Totally Crushed

by Kristen Tracy

  She forcefully threw out a whole box of graham crackers.

  “I agree with Piper,” my mom said. “Lately, I just haven’t been feeling like myself. We should be eating more fruits and vegetables. Piper sent me an article explaining how this stuff alters our mood, even our behavior.”

  I glanced at my dad. I thought he’d take a stand in the name of dentistry against that article and make some argument about how some of these foods were actually good for our teeth. For instance, all the sugar-free instant pudding Piper had just thrown away. Wasn’t soft, sugarless food something we should keep around?

  It was like a tragic parade. Everything I loved got tossed into the trash right in front of me. My favorite pretzels. My favorite chocolate chips. Even my favorite gummy fruit snacks.

  “Why can’t you just eat a strawberry?” Piper asked, wagging the gummy snacks in my face before she dropped them into the bag.

  I shrugged. “Those have vitamin D in them and are chewier.”

  Piper and I both knew the reason I ate gummies had nothing to do with vitamin D. When Piper opened up our fridge my dad got a little anxious. He leaned forward and spoke pretty firmly.

  “We are keeping all the cheese,” he said. “I’m not going to get into a fight about it.”

  “Your body would feel so much better if you gave it a dairy break,” Piper encouraged.

  “She’s right,” my mom said. “Two days ago I switched cow milk for almond milk and my energy levels have soared.” She shot her hand into the air like it was a plane. My dad was not convinced.

  “The cheese stays,” he said.

  Piper pulled out a hunk of white cheese wrapped in a plastic baggie. “This has mold on it.” She pinched her nose with two fingers and dangled the cheese over the trash bag.

  “I don’t care,” my dad said. “I’ll cut around it.”

  My eyes grew wide when he said that. I wanted to take his side, because I knew he really liked cheese. But once it grew mold I thought it was time to get that cheese out of the refrigerator.

  “Piper,” my dad said sternly. “You’re hardly ever at home. You spend ninety percent of your time studying and eating salads with Bobby. This is our food. I just don’t understand why we need to change.”

  My dad was still in the dark about so much. Because of his heavy work schedule he remained unaware of all the Bobby/Thailand tension in our house. He didn’t understand that the real reason my mom was letting Piper throw away all our artificially flavored food was that she was trying to lure Piper into spending more time with us and less time with Bobby-the-bad-influence boyfriend. My mom thought if she could keep Piper happy, she could keep Piper here. But I wasn’t sure that was going to happen. The more I looked at Piper, the easier it was for me to picture her in Thailand. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that she was wearing a pashmina shawl.

  “I’m doing this because I love you guys and I’m worried about how this crap is going to affect you down the line. Studies show this garbage turns your brain to mush.” Piper threw out an unopened jar of bright-orange cheese.

  “That’s being a little hyperbolic,” my dad said.

  But I actually found that jar of cheese very frightening. It was so orange.

  “What will we eat for snacks?” my dad asked when Piper tossed out several bags of unpopped microwave popcorn.

  “Edamame!” my mother cheered, opening the freezer and lifting up a small bag emblazoned with a healthy red heart and what I assumed were dancing green beans.

  My father looked at me mournfully. “We’ll give it a week and see how we feel, okay?”

  I shrugged. If I was really craving some crap food, I could ask Venice to bring me some. And Hayes, even though I didn’t want him to, would give me a coconut ball every now and then. This good-food purge seemed survivable. Especially if it made Piper happy.

  “Dad,” Piper said solemnly. “Do I need to go through your car?”

  My dad looked panicked and waved her off. “The car is fine. There’s nothing much in there.”

  My mom and Piper looked at each other very doubtfully.

  “Isn’t that where you keep your salty licorice stash?” Piper asked him.

  Poor guy. It was going to be hard for him to lose that stash. He loved salty licorice.

  “Many cultures feel licorice has medicinal properties,” my dad said. “The stash stays.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” Piper said, lifting a twist-tied baggie up from behind the counter. “That’s why I went and got it as soon as you parked the car.”

