Totally Crushed

by Kristen Tracy

  He looked right at me. Which was nuts. Because yesterday I took the most amazing pictures of all the teachers. And today I was making final adjustments for layout.

  “Sabrina and Sailor and I have all the wills and prophecies from the eighth graders,” Anya said. “It wasn’t that hard.”

  I wanted to roll my eyes at that. There was no way they’d gotten them from every single eighth grader. They’d been working on them for only a few days. It was impossible.

  “Wow,” Javier said. “You’re efficient.”

  “I know,” Anya said. “Sabrina is spell-checking them right now. Some of them are hilarious.”

  “Cool,” Javier said. He looked at me again.

  “Have you written up the captions for the boys’ volleyball team photos?” Javier asked.

  What was wrong with Javier? Of course I hadn’t done that.

  “I’ve actually been coordinating with all the club captains to set up photos this week,” I said.

  “Awesomesauce,” Javier said. “Venice, will you help her pick up any slack?”

  Venice seemed peeved too. She knew I was being overworked. I sort of wished she would tell Javier to lighten up on me.

  “Sure,” she said. Ugh. Sometimes she was so agreeable.

  “Everyone. Everyone,” Ms. Kenny said, flashing the lights to get our attention. “So I need to talk to you about a few pressing things.”

  The room grew quiet. I heard Javier holding his breath.

  “We’re making great progress. And for that I think we owe a show of thanks to Javier,” she said, clapping her hands enthusiastically.

  Javier smiled and fake-bowed. It was really surprising how well Anya was taking all the Javier praise. I mean, he’d basically replaced her and then turned out to be way better. And she was acting totally fine. Maybe she wasn’t as backstabby and mean as I’d thought.

  “And I also want to tell you that Principal Hunt has decided that for Halloween, the Big Boo carnival will take place in the gymnasium this year. Which will certainly make photography easier. No outdoor shooting. And we might even think about having a photo corner.”

  “That’s a great idea!” Sabrina said. “We can make it spooky!”

  Anya nodded enthusiastically at her friend’s suggestion. But I didn’t even realize Sabrina was a fan of spooky stuff. She mostly wore cute clothes and read gossip magazines and ate vending-machine granola bars. Spooky didn’t feel like her flavor.

  “And one last thing,” Ms. Kenny said, looking right at me. “Venice and Perry have come up with a great idea to do a photography clinic. It will be a chance to learn techniques for taking better pictures.”

  “They’ll teach you how to hold your face and neck and tongue so you’ll look your best in your class portraits,” Javier said.

  He made our clinic sound boring and a little weird. I had one suggestion involving tongue placement. One.

  “When is it?” Luke asked. “We take portraits next week.”

  “Um,” I said, feeling a little nervous about being in charge of my first clinic. “We’ll do it at a lunch later this week.”

  “Actually,” Ms. Kenny said, “Principal Hunt was so impressed with how you handled the faculty portraits that she’d like for you to do your clinic as an assembly.”

  “A what?” I asked. Because it sounded like she’d said I’d be doing a school assembly.

  “Principal Hunt would like you, Venice, and Javier to present your clinic to the whole school. Since portraits are next week, she wants you to give it Friday. Nothing too long or extensive. Just leave us with a few good takeaways.”

  Venice’s eyes were huge. I mean, they were bigger than pancakes.

  “Wow,” Javier said. “We will crush that.”

  But I wasn’t sure he should’ve said that. Because that was a lot of work and pressure and it meant I would have to stand up in front of the whole school.

  “Are you sure about this?” I asked. I didn’t even know how I’d prepare a clinic for the whole school. Wouldn’t that require props? Or graphics? Or handouts?

  “You’ll be great,” Ms. Kenny said. “Just do what you did during the faculty photos. Share your tips. Maybe have a volunteer work with you.”

  “I’ll do it,” Anya said.

  This frightened me. And I could tell it frightened Venice too, because she looked like she was gonna be sick. “Really?” I said.

