Project (Un)Popular Book #1

by Kristen Tracy

  And I felt very overwhelmed all of a sudden by my unmade topographic map and my dad’s daily habit of checking all my classes on TRAC.

  “I don’t want to make you upset,” my mom said. “I just don’t want you to neglect your classes.”

  “Six is too many,” I said. Because really, my day would be so much easier if I could stop attending Idaho History altogether.

  “I totally understand how you feel,” my mom said. “I still have nightmares that I forgot to study for an important exam. I spend my whole dream cramming for it, racing around, and looking for the classroom. It’s just awful. And sometimes I’m not wearing pants.”

  The idea that I’d grow up and be my mom’s age and still have dreams about my Idaho History homework really terrified me.

  “Is Venice working on her map?” she asked. “Maybe you could work on it together.”

  I shook my head. “Our teacher gave us independent assignments. Each of us got something different. I got assigned a topographic map and she got assigned a diorama of the Idaho portion of the Oregon Trail.”

  “He sounds tough,” my mom said.

  “Mr. Falconer is in love with Idaho,” I said. “He collects ancient memorabilia and hangs it on his walls and then forbids flash photos because he doesn’t want anything to fade.”

  “Wow,” my mom said. “That’s intense. I’m surprised you haven’t mentioned any of that before.”

  But that felt like a complaint about me. And that wasn’t really what I wanted to hear from my mom. I just wanted her to agree that Mr. Falconer and his assignment were pretty terrible. Then my phone started ringing. And it was a number I didn’t recognize.

  “Is that Venice?” my mom asked.

  And I shrugged. “I have no idea who it is.”

  My mom looked a little concerned. “Can I answer it?”

  And while I didn’t love the idea of my mom answering my phone, I also thought that if it was Anya calling me on a different number, maybe my mom answering it was a good thing.

  “Okay,” I said. “But I’m not in the mood to talk to anybody. I’ve got too much homework.”

  “Hello?” she said. “Yes, this is Perry’s phone. Who’s this?”

  And I tried to listen to see if I could recognize Anya’s voice, but it sort of sounded like a boy.

  “Derby Esposito,” my mom said. “Perry’s not around right now.”

  I started flapping my hands in front of her face to let her know that she should hang up and stop talking to Derby right now.

  “What? You were calling to get our home phone number because your mother wants to talk to me?” my mom said.

  And this was like the worst thing that had ever happened in my living room. “No,” I mouthed. “Hang up!” I swung for my phone to try to grab it away, but my mom stood up and turned away from me.

  “Sure,” she said. “I’m happy to talk with her. Hi, I’m Perry’s mom.” She started walking toward the kitchen.

  “Mom, hang up,” I said. “Hang up my phone.”

  But she kept talking.

  “Yes,” my mom said. “Perry is a junior photographer on Yearbook.”

  It was like my whole plan and life and everything was crashing down around me. Why had I let my mother answer my phone? And why had Derby Esposito called me to get my home phone number? Why?

  “I’ll have to talk to Perry about that,” she said. “But it shouldn’t be a problem to set that up. We’re free tonight.”

  Oh no! My mother was setting something up with Derby’s mom. And had said we were free tonight. What was happening?

  “No. Don’t do it, Mom,” I said. “Hang up! You’re not being rude if you do that. You’re being helpful! We are not free! We are not free!”

  But my mother frowned at me and wagged her finger. I’d only seen her do that one other time before, and that was to a dog.

  “Oh, Derby’s in the middle of gluing a school project?” she said. “Is this for Idaho History? I think Perry is making that same map.”

  I couldn’t believe that my mom was telling Derby’s mom details about our personal lives. Why did they need to know that stuff?

  “Oh, he is?” my mom said. “Sounds like Derby’s having the same experience as Perry.”

  Did my mother secretly hate me? Why was she jeopardizing everything in my life I’d tried to build?

  “Okay,” she said. “When Perry surfaces, I’ll run that by her. Bye.”

  And then my mom handed me back my phone and I held it to my chest and started breathing very hard.

