by Meg Cabot
“Okay,” Dusty said, coming over. “Here we go. Your Glitterati memory cards, so you can always treasure your trip to Glitterati and share it with your friends and loved ones.”
He had the photos from our trips down the runway! He handed each of us a big photo of ourselves in our chosen costume. Each one was set in a purple folding cardboard frame, encrusted with glitter.
I probably don’t have to point out that each girl looked amazingly glamorous in her picture. You could barely recognize Mary Kay, for instance, in her prep school princess boarding school uniform, with her hair ironed so straight and held back in a black velvet band. Or Brittany as an urban fairy, in her halter top and tight jeans.
But the one that was especially hilarious was mine, lunging at the camera and making a face just like a pirate. I started laughing just like everyone else when I saw it. It wasn’t the same as the other girls’ more glamorous shots.
But Kevin, I knew, would love it. If I had to play a pirate, at least I’d played the part the way a real actress would have. I couldn’t wait to show my photo to Erica, Sophie, and Caroline.
Then I remembered, with a pang, that I was probably never going to get to show my Glitterati card to those guys. Because it would be kind of rude of me to rub it in to them about how I’d gone to Glitterati today with Brittany, instead of to Missy’s Twirltacular. “It would be fun and everything,” Sophie had said of Glitterati. “But only if you went with your real friends.”
She had been so right! My Glitterati experience would have been completely different if I’d gone there with Erica, Sophie, and Caroline (and even Rosemary, though I couldn’t imagine she’d have liked it that much). How I wished I had!
I wondered what all of them were doing right now, and how Missy was doing at her events. Was she going to bring home a trophy?
And I wished — more than I had ever wished anything — that I was at the middle school with my real friends instead of at Brittany’s stupid birthday party. I had made a terrible choice.
And I was going to have to pay for it for the rest of my life, probably.
RULE #9
It’s Important Always to Thank Your Hostess When You’ve Had a Nice Time…and Even When You Haven’t
“Thank you,” I said to Mrs. Hauser, after we’d changed back into our normal clothes and were headed toward the limo, waiting for us right in front of Glitterati, with Mr. Fernando, the driver, holding the door open for us — just like the coachman in Cinderella! “That was really fun.”
It’s important always to thank your hostess when you’ve had a nice time…and even when you haven’t. That’s a rule.
“Why, you’re welcome, Allie,” Mrs. Hauser said. “I’m sure you all must be as anxious to get to The Cheesecake Factory as I am. All that modeling must have made you hungry!”
We all said we were.
But after Mr. Fernando closed the door behind us and started driving toward the restaurant, I found out that not everyone was looking forward to the meal. I mean, I knew I wasn’t, because all I wanted to do was go home. And I still had dinner and the whole sleepover at the luxury hotel to get through.
But it turned out Brittany wasn’t having a good time, either.
“It’s just,” she said, “that this isn’t going to be any fun if you’re not going to take it seriously, Allie.”
I stared at her from where I was sitting on the huge long limo seat.
“What?” I had no idea what she was talking about. “Take what seriously?”
“My birthday,” Brittany said. She was staring back at me from her long bench seat, which was across from mine, her arms folded across her chest. “You’re treating it like it’s a big joke.”
My mouth dropped open. “I am not!” I cried. “How can you even say that?”
How could she say that? I’d said thank you to her mother for paying for my Glitterati photo session and everything!
“That thing,” Brittany said accusingly, “where you posed like a pirate on the runway and said argh. Everyone was looking!”
I glanced at Paige and Lauren, both of whom had laughed when I’d done that.
“It was a joke,” I said. “Because I was dressed like a pirate. Everyone laughed. You guys laughed!”
They weren’t laughing now, though.
“Brittany was embarrassed,” Paige said.
“Yeah,” Lauren said. “You shouldn’t have embarrassed her.”
I glared at them. “Well, how do you think I felt?” I asked. “When Brittany made me dress up like a pirate, which is something my six-year-old brother dresses as, by the way.”
