by Julie Bowe
“You have to give me a dare, ” I whisper to her.
Stacey looks up from sharpening her pencil. “Didn’t you get a card? ” Stacey asks.
“Yes, ” I say. “But it was . . . hard to read. So you have to give me a new dare or else I’ll get double-dog dared for not doing the first one. Quick! Before Mr. Crow gets back. ”
Stacey nods. Then she starts thinking. Suddenly her eyes brighten and she says, “I’ve got it! I dare you to empty my pencil sharpener into Mr. Crow’s teacup! ” Stacey holds her little pencil sharpener out to me. It’s made out of clear plastic, so I can see lots of curly shavings inside.
“But what if he drinks them? ”
Stacey shrugs. “I’m sure a few pencil shavings won’t kill him. Besides, he will probably spit them out right away, which will make everyone laugh! ”
“Except Mr. Crow, ” I mumble.
Stacey makes the sharpener dance in front of my eyes. “Do it! ” she says. “I dare you! ”
I grab the pencil sharpener and hurry to Mr. Crow’s desk before I can change my mind. I sprinkle the shavings into his tea and drop the sharpener into Stacey’s hand as I race back to my desk.
Chapter 9
When it’s time for our second recess, we all meet at the snow fort to report on our dares.
“I hid Mr. Crow’s stapler, ” Meeka says. “If you need to staple anything, look behind the hamster cage. ”
“I put pencil shavings in his tea,” I say. “I mean, in Mr. Crow’s tea, not the hamster’s. ” I glance at Stacey. She gives me the thumbs-up.
“I put a snowball in Rusty’s backpack, ” Randi says, laughing. “Who came up with that one? ”
Meeka raises her hand.
“Genius, ” Randi says.
“I had to ask Zane if I could borrow his eraser,” Jolene says. She does a little shiver. “It was seriously slimy. ”
We all laugh.
“Who wrote ‘This is stupid’ for a dare?” Brooke asks.
“Me, ” Jenna says.
Brooke squints. “Well, thanks a lot, ” she says. “Because of you I had to dare myself to give Quinn my school picture. ”
“What’s so bad about that? ” Randi asks.
“He drew a mustache and bushy eyebrows on it and then showed it to all the boys.” Brooke flicks back her hair.
“So that’s what all the commotion was about,” Meeka says.
“Uh-huh, ” Brooke says. “I was totally mummified. ”
“Mortified? ” I say.
“Yes, ” Brooke says. “That. ” She turns to Jenna again. “So, did you do one? Or do we get to double-dog dare you? ”
Jenna doesn’t answer.
“Um . . . ” I say. “I think I saw Jenna doing one of mine. ” I look at Jenna. “You . . . um . . . switched books around in the reading corner, right? ”
Jenna glances at me. She nods. Then she glances away.
“Hmph,” Brooke says. “That’s not much of a dare. ”
“It was the best I could come up with on short notice, ” I say.
“What’s next? ” Jolene asks.
“It’s time to pick new dares,” Brooke says. She pulls off a mitten and digs the rest of the dare cards out of her coat pocket. She deals them out. “Keep them a secret until tomorrow. ”
We read the cards to ourselves as we walk back to class. Brooke does a little gasp when she reads hers. I wonder what she will have to do tomorrow. I wonder what I will have to do.
I flip over my dare card and do a little gasp too.
I stop and read it again.
At lunch, stand up and yell, “There’s a mouse in my macaroni! ”
“It’s a beauty, ain’t it? ” Randi says, looking over my shoulder at the card. “Ten times better than the other two I wrote. ” She gives my back a friendly pat and runs ahead.
I catch up to Stacey and pull her away from the others.
“What did you get? ” I whisper to her.
“Stick chalk in Mr. Crow’s eraser,” Stacey whispers back. “Easy cheesy. How about you? ”
“Well, it’s definitely cheesy, ” I say. I glance up to make sure the other girls aren’t hanging around. Then I give my dare card to Stacey.
Her eyes go wide as she reads it. Then her mouth cracks into a big smile. “That is sooooo funny! ” she says.
“Funny? ” I say back. “You know how Mrs. Kettleson feels about kids yelling in the lunchroom. She will probably come after me with a spatula. ”
“But if she doesn’t catch you, everyone will think you were very brave for doing it. Even the boys. Won’t that be great? ”
“The greatest,” I mumble. If only being brave didn’t mean getting in trouble, and fitting in didn’t mean sticking out.
As soon as I get off the bus I want to run right home and think of a way to convince my parents that we should move away. Today, if possible.
But I can’t run because I’m walking Rachel to my house.
“C’mon, Rachel,” I call over my shoulder. It’s the third time I’ve called to her since we got off the bus. Since Jenna decided to walk with us to the corner.
“When my mom asked me to walk Rachel to and from piano lessons, I said no way, ” Jenna tells me.
“I guess that’s why she asked me to do it,” I reply.
“And you said yes? Just like that? ” Jenna asks.
“Just like that, ” I reply.
Jenna’s nose flares. “Well, I just said no. It’s not like I have time to walk all the way to your house, and then wait around until Rachel’s done, and then walk her all the way home again. ”
I stop at the corner and turn to Jenna. “Why do you always do that? ”
“Do what? ” Jenna asks.
“Say no all the time. Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to say yes for a change? ”
I do the nose flare too, and wait for Jenna to answer.
But she doesn’t. She just walks in a wide circle around me and heads down the sidewalk to her house.
I glance back at Rachel, but she still isn’t coming. She’s kneeling on the curb studying a stream of melting snow that’s trickling through a metal grate.
“You don’t want to be late for your first piano lesson, ” I call back to her. “My mom will give you a treat if you’re on time.” I don’t mention that my mom gives treats to all of her students just for showing up.
