by Kim Tomsic
“Hi.” Piper glanced at the pillow I’d dropped. “I’m sorry. Especially about the un-invitation. That sucks.”
I shrugged. “Cute clip.”
“Thanks! It’s the latest from Tarina Tarentino.”
“I don’t know who that is, but she looks good on you.” I smiled. “So . . . hey, Pipes. Can I borrow a shirt?”
Piper practically sprinted the three steps it took to stand face-to-face with me. She put both of her hands on my shoulders, inhaled a deep yogic breath, and with all the drama of a soap star replied, “I’ve been waiting my whole life for you to ask me that question.”
CHAPTER
21
Dad had enrolled Archie in Doggie Day Camp after the whole shredding of Scientific American. Even though that’s Dad’s favorite magazine, he’d taken it in stride and said, “It was such good reading Archie tore right through it.” Then Dad had slapped his leg and laughed at his own joke, which was the part that had made me laugh, too.
In order to get Archie to camp and Dad to work on time, he had to drive Piper and me to school early. I put Archie in the front seat as per usual, but he squirmed out of my lap and jumped to the back.
“What’s up with you?” He tried to tuck himself under Piper’s feet and away from my reach. “So weird.”
“You sure you brushed your teeth?” Piper said, her eyes twinkling.
“Ha-ha, Piper.”
The school grounds were quiet when we pulled up front.
“Bye, Archie. Make lots of friends.” I climbed out of the car. “Later, Dad.” I closed the door.
As Dad drove off, I pulled my shoulders back and centered myself, ready to face the day. Even though things had sucked with Rhena and the study party last night, I had a lot to look forward to—magic, for starters. I could get the wish out of the way today, have fun at the Humane Society tonight, breathe easy on Thursday, and Friday would be the best flashmob in the history of flashmobs. Plus, my homework was done, I felt cute in Piper’s clothes (low-rise white shorts, an ocean blue shirt, and a silver necklace), I had friends—Ally, Erin, Noelle, Mia, and Yoona—and I’d see Jackson again at math club.
“See you, Pi—” My foot skidded forward, my backpack went flying, and my hands hit the ground, saving me from landing in full splits. But my fingers squished between the same slippery pile I’d skidded in—a steamy mound of dog mess.
“GROSS!” I screamed, hopped up, and wiped my hand on a patch of dry grass, trying to scrape off as much as I could. The ick coated my sandal, too, and the smell was all kinds of horrible.
Piper grabbed my backpack and the stuff that had spilled out. “You okay?” she asked, picking up my notebook, calculator, and magazine.
Magazine! I hadn’t packed that.
“Ugh! Gross!” I said again. I held my hands as far away from my sides as possible. “PIPER! Ew!”
“Come on,” Piper said. “I’ll carry your stuff to the restroom.”
“Ewewewewew!”
We rushed to the nearest bathroom. Rhena’s flyers were plastered all over the door. They featured a professional photo of Rhena smiling and holding a giant roll of Smarties and the slogan:
BE A SMARTIE!
VOTE RHENA FOR SPIRIT CAPTAIN!
If I weren’t in such a hurry, I would’ve pointed out that Rhena had taped her posters on top of Ally’s flyers and across other signs, too. Obnoxious!
I shoved open the door with my shoulder and power-scrubbed my hands at the sink. “So gross!” I repeated. “So gross.” I wiped my sandal clean and squeezed a gallon of soap from the dispenser into my palms for another scrubbing.
Strung across the mirrors was more of Rhena’s propaganda: “Chews Rhena Thornsmith for Spirit Fun!” Two wicker baskets tied with red and blue silk ribbons were sitting on the countertop. One was stacked with yellow packs of “Chews Rhena!” gum, and the other was filled with rolls of Smarties.
Piper leaned with the weight of both of our backpacks. “Uhhh, I hate to tell you, but that smell is not going away. Are you sure you got everything off your shoe?”
“Look.” I bent my knee and showed her the bottom of my sandal. “This is disgusting.” I turned back to the sink and rinsed my hands. This was supposed to be a great day.