“You looked cute,” Brittany said.
“You said I looked dumb,” I reminded her.
“No, I didn’t,” Brittany said. “I said you looked cute.”
“No, you didn’t,” I said. “You said I looked dumb.”
Brittany glanced at her friends. “I would never say something like that,” she said. “Would I, you guys?”
All of them shook their heads. Except Courtney, who’d taken out her cell phone and was texting someone. Or pretending like she was, anyway. Clearly, Courtney did not want to get involved.
“Allie,” Mary Kay said, “it’s really mean of you to say Brittany would say something like that. Just because you’re, like, the most popular girl in your new school and you never even call us anymore and your mom is a big TV star and you have a boyfriend — ”
“I do not have a boyfriend,” I said. I couldn’t believe this. “I told you! I said I wouldn’t go with him! And my mom doesn’t even get paid for being on TV!”
“Oh, right,” Brittany said, rolling her eyes. “You expect us to believe that?”
“It’s true!” I cried.
How could this be happening? I knew I wasn’t Brittany’s favorite person. But I hadn’t expected to be outright attacked at her birthday party, for things that weren’t my fault, or that I hadn’t done on purpose. Why would she even have invited me to her party if it was just to pick on me?
“I guess you think you’re too good for us,” Brittany said, “don’t you, Allie, now that you go to your fancy new school, in your fancy new neighborhood with all those big houses, and have all your fancy new friends.”
What was she even talking about? Had she seen my school? It was the oldest building in town, practically. It still had BOYS written over one door and GIRLS written over the other. And my house was just as old. And my friends weren’t fancy! They were the sweetest girls in the world. They’d rather play games of let’s pretend than get manicures! They liked to mattress surf.
In fact, I really wished I was with them right now, instead of with Brittany and her friends. I had made the biggest mistake ever coming to Brittany’s party instead of the Little Miss Majorette Baton Twirling Twirltacular.
Thankfully, the limo pulled to a stop at that moment, and the screen between the front seat and backseat came down.
“We’re here, girls,” Mrs. Hauser called. “Cheesecake Factory!”
“Yay!” Brittany said, in a fake voice, like she hadn’t just been verbally assaulting me.
Mr. Fernando came around and opened the door for us, and Brittany got out.
“Don’t forget your presents for me,” she called sweetly. “I’m opening them before cake!”
Stupid Brittany, I thought as I dug around in my backpack for her present. And her stupid birthday party. And stupid me for ever having been stupid enough to come to it. I guess I was learning a pretty good lesson. Only I didn’t know what that lesson was. Don’t ever accept a party invitation if it includes riding in a limo? Well, that wasn’t going to bode well for my future, in which I planned on riding in limos all the time.
Inside The Cheesecake Factory, it was insane. I had never been to such a fancy, crazy place. The walls were painted bright orange, and the ceiling was a million feet high, and there were people everywhere — so many people that the hostess had to give them all giant beepers and make them wait outside (even thoug
h it was kind of chilly out). When their beeper went off, that meant their table was ready.
We didn’t get a beeper, though. Our table was waiting for us, because Mrs. Hauser had made a reservation and also called ahead to let the restaurant know we were on our way. When the hostess led us to where we were sitting, I saw that it was in a little alcove slightly away from the other tables, and that someone had decorated it all nice for Brittany’s birthday. There were white balloons and streamers everywhere, and there were presents already piled up by the seat at the head of the table…Brittany’s seat.
“Look how adorable,” Lauren said, taking pictures with her cell phone camera. The other girls who had cell phone cameras took pictures, too.
I didn’t, because I don’t have a cell phone. My parents refuse to get me one, because my parents still live in the Stone Age, when fire hasn’t been invented yet. Or the Internet.
Brittany looked absolutely delighted about her table full of presents. She went and took her place at the head of the table, in front of all her gifts.
