for no one and her own Corn Flakes introducing Darbie to their families.
There would be a lot to tell Jesus tonight when it was quiet and she could imagine him washing her feet. They were pretty tired feet. Acting was hard work.
She would tell him that she and the Flakes had shown all the love they could, maybe some to the Pops even if they didn’t get it. She’d also tell him that Fiona understood finally — and Kitty — and probably Maggie. Maybe even Lacie.
And possibly somebody else who could now use a foot washing. Maybe not right away. Perhaps just an invitation to sit at their lunch table would be good first, and then a part in their upcoming film about Colleen O’Bravo.
Sophie smiled to herself. What a class idea, she thought.
And she went off to look for Willoughby.
Glossary
barnacled (bar-nah-KULD) when something is covered in icky sea creatures that look like little rocks or shells
bevy (bev-EE) a word used to describe the number of people that gather in one place
catastrophe (ka-tas-truh-FEE) a complete disaster, usually one that isn’t easy to fix
chaperone (sha-PURR-own) an adult or person in authority who acts as a fancy babysitter
coalition (co-uh-LI-shun) a bunch of people who join together and try to change something they think is wrong
desperate (des-PER-ate) (1) When something really needs to be fixed up, or someone really needs help; (2) feeling panicked when you don’t have any other choices
devastation (dev-ahs-TA-shun) when everything is falling apart and in ruins, usually because something really bad happened
diabolical (die-ah-BOLL-eh-call) a completely evil action, or at least a really terrible thing to do
disdainful (dis-DANE-full) acting like a spoiled princess and looking down on someone because you think they’re acting like an idiot
guffaw (guf-FAWW) when you find something really funny, and can’t help but laugh really loud
insatiably (in-SAY-shuh-blee) the state of never being completely satisfied, and always wanting to know more
nonsensical (non-SEN-si-cull) doing something so silly it defies logic
obnoxious (ob-KNOCK-shus) a person who is offensive and a complete pain in the bum, and who drives everyone crazy
pantomime (pan-TOW-mime) acting out a story without a script, using only a narrator and your body expressions to tell the story
plethora (PLETH-er-a) a general term used to describe a lot of something, like when there’s almost too much
sacred (SAY-crid) something that’s holy and should be treated with special care
Tasmanian devil (taz-main-E-an DEV-ill) a mean little animal that lives in Australia and looks like an overgrown rat. It’s also the name of a cartoon character that has way too much energy.
tousled (TUH-silled) something, usually hair, that was blown about and becomes a tangled mess
usurping (you-SIRP-ing) basically, to steal something away from someone by using a lot of force to get it
One
Are you going to feed us something weird for your report?”
Sophie LaCroix looked up from the library table into the disdainful
face of B.J. Schneider. Disdainful was a word Sophie’s best friend, Fiona, had taught her, and this word definitely worked when B.J. or one of the other Corn Pops narrowed her eyes into slits, curled her lip, and acted as if Sophie were barely worth the breath it was taking to say something heinous to her.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” that same Fiona said as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear. It popped back out and draped over one gray eye. “We thought we’d dish up some sautéed roaches on a bed of seaweed with a nice snake venom sauce.”
Sophie dragged a piece of her own hair under her nose like a mustache.
“It is so disgusting when you do that,” said another Corn Pop, Anne-Stuart — with the usual juicy sniff up her nostrils.
Not as disgusting as you and your sinus problems, Sophie thought. But she didn’t say it. All of the Corn Flakes had taken a vow not to be hateful to the Corn Pops ever, no matter how heinous THEY were to the Flakes.
B.J. put her hands on her slightly pudgy hips. “I KNOW you aren’t really going to serve something that nasty for your culture project,” she said.
Fiona pulled her bow of a mouth into a sly smile. “Then why did you ask?”
B.J. and Anne-Stuart rolled their eyes with the precision of synchronized swimmers.
“What are y’all doing for your presentation?” Sophie said, adjusting her glasses on her nose.