I squeezed a third mountain of soap into my cupped palms, scrubbing and scrubbing, not paying attention to Piper. The next thing I knew our backpacks were on the floor and she was fanning the pages of the magazine.
“What are you doing?” I screamed.
“Victory,” she said, snatching out the perfume sample. “I knew it. Magazines always have a bunch of these.” She opened the perfume flap and—
“No!” I said, trying to block her with dripping hands, but Piper reached around and rubbed the sample down my arm. “Mmmmmm. See? The smell is gone already.” She smiled. “You’re welcome.”
She was right. The whole restroom brightened with the cool, minty scent.
“I should use some, too.”
“No!” I snatched the card from her grasp and held it behind my back. “I . . . umm . . . I’ll probably need it all.”
“Okay, Miss Stingy.” She smiled. “Well, here.” She handed me a paper towel. “I’ve got to go.”
“Thanks.” As Piper bounced off humming a song, I reread the perfume card: “For girls who want to exude cool. Open here to unleash the magic. Friends are sure to follow.”
My shoulders stiffened. The magazine was sitting on top of my backpack. The cover hadn’t changed—I still had one more use of magic—so maybe nothing would happen. I hoped nothing would happen. My breathing calmed. Perhaps it was a regular perfume sample after all. I reopened it and rubbed it on my wrist and neck, then tossed the sample into the trash.
Just then the bathroom door swung open and in came the scent of tangerines, followed by the green-eyed delivery girl.
“Hello, hello!” she said in her double-shot cappuccino frappy-happy way. “We meet again.”
“I . . . I . . .” What had I done?
“Clipboard, check.” She pulled a clipboard from her messenger bag. “See how easily I found this? I told you I was going to get more organized, and—ka-pow—I’ve done it.” She patted the clipboard. “It’s because of my new filing system. I put it under M for Megan. Wait, hmmm.” She put a hand to her chin. “Maybe I should file it under C for clipboard. Or just B for board—”
I cut her off. “Okay, great. But, ummm . . . why are you here?”
“Ah, yes.” She straightened her lens-free glasses and spent a moment reading her notes. “It says here the flap has been opened and—”
“What flap?”
She pointed to the perfume ad I’d tossed into the garbage. “And you used it. Now I need Piper’s signature of receipt.”
“Wait. Why Piper?”
“She opened the flap, right?”
“Yes, but I used the sample.” I clenched my fist at my side. Nobody was going to drag my little sister into this. “Only me. Piper didn’t use a drop.”
“Okeydoke. Then I need your signature of receipt.” She pushed the paperwork under my nose and produced the gold fountain pen.
“Wait, I—”
“It’s really just a formality. You’ve already used the product. Please sign.”
“But the sample came from the magazine, and that’s from my original wish. Isn’t the perfume included, like a package deal?”
“Nope. Not included. It’s a tangible good, an add-on. Like ordering a latte but asking for caramel on top. You pay extra for that.”
My shoulders dropped. More rules, and worse, more costs.
“Please sign. Quick quick. I have lots of deliveries today.”
“What does it do?” I asked.
“Let’s see.” She pushed her glasses up her nose and looked at the clipboard. “It’s pretty straightforward. Says here, you used the perfume and now friends will follow.”
“And what’s the catch? Am I going to start stinking once class starts?”
/> “Nope. Minty freshness all day long, lucky girl! Now let’s get this show on the road.”
She stared at me. I crossed my arms and stared back.
“Fun! I love staring contests. But I’m in a hurry, so either you can sign or Piper can sign.”
I grabbed the pen and put my name by the X, noticing microscopic fine print. “What else does that say?”
“What else indeed.” She snatched back the pen and looked at my signature. “Fantastico! You have lovely penmanship. It’s a lost art, you know. And now for your bonus.” She put the clipboard back inside her messenger bag and whipped out a crystal bottle labeled Parfum de Cataire, spritzing me down with a hazy mist. Then she breezed out the door.
CHAPTER
22
In the seventh-grade wing, the wall of lockers smelled like ham sandwiches, pencil shavings, and Fritos, but the enchanted perfume still wafted that bright mint scent to my nose.
I twisted my lock combination.