This was the cue, I guess, for Mrs. Hauser to take her pictures. And for us to put down our presents. Each of the other girls had daintily wrapped gifts in pink and white wrapping paper with giant white bows. Mine, in its funny-pages wrapping, looked completely out of place in the pile.
“It’s recycled paper,” I joked as I set mine down, trying to make the most out of a situation that was so rapidly coming apart, it was like one of those paper towel commercials they show on TV, where they run water over the paper towel holding the brick until the paper towel shreds into a million pieces. “Environmentally correct!”
To my relief, everyone laughed. They were in a better mood now because a waitress had come by with giant glasses of pink lemonade for all of us, and a fancy drink with an umbrella in it for Mrs. Hauser.
“To the birthday girl,” Mrs. Hauser said, and everyone held up their glass and toasted Brittany.
Brittany giggled and took a sip of her lemonade. Then the waitress started taking everyone’s orders for dinner. I chose a cheeseburger and fries, with no tomato.
“Not even on the side,” I said, because sometimes they try to put the tomato on the side. But I don’t like it when they do that, because the little tomato seeds get all over the lettuce for the burger, and it’s truly disgusting.
“No problem,” the waitress said. “No tomato at all.”
“Or ketchup,” I said. “I don’t like anything red on my plate. I’d like my burger well done, please, so there’s no red in it.”
“No red,” the waitress said. “Got it.”
I thought I heard Brittany, Mary Kay, Lauren, and Paige titter and whisper about this, but I didn’t care. They should try having a food they hate show up on their plates all the time.
Brittany ordered a burger, too. She said, “I’ll take mine with a tomato. You can put Allie’s tomato on my plate. I don’t mind. I’m not a freak about red food.”
All the girls laughed, except Courtney and Mrs. Hauser, who said, “Now, Brittany, everyone has their likes and dislikes. You know how you are about cauliflower.”
“Oh, Mother,” Brittany said in disgust. “Everyone hates cauliflower. But who hates ketchup?”
Everyone turned to look at me. It’s true, I am a bit of a freak. I just don’t like to eat red things. They make the inside of my mouth feel itchy, and if I swallow them, they make me feel like I’m going to gag.
“Well,” Mrs. Hauser said, “Allie is an original, and that’s what makes her so fun.”
She turned to her menu to see what she wanted to get, since it was her turn to order.
Yeah! That’s right! I’m an original! I’m not like everybody else. Why would I want to be? I’m unique, a unique individual, like Summer at Glitterati! I was still wearing my sparkle teardrop, too, even though all the other girls had taken their stars off.
But I was still feeling a deep well of sorrow for all my pirate victims.
And for Brittany as well. Because I was never going to start liking her. Never, ever.
After the waitress went away, Brittany started opening her gifts. She had to, because if she didn’t, there wouldn’t be room for the food when they started bringing it out.
Brittany opened the biggest box in front of her first. That was a present from her mom and dad. It turned out to be an iPod and a docking station with surround-sound speakers and a radio for her room, all in purple, Brittany’s favorite color.
“Cool!” Brittany said. “Just what I wanted! Thanks, Mom.”
I had always wanted one of those, too. But no one had gotten me that for my last birthday. I had just gotten a regular CD player. Which was nice, but you can’t hook it up to a computer and download songs.
Brittany went to open her next present, which was from Mary Kay. It turned out to be an iTunes gift certificate, to go with her iPod.
“Wow!” Brittany said. “Thanks, Mary Kay!”
She and Mary Kay hugged. Mary Kay cried, as usual. But this time it was because she was so happy to be a part of Brittany’s totally amazing birthday party.
I wished I had a spatula to stick down Mary Kay’s throat.
But that was wrong of me, so I settled for sucking lemonade up with my straw, holding it in my mouth, then blowing it onto the table and making cool patterns on the table with the spilled liquid. It was okay because Mrs. Hauser was sitting on the other end of the table and couldn’t see what I was doing.
