“What?” I asked.
She turned around to look at me. “A photo of you on the first day of school.”
I thought back a whole month and tried to remember what I’d looked like and how I’d felt that day. I vaguely remember thinking my hair had too much frontal poof. But when you have naturally wavy, medium-length brown hair with sideswept bangs, sometimes that happens.
“Considering my day, I don’t know if this is the best time to judge me,” I said.
“I’m not here to judge you. I’m here to help. Your outfit that day was eighty percent orange,” Piper said, working her way through my shirts one by one.
When she said that I vividly remembered my first-day-of-school outfit. I’d worn my new orange Hamburg Hoodie. I’d thought it looked awesome, and I said so.
“That outfit’s a hit. Everybody at school is wearing Hamburg Hoodies,” I said.
“Orange ones? I thought Hamburg Hoodies were pale yellow,” she said, sounding really skeptical. Then she flipped around and held up the offending hoodie. “Other than you, the only thing I’ve ever seen covered in this much orange is a traffic cone.”
“You are being so mean,” I said. Her criticism really stung. I mean, sure, the trend was pale yellow today. But when I bought my Hamburg Hoodie that color was sold out. So the clerk had encouraged me to get in front of the trend and buy a bold color.
Piper dropped the hanger to the floor. “Everything I’m saying is out of love. Guess who was named Best Dressed all three years of middle school?”
“You?” I asked. I wasn’t too surprised to learn this. Piper was trendy and back then she wore a ton of jewelry.
“No. Melanie Soto. But do you know who went shopping with her every week? Moi. And do you know who convinced her to get brow-skimming bangs? Moi. What you look like matters. I mean, don’t judge me based on what I’m wearing now. Since I’ve embraced yoga, I only wear flowy clothes.”
I stared at her. I didn’t even know what to say. Everything she was telling me made me feel extra lame. I couldn’t wait for her to leave so I could call Venice and recount all my sister’s crazy insults.
“Don’t look at me like that, Perry,” Piper scolded. “I’m here because I want to help you.”
I walked over and picked up my Hamburg Hoodie. “But I don’t think I need this kind of help,” I explained. Until Piper showed up, I had actually planned on wearing this outfit tomorrow.
“Perry,” Piper said. “If you want to topple the popular kids and save the nerds, you need to dress the part.”
I didn’t say anything to that. Because I wasn’t sure I wanted to do any of those things. We stood there in silence, with me holding my orange hoodie and Piper looking at it in horror.
“All I want is for Yearbook to be fair,” I said.
Piper rolled her eyes. “If life was fair, we’d all own yachts and have butt-length hair and awesome boyfriends like Bobby. But life isn’t fair. Less than one percent of us will get those things.”
Sometimes Piper really lost me. Because I didn’t even think I wanted a yacht or butt-length hair or a boyfriend named Bobby. My face must have had a confused look on it, based on what Piper said next.
“I really am giving you good advice. If you want to help the nerds, that’s great. But if you dress like a traffic cone, the popular kids will see you coming. They’re not interested in changing the system. It works for them. Do yourself a favor, Perry, and try to blend.”
And I wasn’t sure if Piper was telling me this because she thought it was the most peaceful solution or because she thought it would work. But it sounded pretty bogus to me.
Luckily, I didn’t have to respond to her, because my phone started ringing.
Venice had saved me. I knew it was her calling me, because we made each other’s ring tones “Axel F” by Crazy Frog over the summer.
“Venice?” I said. “I’m so glad it’s you.”
“Hi, Venice,” Piper yelled as she backed out of my room. “I love you, Perry. I’m only trying to help you. Tell Mom I took the bread.”
I let out a big breath and whispered into the phone, “I need to tell you one million crazy things.”
“Actually, I can’t talk right now. One of my mom’s catering assistants canceled and I need to go skewer antipasto kabobs,” Venice said.
“You’ve called to tell me you can’t talk to me?” I asked. Because that seemed like a wasted call.
“I’m calling to give you some great news,” Venice said.