  “Calm down,” she said. “That was your friend Derby’s mom.”

  And I just ignored the fact that she’d called Derby my friend and got to what mattered. “What did she say? What did Derby say? What are you setting up?” I asked.

  “Don’t hyperventilate,” my mom said. “She wants to meet you.”

  And this was way worse than I’d expected. “Huh?” I said. “Did you tell her no way?” Because I really didn’t want to get Derby’s mom any further involved in this. What would Anya say if I told her I’d met Derby’s mom? I couldn’t let that happen.

  “She seems a little protective,” my mom said. “And she said you’re going to take some special pictures of him. And she’s a little leery about that because of what happened with the python. And she wanted to talk to you about that.”

  “Mom,” I said. “I am not going to talk to Derby’s mom about this. Or the python. Or anything.”

  “Why are you acting like this?” she asked. “She wants to drop by tomorrow night.”

  “No!” I said. “I don’t want to meet his mom.”

  “Well, I already told her she could come by. And she’s bringing some of Derby’s leftover cardboard, because apparently some sixth graders don’t wait until the last minute to do their assignments.”

  I could not believe that my mother had just compared me to Derby in a negative way. Was she trying to damage my self-esteem?

  “Derby can keep his cardboard,” I said. “Could you please call Mrs. Esposito right now and un-tell her everything you just told her? Because this could ruin my life. Derby is a giant goof. The whole school thinks he’s a joke. I mean, I’m trying to help him, but having this meeting could really jeopardize my reputation.”

  And then my mom looked at me with a ton of disappointment on her face and I really regretted telling her all that.

  “You need to lower your voice and stop talking to me that way and accept the fact that Derby is coming over tomorrow night and giving you his cardboard. And you will talk to Mrs. Esposito. And you will be nice to them. And you will never again put somebody’s feelings below your reputation. Because that’s mean.”

  “Mom,” I said, trying to calm her down.

  “No more talking,” my mom said. “Go to your room.”

  And that really stunned me. Because I hadn’t realized she was that mad.

  “Fine,” I said, in a grumpy whisper-huff.

  “And leave your phone with me,” she said.

  Leave my phone? It felt like somebody had hit me in the face with a basketball. (That actually happened to me in third grade. It was the worst pain ever, especially around my nose.) I surrendered my phone to my mother and stumbled back to my room and collapsed onto my bed. How had things gotten this bad this fast? I replayed the day in my mind. Things had started going bad the second Leo messed up at lunch. In fact, if Leo had been able to talk to Derby like a normal person, I wouldn’t have had to talk to Derby much at all. And then I bet Derby wouldn’t have tried to call me. I put all the pieces together. My life was falling apart because Leo Banks was still in it. And he was so absorbed with his own great life and new relationship with Venice that he didn’t even notice he was ruining mine.

  Never had my life felt this out of control. My mind spun. There was so much pressure on me to find a solution. I stared at my ceiling waiting for the perfect idea to hit me. But all I saw was my dusty ceiling light and a dozen pale-green glow-in-the-dark sta
rs that had stopped glowing months ago. Venice and I had stuck those stars up there last year. We thought they’d make my room look like outer space when we turned off the lights. But their glow was too wimpy. When I flicked off the light and learned this, I was pretty disappointed. Because I’d ordered them online and they’d had a thousand over-the-top amazing reviews.

  “Either all those people were liars or we got a defective batch,” I’d told Venice as we lay side by side staring at the dim fake stars.

  And Venice, who was the most amazing friend in the world, said, “They kind of work. When I close my eyes I see the Big Dipper.”

  And that had made me laugh so hard. And her too. We just lay there laughing at how terrible my stars looked. I could feel tears wanting to fall out of my eyes when I thought about this. But I didn’t want to cry. That wasn’t going to help me. I squeezed my eyes shut as tight as I could. But instead of seeing the Big Dipper, all I saw was darkness. And for a second I worried that this was a sign. Maybe there was no solution to this. Maybe Leo was going to successfully steal Venice away from me and I was just going to have to live with it.

