Poppy Mayberry, the Monday

by Jennie Brown

  “We will settle this later,” she said harshly. The audience was quiet and stared until I reached the seat.

  Settle this later? I didn’t even want to think about what that could mean.

  “Welcome to the fiftieth summer session at Power Academy.” She paused, awaiting some sort of applause, but the only one clapping was nostril-man. And clapping he was … way too vigorously. In fact, his slicked-back gray hair moved a bit. Ick.

  “Let’s get going, shall we?” Larriby said. I hated it when adults have that lofty, I’m so smarter and wiser than you kind of tone where they ask a question, but don’t really expect an answer. Did she really think that we were waiting in excited anticipation for her to speak?

  “Most summers you are grouped by weekday,” she said, pushing Nostril-Man to the side. Apparently, he was invading her space. His shoulders slumped. She cleared her throat and continued. “For example, Mondays would be grouped together, Wednesdays would, Thursdays, and so on.”

  I was pretty sure we could figure out what she meant by grouped by weekday.

  “This year, however, you will be grouped in a different manner.” When she said those last words I could have sworn her eyes darted from Logan, to Ellie, to me, and then landed somewhere in the back of the room.

  “Oohs” and “Ahhs” escaped from the crowd.

  “Hush,” Headmistress Larriby spat.

  Silence.

  “This year you will be grouped in teams of four. It works out perfectly that there will be two girls and two boys on each team.”

  The crowd began mumbling.

  “Sarah, be my partner,” I heard a whisper from the lanky Wednesday in front of me. I watched this supposed Sarah as she nodded in agreement.

  A lot of similar murmurs spread throughout the echoing room.

  “Do you actually think I will let you choooose your own group?” the snarkiness in Mrs. Larriby’s voice shut everyone up in an instant. “Each group will consist of one Monday, one Wednesday, one Thursday, and one Friday, as it’s important to know how your powers can work together. To be sure you can work together in the real world, that is.” She did those air quote thingies when she said “real world.”

  I caught Logan’s eye and frowned. Chances were, we wouldn’t be in the same group. Ellie flicked her hair again, and bumped into his shoulder. Was she flirting? That would be typical friend-stealing Ellie. Not that I was jealous or anything.

  “I have posted the groups and coordinating dorm rooms on the bulletin board in the entrance hall,” Mrs. Larriby bellowed.

  My palms began to sweat. Gosh. I really hoped that I wouldn’t be stuck with Ellie. If so, I would totally change it.

  “The room assignments are final, and may not be altered.” Mrs. Larriby looked directly at me as she said this. I felt a lump begin to form in my throat as I realized that she must be a Thursday and just read my mind. Did I miss that information in the brochure?

  Nostril-man stood on his tiptoes and whispered something into her ear. “Ah … fine,” she said with her eyebrows creased in frustration.

  “Attention, all. This gentleman would like to be introduced,” Headmistress Larriby said this with utter disgust. “This is my assistant, Mr. Grimeley.” She pulled him toward her so he was now standing in the center of the stage. I further examined his outfit and noticed that just like Larriby, he wasn’t much of a dresser (not that I’m a fashion expert or anything—I leave that up to Veronica). His too-long pants rolled over the top of his shoes, and there was actually another patch of gray hair on the top of his head. I neglected to see the pants thing earlier because I couldn’t keep from staring at his nose and the giant caterpillar that peeked out.

  “Hello,” he said in a high squeaky voice that took me a little off guard. “I am Mr. Grimeley.” He paused and his eyes darted around the room. Even from where I sat, I could see sweat beading at the top of his head. “And … I … I …” He swallowed hard. “I will be leading you all in your one-on-one group check-ins.”

  His eyes immediately darted down at his covered feet as he shuffled back to the platform. He obviously wasn’t moving fast enough because Mrs. Larriby helped him out by shoving his scrawny body out of the way and behind her.

  “The check-ins will occur every other day,” she took over, menacingly looking at Mr. Grimeley. “Mr. Grimeley will meet with you to assess the progress you make in your weekday power. If you have not mastered your power to a certain degree by the end of the summer, then you will be joining us again next year.” As she spoke the last line, she smirked and revealed yellow teeth that appeared extra banana-ey yellow against her puke-colored dress.