Brittany’s presents from Lauren and Paige were equally amazing — a suede iPod purse with Brittany’s name written on it in gold, and a white leather belt with a rhinestone belt buckle and iPod holder right on it.
I was beginning to realize that my present — a book — was going to be totally out of place. I should have just done what my mom had said and explained that I’d be dropping off a present later next week when my parents got back from San Francisco.
Even Courtney’s present, which wasn’t iPod related, was better than mine: It was a pretty bracelet made out of purple crystals, which sparkled in the lights from The Cheesecake Factory ceiling. Everyone oohed and aahed as Brittany held it up.
“I got it when my family went to New York last Christmas,” Courtney said. “It reminded me of you, Brittany.”
Brittany looked really pleased. And why wouldn’t she? Who wouldn’t want a bracelet of purple crystals from New York City? I would.
Soon the only present left was mine. I felt sick to my stomach…and not just because my food had come, and the waitress had forgotten to write down the thing about the tomato. There was a big fat slice of one sitting right on my plate in front of me.
I wanted to pick it up and throw it on the floor for our dog, Marvin, to eat, like I would have done if we’d been at home.
But I wasn’t at home, and Marvin wasn’t there.
And besides, throwing food on the floor is bad manners.
That’s a rule.
“Gee, I wonder what this could be,” Brittany said as she lifted her last present.
Everyone laughed, because my present was obviously a book. You could tell by the shape.
Mrs. Hauser, digging into her gigantic lobster salad, said, “Now, Brittany,” but not in a mean way. I wondered what Mr. Fernando was doing for his dinner, or if he had to wait in the car while we ate ours. Maybe I could bring him my cheeseburger. I didn’t want it anymore, and not just because a tomato had touched it.
“Wow,” Brittany said, after she’d torn the comic-paper wrapping off my present. “It’s a book.”
She didn’t say it like, “Wow! It’s a book!” She said it like, “Wow. It’s a book.” Like, what could be more boring than a book?
“It’s a really good book,” I said from where I sat, down the table from her. “A Wrinkle in Time is my favorite book ever. Have you read it?”
“No,” Brittany said.
“It’s really great,” I said. “It’s about a girl named Meg, and her father is missing, and her little brother, Charles Wa
llace, is a genius, only no one knows it, and this handsome boy from Meg’s school comes over, and Meg has this huge crush on him, and — ”
“Maybe I’ll download the movie of it with my iTunes gift card,” Brittany said unenthusiastically.
I felt my stomach lurch. See, there is no movie of A Wrinkle in Time. Well, there is, but it was a TV movie, and it left out all the good parts from the book, like most movies made from books.
You can’t watch the movie of A Wrinkle in Time and get the full effect of the book. You just can’t.
Especially if you watch it on an iPod.
Brittany put down the book without even opening it to see where it said To a true friend inside, or reading the back to check what the book was about. Then she took a big bite of her cheeseburger — which had tomato on it — and said, with her mouth full, “Thanks, Allie.”
But only because her mother was watching.
I could tell she didn’t care about the book. I could tell she didn’t care at all.
RULE #10
Sometimes, the Brave Thing to Do Is Go Home
I tried to eat my burger. I did. I nibbled the sides of it and ate a few fries.
But I’ll be honest: Everything tasted like ashes. Not that I have ever eaten ashes. But that’s how they say things taste in books.
And even though it wasn’t true — everything actually tasted very delicious — that’s how I felt like my dinner at The Cheesecake Factory tasted. Because of the company I was in. I didn’t want to be there. I had made a huge mistake. I had missed the Little Miss Majorette Baton Twirling Twirltacular. I had given away the copy of A Wrinkle in Time that Harmony had given to me and had written To a true friend inside.
And for what?
So I could ride in a limo?
Riding in a limo wasn’t all that great, actually.
To go to Glitterati?
Going to Glitterati hadn’t been all that great, either.