  Volleyball Shots

  Yearbook felt electric the moment I entered the classroom. And then the best thing happened. Venice raced to greet me at the door and asked, “Are you okay? When I texted you last night, your mom texted back ‘This is Perry’s mom and she’s grounded.’ ”

  And that sort of surprised me. Because I didn’t realize my mom thought that.

  Because sending me to my room and grounding me were two different things.

  “It wasn’t that dramatic. I got behind on my topographic map,” I explained. I decided to leave out the part about Derby calling my phone. And my mom talking to Derby. And my mom setting up a meeting at my house tonight with Derby and his mom and me.

  Venice’s face looked pink, like she was super excited or incredibly happy or maybe had a temperature. And I could tell right away that she didn’t want to talk about my map.

  “What’s wrong in here?” I asked. Because everybody was already in their assigned seats working. Even Anya. And the bell hadn’t even rung.

  “Ms. Kenny blew up,” Venice said. Her eyes were as big as paper plates.

  “Is she okay?” I asked. Because immediately my mind leaped to the Pyrex explosion at my house.

  “Yeah. But she’s so upset with Anya,” Venice said with a tiny smile.

  It relieved me to learn my first-period teacher had not actually blown up. At least my life hadn’t spun into that much tragedy.

  Venice started speaking in a whisper. “Anya was supposed to shoot the clubs this week.”

  I followed Venice’s lead and whispered back to her. “I thought that got moved to next month.”

  Venice shook her head. “Ms. Kenny never approved that.”

  I glanced at Anya, who was furiously writing something down on a yellow legal pad.

  Venice tugged on my arm to get my attention back. “We have to finish shooting all clubs by next week. Ms. Kenny said we’re photographically behind. And she also said that Anya needs to learn how to delegate.”

  Ring.

  I felt a hand on my shoulder and flipped around.

  “Hi, Perry,” Ms. Kenny said. “Did Venice tell you that we’ve adjusted the shooting schedule?”

  I nodded. I was really surprised that Ms. Kenny had made Anya change her plans. She seemed really set on how she wanted to do it.

  “You can grab your lanyard and head out,” Ms. Kenny said. “Anya’s got the updated list.”

  Venice leaned into me and quietly squealed. “She’s in so much trouble.”

  I watched as Anya started cramming equipment into the gear bag. She seemed very upset. But at least she wasn’t asking me a million questions about Derby and how that was going. At this rate, as long as she stayed mad, I could easily avoid telling her about Derby’s mom coming to my house tonight.

  “Here,” Venice said, enthusiastically handing me my lanyard.

  But I was so shocked by everything that I just stood there and let Venice slip it over my neck.

  “You know this means you’ll be taking the pictures today, right?” Venice asked.

  I was so upset from all the bad stuff happening that it seemed unbelievable that good stuff could be happening at the same time.

  “I’m going to love that,” I said.

  Then Venice flung her arm through mine and hugged me a little. But I wasn’t expecting it and it sort of knocked me off balance. “I can’t wait to hear how the call with Derby went,” she whispered. “School is getting so exciting.”

  I stared at Venice when she said this. Was this what school felt like to her? Because I felt totally burdened by my lies and pretty exhausted with all the planning and phone calls. Was I doing something wrong? Because suddenly her life in sixth grade seemed way better than mine.

  Once Anya had all her stuff, she didn’t even ask us to follow her; she just walked out of the room and we tagged along behind her.

  “So which club are we shooting first?” Venice asked as she practically skipped. “Maybe we should do languages first. Spanish. French. German.”

  But Anya didn’t answer. She just kept huffily walking toward the gymnasium.

  “Are you going to shoot them in the gym?” Venice asked. “I thought we’d do it in the library. Isn’t that where they shot them last year?”

  Anya still didn’t answer. And when she reached the gym door, she pulled on it so hard that I thought I heard her elbow pop.

  “We actually can’t do clubs right now,” Anya said in a voice so angry that it quivered. “Because none of the clubs know we’ve adjusted the schedule. I’m going to have to email their presidents. The soonest we can shoot any of them is Friday.”

