by Abby Cooper
“Final challenge, Explorer Leader hopefuls,” Mr. Todd said with a giant grin. If principal-ing didn’t work out, I was starting to think Mr. Todd might have a pretty solid future as a game show/reality TV host. “I’d like you each to create an activity you think would be fun for our trip. Write it out—in detail—and turn it in to me before winter break. May the best activity win. Thanks again for coming, all, and congratulations to our final four!”
I grinned into the audience, my brain already buzzing with ideas. Was the note writer out there? Had he or she seen my amazing performance? And seen how I’d made it to the final challenge? Maybe whoever it was actually knew what they were talking about, and now I really did have a chance at becoming Explorer Leader. At being a face on a poster that would be hung at fund-raising shows for years to come. At being someone people would love and admire and continue to love and admire long after the Explorer Leader-ing was over.
And even the smallest chance at all of this happening was better than what I had before the show. I’d take it.
18
DOING
El!
What’s up, lady? How’s the future? I have to tell you, things have been looking up since the last time I wrote. Ever since the fund-raising show, I’ve been a doing dynamo. Something clicked, finally, and I actually did what I’ve been wanting to do—do! And now I’m sort of acting like a normal human being!
I hope when you read this you’ll still be doing stuff, because I have a lot of lost time to make up for. Here are the goals:
1. Start doing more stuff.
2. Eat lunch with people in the cafeteria.
3. Try to actually like Nice Andy for other reasons besides the free beef stew and string cheese.
4. Make an amazing activity, and convince Mr. Todd that I would make an excellent Explorer Leader (though, no, I am not blue, and I do not want to sit on that stupid couch).
5. Find out who’s writing me the blue notes—and why. Here’s what I’m thinking at the moment:
• It has to be someone who knows I have CAV, because of all the this-will-make-you-feel-better lines.
• It has to be someone at school, because that’s where I get all the notes.
• It has to be someone who has a TON of blue paper.
• None of these clues really narrow it down much at all.
• Argh.
It must be so nice to be in the future. When you read this someday, you’ll totally know who the note writer is, and probably the answers to all the other great mysteries of the universe, too. And don’t worry about it or anything, but if you don’t know who wrote the notes, I, Elyse of the Past, will be super mad at you.
No pressure.
From,
December Self
* * *
I closed my notebook, stuck it in my backpack, and took a huge deep breath.
“You can do this,” I told my reflection in the bathroom mirror. In my long-sleeved black-and-white-striped shirt and red jeans, I actually didn’t look too bad. You’d never know that there were all kinds of words hanging out under the cute clothes.
“You are having a good-hair day,” I told myself. “You actually feel like talking to people for a little while. This. Is. The. Day.”
I made my way out of the bathroom and down the hall. The cafeteria was busy. It made me both excited and scared to think that maybe the person writing me the notes would be in there with me. Who could it be? I couldn’t stop thinking about it. A little part of me hoped it was Jeg or Liam. But it could be anybody. Nice Andy. Kevin. Lindsey. Snotty Ami, even. That wasn’t super likely, but it wasn’t impossible.
I couldn’t help but notice some staring and whispering as I maneuvered my way through the crowds to get to Olivia’s table. My heartbeat quickened. Snotty Ami or any other Loud Crowd members wouldn’t have told people about CAV … Oh, who was I kidding? Of course they would.
So it was a major relief to spot Olivia and sit down with her, Nice Andy, and the Hannahs (Hannah Berkowitz and Hannah Zeller), who I don’t know much about except that they had the same name, were best friends, and seemed really nice. And they totally were. After a few minutes, I forgot all about the whispers. We talked, we laughed, and we ate the chocolate chip cookies Nice Andy had baked specifically to thank me for going out with him this long. They were extremely delicious.
When I got up to grab another carton of chocolate milk (the thanks-for-going-out-with-me cookies required extra), I noticed a piece of blue paper on the ground by my table. I bent down to pick it up. This one was small—it was written on a Post-it instead of a regular piece of paper. But when I saw the letter E sticking out, I immediately knew that I was in for something.
