Project (Un)Popular Book #1

by Kristen Tracy

  “Okay,” Anya interrupted. “Can you guys fight on your own time?”

  But I thought that was pretty harsh. Because I didn’t even think we were fighting. We were having a small disagreement about whether or not Venice had ever yelled in my room. Which she had.

  “Okay,” Anya said, in a really disgusted voice. “We don’t have time to do this right now. We’re supposed to be at the janitor’s closet.”

  “We are?” I asked. I didn’t see that on the shoot list.

  “We’re picking up a ladder,” Anya said.

  I watched Anya stick her fingers in her mouth and unleash a whistle that would stop any dog. She yelled, “We’re going to come back to take some shots in ten minutes. So can you guys dial down the activity so you don’t develop head sweat?”

  I was really surprised Anya was so hung up about that. I mean, they were athletes. I felt sweat would make them look extremely authentic.

  Coach Battle jogged over to us to see what was wrong. “I forgot something,” Anya said. “But we’ll be right back.”

  “No problem,” Coach said. “We’ll be here.”

  But I was surprised we were leaving without taking our pictures. It seemed like a waste of time. I reached for the tripod to fold it back up, but Anya stopped me. “Leave it,” she said. “Let’s move.”

  And then Anya basically started running and so did Venice and I.

  “I hate making Fletcher wait,” Anya said. “He’s used to working with professionals.”

  After a long burst of running, and two tight turns, we’d made it to the janitor’s closet. But Fletcher wasn’t there. I think Anya could read my mind, because she saw me looking around and said, “He’s meeting us behind the building. Better light.”

  And then I watched as Anya opened the closet door, which I’d assumed would be locked, and walked inside it.

  “I’ll need help carrying it,” Anya said.

  Bang. Bang.

  “Do you need help right now?” I asked.

  I watched as Anya tried to steer the top of the ladder through the door.

  “Grab it,” she said.

  Venice and I both grabbed the ladder and helped lead Anya out of the closet.

  “Now hurry to the west exit,” she said.

  Even though we were wearing lanyards, I had this unshakable feeling I was doing something wrong. As we hustled down the hallway, every few doorways I sneaked a look inside. I timed it so that I caught a glimpse of Derby while he was taking his Idaho History quiz. I worried that he’d wave at me. Because I wasn’t really in a position where I could wave back. But he didn’t.

  When we got to the west exit, I saw Fletcher standing outside in a long blue coat. He opened the door for us, and I sort of hoped he’d help with the ladder. But he didn’t.

  “Cool prop,” Fletcher said as he finger-brushed his hair.

  “It’ll look better if you’re on the ground and I shoot from above you,” Anya said. “Like your toothpaste commercial. I loved those angles.”

  Fletcher didn’t seem to mind this idea at all. I watched as Anya climbed up to the very top of the ladder. It didn’t seem totally safe to do that, because the ladder wobbled.

  “Can you two hold this thing so I don’t die?” Anya said.

  Venice and I rushed to grab a leg.

  “Spread out the coat underneath you,” Anya instructed.

  Fletcher laid the coat on the concrete and then sat on top of it.

  “Look up at me,” Anya instructed.

  Click. Click. Click.

  “Do something more interesting with your legs,” Anya suggested.

  Fletcher bent his knees and leaned back.

  “Way too much crotch,” Anya said. “Do something else.”

  Fletcher rolled onto his side and shot Anya a sly grin.

  “Nice,” Anya said.

  “He’s totally ruining that jacket,” Venice whispered to me.

  But I sort of worried that Anya would hear her whispering and that would throw her off. She seemed to be in a flow.

  “Take your shoes off,” Anya said.

  Fletcher dramatically kicked off his sneakers.

  “Love the socks!” Anya cheered.

  “I wonder if Ms. Kenny knows we’re out here taking Fletcher Zamora’s picture with the janitor’s ladder,” Venice whispered.

  “Shhh,” I said. Because I really didn’t want Anya to hear us complaining about her.

  “Leo told on her,” Venice said.

  “Shhh!” I said louder.

