Fabulous Five 003 - The Popularity Trap

by Betsy Haynes

  "I'll vote for you," volunteered Sara. "Especially since you're running against Melissa McConnell." She held her nose and made a face as if she were smelling something putrid, and all around the table girls began holding their noses and nodding their heads in agreement.

  "We'll all vote for you for president and Richie Corrierro for treasurer," said Alexis. "And if you need help with posters or anything, just let us know."

  The others were nodding and smiling again. It made Christie feel surprisingly good.

  "Thanks, guys. I have to get going now," she said, moving toward the door. It was nice to know that so many kids were planning to vote for her. Maybe running for class president wouldn't be so bad after all, she thought.

  She had almost reached the swinging doors leading into the hallway when someone stepped in front of her. It was Laura McCall, and following her like a parade of ducks were the rest of The Fantastic Foursome.

  "Hello, Christie," Laura said crisply.

  "Hi," she responded.

  "We hear that you're running against Melissa for class president."

  "So . . . ?" said Christie.

  "So—don't get any big ideas about winning," said Laura. "We're planning such a terrific campaign for her that you couldn't beat her in a million years."

  "That's right." Melissa snickered. "Just wait until you hear my slogan. 'Vote for Melissa McConnell for president when you care enough to elect the very best.'" Her nose was in the air and she was giving Christie a superior look.

  Christie didn't answer. She looked straight at Melissa and thought, It fits. Voting for her is like sending an April Fools' Day card.

  "So what's your slogan?" Laura challenged.

  Christie pulled herself up to her full height and tried to act proud. "My slogan is 'Cure all your troubles with Vitamin C.' C stands for Christie, of course."

  The Fantastic Foursome just stared at her for a moment. Then Laura burst out laughing, and the others did, too.

  "Vitamin C!" shrieked Tammy Lucero. "What are you, a piece of fruit?"

  "Sure," said Melissa. "She's gone bananas. Everybody knows that."

  Christie could feel her face turning a bright shade of red. It had been one thing to make a joke out of Melissa's slogan, but hearing her own turned around into something stupid really burned her up. "Just wait," she said, stomping past them. "I'll beat the socks off of you."

  She was still smarting from the encounter with The Fantastic Foursome when she got to the principal's office. Barreling in without looking right or left, she went straight to the reception desk and started to tell Miss Simone who she was.

  "Don't bother sitting down, Christie," said the secretary before Christie could say her name. "Mr. Bell is waiting for you."

  "Great," Christie grumbled to herself. "I even get the red-carpet treatment from the principal's secretary."

  Mr. Bell stood up and smiled cordially when Christie entered his office. He was tall and slim with a patch of shiny scalp poking up through close-cropped gray hair.

  "Hello there, Christie," he said. "Have a seat and tell me how your parents are getting along."

  "Just fine, thank you," said Christie. Talking so informally with the principal made her feel self-conscious.

  Mr. Bell leaned toward her and lowered his voice to confidential tones. "I have a special favor to ask you," he said, and Christie heard warning sirens going off in her brain. What next? she wanted to shout.

  "You are a superior math student," the principal went on, "and I have been approached by the parents of one of our young men. Frankly, they feel their son needs help. He's a seventh-grader like yourself, and he's having a little trouble catching on to the math principles you're studying right now. I would consider it a personal favor if you would agree to tutor him a couple of days a week after school."

  Christie wasn't sure if she groaned out loud or only in her mind. How could he ask her to do a thing like that? Tutoring little kids was one thing, but a boy in her own class? It would be totally embarrassing for both of them.

  "I doubt if you know him," said Mr. Bell, as if he had read her mind. "He went to Copper Beach Elementary."

  "But Mr. Bell . . ." Christie started to protest.

  "I assured the parents that you were the sort of person who would be only too happy to help their son. And of course, as I said before, I would consider it a personal favor."

  Trapped! thought Christie. Trapped for the second time today. First she had been trapped into running for class president, and now she was trapped into tutoring some jerk!