“What is it?” I asked. I really needed some great news.
“My brother Victor knows Derby Esposito’s sister Rose, and so he called Rose and got Derby’s number, so you can call him now.”
I didn’t say anything right away. I think I was still waiting for the great news.
“Perry?” Venice said.
“Why would I want to do that?” I asked. I really didn’t understand why Venice would think calling Derby was even close to great news. Sure, I wanted to include his picture in the yearbook. But I didn’t want to call him.
“So you can ask him if you can remove his booger. Once you get written permission I think you should send that photo directly to Ms. Kenny. That should be our new plan. We bypass Anya and we take back the yearbook one great photo at a time.”
“Um,” I said. “You think I should just call Derby up and start asking him questions about his booger? That’s your great idea?” I couldn’t picture myself doing that.
“We need to get our best photos in front of the decision makers. If we present that photo without Derby’s approval, we risk Anya talking Ms. Kenny out of it. Let’s face it. Yearbook has gotten political.”
Venice’s voice sounded so enthusiastic and certain. I wish I could have felt that way. “Well, maybe after I finish my Idaho History homework,” I said. “I have to draw a really complicated map for tomorrow that includes forts and rivers.”
“We’re in the same boat! Duh. I sit right next to you,” Venice said. “FYI, Mr. Falconer loves Meriwether Lewis.”
“Right,” I said. It sort of bugged me that she sounded so jazzed. And also that she said the word duh to me.
“Let me know how it goes,” she said. “Bye!”
I walked to the kitchen to see if Piper was still there. She wasn’t. And all our bread was gone. Home life. It was as hard on me as sixth grade.
Since my mom worked late on Thursdays as a receptionist at my dad’s dental practice, I decided to get started on the map. I went back to my room, pulled out my Idaho History book, and began looking for forts and rivers. Mandan. Clatsop. Missouri. Clearwater. Snake. Columbia. I tried very hard not to think about Yearbook, or Derby, or anything Piper had said. I turned my focus to finding all the map’s blue winding lines.
I was glad I wasn’t born in a time when people had to be explorers. I would have hated doing that. All that walking in uncomfortable boots toward the unknown. Plus, you had to carry your own canoe. And sometimes you had to eat dog meat. And not everybody survived. Nothing about it sounded appealing or fair. Sketching the squiggling rivers into place, I wondered if anybody else at my school making this map felt the same way.
Assembly Photos
I decided to wear my orange hoodie after all. Because it didn’t seem logical to let a college student who wore tribal-print palazzo pants and tank tops tell me how to dress.
“Snappy look,” my dad said as I sat down at the table and joined him for breakfast.
“Thanks,” I said, glancing at his outfit. I didn’t really feel like I could return the compliment, because he was wearing a dark-brown shirt and light-brown pants and it wasn’t a very flattering look. Like it or not, being a photographer had changed the way I looked at people. Because I didn’t look at them like people as much as I looked at them as potential photographs. And if I took a picture of my dad right now, he would look like a possibly dead tree trunk.
“Where’s the toast?” I asked, staring down at my bowl of dry cereal. Then I remem
bered that Piper had stolen all our bread.
“Cereal today,” my mom called from the kitchen sink. “Toast tomorrow.”
I wondered if all college students stole their family’s food or if Piper was a special case. I poured my milk and tried not to feel bitter about it.
“I went online last night with TRAC,” my dad said.
“Why?” I asked. TRAC was our school’s online grading portal. It was also where teachers put their teaching philosophies and syllabuses. It surprised me that my dad was checking it, because I checked it all the time and I’d never had any late assignments or low grades. He didn’t need to be on there.
“Have you finished your Idaho History map?” he asked. He’d finished eating his cereal and was slowly peeling a banana.
“Yes,” I said. But really I thought he should have asked me that question much earlier than the morning it was due.
“Did you know that in English you’re spending the whole semester reading literature about the Great Depression?” he asked.