  “He thinks she gets away with murder,” Venice continued, still whispering.

  “Shhh! Shhh!” I said. Sadly, because I was shushing Venice so aggressively, I moved the ladder a little too.

  “Argh!” Anya cried.

  I braced the ladder with my whole body as it rocked back and forth. Fletcher jumped up and tried to help. I was surprised by how good he smelled. Also, his chest felt warm in a really amazing way.

  “You okay?” Fletcher asked Anya.

  Anya had a firm grip on the ladder with both hands and was glaring down at me.

  “I actually need to get back to Trig,” Fletcher said. “If you want to take more, maybe we can set something up by the greenbelt. Maybe the rock gardens at Taylor’s Crossing. Or the waterfalls.”

  After seeing Anya on a ladder, I didn’t think it was smart for her to try to take Fletcher’s picture near waterfalls.

  “We’ll see how these turn out,” Anya said. “I’ve got to run and shoot the volleyball team.”

  “I really wish she’d say ‘we,’ ” Venice whispered. “Because we’re all doing it together.”

  “I can totally hear you,” Anya said.

  And that worried me. Because that meant she’d also heard that Leo had ratted on her. But to be honest, Anya had probably already guessed that.

  “Let’s go,” Anya said.

  I didn’t realize she’d climbed down from the ladder.

  “Let’s hurry,” Anya said. “I promised Ms. Kenny I’d turn in practice shots today.”

  We all took our original ladder-carrying positions and weaved our way back to the janitor’s closet. Luckily, it was still unlocked.

  “I can’t believe they don’t lock this,” Venice said. “They keep a ton of chemicals in here.”

  “They do lock it,” Anya said. “After first period.”

  And I don’t know why I decided to store that information, but I did.

  The second I slammed the closet door shut, Anya was ready to split. “Let’s move.”

  “I need a bathroom,” Venice said.

  Anya looked furious to hear that. “Meet us in the gym.”

  All three of us walk-jogged down the hallway, but Venice dove into the bathroom while Anya and I continued to the gym. It totally surprised me that we’d managed to get the ladder, shoot Fletcher, return the ladder, and get back to the gym in less than fifteen minutes. We worked as a team much better than we should have.

  “I’m not even going to waste time complaining about Leo the snitch,” Anya said. “That kid is going down.”

  “Okay,” I said. Because that was pretty good news.

  Anya glanced around, moving her gaze from one player to the next. She looked disappointed.

  “Do you think it’s rude if I tell them to take off their jackets?” Anya asked.

  Even though they were lobbing serves to one another and popping the volleyball over the net, most of the team hadn’t taken their warm-up jackets off yet. I think it was because the gym still felt refrigerator cold.

  “They look okay on,” I said.

  But Anya shot me a very annoyed look. “We can’t see their muscles. Volleyball players have some of the best deltoids. It’s a shame not to showcase that.”

  I shrugged. I never really thought about deltoids when I took people’s pictures. I usually worried about whether or not their hair looked good and their eyes were open. “They probably won’t mind taking them off,” I said. Because that was w
hat Anya wanted to hear.

  She ran over to talk to Coach Battle. A second later he blew his whistle. Then all the volleyball players peeled themselves out of their jackets.

  Anya rushed back to the tripod. “Check out Henry’s biceps. And triceps. They’re hot. I mean, even his elbows are exciting.”

  “Huh,” I said. Because it had never occurred to me that an elbow could be exciting.

  Then Hayes dove to the floor to scoop a ball and I saw his scabs again and I realized that healthy elbows were super important in determining a person’s hotness level. Really, any big scabs were a problem.

  “I’ve got to get back and label the photo files we did last week. Ms. Kenny thinks we’re getting sloppy. I mean, she’s totally overreacting,” Anya said.

  But I thought that was a little rude to say. Because I wasn’t getting sloppy at all. Anya had never let me label or download anything.

  “I want action shots. Passing. Digging. Tipping. All of it,” Anya said.

  But I didn’t really play volleyball. So I wasn’t sure what some of those things were.