  “This class is pulling together like no other,” Ms. Kenny said. “Perry, Venice, Javier, and Anya, you four should use as much class time as you need to get this ready. Pepper me with any questions you have. I’ll be glad to help.”

  But I couldn’t even think of a question. I was pretty worried about everything.

  “Don’t freak out,” Venice said.

  It was like she could read my mind.

  “I’ve never stood up and talked in front of the whole school before,” I said.

  But before I could freak out more with Venice, Anya butted into our conversation.

  “I don’t know exactly what you’ll need from me, so just pop or text me about what to wear and stuff. Maybe you could invite a geek up and show the school how not to dress, and then I could be the model everybody should follow. Does that sound good?” Anya said.

  Pop with Anya? Never. I’d found the only benefit of being a non-PopRatter. I glared at Javier. If he was in charge, he should put a stop to crazy ideas.

  “That’s interesting,” Javier said. “But I think we only need one example. And then Perry will show the school how that person can look their best.”

  “Oh,” Anya said. “Will I even work for this? Because I’m going to show up already looking good.”

  She was so full of herself that it was almost impressive. Almost.

  “Don’t sweat the details now,” Javier said. “We can work on the presentation later. Let’s finish recapping where we are with our tasks.”

  I sighed heavily. I did not want to recap that.

  “Perry,” Javier said, “how would you feel if I bumped you up to thirty-eight tasks?”

  I thought he was joking, so I laughed it off. But then he stuck his hand out to fist-bump me. Which was the Javier way of making things very official.

  “Great. So you’ll handle the photography for the Big Boo,” he said.

  How could I turn down shooting the photos for the Halloween carnival? I couldn’t. I stuck out my hand and fist-bumped Javier.

  “Venice, you’ll help her, right?” Javier asked.

  “Of course,” Venice said.

  I felt her give me a gentle knee nudge under the table. She was trying to let me know everything would be okay. But I needed more than a knee nudge to be convinced of that.

  Then Javier went to go talk to Ms. Kenny about something. And Anya peeled off to work with Sailor and Sabrina. I sat next to Venice trying not to flip out.

  “It’s too much work,” I said.

  “But you’re so good at it,” Venice said. “And I’ll totally help you.”

  And just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse, Leo walked up.

  “The Big Boo is coming!” Leo said. “I love that thing. We should start planning our costumes in case we need to special-order stuff.”

  That hit me like a ton of bricks. Because he meant that he and Venice should plan a costume together. And that was so rude to say in front of me. Because for the last five years Venice and I had planned our costumes together, because we were best friends. Didn’t Leo realize how left out I felt when he said those kinds of things in front of me?

  “I don’t want to wear anything hot,” Venice said. “Last year Perry and I went as Dalmatians, and I basically had to pant half the night to avoid overheating. I really want to avoid fur altogether this year.”

  That was a stupid thing for her to say. She’d been the one who’d suggested that we go as Dalmatians. I’d wanted to go as cats!

  “I want to do something funny,” Leo said. “Something that when somebody looks at us they b
urst out laughing.”

  And then before I even realized what I was saying, I was giving them suggestions: “Go as two pickles. I’d laugh at you.”

  Venice winced. “Going as brined food feels wrong.”

  “But you’re on the right track,” Leo said. “Pickles are funny.”

  Leo didn’t need to tell me pickles were funny. Everybody already knew that.

  “You could go as dirty socks,” I said. That actually made me smile. Because that would be a terrible thing to look like for hours at a carnival.

  “Maybe we should just think about it more,” Venice said. “Do you have any idea what you’ll be?”

  And it totally broke my heart that she didn’t even realize I wanted to plan a costume with her. I mean, I didn’t really want Leo involved, but he was her boyfriend. And so I had to accept it. And I thought I was doing a good job. But I didn’t understand why she felt it was okay to leave me out of big things.

  “You should go as a cat!” Venice said. “It would leave your hands free to take photos.”

  And I didn’t even know what to say. I already knew I could go as a cat. I didn’t need her permission.