  Her fat arm lifted. “Now go to the hall, find your team assignment, and then get to your rooms. Lights out at twenty-thirty.” I did the math in my head. Eight-thirty.

  Mr. Grimeley pointed his knobby finger toward the large oak doors, and they flew open instantly. Apparently, that was our cue to leave.

  I looked toward where Logan was sitting and found an empty chair. Ellie probably grabbed him to go along with her. I was pushed out the door with the frenzied crowd. Everyone surrounded the bulletin board in one massive clump. I heard “yes” and “oh, man,” and girls and boys were jumping around hugging one another after seeing their placements. I hoped that I would be so happy.

  After the crowd had died down a bit, I made my way to the team assignment list and saw a boy wearing a giant cowboy hat staring at it. Light emitted from his index finger running down the paper, trying to find his name. He turned around and pushed his black-rimmed glasses up his nose. “I don’t know any of those people,” he complained sadly, and shrugged. Poor Wednesday. But he seemed like a pretty decent one if he could light the sheet up like that.

  Quickly, I tried to get him out of the way so I could read over the list before the few stragglers lagging behind got there first. Unsuccessful.

  I looked in Pickle’s den. “Can’t I catch a break?” I asked. She yawned and curled up so that her body formed a furry circle.

  “I told you we would settle this later.” Headmistress Larriby’s voice came from behind. With a yellow grin as big as the moon she added, “Enjoy your roommate.” She spun on her heels and went into her office. Mr. Grimeley shuffled behind like a lost puppy. He caught my gaze and shook his head.

  I rushed over to the list, and pushed the few students out of the way. I was breathing pretty hard at this point.

  TEAM 5

  Poppy Mayberry

  Samuel Bricker

  Logan Prince

  And then I saw it. The reason I was sure Mrs. Larriby was smiling so yellow-moon-brightly. The last member of my team and my roommate for the entire, miserable, hate-my-life summer.

  Ellie Preston

  Chapter Nine

  “You know that this is totally your fault?” Ellie shouted, claiming the bed next to the window by throwing her pink paisley designer duffle bag on top of it. “I mean, the only reason we are roomed together is because of that idiotic chair stunt you pulled with Larriby. If you would just—”

  “It wouldn’t hurt you to be a little nicer to me, you know?” I cut her off and sat down on my lopsided bed. Great. I let Pickle out of her purple traveling den, and she ran laps around the room. She knew enough to stay out of Ellie’s way, though.

  Ellie began unpacking her bag and shoved pink shirt after pink shirt into the larger dresser next to the door. She claimed that, too. She “huffed” and “puffed” every time a drawer slammed shut as if it were the worst thing in the world to be tasked with. I guess she was used to others unpacking belongings for her. Spoiled little Thursday brat.

  “Heard that.” She turned toward me and rolled her eyes for like the bajillionth time since we arrived just two hours ago.

  Stupid mind-reading Thursday brat, I thought on purpose.

  “And why did you have to bring that annoying little dog?” She glared at Pickle.

  No one in their right mind c
ould possibly think that Pickle was an annoying little dog. In fact, she rarely barks and is so well-trained and behaved that she’s the total opposite of annoying. Why couldn’t Ellie see that? Everyone who meets Pickle practically loves her. I mean, just look at that cute little face.

  “Seriously? Why couldn’t you just bring a hamster or fish or something?” she continued while unpacking what seemed to be the last shirt from her Mary-Poppins-deep bag. She had like three more to unpack yet, and one was bound to be filled with shoes.

  And then she opened the next bag. I laughed inside. Bingo! Shoes.

  “Or why not jewelry?” Ellie pranced toward me. Pickle yapped. “Shush up, Peanut.” She kicked her pedicured foot forward, and my precious puppy cowered back.

  “Her name’s Pickle,” I corrected Ellie. At least Ellie got the “P” right. I bent down and scratched Pickle behind her ear. She whined in approval.