Of course I knew that. Other than the Great Depression, the only other subject Ms. Torres talked about was how to format an essay.
“She must be tough,” he said. “She’s making you write six essays this semester.”
This made me choke a little bit on my apple juice. Because I didn’t like thinking about future homework while eating.
“And have you checked out your major assignment in Idaho History?” he asked. “Your teacher actually lists useful power tools to help you complete it.”
My dad really didn’t understand what a sixth grader wanted to talk about at the breakfast table. “Venice and I are only reading the syllabus a week ahead so we don’t freak out at all the work we have to do,” I explained.
“Sounds smart,” my mom said.
“Shouldn’t you look at the whole semester? What if you’ve got two essays due the same week you’ve got exams in math and science?” my dad asked. “Isn’t it better to know that now?”
“Did you see that on TRAC?” I asked. Because that basically sounded like a week that would kill me. And Venice and I hadn’t seen any week that looked like that on TRAC.
“Let’s not stress Perry out before school,” my mom said. “I’m sure the teachers coordinate major assignments.”
Breakfast was making me feel really anxious.
“Well, I hope you have a great day,” my dad said, totally ignoring that everything he’d said to me to this point was designed to make the opposite happen.
I swallowed. “I hope you have a great day too, and that nobody shows up with a traumatic gum injury.”
My dad laughed at that. “Thanks. Everything on the books looks pretty basic. Cavities. A crown. Removing a permanent retainer. Nothing too exciting.”
I really didn’t like to hear about my dad’s work. It’s not that I thought teeth were disgusting, but sometimes he talked about mouth diseases and those were completely disgusting.
“If we can’t talk about classes, can we talk about the assembly today?” my dad asked. “Do you know who’s coming? It’s listed as TBA.”
My dad wanted to be involved in my life. Which should’ve made me feel tremendously loved but sometimes made me feel pestered.
“A snake is coming,” I said.
“What?” my mom asked in a concerned voice.
“What kind of snake?” my dad asked, in a curious, excited, and very unconcerned voice.
“A python,” I said. “They announced it last week. It’s from Southeast Asia.”
“Why couldn’t they bring a turtle?” my mom asked. “Kids love turtles. And they don’t constrict around people’s chests and squeeze them to death.” She clenched her fist really hard until it shook a little.
“Eww! We need to stop talking about lethal homework and snake death grips,” I said as I loaded up my backpack.
“If they let students hold the snake,” my dad said, “do you think you’ll volunteer?”
That question made me squirm. Of course I didn’t want to do that. I was going to be too busy anyway. “I’m on Yearbook,” I explained. “We’ll be taking pictures of the snake.”
My mother grimaced when I said this. “Don’t crowd it. Snakes are springy. They can lunge without warning.”
But I rolled my eyes at that comment, because I was sure that Principal Hunt would never allow a springy python that could lunge without warning to enter the gymnasium.
“I’m not worried about it,” I said. “Love you guys.” And I was gone.
Walking to school, I thought a lot about what Venice had said the night before. I hoped she wasn’t going to be disappointed that I hadn’t called Derby. Maybe if Venice hadn’t been skewering kabobs, I could have talked to her more about what I needed to say to Derby and then I would have felt more comfortable making that call. Venice was sensible. I hoped she’d understand why I hadn’t done what I hadn’t done.
As soon as we got to Yearbook, Anya sought me out and said something that improved my mood quite a bit. “You have great animal energy. So you’ll shoot the snake.”
“Really?” I said. I’d been sort of prepared to hate Anya for the rest of the year, but this made me like her a little. I loved taking pictures. “Have you told Venice?” Because I didn’t want Venice to think I was hogging the camera.
“Yeah,” Anya said. “She’s totally cool with it. Let’s come up with a game plan with Ms. Kenny. I want to give you the best opportunity to get the best photos.”
Ms. Kenny quickly joined me and Anya and Venice to create a game plan. It felt pretty awesome. I liked the idea that we were all on the same team. Because until this moment, it hadn’t felt that way.