  My dad stood up. “That stuff is from Sweden. It’s not cheap!”

  Piper tossed it into the trash. It was sort of amazing to observe. I’d never seen her act this hostile before.

  “You should let him keep it,” my mom said. “We all need a guilty pleasure. I’m keeping my breath mints.”

  Piper tried to run and drag the bag with her, but it was too big. My dad caught her and reached inside the trash and pulled out his salty licorice. It was a stunning and disgusting thing to witness.

  “It’s done,” my father said sternly. “The purge is over. We’ll eat a little healthier, but we’re not going to change overnight.”

  Piper looked like she was on the verge of tears. “It’s like you shipped me off to college to grow and become a brand-new person and you guys want to stay exactly who you are. It’s not fair!”

  “Don’t look at it that way,” my mom said. “We’re just old and we like who we are. But we’re trying our best.”

  Piper looked at me like she wanted me to offer her support. I shrugged and said, “I’m twelve. I’m supposed to like sugar.”

  Normally, Piper would have stormed off and gone back to college. But the night of the purge was different. On the night of the purge something else happened.

  Ding-dong. Ding-dong.

  “I’ll get it,” Piper said. “I’d hate for anybody to have to change where they’re standing.”

  I tried not to feel bad about Piper’s comments. Because I thought they were mostly aimed at my parents. I was just an innocent bystander.

  “Yes,” Piper said. “I’ve got a box for you.”

  I couldn’t hear what the person at the door was saying. I thought it was weird that Piper would be giving them a box.

  “Now is not a good time,” Piper said. “Wait here and I’ll get Perry.”

  What? My sister gave somebody a box? And that person wanted to see me? Could it be Bobby? Why would Bobby want to see me? Who was at the door?

  “Perry,” Piper said, whooshing back into the kitchen, “Drea wants to see you.”

  It was like a nightmare had knocked on my very own front door. I was so sick of Drea Quan. The last place I wanted her to be was on my doorstep.

  “You really need to let us know if you’re inviting friends over,” my dad said.

  I opened my mouth and looked at him in horror. “She’s not my friend. She’s the hot dog puker.”

  “That’s so mean,” Piper said. “Give the girl a break.”

  “Perry,” my mom said harshly. “Go to the door, she’s waiting.”

  I reluctantly scooted my chair back and stood up. And I hesitantly walked to my front door. It was unbelievable. Under my porch light, holding a big box, stood a smiling Drea Quan.

  “Hey,” Drea said. Her smile was enormous and her lips had on a normal amount of berry gloss. “I didn’t want to leave without saying hey.”

  “Hey,” I said in a slightly hostile voice.

  “Let me know if you need anything,” Drea said. “I know I’ve gotten a few follow-up questions after the assembly.”

  “You did?” I asked. Because that was my photo clinic. If people had questions they should have been sending them to me.

  “Yeah, I think Anya spurted out way too much information,” Drea said. “Some of the kids in Band were confused about whether puffy sleeves were good or bad. And they didn’t understand why they should look above the camera. Don’
t worry, I explained everything.”

  I was so angry. I was angry that Drea was here. I was angry that she was stealing my follow-up questions. And I was angry that my marshmallows were in the bottom of a trash bag.

  “You should forward those questions to me,” I said. “I’m in charge of the portraits.” My voice was very stern and I didn’t look happy.

  Drea shifted the box onto her hip. It must’ve been heavier than I realized. “Oh. Wow. Sorry,” she said. “I’ll do that from now on. I was just trying to help.”

  But her comment did not take away my anger. “You’re actually making more work for me.” Because what if she wasn’t telling these kids the exact right thing? They’d show up doing everything wrong. I couldn’t deal with that. I didn’t deserve to have to put in any additional work.

  “Anything else?” I asked. I was being so rude and I didn’t even care.

  “Um,” Drea said, looking very uncomfortable, “can you thank Piper again for the clothes?”