  “Are you following any of this?” Anya asked me. “Does Venice understand volleyball?”

  And before I could answer, Anya was already backing up. “Of course she understands volleyball. With a brother like Victor she probably knows everything about everything when it comes to sports.”

  And if Anya hadn’t been backing up to leave, I might have asked her how well she knew Venice’s brother. But it just didn’t feel like the right time.

  “Tell Venice I want the best pike. The best campfire. The best attack block. The best pancake. The best power alley. And the best dink,” Anya said. “And if you get a good butt shot, take it.”

  “Okay,” I said. But I really couldn’t remember any of the moves she’d just rattled off, and I also couldn’t imagine putting butt shots in our yearbook.

  “I’m gone,” she said as she hit the door. “Don’t expect me to come back and help you. After I label files, I’m sending emails to club presidents. If Ms. Kenny comes to check on me, tell her that exactly. You and your traitor friend should send me all the shots when you’re done. Cool?”

  I wanted to tell Anya not to call Venice a traitor in public places like the gym, because it felt mean to damage her reputation like that. But she wasn’t exactly being loyal to Anya. So I just said, “Cool.” Because that was easier than starting a serious conversation while she was backing up and leaving me to take pictures of cute guys.

  And then she slipped out and I felt so relieved. It was like Anya had forgotten we were even mixed up with Derby. The stress of plotting his popularity behind his back melted out of me.

  Then the gym door flew back open and Anya popped her head through it. “And can you call me later about Derby? I mean, I need to stay on top of that.”

  “Okay,” I said. I could feel the melted stress unmelting and becoming real again. I felt somewhat happy that she wasn’t going to hound me. She did say that I could call her. But that nagging feeling that something might go wrong returned. As long as things went okay with Mrs. Esposito tonight, I really didn’t have any major-major-serious problems. I mean, today was turning out to be a good day.

  Venice burst through the door the second after Anya finally left. Venice was so excited that we were taking pictures together that she did a cartwheel toward me. I smiled huge when she did this. Because Venice hadn’t done a cartwheel toward me in weeks.

  “Perry!” a voice called. “Perry!”

  I looked over and saw Hayes. He had a volleyball and was tossing it up.

  “Want a picture of me serving?” he asked.

  “Um,” I said, switching lenses. “Venice and I still need to set things up.”

  Then Hayes winked at me. When he began the wink, I thought maybe he just had something in his eye. But by the time he finished it, I was totally sure it was a wink. Which freaked me out. Because following me for blocks, giving me free skate passes, and winking at me in the gym meant that Hayes liked me. And I didn’t want that. My life felt complicated enough.

  Venice gave me a quick hug and I handed her the camera to set up on the tripod. I helped her a little, but I felt so distracted. Why did the design squad think I was a Party? Was I more fun than I realized? Maybe Hayes saw that too. Maybe people were noticing things about me that I didn’t even think I was showing them.

  Party. It felt like a total compliment. But it also felt a little dangerous.

  Quiz Time

  My morning got better. I left Yearbook happy. And I stayed happy all day long. (Taking pictures with Venice did that for me.) PE was excellent, even though I had to learn how to play shuffleboard, because I made a great joke while pushing a tang to hit a biscuit. Poppy Lansing pushed a disc toward me and fell and I said, “Sometimes you’ve got to risk it to get the biscuit.” And people laughed so hard I heard snorts. And I had a pretty good time in English, even though I had to write a letter from the perspective of a starving person fleeing the dust bowl for California. Sure, my letter was depressing and I talked about how hungry I was, but I ended on an upbeat note where I discussed possibly visiting the ocean and seeing whales.

  And I also had a pretty good time in Science, even though Ms. Stott made us watch a video on the anatomy of an eyeball. Because I just closed my eyes during the gross parts where they showed us actual eyeballs. Leo didn’t even bug me too much at lunch, because he helped Venice and me study for our Idaho History quiz. I mean, after I lied to them and told them, “Derby couldn’t talk last night so we’re catching up tonight,” they basically suspended all Derby planning. We just focused on important Nez Percé stuff, like Chief Joseph and the Wallowa Valley. It wasn’t until Idaho History started that my day took a nosedive. Seriously. All the Party vibes got sucked out of me.