Elyse,
Ready for your biggest challenge yet? You HAVE to do this one or else I won’t help you get Explorer Leader. You have to break up Jeg and Kevin ASAP. Or else no Explorer Leader. I mean it.
What? I ran my hands through my hair and frowned. Something about this note was weirder than all the others. First of all, this one wasn’t typed. It was written in plain old pencil by someone with handwriting even worse than my dad’s, and his was really bad. Plus, this note didn’t even mention the amazing activity I had to create and turn in to Mr. Todd to get Explorer Leader. And making me Explorer Leader was the whole point of the notes, wasn’t it?
I slumped down in my seat, never taking my eyes off the paper in my hands. I couldn’t do this one. There was no way. I knew what kind of person Jeg was deep down. Somewhere in there, under the mean giggles and the skinny jeans that were the same as the ones the rest of the Loud Crowd wore, she was the one who would be my bodyguard and have nacho-eating contests with me even though Mom would always say it wasn’t a good idea. Breaking her and Kevin up would totally destroy her. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Even if she did kinda deserve it.
“You okay in there?” Olivia elbowed me.
“Yeah, sorry.” I forced my eyes up and stuffed the paper in my pocket. This was a time for cookies and friends and milk and more cookies, not for freaking out.
Only maybe it was a time for freaking out after all, because only a second later, Jeg waltzed across the cafeteria arm in arm with Lindsey and Snotty Ami. She held a huge stack of something pink and sparkly. Holy high heels. My insides felt a little twisty as I realized that these were invitations to Jeg’s annual birthday blowout.
Every year since we were little, Jeg had thrown a humongous birthday party. She’d invite all fifty kids in our grade and throw one of those unbelievable bashes like they showed in Gurly magazine. Her parties were the highlight of the year. Best friends got special privileges, too, like getting the second piece of cake and then getting to go eat it on your own personal horse or next to your own personal pop star. I wouldn’t get to be the best friend this year, but darn it, I was still getting the cake.
I watched out of the corner of my eye as she gave invitations to Phoebe, Kevin, Elijah, Liam, Juliana, Naomi, Greta, Brady, Courtney, JaShawn, and Claire. Then she moved to another area and handed them to Layla, Kimberly, Lea, Brian, Hector, Gibson, Maya, Trynna, Mike, Curtis, Francheska, Riley, and Charlie. Jeg walked around the whole cafeteria until there were only four pink envelopes left in her hand.
She stopped in her tracks for a second and spun around, clearly looking for specific people. I’m over here, I almost shouted, but I decided to let her come to me. I was pretty sure that was the polite thing to do. And I didn’t really want to go up to her and her other friends anyway.
She smiled in my direction, and then bounced right over to our table.
“Hope you can come!” she squealed as she handed envelopes to Hannah, Hannah, Olivia, and Nice Andy.
And that was it. All the invitations were gone. She saw me looking at her empty hands and gave me one of those you-don’t-get-it looks people give me when they pat my leg. Then she skipped away with Snotty Ami and Lindsey, laughing loudly at something (how was something always funny?), just as boppy and perky and annoying as she had
come.
My friends all looked at me with shocked expressions.
Really? Really? I knew Jeg and I weren’t best friends anymore, but it looked like everyone in sixth grade was invited to this party. Even Liam. Even Nice Andy. Everybody. My heart got lurchy again, but not in the excited/nervous way. More in the super-sad-and-trying-not-to-care-but-totally-failing kind of way.
“It’s fine,” I told all the concerned faces looking my way. “Seriously. No big deal.”
And it wasn’t. Mostly.
I felt around in my pocket, remembering the newest blue note. This one wasn’t just a challenge. No, it was an opportunity. An opportunity not only to do something, but to make that something include revenge. I may not have had an invitation to the party, but I had another, different, more interesting type of invitation that was eagerly awaiting my RSVP.