  No way. Was that what was in the box? Piper’s clothes? It blew my mind. I really didn’t understand why Piper would be doing this. Even if she wanted to go to Thailand, didn’t I deserve her clothes? Hadn’t I earned them by being her sister for twelve years? Wasn’t that worth anything to her?

  “I’ll tell her,” I said. And then before Drea could say one more word I shut the door. And I didn’t do it softly. I banged that sucker shut as hard as I could. And then through the door, I heard Drea’s awful voice. What was she saying? I couldn’t quite hear. I really wanted to keep the door closed even if it meant I was the rudest person in the world. But some part of my brain insisted on being kind and opened it anyway. Also, I thought I heard her mention our principal.

  “What?” I asked.

  “That stuff Anya said about your head. About it looking wonky and asymmetrical. A couple of kids in Band felt that was super snarky and wanted to write and complain to Principal Hunt about it. Are you cool with that?”

  I couldn’t believe Drea Quan was standing on my doorstep bringing up my head shape! I’d barely just stopped obsessing over it, after Venice sent me twenty pictures of myself to show that my head looked round no matter how I wore my barrettes.

  “Complaining about Anya doesn’t solve anything,” I said. “I think it only makes her stronger.”

  “So you don’t care—” Drea started to ask me something, but I cut her off. I’d heard enough.

  “I don’t care at all,” I said, reslamming the door, and this time hurrying away from it before Drea could say something else that would trick me into opening it.

  When I stormed back to the kitchen, Piper was helping my mom cut bell peppers. I was seething. I felt hurt and betrayed and confused.

  “Why are you giving Drea your clothes?” I asked.

  Piper tossed some pepper cubes into a big bowl of lettuce. “She asked for them.”

  “Wait,” I said. “Some random sixth grader asks you for your clothes and you just box them up and hand them over?”

  Piper set down the knife and looked at me with a disappointed face. “That girl is fifty times the nerd you are. Show some empathy,” Piper said. “She’ll make full use of those eight shirts, three skirts, and two pairs of leggings.”

  I felt dizzy. My sister had betrayed me more than I realized. That was basically an entire wardrobe.

  “I would never go behind your back like that,” I said. “I would check with you first before I interfered with people at your school!”

  And then I turned to go down my hallway.

  “That girl has sent me so many nice pops about you. She totally looks up to you,” Piper said. “It’s nuts that you’re mad at her.”

  I flipped around. “I don’t care what she pops about me. I can’t stand that girl!”

  “Wait,” my dad said. “Don’t yell at your sister.”

  It was quite a surprise that my dad was siding with Piper. Especially since he didn’t even know half of what was happening.

  “It’s okay, Dad,” Piper said, walking toward me. “I think I know what Perry’s real issue is here.”

  How dare Piper speak for me or my real issue! I was speechless.

  “When did our lives descend into so much drama?” my mother asked. “Fifth grade didn’t feel like this.”

  My mom was really speaking the truth with that comment. Back in fifth grade, Piper still lived with us and was an awesome sister. I didn’t have to share Venice with Leo. I didn’t have thirty-eight tasks. And I didn’t have to deal with Drea Quan and Anya O’Shea either. Now, it felt like that was all I did at school.

  “Perry is jealous,” Piper said.

  And that made my jaw drop. Why was Piper being so critical of me?

  “I am not jealous of Drea Quan!” I said, folding my arms across my chest and releasing a sound of disgust.

  “But you are,” Piper said, pointing her finger at me in a stabby way. “You’re jealous that Drea and Venice and I and everybody else you know is on PopRat. It eats you up and you feel left behind that you’re not sending pops.”

  First, at my own clinic, I was used as an example of having a wonky head. Then a nerd came to my house to remind me of this sad fact. Finally, my sister stood in our living room calling me a lame, jealous person because I wasn’t on PopRat. I couldn’t take it anymore. It was too much. I burst into tears.

  “Perry wants a rat?” my dad asked.

  My mother groaned and wrapped her arms around me, giving me a big hug.