  “Oh,” Venice said, sounding super bummed out.

  “So why are we at the gym?” I asked. Because if we weren’t going to take pictures, why did we grab all the equipment?

  Anya didn’t even answer me and walked through the door.

  “Is there a reason she’s mad at me?” I whispered to Venice. Because I started getting really paranoid that I’d done something wrong that I’d forgotten about.

  But before Venice could answer me, Anya flipped around and faced me. “Please stop whispering. I have excellent hearing.”

  And that made Venice and me both jump a little. Because Anya said that so loudly and with such force that a little bit of her spit landed on us.

  “Today’s schedule stays the same,” Anya snapped.

  But then I realized I didn’t even know today’s schedule. So I raised my hand.

  “You’re not in class,” Anya barked at me. “You don’t need to do that.”

  “Um,” I said, super surprised by her level of hostility. “What is the schedule?”

  And then Anya sort of lost it and threw her bag down on the floor and started digging through it. Venice and I looked at each other. And when Anya continued to dig through her bag I felt a little bit bad. Like maybe I was making her waste valuable time.

  “It’s cool if you can’t find the schedule,” I said.

  Anya looked up at me and frowned. Some of her blond hair stuck to her pink glossy lips. “Can you give me a minute?”

  And then Venice and I just stood there again. Inside the gym I heard a bunch of sneaker squeaks and ball slaps.

  “Who has gym first period?” I asked. Because it sounded really aggressive in there.

  “That’s actually the volleyball team,” Anya said. “We’re going in there to take some photos of practice.”

  “Cool,” I said. But Anya totally ignored me.

  Finally, Anya found what she wanted in the bag. She handed me a list written on yellow paper.

  SHOOT SCHEDULE WEDNESDAY

  ~ BOYS’ VOLLEYBALL PRACTICE SHOTS

  ~ FLETCHER ZAMORA (LADDER)

  ~ GIRLS’ VOLLEYBALL PRACTICE SHOTS

  ~ MAKE VENICE AND PARTY WRITE CAPTIONS

  The list made a lot of s
ense until I got to the part where she’d misspelled my name. A typo I could understand. But this list was handwritten.

  “Um,” I said. “You wrote Party instead of Perry.”

  Venice squinted and looked at that line a little closer. “Oh yeah. She did.”

  Anya snatched the list back from me. “I meant to do that. It’s your nickname. It’s what the design squad calls you.”

  “I have a nickname?” I asked. “And it’s Party?” That seemed like a positive development, because it meant that people thought I was fun. But I wasn’t sure why they were using it behind my back and not to my face.

  “Let’s go,” Anya said, totally ignoring my questions. “I want to get these done before they develop head sweat.”

  As we walked through the gym, the boys kept practicing. I only recognized a couple of them. I didn’t really run with the school athletes.

  “Let’s set up the tripod here,” Anya said.

  And then she just stood there, because I guess she expected Venice and me to do that.

  “Um,” I said. “I didn’t bring the tripod.”

  “It’s in the bag,” Anya said.

  Venice and I pulled out the tripod and locked the legs into place.

  “Shouldn’t the team be wearing their uniforms?” I asked. Because if they weren’t, I thought the photos would look unprofessional.

  “They’re wearing their uniforms,” Anya said.

  And then I took a closer look and realized that was true.

  “Okay,” Anya said. “Which one of you has the loudest mouth?”

  And I thought that was a pretty harsh question. “Um,” I said. “We’re both pretty good at keeping secrets.”

  Venice nodded.

  “What are you talking about?” Anya said. “I need for one of you to yell at these guys to stop playing so we can let them know we’re shooting.”

  “Oh,” I said. That actually made more sense than what I thought. “Venice does.”

  But Venice looked a little hurt when I said that. “I think you do,” she responded.

  “No way,” I said. “When you yell it makes the posters in my bedroom shake.”

  “I never yell in your bedroom,” Venice said. “What are you talking about?”