“You’ll definitely want to show up to the gym with your wide-angle lens on and the lens cap off and ready to shoot,” Ms. Kenny said.
“Right,” I said. That seemed like a no-brainer.
“And don’t overfocus on the python. You want pictures of the crowd, too,” Anya said.
“Exactly,” Ms. Kenny said. “And don’t forget the teachers. And the principal. This is a great chance to get colorful reaction shots.” Ms. Kenny looked really crisp and happy today. She was wearing a gray jersey shirt with zippers near the shoulders and a black skirt that flared at her knees. Maybe she’d worn such a cute outfit because she wanted me to take her picture today. I made a mental note to look for Ms. Kenny during the assembly.
“The handler, Mr. Mortimer, is expecting a photographer, but he’s asked that we not approach the snake’s head area unless we see that he has secured the snake’s mouth between his hands. And no sudden movements. He says this one can be nippy,” Ms. Kenny said, making pinching motions with her fingers.
“Nippy?” I asked. I started to wonder if Anya knew about that and maybe didn’t want to take the snake photos.
“He says she’s never nipped anyone before,” Ms. Kenny said. “Oh, dear, you look nervous. Do you want me to take the pictures?”
Did I want that? Not really. I felt like any chance I had to take school photos was a shot to get them into the yearbook. “I’m fine,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“Great! I think we’re set,” Anya said. “The bell will ring in a few minutes.”
I decided to shove any fear I had about the nippy python out of my brain and focus on the positives. Ultimately, I was pretty happy. That was the great thing about my life. One minute it looked pretty hopeless, and the next minute I was in charge of photographing our principal reacting to a python.
Venice pulled me aside, into the room’s back corner. She looked really concerned. She was probably worried about me and the nippy snake. I tried to give her a reassuring smile, but before I could do that she blurted out something alarming.
“So I asked Derby if he’d talked to you and he said, ‘What are you talking about?’ ” Venice stared at me hard, her wide-eyed gaze filled with disgust and disbelief.
But I stared right back at her with an equal amount of disgust and disbelief in my own eyes. B
ecause I couldn’t believe Venice was asking Derby about me not calling him. That felt like a total invasion of everybody’s privacy.
“I didn’t know what to say. It felt too weird to call him up and ask if I could image-edit his nose,” I said. “I think there must be another way.”
“Perry, if we’re going to actually fix the yearbook, we’re going to have to make our move right now. And that might mean we have some weird conversations. It’s just how it’s going to be,” Venice argued.
“Yeah,” I said. I felt so conflicted. I wanted to change the system. But I didn’t know how. Because the system was bigger than I was. And since even Piper knew all about it, it meant the system had been around at Rocky Mountain Middle School for a long time.
“Maybe we can find him at lunch,” Venice said.
Getting his phone number. Finding him at lunch. It was beginning to feel like Venice wanted me to stalk Derby Esposito. Was that really the solution?
“Hey, Perry,” a voice said from behind me. “Make sure you don’t take off your shoes. My uncle saw a guy get bit by a python during a special feeding session at a zoo. I think it thought his white socks were rats.”
“What?” I asked, flipping around to see Leo. Why was he always giving me advice I didn’t want?
“The python isn’t going to bite me,” I said. “No part of my body looks like a rat.” And then, to let him know I was super offended by what he’d said, I snapped my fingers and turned my back to him.
Leo walked off and joined Eli, Javier, and Luke by the door.
“You totally just bit his head off,” Venice said. “Are you okay?”
That was when I realized I wasn’t okay. I felt really stressed out. I didn’t want to have to think about anything except taking totally awesome pictures of the snake and the audience.
Ring.
I walked up to Anya, because I thought she’d want to go with Venice and me to the auditorium so she could oversee the photos.
“Cool,” Anya said, leaning down so she could whisper something in my ear. “Sailor, Sabrina, and I are going to sit in the front row near the center. That way you can get our boots in the shot. If you give us a countdown, we’ll give you a surprised reaction every take.”
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