  “Whatever.” Ellie looked toward her wrist. “For my personal belonging, I brought this bracelet that my mother got me for Christmas.” She used her other hand to twirl it around her wrist right in front of my face. “There are twelve charms in all. White gold.” She stood up straighter and shook her head so that her hair lay perfectly in place, and then walked back to her side of the room, took off the bracelet, and gingerly placed it into a tiny pink jewelry box. “A bit nicer than that chunk of orange rock you keep around your neck,” she mumbled.

  I pretended to ignore the last comment and watched as she glanced down at Pickle who was now licking the fur over her front paw. “Yep, you should have just brought a fancy piece of jewelry or something.” She shrugged. “But I guess you probably don’t have anything fancy at all,” she said. Her eyes scanned me up and down like they did to Logan just a few hours earlier. But with me, the look could kill.

  This girl was crazy. Could she not realize that Pickle was worth a heck of a lot more to me than some stupid piece of jewelry? And who was she to give me any advice about what I should have brought as my personal belonging?

  “And maybe you should try finding your own friends for once,” I said without thinking, and sort of wished that I could have taken it back.

  “What? Are you jealous of me and your new boyfriend or something?” she asked sarcastically and laughed.

  One, I could definitely only see Logan as a friend. Hello? I hadn’t even had a crush on anyone—yet. Two, I could never be jealous of Ellie. And three, this had not been the first time Ellie had attempted to take a friend from me. Celia Green and I were best friends through third grade until—

  I could see Ellie giving me the I’m reading your mind again stare.

  “Or are you still upset over Celia totally dissing you to be my Bff?” Her voice was getting more and more irritating to me.

  I could have come back and said some nasty stuff right back to her then and there, but I’m not a malicious person like Ellie. Plus, I realized that I was going to be trapped with this stuck-up girl all summer, so no matter how much we insulted each other and brought up all that drama from the past, I was … well … stuck. Mrs. Larriby said that all room assignments were final, and I definitely did NOT want to cross her anymore after that whole chair incident. So really, I needed to make the best of this situation and try to fix whatever problem Ellie had with me.

  I cleared my throat. “Ellie?”

  I could tell by her sigh that she was annoyed. “Yes, Poppy?” she asked, batting her eyelashes, emphasizing the “Ps.”

  “Why do you hate me? ’Cause if it’s over that whole headband thing like forever ago, you just have to know that I totally did not mean for that to happen.”

  Well, I kind of did want that to happen. But I was trying to make amends. And here I was finally getting up the nerve to confront her, and she wouldn’t even answer.

  So I just kept on talking. “I mean, you were never actually nice to me, but especially the last year or so, you have been just …” I paused as her eyes burned into mine. “Just downright cruel.” I took a breath, happy that I was able to get it out. And then I leaned back and grabbed Pickle, afraid of how Ellie might react if she were to yap at her again.

  Ellie sat down on her bed directly across from me and held my gaze. Her tone changed. “It’s not that I ever really hated you,” she muttered. She looked away, and then pursed her lips like she does when Mr. Salmon forces her to answer a tough math question when he knows she hasn’t been reading his mind.

  “You just …”

  I may have actually been getting through to her.

  “You just … never mind. You’re so annoying.” She stood up and pulled out her lollypop-red nail polish, and began painting away. “We just need to tolerate each other this summer. Stay out of my way, and I’ll stay out of yours,” she demanded, the softness in her voice gone.

  I looked around at the tiny room that was more like a ten-by-twelve box, and decided that staying out of each other’s way might be a little more difficult than it seemed.

  When I woke up the next morning, I forgot where I was for a minute. I stared up at the ceiling and didn’t see the glow-in-the-dark stick-on stars that my dad and I carefully placed last summer. This ceiling was painted an ugly shade of green (kind of similar in color to Headmistress Larriby’s dress from yesterday). The chipped-off paint on the walls revealed the same floral wallpaper as the entrance hall downstairs.