“We AND Julia and Willoughby — we’re doing a folk dance,” Anne-Stuart said. “And we’re going to make the whole class participate.”
“You’re going to ‘make’ us?” Fiona said.
Sophie cleared her throat. Sometimes Fiona had a little trouble keeping the vow. It was hard with the Corn Pops acting like they ran Great Marsh Elementary, especially when school stretched into Saturdays at the town library.
“Then everybody can get used to dancing with each other,” Anne-Stuart said. She sniffled. “That way, SOME people won’t feel so lame at the graduation dance.”
“What graduation dance?” Sophie and Fiona said together. Sophie’s voice squeaked higher than Fiona’s, which brought a heavy-eyebrowed look from the librarian.
“What dance?” Fiona said again.
B.J. and Anne-Stuart both sat down at the table with Sophie and Fiona — as if they’d been invited — and B.J. shoved aside the Food from Around the World book they’d been looking at while Anne-Stuart leaned in her long, lean frame. Sophie was sure she could see moisture glistening on Anne-Stuart’s nose hairs.
“The dance the school is having at the end of the year for our sixth-grade graduation,” she said.
“Duh,” B.J. put in.
“Who decided that?” Fiona said.
“Just the entire class. Back in September.” B.J. gave her buttery- blonde bob a toss. “You were probably off in one of those weird things y’all do — making up stories — ”
“No,” Fiona said. “I wasn’t even HERE yet in September. I moved here in October.”
“I know YOU were here,” Anne-Stuart said, pointing at Sophie.
Sophie shrugged. She knew she had probably daydreamed her way through the entire voting process. That was back before she’d gotten her video camera, and before she and the Corn Flakes had started making films out of their daydreams instead of getting in trouble for having them in school and missing important things like voting for a stupid dance.
“What were the other choices?” Fiona said.
“Who cares?” B.J. said. “We’re having a dance, and everybody’s going to wear, like, dress-up clothes, and — ”
“So if you didn’t even know about the dance,” Anne-Stuart said, “then you obviously don’t have your dates yet.”
“Dates?” Sophie said.
“You mean, as in boys?” Fiona said.
Anne-Stuart snorted and covered her mouth. B.J. waved at the librarian, whose eyebrows were now up in her hairline.
“You know,” Anne-Stuart whispered. “Boys. The ones with the cute legs.”
“Cute LEGS?” Sophie’s voice squeaked out of her own nostrils, and she was sure Anne-Stuart was going to drip right out of her chair. B.J. kept smiling at the librarian.
“People are actually coming to the dance with DATES?” Fiona said.
“You meet your date at the dance, and he doesn’t dance with anybody else but you the whole night.” Anne-Stuart put her hand on Fiona’s and wrinkled her forehead. “You don’t HAVE to. I mean, if you can’t get a boy to be with you, then you can’t.”
“I don’t WANT a boy to be with me, thank you very much,” Fiona said. She snatched back her hand.
Sophie was doing the mustache thing with her hair again. What boy in their class would she even want to get within three feet of? One of the Fruit Loops — Tod or Eddie or Colton? The thought made her feel like she had the stomach flu coming on. She shrank her already tiny form down into the chair.
Tod Ravelli had a pointy face like a Dr. Seuss character and acted like he was all big, even though he was one of the shrimpiest boys in the class. Acting big included trying to make Sophie feel like a worm.
Colton Messik wasn’t any better. He seemed to think he was cute the way he could make the Corn Pops squeal when he told a joke. Sophie and the rest of the Flakes thought the only thing funny about him was the way his ears stuck out.
And Eddie Wornom was the worst. He acted like Mr. Football, but mostly he was what Sophie’s mom called “fluffy” around the tummy, and he was louder than the other two put together, especially when he was calling their friend Maggie “Maggot” or some other lovely thing.
“I doubt any boy would ask you anyway,” B.J was saying to Fiona. “Not unless it was one of the computer geeks. Vincent or one of the boy-twins or — I know! Jimmy Wythe — he’s like the KING of the computer geeks. You could go with him.”