  “I’m going to go as something way cooler than a cat,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Leo said. “Cats have been done to death.”

  I frowned at him. I still didn’t know what Venice saw in him. Sure, I could tolerate him, but I didn’t have to like him.

  “I actually need to work,” I said in a snarky voice. “I’ve got thirty-eight tasks and picking out your Halloween costume isn’t one of them.” I stared right at Leo when I said that. And he really got the picture.

  “Yeah,” Leo said. “That’s a lot of tasks. Good luck.”

  Then he flipped Venice’s hair in a playful way and walked off. Which bugged me more than it normally would have. Because when I said I had thirty-eight tasks he didn’t even offer to help me with any of them. Which was just like Leo. He never thought about me.

  “My life feels like it’s over!” Piper said, slamming the refrigerator door shut.

  I was so excited that she was home. Maybe she’d have some advice for me. I needed all sorts of questions answered. What should I do for my school assembly photo clinic? How could I get Hayes to crush on somebody else? What should I wear for Halloween? How could I convince Mom to let me get on PopRat?

  “I am so glad you’re here,” I said.

  Piper dropped some bread into the toaster and scowled at me. “I hope you’re not going to dump all your problems on me. You know, I’ve got problems too.”

  Yikes. Now I didn’t know how to ask her my questions.

  “What’s wrong?” I said. Because I really cared about my sister and I didn’t want her to feel like her life was ruined.

  “First, I feel like a horrible human being. I’ve eaten meat three times since the pizza,” she said. “It’s like I’m part werewolf all of a sudden. Yesterday I ate roast beef!”

  “Me too,” I said. I wanted her to understand that when it came to meat products and sandwich consumption, she needed to hold herself to a more normal standard.

  “Bobby is not cool with this,” Piper said. “And it really sucks to disappoint somebody you love.”

  She sounded so sad. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I still love you.”

  Piper sniffled a little and smiled. “I’m also failing Psychology of Emotion.”

  I gasped. Piper was an awesome student. That was disastrous news. “Did you miss a bunch of classes?”

  “I’m not failing failing,” Piper said, tearing off a paper towel and blowing her nose. “I’m getting a low C.”

  I gasped again. That was still pretty bad. She had a scholarship that required her to keep a high GPA. “What happened? Do you have a terrible teacher?”

  She reached out across the counter and squeezed my hand. “You are so awesome. You cut right through the crap. Yes. I have a terrible professor. Dr. Weisner. And he hates my response essays. He’s stopped giving me credit for them.”

  “He sounds rotten,” I said. Because if you took the time to write an essay, even if it was awful, you deserved some credit.

  “We disagree about everything from Maslow’s hierarchy of needs to Reiss’s theory of sixteen basic desires,” Piper groaned. “He thinks he knows everything.”

  “Teachers are like that,” I said. Even though I didn’t really think that was a bad thing. Next week, Ms. Stott was going to teach us about the anatomy of a pig’s brain. And I knew zero about that topic. So of course she was going to know everything.

  “I just wish he was more open-minded,” Piper said. “College should be a time when I get to explore ideas. Not have some old dude’s opinions about human motivation shoved directly into my brain, right?”

  “That sounds right,” I said. I was surprised that Piper was this upset over a class. Dr. Weisner must have been the worst college professor ever.

  “Sometimes I just want to quit,” Piper said.

  “Can you take a yoga class instead?” I asked.

  Piper shook her head. “I mean quit school altogether.”

  Yikes. I didn’t think our parents would allow that. “But if you quit school, what would you do?” I asked. Because going to college was Piper’s life.

  “Travel with Bobby,” Piper said. “He’s thinking about taking a break too.”

  “Mom and Dad would flip out if you quit school with Bobby,” I said. It felt weird but also good to be giving Piper advice, because normally she was the one who gave it to me.

  Piper started crying. “Shouldn’t I be in school for me? And not because Mom and Dad want me there? I think I’d be much happier in Thailand.”