  "I hope it won't take up much time," she said. "I'm running for president of the seventh-grade class, and I don't have a lot of spare time. In fact, maybe you should look for someone who isn't so busy."

  Mr. Bell beamed at her. "Class president, eh? That's wonderful. And it also proves that you're exactly the sort of person this young man's parents are looking for. I'm sure you'll be a great influence on him."

  The principal didn't notice Christie roll her eyes as he went to the door and motioned for someone to come into his office. It's probably the kid himself, she thought angrily. The "young man," as Mr. Bell had called him. The jerk!

  "Christie Winchell," said Mr. Bell, "I'd like for you to meet Jon Smith."

  Christie was stunned. She lowered her gaze from the ceiling very slowly and looked into the same face that had stared at her in the cafeteria. Jon Smith was still scowling, and now she knew why.

  CHAPTER 4

  I know you two are going to hit it off just fine," said Mr. Bell, smiling and rising from his chair.

  Christie felt her heart begin to pound. Jon Smith's sullen expression hadn't changed. If this was the meeting her horoscope had mentioned—the part about a special meeting that would bring either conflict or romance—she had the definite feeling that it was going to be conflict instead of romance.

  "If you'll excuse me, I have some business in another part of the school," the principal went on. "Feel free to use my office for the rest of lunch period to get acquainted and set up a schedule for getting together."

  "I'm busy after school today," Christie said hurriedly when Mr. Bell had left the room. Actually that wasn't true. It was just that she needed more time. All she could think about now was how embarrassed she was over the whole thing.

  "I'm busy, too," mumbled Jon, frowning.

  Christie started to say that she couldn't do it tomorrow, either, but she stopped herself. After all, she reasoned, she couldn't put it off forever. She had to do it sometime. She might as well get it over with.

  "Tomorrow is okay for me," she offered.

  Jon looked down at the floor for a moment, and Christie suspected that he was thinking about putting it off, too. "Okay," he said reluctantly. "Where do you want to meet?"

  Christie bit her lower lip and thought for a moment. "Um . . . how about a back booth at Bumpers?"

  "NO!"

  Eeek! she thought. Bad move. He doesn't even want to be seen with me. She tried not to let him see how flustered she was, locking her hands into tight fists and hiding them behind her back. "Well, you can come to my house if you want to. Nobody will see us there."

  Jon shrugged. "Sure," he said. "Where do you live?"

  Christie gave him the address, which he wrote on a small scrap of paper and stuck into his shirt pocket. Turning to leave, he paused when he reached the door and said, "Don't think this was my idea, because it wasn't." Without waiting for her to respond, he was gone.

  "It wasn't my idea, either!" she called, knowing that he was probably too far down the hall to hear her. The nerve! she thought. I shouldn't have to apologize for something I was pressured into doing.

  After school Christie met Katie and Jana, and together they walked to Bumpers for a soda. Bumpers was the fast food restaurant where the kids from junior high hung out. It had gotten its name from the brightly painted bumper cars, relics of an old amusement park ride, that were hanging from the ceiling and spaced around the floor for kids to sit
in. Christie sat in a green one with Jana, while Katie sat in the booth they wanted to hold until Beth and Melanie arrived from cheerleading practice.

  After they had ordered cherry colas Christie gave Katie and Jana a helpless look. "How do I get myself into these things?" she wailed. "I don't want to tutor Jon Smith."

  Katie frowned. "It's your fault for letting Mr. Bell pressure you into it. You should have explained to him how you feel. He would have listened to you."

  "Huh," scoffed Christie. "Fat chance."

  "Don't forget that you've been dying to meet Jon," said Jana. "It's the perfect opportunity for you to make an impression on him."

  Christie started to protest, but Jana wasn't finished vet. "Don't kid us," she said with a knowing grin. "You have a crush on him and you know it."