The door next to me clanged shut. A girl handed a book to her friend and smiled at me. “I love your necklace.”
“Thanks.” Overtalking or clamming up had been my middle school go-tos in Colorado. But no more. I reminded myself that HSMS had said to be positive and friendly, so I smiled at the girls and decided to keep it simple—say hi or how’s it going—easy . . .
“Hi . . . ow . . . dy,” fell from my mouth, followed by one of my snort-giggles. My blush came immediately.
But the girls didn’t roll their eyes or give me a Brooke-Sutherland-Ronald-Miller look. Instead they smiled, and one said, “Are you new here?”
I nodded.
“If you need anything, just ask. I mean, we’re locker neighbors, so you know where to find me.”
“Wow, thanks.”
They were really nice. Did the perfume do that?
They walked down the hall past Ally, who was headed my way with her friends. Stress tightened my throat. What if I snorted again? Or what if these girls were interested in me only because I was supposed to help Ally win Spirit Week?
Stop it, I told myself. The dog-poop drama and delivery girl had unhinged me, but these girls seemed genuinely nice. I had to quit overthinking or I’d come off like a total dorkjob. I grabbed books from my locker and glanced in Ally’s direction again. She finished talking to Turner, squeezed his arm, and then headed my way, friends in tow.
I forced my shoulders to relax.
“Hey, Fun-meister!” Erin said.
A blush threatened under my skin.
“Mmmmm,” Mia said, adjusting a stack of library books in her arm. “Your perfume smells great. What is that?”
“Peppermint Wish.” I took a whiff of my arm. “It is nice, right? I usually go for strawberry scents.”
“Me too,” Ally said. “Like I’m team strawberry ChapStick. Way better than cherry.”
“Burt’s Bees pomegranate,” Erin said. “That’s the real deal.”
And just like that, I was in a conversation.
Realization hit—the magical perfume had said friends would follow, and here they were. This was easy! I stopped worrying about saying the right thing and just talked while the magic scent wafted from my arm. Everyone chatted and laughed until Erin said, “I heard Miss Dragon Fruit had a study party at her house yesterday.”
My cheeks started to heat up, but I had a quick change of subjects at the ready. “Um, guess what? I’ve got Friday figured out. I’m going to organize a flashmob.”
A flashmob really was the perfect thing for Spirit Week elections. It would be the hugest thing this school had ever seen, especially since I had magic. I could copy a singing and dancing number from YouTube, and then I could wish my flashmob to be ten times better. A hundred times! I could wish for a celebrity, a rock star, or even the president of the United States to do the flashmob with us if I wanted. Saguaro Prep’s Spirit Week elections were going to be epic.
Suddenly I was beaming, and the group was smiling back, and Ally was saying, “A flashmob! I love it.”
Everyone started talking at once and sounding more and more excited.
“Super-clever, Megan,” Noelle said. “And Ally, you’re going to win for sure.”
“Yeah,” Erin agreed. “And I’ve always wanted to be in a flashmob. I can’t wait.”
“Me too. I wish it were Friday now,” Mia said.
Ally was nodding and smiling.
Everyone was happy. My world was perfect.
And then Rhena walked up.
“He-ey,” she said. “What’s going on here?”
None of her business. I didn’t have to put up with Rhena and her games, especially since I had the perfume to keep her in check today.
Shelby stood on her right. Yoona shuffled close behind, darting apologetic looks my way and sending enough secret glances for me to get the hint: keep the Humane Society thingy on the down-low.
“Nothing’s up.” I crossed my arms and waited for the perfume to take action.
“Any update for your”—Rhena paused and did air quotes—“‘big event’ on Friday?”
Shelby arched an eyebrow. Yoona turned her gaze to the tile floor.
“It’s going to be epic.” I loved how my words came out confident. Even my smile felt relaxed. “You can count on it.”
“But it’s a secret,” Ally said, placing her hands on her hips and winking at me. “The agreement was Friday, so no details for you guys until the Spirit Week elections.”
Rhena smirked. “That’s what I thought. A one-hit wonder.”
“You’ve clearly got nothing,” Shelby said.