  I just stared at Piper when she said that. Because I didn’t want her to go to Thailand. I had done a report on Thailand in the fourth grade. And from what I remembered, that place was eight thousand miles away from Idaho and had spitting cobras and deadly centipedes.

  My mom walked through the door and saw Piper crying. She set down a bag of groceries and came to her side. “What’s wrong, honey?”

  And Piper didn’t filter her feelings at all. She really told Mom how she felt.

  “My life is over! I hate ISU. It feels like a prison. I need a break. Bobby and I want to teach English in Thailand. It’s a ten-month program. I’ll only need shots for diphtheria and tetanus. But I’ll probably get immunized for cholera, typhoid, rabies, and malaria just to be safe.”

  My mother stared at Piper for two seconds. “No way.”

  Piper erupted. “I hate Idaho!”

  She jumped out of her chair and grabbed her keys. I followed her out of the kitchen. I really, really didn’t want Piper to leave this upset. There was a small part of me that worried the next time I heard from my sister would be an email from Bangkok with a photo attachment of her riding atop an elephant.

  “Piper, stop!” I said. “Come back. I need to show you something.”

  My sister turned around to look at me, tears streaming down her face. “What?”

  I just stood there staring at her. Because I didn’t really have anything to show Piper. I just wanted her to stay.

  “The tubs,” my mother said with a sigh. “Perry has been incredibly anxious about them.”

  “Our tub?” Piper asked. “Did you fall in it or something?”

  “Um,” I said, trying carefully to pick my words so that I could trick Piper into staying as long as possible. “Mom is talking about all our amazing artwork in the garage. They’re in a bunch of tubs.”

  Piper sniffled. She seemed to be calming down. She walked to the sink and ripped off another paper towel and blew her nose again.

  “Let’s go take a look at them,” my mom said.

  We followed one another into the garage in a very tense and polite line.

  “They’re over here,” my mom said, switching on the light.

  “Wow,” Piper said. “You’ve cleaned off the counter.”

  “My goal is to clear the craft corner and s
et up your dad’s saw,” my mom said, reaching for the tubs.

  As she set down the plastic bins, I scoured them for spiders. I also gently kicked them, so that any hiding spiders would scurry out and reveal themselves. None did.

  “What are you doing?” Piper asked me. “You’re acting weird.”

  I thought it would be a bad move to complain about anything to Piper, even spiders, so I tried to stay upbeat. “Yeah, I always act weird in the garage.”

  Piper gave me a confused face.

  “This looks like your artwork from elementary school,” my mom said, handing Piper a pink piece of construction paper with pictures from magazines glued to it.

  “Wow,” Piper said. “This stuff is ancient.”

  “Yeah, but it’s ancient in an interesting and amazing way,” I said, lamely giving her a thumbs-up.

  She turned the pink paper over and squinted.

  “What?” I said in a panicked way. I was worried there might be a spider on it.

  “It’s a poem I wrote,” Piper said.

  “Ooh,” my mother said in an exaggerated happy voice. “Read it out loud.”

  Piper turned the paper back over. On the front I could see the words Food I Love Chart. I didn’t realize teachers used to make you create those.

  “ ‘I am Piper. I am eight. Here are all the things I ate. Hot dogs. Bacon. Ice cream pies. Sausage. Burgers. Cheesy fries.’ ”

  “Yum!” I said, trying to help my sister rally into a better mood.

  “You used to let me eat like a serial killer,” Piper said, quickly putting the paper down and giving my mom a death glare. Piper lifted out a red-and-white piece of paper with a leaf on it.

  “That’s a flag you made of Canada,” my mom said. “You always wanted to visit Vancouver in a Winnebago.”

  “That sounds like a nightmare now,” Piper said, glancing at me and then the floor.

  When my sister got super negative like this, it felt like she was a different person—a very hostile and annoyed one. As we stood together on the cold concrete floor, I tried to think of something funny to say. Something to turn the mood around. But Piper found something else. It was a bag filled with notes.

  “These are my notes from Melanie Soto!”