  It smelled a little off, too. My room at home almost always smells like fresh laundry—with the laundry room just a few feet away. But the room here at Power Academy smelled like a mixture of dust and cat litter. I only knew the smell of cat litter because we used to have a cat named Princess Flufferpie, until I found out that I was allergic to her. A while after giving Princess Flufferpie away, Pickle showed up on our doorstep one Halloween dressed as a … well … pickle.

  Pickle licked the side of my face and brought me back to the reality and the ugliness that was Power Academy. I looked over to my left and saw Ellie still fast asleep. She actually looked kind of human then—not like her usual, nasty self. Her freshly painted hand dangled over the side of the bed. I looked up to see her mouth hanging wide open, and laughed at the fact that light breathy snores escaped from her lips.

  Swish, swish. Two pieces of paper slid under the door. I tiptoed over to them in my purple fuzzy slippers and swooped them up. Our daily schedules. I clicked on my bedside light and scanned over them quickly to see that I have pretty much the same classes every day. Not as scary as I had imagined.

  Poppy Rose Mayberry: Monday

  Team 5

  Room 205

  8:15-9:00 — Breakfast

  9:15-11:00 — History of Nova 101

  11:00- 11:15 — Break

  11:15-1:00 — Monday Power Intensive (Power Boot Camp)

  1:15- 2:00 — Lunch

  2:15- 4:00 — Team Practice (M-W-F)

  — Team Meeting With Mr. Grimeley (T/TH)

  4:00-6:00 — Monday Power Practice (with Power-Intensive group)

  6:00-7:00 — Dinner

  7:00-8:00 — Dorm Room

  8:30 — Lights Out

  I sneaked a quick glance at Ellie’s and saw that she had the same exact schedule as me. Except hers said Thursday Power Intensive class instead of Monday. Practically with her all. Day. Long. Ugh.

  “Well, Pickle. That’s just fantastic,” I whispered and showed her the schedules. She let out a whimper, obviously commiserating with me.

  I froze, noticing the rustling in Ellie’s bed. I was not ready to deal with her awake self yet. She rolled over on her side. Whew!

  After dressing for the day in the spacious shared bathroom I quietly sneaked back into my room. Pickle was cuddled up against my pillow. Ellie’s snoring was getting louder and louder. Seven-forty-five. Even though I probably should have woken her up so she was ready for breakfast, I decided not to. The quiet was nice.

  I leafed through my History of Nova textbook, and got bored of it in like two seconds. I pet
ted Pickle, and got tired of that like two more seconds later. There wasn’t any homework yet, so that wasn’t an option. And, it’s not like I could have called Veronica (not that she would’ve been up that early anyway). What was I thinking? I love to read and I didn’t even bring a book. So, I decided to just practice my power. What harm could that have done in that little room?

  My goal was to float Ellie’s schedule a few measly feet across the room and land on her nightstand. I concentrated really hard on it and imagined it gently lifting into the air. It happened. Okay. Great. I continued concentrating on it until it was about six inches off of the comforter.

  Then I willed it to slowly float over to her nightstand. My eyes and finger followed the paper as it moved horizontally and toward the right place. Awesome. This was sooo awesome!

  Why was I even at Power Academy?

  And that’s when it all went wrong. As the schedule passed over Ellie’s head, it swooped down and swiped the center of her face.

  “Ouch,” she screamed, and sat up so fast I thought her retainer (yes, retainer, she is human after all) was going to fly out of her mouth.

  I cringed as she pulled it from her teeth, and a stream of slobber followed behind. Gross-fest! Her other hand cupped her nose.

  “What the heck were you doing?” she squealed, reaching on her nightstand for the light, and then for a mirror. “Look at what you did.” Her hand pointed to the tip of her nose.

  Squinting, I leaned forward, trying to see what she was pointing at, but saw nothing.

  “Don’t you see it?” she asked, still pointing.

  I took a step toward her and stared at her nose some more. Finally, I thought I could see it—a teeny tiny paper cut, barely even noticeable to the naked eye.

  “Sorry, Ellie. I was just practicing.”

  “Yeah, right! Just you wait until I tell Headmistress Larriby about this,” she said while dabbing the scratch with a piece of tissue. Really?