* * *
When I got home from school, I went straight to my computer. I tried searching for CAV again, just for fun, but nothing came up. I clicked on Jeg’s profile and saw that she had added pictures from last week, when she was apparently in France at a huge fashion show. You know, typical long weekend. I flipped through, and there was Jeg with fashion designers and models, then one of her with her parents, and then about a zillion more pictures with fashion designers and models. She really had the best life ever.
In one picture, a guy who looked around our age was kissing her cheek. He sorta looked like Kevin, with shiny, spiky black hair, but you could tell his Mohawk was a really, really expensive one, probably styled by Mr. Mohawk himself with designer gel. He was wearing a sparkly silver tie over a black button-down shirt, and as I looked closer, I saw that not one, but both of his ears had piercings. I wondered if Kevin had seen this—I was guessing not, because he usually had some kind of sports practice or club after school. Plus, his profile was pretty empty, so it seemed like he didn’t really go online much at all. Maybe someone should bring this picture to his attention. Someone like me.
Mohawk Man—and Jeg—were going down. After all, the anonymous note writer wasn’t the only person in the world who could write an anonymous note.
But how would I do it? I thought about it and thought about it, and just when I was about to give up, a stroke of genius flashed through my mind. Kevin might not go on too many different websites, but he probably checked his e-mail. I went to an e-mail site and created the most boring, could-be-anyone fake e-mail address it would let me make. Maybe it was a little devious, but I had to do what I had to do. And I had to do it. I opened up a new message, entered Kevin’s e-mail address, and started to type.
Hey, have you seen the picture of Jeg and that guy with the Mohawk and the earrings? I heard from a lot of people that they kissed. And that they’re still talking. I thought you should know.
My finger hovered over the send button above my message. Was I really going to do this? It was a pretty terrible thing to do. I hadn’t heard that they kissed—him kissing her on the cheek in the picture didn’t count—but it was totally possible. But was I a person who not only did regular things but also did bad things—things that would hurt someone I used to care about? And still did care about, even though she had become the clone of Snotty Ami?
But then I pictured Jeg’s face as she gave out invitations to everyone at my table except me. And I decided that the answer was yes.
Only a few seconds later, I had a message back from Kevin, who didn’t seem to mind that he didn’t know who he was e-mailing.
wow, sucks. i was actually gonna break up w/her NEway cuz ever since the talent show she wants 2 do stuff 2gether all the time and its sooo annoying.
Whew! I smiled and deleted the fake account. So he was going to break up with her anyway. I guess that was good news, but I felt a little funny that I knew this before she did. And yet—mission accomplished.
19
UNFINISHED BUSINESS
I didn’t sleep at all that night. I tossed and turned, and when I did fall asleep, for about thirty seconds at the most, I had crazy dreams about Kevin and Jeg and Mohawk Man, whose Mohawk went from a regular Mohawk to a giant Mohawk, with like seventy-six angry spikes that kept poking me, hard. Then Mohawk Man’s hair turned into bright-pink party invitations, and he kept waving them in my face, but I couldn’t touch them no matter what I did. When I reached for one, I fell into a giant pit of crumpled blue papers that all had terrible words on them—words like BAD FRIEND and JEALOUS FREAK. When I woke up, the very same words were plastered across my legs. Itchy, itchy, itchy. I lay in bed for a good ten minutes before I got up, scratching and scratching and scratching the thick black letters. It was all so unfair. Why couldn’t I just get zits like everybody else?
When I got to school, I was cranky, sleepy, and itchy, and my hair was doing things even weirder than a Mohawk that could grow seventy-six hot-pink sparkly spikes. It was not going to be a good day.
It was not going to be an easy day, either, I soon discovered. There was a blue note waiting for me first thing in English, stuck right to my seat. Oh. Boy.
Elyse,
Don’t forget to turn in your activity idea before break! I’m sure you worked really hard on it. Feels good to try, doesn’t it?
I turned the paper over, looking for more. I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted to see—maybe something like Hey, thanks for following my instructions yesterday and breaking up Jeg and Kevin. You are a wonderful human being and will definitely get chosen for Explorer Leader.