  Someone punched a number on the old Wurlitzer jukebox, and rock music blasted out, making conversation impossible. Christie was glad. She didn't really want to talk about Jon. It was true that she had noticed him, just the way Jana had said, and she did think he was awfully cute. But his rotten attitude toward her tutoring him had given her second thoughts. Besides, their tutoring sessions could make any chance of a relationship between them impossible.

  Kids were still pouring into Bumpers, and a few minutes later Melanie and Beth scooted into the booth and sat across from Katie.

  "Gosh. Cheering is so much fun," gushed Melanie. She was breathless, and her cheeks were still pink from all the exercise. "I can't wait until the first game. I'll be so excited that I'll die."

  "Greetings, girls," said a familiar voice from over Christie's left shoulder.

  She didn't have to look around to know who it was. Only nerd-of-the-world Curtis Trowbridge would say "greetings" when a simple "hi" would do.

  "Hi, Curtis," said Beth. "What's up?"

  "Actually it's Christie I want to talk to," said Curtis with a wink. "But the rest of you can listen in."

  Curtis whipped a small notebook out of his back pocket and a pencil from behind one ear and looked at Christie thoughtfully. "I'm on the school newspaper staff, you know, and I've been assigned to do a story for The Wakeman Smoke Signal on the candidates for president of our class," he said importantly. "And I'd like to interview you about your campaign platform."

  Christie was astonished. "You what?" she gasped. "Curtis, I just found out today that I've been nominated. I don't have any campaign platform. I don't even want the job."

  "Don't print that!" Katie commanded, putting her hand out in a halting gesture. She slid out of the booth and stationed herself with folded arms between Curtis and Christie, looking as if she would grab the pencil out of Curtis's hand if he wrote down what Christie had just said.

  "Of course she has a platform," Katie went on. "It's a great platform. She just hasn't worked out all the details yet. We don't want to start talking about it too soon, so how about giving us a little more time?"

  Curtis shrugged. "Sure," he said. "I'll interview Melissa now and get back to you on Wednesday at school."

  After Curtis left, Christie gave Katie a puzzled look. "What were you talking about?" she demanded. "I don't have any platform."

  "So? It made Curtis happy, didn't it? We'll think up one," said Beth. "Come on over to the booth, and we can talk about it."

  "I see this as a perfect opportunity for you to stand up for the rights of girls," said Katie once Jana and Christie had settled into the booth.

  Melanie wrinkled her nose. "Katie Shannon," she scolded. "You can be so boring sometimes. Nobody wants to hear all that junk. Besides, if she did what you say, probably none of the boys would vote for her. And don't forget, they're half the class."

  "What we need to do is come up with something dramatic," said Beth, opening her eyes wide with excitement. "You know, something that will really get everybody's attention."

  "Do you mean something like eliminating physical education from the curriculum?" Jana teased. "Or making lunch period two hours long?"

  "You've got it!" Beth said, laughing. "Only it has to be something that kids want and that Christie can deliver."

  "Well, I can't deliver Mr. Bell, if that's what you're getting at. If I could, I wouldn't be in this mess with Jon Smith." Christie sighed. She had had enough talk about Jon Smith and her running for class president, and she certainly didn't like the suggestions her friends wanted to put into her platform much less into an article for the Sig, as most kids called the Wakeman Smoke Signal. "I'll see you guys later," she said, getting up to leave. "I'm going home to do my homework. And do you know what? For the first time in my life, I'm actually looking forward to it."

  Everyone called good-bye as Christie headed for the door, waving to a few other friends on her way. She was so preoccupied with her own problems that she almost bumped into someone coming into Bumpers as she was going out the door. Looking up, she saw to her astonishment that it was Jon Smith.

  He scowled and brushed on past her. Christie clutched her books and felt her face turning red. Here she was at Bumpers after she had told him that she was too busy to tutor him after school today. But, she reflected, that was what he had told her, too.