Hold up. Why wasn’t the perfume working on them? Not that I wanted Rhena’s and Shelby’s friendship, but it was weird that they weren’t affected. Could they smell it?
“Excuse me,” Erin said. “Whatever Megan does for Spirit Week, it’s going to be for Team Ally. So it’s not like we’re going to give your group of legumes advance notice. You’ll just have to hear about it when it’s announced to the rest of the school.”
I tensed as I listened to my allegiances get declared out loud. No more Switzerland.
Rhena raised a challenging eyebrow at me. “Really?”
I wished I had the guts to say, “Yes, really,” but now my throat knotted.
Yoona looked at me, both worry and warning on her face. Then Ally looped an arm in mine and said, “Yep.”
“Fine,” Rhena said. “Let’s see how that goes for you. See you at the Spirit Week kickoff pep rally.” She turned to leave, but not before saying, “If I were you, I’d skip it and save myself the embarrassment.”
Students passing in the hall glanced at us.
My legs felt noodly, but Noelle said, “Ignore her.” She hooked her elbow in mine and patted my arm, her fingers dotted with henna hearts and rays. “Okay, move in, guys.” Erin, Mia, Ally, Noelle, and I tightened our circle and spoke in hushed voices. “Back to the flashmob.”
“Yeah,” Mia said. “Let’s do something fun, but can we please not do one of those singing and dancing numbers like on YouTube?”
“We’ll definitely be original,” Ally said. “Right, Megan?”
“Yeah. Mmmhmm. Of course,” I said. “Original.” There went my brilliant plan to copy.
“All right,” Noelle said, scrunching her eyebrows. “I get what a flashmob is, and I’m game for whatever. But how exactly does it work?”
“Well . . .” I explained how we’d make it so the entire seventh-grade class could put on a surprise event for the rest of the school. Every seventh grader would show up at the same place at the same time on Friday.
We settled on noon in the cafeteria, and then Erin and Mia started talking about a flashmob video they’d seen.
Mia said, “There’s this one where a guy proposes to his girlfriend by having her sit on the back of a truck bed. Someone in front slowly drives her down the street and the guy follows behind, singing to her and dancing.”
“Yeah,” Erin said. “And the truck is decked
out with giant speakers playing music and it keeps slowly rolling along like she’s on a parade float, and one by one the neighbors come out and they’re in on it, dancing and singing with the guy, and everything is perfectly choreographed.”
“Yep. Her parents were in on it, too,” Mia said.
“Awwww,” Ally said.
“Even a lady fixing the streetlight joins in,” Erin said.
Ally, Erin, Mia, and Noelle were smiling and laughing. “Ours is going to be ten times better!” I said. It didn’t matter that I didn’t have an idea—I had the magic clock. “Our Spirit Week kickoff will be the best Saguaro Prep has ever seen,” I said. “After I’m done, you’re going to wonder if I live a double life as a professional flashmob planner.
“In fact,” I added, preparing a lie, “I want to keep it on the down-low, but I actually have a secret, not-ready-for-disclosure plan. And it’s going to be major. My ide—” A cough exploded from my mouth before I could say “idea.” Not a regular cough—more like a full-blown gack, like I was hacking on a fur ball.
Ally patted my back. “Are you okay?”
I gacked and yarped and gacked and yarped until I managed to say, “Purrrfect . . . ummm, I’m fine.” I fumbled for my water bottle and chugged it down, wondering why the heck I sounded like a choking cat.
“So what are we doing?” Erin asked. “How can we help you prep?”
“Well . . .” My mind raced.
Mia pushed her glasses up her nose.
“Um . . . I—”
Just then the bell rang.
“You’re not telling us?” asked Noelle.
“Ummm.” I tucked my hair behind an ear. Parfum de Cataire wafted from my arm, reminding me I had magic—magic perfume and a magic clock—so I didn’t need to lie or worry about anything. “I’m sorry.” I swallowed. “I just . . . got excited. To be honest, I don’t really know what the flashmob is going to be yet. We’re definitely going to have a fun one, and I’m going to figure out the details before I involve you guys.”
“All right, Miss Fun-meister,” Ally said, smiling. “I’m sure it’ll be epic, knowing you!”