  “These apps come and go, leaving a path of destruction in the lives of everybody who uses them,” she said, trying to rock me into a calmer state.

  “PopRat is actually a ton of fun,” Piper said. “Even Bobby’s on it.”

  My mother scowled at Piper. “Your sister isn’t getting it.”

  “Now I know what you’re talking about,” my dad said. “All the dental hygienists in the office use it. There’s a filter that turns you into a guinea pig, right?”

  I sniffled and relaxed into my mom’s hug. That sounded like an amazing filter. I bet Venice and Leo were using that all the time.

  “Don’t turn me into the bad guy,” my mom said. “We both agreed when we got Perry her phone: no messaging apps.”

  “Did we?” my dad asked.

  And even though I was still terribly upset, I saw a sliver of hope in what was happening.

  “If you shelter Perry too much, you’ll turn her into a freak,” Piper said. “Just make her add you to her sewer. You can keep tabs on her.”

  “Nobody is getting added into anybody’s sewer,” my mom said. “Perry is lucky she even has a phone.”

  And that comment frightened me a little bit, because I couldn’t even picture my life without my phone. The next ten minutes were a very heated argument between my mom and Piper. Basically, my dad and I sat on the sidelines. I thought it was pretty clear we were both pro-PopRat.

  Piper: Teach her how to use it responsibly.

  Mom: Impossible. You send the wrong thing one time and your life gets ruined.

  Piper: Give Perry more credit than that.

  Mom: You’re not her mother. I am!

  Piper: I love Perry just as much as you do. And you’re preventing her from experiencing something culturally important. You can’t build a tech fence around her and keep her safe forever.

  And when my mom didn’t spit back an automatic reply to Piper’s “tech fence” comment, I saw my chance.

  “I would be so responsible,” I said. “I’d really only pop with Venice.”

  “I can’t believe Mrs. Garcia lets Venice pop at all,” my mother said.

  “It does seem fun,” my dad said. “It’s basically the same thing as sending texts and photos, which we already let Perry do.”

  “Again,” I said, “I’d be soooo responsible.”

  I thought I saw the exact moment in my mother’s face when she cracked. Piper had broken her argument down. I glanced at Piper and she winked at me. It was really hard to hate h
er, even though she was helping Drea.

  “What happens if she adds me to her sewer?” my mom asked.

  “It means you get to see everything that goes in her trash. And pops move into your trash right after you read them, unless you relocate them to your nest. But you can make her add you there, too. I mean, you’ll need a different user name. No one person can be in your sewer and your nest. It’s not how it works. But maybe Dad could be in her nest and you could be in her sewer. You’d get to see everything.”

  “That’s more phone supervision than she gets now,” my dad said.

  Piper sneaked up behind me and gave me a hug. But I was actually a little nervous about adding my parents to my sewer and my nest. Because I didn’t want them looking at all my texts and photos that I sent to Venice.

  Piper could tell I was nervous about this. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Either Venice or I will show you the ropes.”

  “I’ll need somebody to show me the ropes too,” my mom said.

  “Add me to the tutorial,” my dad said.

  “But I don’t want Mom and Dad reading every pop I send,” I whispered to Piper.

  Piper smiled and then whispered, “They won’t see anything you send. It’s only the incoming stuff that gets sent to your sewer and nest.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Awesome.”

  “Remember this, Perry Hall. Your sister loves you. She looks out for you. And even when you think I’m not paying attention to your problems, I’m probably in the other room, trying to solve everything from there.”

  I felt like crying again. And not like before, when I wanted to hurry to my bed and crawl under the cover because I hated sixth grade and felt the nerds were too difficult to rescue. I wanted to cry because Piper had done something that was going to change my life. I was getting PopRat. Venice wouldn’t be popping without me anymore. Nobody would. Finally, I’d be part of the party. Finally, it would be easier to be me.

  When my mom dropped me off at Fro-yo Unicorn to take pictures for the What’s Hot section, she gave me strict instructions. “Text me as soon as you’re done. And don’t eat too much sugar.”