  Venice and I sat at our desks waiting for class to start. Luckily, we’d been assigned seats across from each other. Which was convenient on the days I forgot a pen. Which had happened a few times. Because it was hard for me to dress as cute as possible, remember to have my debit card loaded with lunch money, keep all my lies straight, plot my next move, and pack all my school supplies.

  As soon as we had gotten to class, Venice said something so annoying that I nearly lost my mind. Which was weird, because she hadn’t been annoying all day.

  “Remember that Leo said Mr. Falconer marks you down if you misspell the answer,” Venice said. “And try to stay calm. Because Leo says it’s not the quizzes that will kill you, it’s the midterm. Leo actually joined a study group for it last year.”

  I really didn’t care what Leo did in his spare time. And it offended me that Venice would assume the midterm might kill me. Because I thought she should have assumed that I might kill the midterm. But over the past few days I’d gotten good at not telling Venice what I really felt.

  “Thanks,” I said, fake smiling. “We should definitely study together for it.”

  “That’s a good idea. We should invite Leo,” Venice said. “I bet he still remembers some of the questions. He’s basically a genius. You know, I think he makes this year, like, three times as much fun as last year.”

  And that was it. She’d crossed a line. Because Leo hadn’t made this year three times more fun. He’d made it eighty-seven times more awful. And it was one thing to pretend to like him when he was helping me study. But it was quite another thing to pretend to like him when he wasn’t around and Venice was still gushing about him. I tried not to look upset and I kept fake smiling at her. “I don’t know. Last year was pretty fun.”

  But behind my smile I was seething. Leo wasn’t improving anything for anyone. And the only reason Venice thought otherwise was because she didn’t know about Leo’s awful true motives. That kid was pure dishonest yuck.

  Ring.

  “Good luck on your quiz,” Venice said. “Remember, Nez Percé has an accent over the last e.”

  I nodded.

  “Remember, Leo said Mr. Falconer won’t give you cr
edit without it.”

  I nodded again. How could Venice not detect that I really didn’t care what Leo said about anything, even accent marks? Even though I knew I was great at being fake around Leo, I was sort of disappointed that Venice hadn’t picked up on it. Because I thought a best friend should know the difference between when you’re being real and when you’re posing.

  “I’m going to die if I don’t tell you something,” Venice whispered.

  I glanced at her. “Okay,” I whispered back.

  “The reason I was in such a good mood this morning is because something happened on the bus.”

  And that made me feel bad, because it meant that maybe when she cartwheeled toward me it was because she was happy about something other than taking pictures with me. Which seemed totally rude to be bringing up now.

  “Leo wants to kiss me,” Venice whispered.

  My mind exploded. What? Venice? Kiss? Leo? This made her happy? Venice shouldn’t kiss Leo. Was she being serious?

  I looked at her and raised my eyebrows. My first impulse was to stand up in the middle of Idaho History and demand that Venice promise me that she would not ever kiss Leo Banks. But I knew that was tactically the wrong thing to do. Because it would shut down the flow of information. And probably Mr. Falconer would give me an F on my quiz. Plus, it might just drive Venice further into Leo’s awful arms. Mr. Falconer stood in front of the class ready to distribute our quizzes. But it felt like such a bad time to take a quiz. Because my best friend had just confessed to me that she wanted to kiss a jerk.

  “On the mouth?” I asked in disbelief.

  Venice blushed and nodded.

  “I’m handing out quizzes,” Mr. Falconer said. “No talking.”

  But that was pretty much an impossible request. Because when your best friend told you she thought Leo Banks wanted to kiss her on the mouth, you had to keep talking about it.

  “When did he tell you this?” I asked.

  I imagined them having a barfy late-night call when he confessed all his feelings about her.

  “No talking,” Mr. Falconer said. “Or you get a zero on the quiz.”

  I imagined my dad checking TRAC and seeing the zero where my score should be. I bit my lips together. It felt like I was dying.