Fiona let her head fall to the side, closed her eyes, and pretended to snore. Sophie watched the librarian march toward them. B.J. lowered her voice. “But you’d better hurry up because there are more girls than boys in our class. You COULD get left out.”
“We have to go,” Anne-Stuart said. She grabbed B.J.’s hand, pulling her from the chair, and cocked her head at Mrs. Eyebrows. Silky-blonde tresses spilled along the side of AnneStuart’s face.
“We tried to get them to be quiet, ma’am,” she said. She and B.J. trailed off.
“Come on,” Fiona said. “Let’s wait for Kitty and those guys outside.”
Sophie left Food from Around the World on the table and followed Fiona past the glowering Mrs. Eyebrows and on outside — where a corridor of trees sheltered the library and Poquoson, Virginia’s City Hall from the road. Big, fluffy hydrangea bushes provided a getaway spot for the two of them. Sophie sat down on the curb and wriggled herself under a snowball cluster of blue flowers with Fiona perched next to her.
“Just when I think they couldn’t GET any more scornful, they reveal yet another layer of contempt — ” Fiona’s eyes narrowed, Corn Pop style. “They’re evil.”
Sophie nodded. “And Julia wasn’t even with them. Or Willoughby.”
“Julia always lets them do the dirty work, being the queen and all. And Willoughby — you can hardly tell if she’s even a Corn Pop anymore. Have you noticed that sometimes she’s with them and sometimes she’s not?”
“I invited her to hang out with us that one time — ”
“And the Pops snatched her right back. Even if THEY don’t want to be her friends, they don’t want US to be her friends. I told you — they’re evil.”
Sophie squirmed. “What about this dance thing?”
“It’s lame. I vote the Corn Flakes just don’t even go. We have better things to do. Hey — I have an idea.” Fiona nodded toward Sophie’s backpack. “Get your camera out. Let’s hide in this bush and film Kitty and Darbie and Maggie when they get here.”
Sophie felt a grin spreading across her face. “Let’s pretend we’re secret agents — ”
“Hired to do surveillance on — ”
&n
bsp; “A new group of agents being gathered for a special mission — ”
“Quick — here comes Maggie’s mom’s car!”
As Senora LaQuita’s big old Pontiac pulled into the parking lot, Sophie climbed into the hydrangea bush with Fiona, fished the camera out of her backpack, and became —
Agent Shadow. With a practiced hand — and eye — Agent Shadow framed her fellow agent in the lens. Wide-set brown eyes, dark chin-length hair, and a classic jaw line revealed her Latino heritage. An experienced agent knew these things. The dark-haired agent didn’t say goodbye as she drew her boxy-square frame from the car, but, then, according to classified information, this was not a smiley spy. Agent-from-Cuba was known as the most serious of this collection of agents from all over the world.
Yeah — an international group. That was good, Sophie decided.
As Maggie plodded up the library walk with her leather backpack, Sophie panned the camera, but Fiona gave her a poke and pointed back to the parking lot. A van was pulling up.
“There’s Kitty,” Sophie whispered to Fiona.
Agent Shadow focused the camera and watched the girl hop down from the van, her black ponytail bouncing. Agent Shadow continued to film Agent Ponytail as she stood on tiptoe to talk through the window to the driver. Agent Shadow was sure Ponytail was getting ALL the instructions about when to be back at headquarters — for the fourth time at least. This agent’s documents had revealed that she could be scatterbrained at times. Just as Ponytail turned, Agent Shadow got a good shot of her profile — an upturned nose that looked like it had been chiseled out of china. Agent Ponytail was very un-agent-like. That must be part of her cover.
“Hey, Mags!” Kitty called up the walk.
Agent Shadow jumped and collided with Agent Big Words, nearly tumbling the two of them from their hiding place —
“Better let me,” Fiona said. She picked up the camera from where it teetered on a hydrangea branch.
Agent Shadow grew more intent as she crept deeper under cover.She had been in the field for forty-eight straight hours without sleep.Perhaps it was time to let Agent Big Words take over the filming.