  CHAPTER 5

  When she got home, Christie dumped her books on her desk and flopped down on her bed. What a pain. She really needed to be campaigning for seventh-grade president of Wacko Junior High along with trying to keep all A's in school, she thought sarcastically. What would everyone think if she stopped doing her homework and dropped out of the elections? It would be great not to have to worry about what other people wanted and concentrate on what she liked to do for a change. But that would mean disappointing her friends and her mom and dad.

  At first she had missed Mark Twain Elementary where everything had been so comfortable and familiar, but lately she had been starting to enjoy junior high school. It had seemed so much more grown-up than elementary school. And she had begun to believe that she would have more freedom now. What a joke! Getting up, she went to her desk and resolutely opened her math book.

  "Hi, sweetheart. I'm home." Mrs. Winchell stuck her head in the doorway of Christie's room.

  "Hi, Mom."

  "Doing your homework, I see." Her mother made that comment at this time just about every day. "How was your day?"

  "Fine." Christie smiled at her mother. She was a super mom. It was just that she was always checking to see if Christie was keeping up with everything.

  "I saw Mr. Bell today. He said you volunteered to tutor another student in math. That's really nice of you, dear. Not all gifted people take time to help others. I'm proud of you. Oh, and he also told me that you were running for class president. That's great. Why didn't you tell us you were going to run?"

  Christie smiled again, weakly. "I didn't know it myself." She decided against telling her mother that she hadn't volunteered for either job. After all, hadn't her mother just gotten through saving how proud she was of Christie? There was no use bursting her bubble.

  Later, at the dinner table, her father asked, "What do you say to some tennis on Saturday, Christie? George Ellis and I were talking at the office. He was captain of the Dartmouth tennis team, and when I asked him if he'd help you with your backhand, he said he'd be delighted. Maybe we can get in a few sets afterwards. You know, to tune up your game a little."

  "Vince, Christie may have to study on Saturday," said Mrs. Winchell. "She has volunteered to tutor another student, and I might add, our daughter is running for class president."

  "Great!" Her father looked at Christie with pleasure. "I was president of one of my classes. Hmmm. I can't remember which one it was now, though."

  "Well," her mother continued, "we just have to make sure she has time to keep up her grades. She's doing better than either Michael or Edward when they were her age, and we don't want to overburden her so she can't keep it up."

  Christie cringed. Her mother was always comparing her with her two older brothers, one of whom was in medical school and the other was a lawyer. She was glad that he
r parents had faith in her abilities, but keeping up with Mike and Ed was a real burden sometimes.

  Christie finally finished her homework and closed her books at ten o'clock. She had done all of her assignments, and since Jon Smith might be as much as two chapters behind in math, she reviewed chapters five and six so she would be ready to help him.

  She climbed into bed, thinking about all that was happening to her. She loved most of the things she was doing. School was fun. She had the best friends in the world in Jana, Melanie, Katie, and Beth. The Fabulous Five had been together since they were in the lower grades at Mark Twain. They had all been so excited about going into junior high. They just knew that if they stuck together, it would be more fun than Mark Twain Elementary.

  But then they ran into Laura McCall and The Fantastic Foursome on the very first day of school. The two cliques had been enemies ever since. When The Fantastic Foursome put Melissa McConnell up for class president, The Fabulous Five just had to put someone up, too. Otherwise they would be run over. But why did Christie have to be the one? She had as much to do as the others. Maybe more with her mom and dad's pushing her. Junior high was a lot more complicated than elementary school.

  Playing tennis was fun, too, or it could be. She loved playing it with her father. It was just that he kept bringing in other people to teach her things and talking about how young some of the great tennis pros were, as if he expected her to start competing any day now. That ruined it for her. She hated to tell him she just wanted to play and have fun. She knew it would hurt his feelings.

  She just hoped that her mother wouldn't spread the word among her friends that Christie was tutoring someone and running for class president. Jon was unhappy with her already. If he thought she was spreading the word that he was dumb, he'd hate her. If everyone would just leave her alone.

  She pulled the covers up under her chin and concentrated on going to sleep.

  Beth and Katie came running up to Christie as soon as she stepped onto the school ground the next morning.