But there wasn’t anything like that.
Weird.
I tucked the note in my pocket as Jeg came in and took her seat next to me. I felt her sadness without even looking at her. She looked at me for a split second before Snotty Ami scurried up to her.
“Jeggie, OMG, what’s wrong?” Now the entire Loud Crowd came over and formed a circle around her. There was a lot of noise, followed by a lot of sniffling and a lot of finger pointing in Kevin’s direction. My mouth went dry with a throw-uppy kind of feeling, so I tried to make myself calm down. He was going to break up with her anyway, I reminded myself. Wait a second—he was going to break up with her anyway! There was no reason for me to be involved at all! It was already happening!
But maybe the note writer didn’t know that, I thought. Maybe the note writer thought Kevin was as crazy about Jeg as she was about him. And then I thought, Stop thinking! Don’t risk thinking anything bad about yourself! And so I started talking to Olivia instead. But thoughts of Kevin and Jeg and notes and Mohawks kept creeping into my mind and wouldn’t go away.
That’s the problem with things creeping into brains—once they’re in there, you can’t really get them out, even if you’re a doing-person like me.
“Good morning,” said Ms. Sigafiss. “Please turn to page thirty-nine of your books and read until I tell you to stop. We will not be talking during this time.”
“But you’re talking,” said Kevin.
Ms. Sigafiss shot him a look.
I stifled a little laugh. Even Jeg giggled. My leg itched a little less. Maybe JEALOUS FREAK was fading. That’d be nice.
Before I let myself think about what I was doing, I wrote a note to Jeg and passed it very carefully to my right. I heard about Kevin, I wrote. Sorry. I’m here for you if you need me.
Jeg unfolded the paper and read it, and the corners of her mouth turned upward into the smallest of smiles. She took out her pen with the big purple flower at the end, scribbled something, and passed the note back.
At the same time Ms. Sigafiss stepped out of the room for a second, and of course everybody started talking at the top of their lungs. People mostly weren’t having actual conversations; a lot of people were just like “Talk, talk, talkity talkity talk.” Which was dumb. But also pretty hilarious.
I giggled along with everyone else, and then opened Jeg’s note. Thanks. Sorry I didn’t invite you to my party. My friends didn’t want me to. But you can come if you want.
Woohoo! It didn’t come in a sparkly pink envelope, bu
t an invitation was still an invitation. And even though she was a popular snob and I had unnecessarily tried to break her up with her boyfriend for a gig I wasn’t guaranteed to get, she was still my friend. Sorta.
Ms. Sigafiss came back in and a hush fell over the room.
“That’s better,” she said. “Now, what do you all need to be doing?”
I sighed as I buried my head back in my book. I couldn’t wait to go to my other classes, where teachers actually did fun things with us. Ms. Sigafiss didn’t seem to care about fun. All she cared about was making scary faces and keeping us quiet.
Quiet could be good, though. It gave me a chance to sneak another read of Jeg’s note and squeal silently. I’m going to the party! Amazing cake, look out!
I snuck a few sheets of notebook paper into my book so it looked like I was reading, and quickly added a couple finishing touches to my activity idea. After watching a little too much Discovery Channel the other night (it was for research!), I thought it would be cool if we learned how to make a shelter in the wilderness using sticks, rope, tarps, and other explorer-y things. It seemed like something a lot of people would be interested in—including Mr. Todd. I made sure to note that the tarps could definitely be blue.
After class, I dropped off my idea in his office. I had worked really, really hard on this, and I hoped it showed. I went home with a smile on my face and a nervous thump in my heart. It was winter break, and it’d be filled with food, fun, family, friends, and a massive Jeg party at the end. Exciting things were happening, and even though they were scary, too, I felt ready to take on whatever came next.
20
PARTY PREP
The night of the party, Mom asked me about twelve thousand million zillion times if I really, really, really wanted to go. I didn’t know how else to tell her yes.