Rachel looks up from the snow stream. “Where does all that water go? ” she asks.
I sigh and take a few steps toward her. “You know,” I say. “Into a pipe. Then to a river. Then to the nearest ocean. ”
“The ocean?” Rachel says, squinting through the grate. “Down there?”
“Yep,” I say. “Now come on, or I’m leaving without you. ” I take a fake step away.
Rachel stands up. She unwinds her scarf and dips the fringe through the grate. “Here, sharkie, sharkie, ” she says.
I sigh and trudge toward her again. “Rachel, you can’t catch a shark with a scarf. Not unless it tastes like tuna. ”
Rachel pulls the scarf out and gives the fringe a sniff. She looks at me. “Do you got any tuna? ”
“Yes, ” I say. “At my house. Where we were supposed to be five minutes ago.” I make my face go all responsible.
Rachel loops her scarf over her head and winds it around her neck. Then she picks up a stick that’s poking through the slushy snow and drops it through the grate. “Bye, stick,” she says. “Watch out for whales. ”
She heads down the sidewalk toward my house. “C’mon, Ida! ” she calls. “Or I’ll be late! ”
My mom opens the front door when we finally get to my house. “I was beginning to wonder if you two were lost. ”
“No,” I say. “We were just doing a little . . . fishing. ”
“Fishing? ” Mom says.
Rachel nods. “For sharks! ”
Mom helps Rachel with her coat. “Did you catch any? ”
“Nope,” Rachel says. “We didn
’t have any tuna. Do you got some? ”
Mom smiles. “I’m fresh out,” she says. “But I do have cookies. I wonder if sharks like cookies? ”
“I bet they do,” Rachel says. “I bet they would even like two. ”
Mom does a little laugh. “Two cookies,” she says. “After your lesson. ”
Rachel smiles and kicks off her boots. She follows Mom into the living room, where we keep our piano.
I dump my stuff and head for the cookies. I take three. One for me, one for George, and one for my fish.
“Cookie, George? ” I ask as I plop down next to him on my bed.
George passes, so I take care of it for him.
I walk over to my fish tank and pick up the little container of fish food. I hold a cookie and the fish food up to the tank. “Choose, ” I say.
My fish swims up to the fish food and taps the glass.
“Good boy,” I say. I pop the cookie into my mouth and sprinkle fish food over the water.
I grab my journal, unclip the purple pen, and flip to a blank page. Then I sit on my bed and write TOP SECRET on the page and draw a few lightning bolts. Then I write IF YOU ARE NOT NAMED IDA MAY DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT! Then I draw a needle with a very sharp point.
Dear Stella,
We did our dare cards at school today. Only I got a dareless one from Jenna, so Stacey gave me a real one. I guess Mr. Crow drank the pencil shavings I put in his tea, because I never saw him spit all day. Maybe he thought they were tea Leaves. I hope he doesn’t get pencil poisoning. I hope he doesn’t find out I put them there.
Tomorrow I have to yell that there’s a mouse in my macaroni during Lunch. Stacey thinks it will be sooooo funny. I wish she wouldn’t think it’s such a little thing, when it’s a big thing to me.
Bye,
Ida
“I’m back, ” I say after walking Rachel home.
“Good,” Mom replies. She’s sitting by our piano, writing notes on a sheet of paper. “Thanks. ”
“You’re welcome,” I say. “I’m happy to do it, even though you’re not paying me. ”
Mom glances up and smiles. “I appreciate that.” Then she pauses and narrows her eyes. She does this when she’s studying something. Right now, the thing she is studying is me. Mostly my face. Mostly just my eyes.
“What? ” I ask. “Is it marker again? ” I lick my fingers and rub my forehead.
“No, ” Mom says, still studying me. “I was just wondering . . . have you been, by any chance, wearing makeup at school? ”
I blink. Several times. “Um . . . what? ”
Mom sets down her pencil. “Rachel said she saw you in the hallway a few days ago and your eyelids looked like tropical fish. ”
I scratch my neck. “Oh, ” I say. “That makeup.” I do a little yawn. “Brooke brought some eye shadow to school and everyone borrowed it. No big deal. ”
“Brooke is allowed to wear makeup?” Mom asks.
I scratch some more. “Only for recitals and stuff, ” I mumble. “You’re not going to tell her mom are you? ”
“No, ” Mom says. “But I think you’re too young to be wearing makeup at school. And it’s not a good idea to share it, especially not eye makeup. ”
Mom starts explaining about eye germs, but all I hear is you’re too young over and over again.
“Mom, ” I say when she’s done with her germ speech. “Some of the girls in my class get to wear fake ponytails, okay? Some of them have had their ears pierced since they were three. So I think it’s pretty unfair for you to say I’m too young for stuff when I’m the same age as them. ”
I cross my arms and take a breath.
“I’m not saying you’re too young for everything, ” Mom replies, all calm. “Just for some things. ”
“Well, I should get to decide what I’m not too young for, ” I say.
Mom sits back in her chair and crosses her arms too. “For example? ”
I do the breath again because I hadn’t planned on her asking me for examples. If I say something too big I won’t get very far.
“I should get to choose my own clothes without you giving me that look, ” I say.
“What look? ” Mom asks.
I scrunch up my eyes like someone just turned on a very bright light. “That orange top clashes with your red skirt, Ida, ” I say in my mom voice. “And toe socks aren’t meant to be worn with flip-flops. ”
Mom laughs. “Fair enough, ” she says. “Starting tomorrow you may choose your own outfits and I will do my best to keep my eye comments to myself. ”
I suck in one cheek. I know I should quit while I’m ahead, but instead I hear myself say, “And I should get to wear makeup if I want to. And get my ears pierced. ”
Mom’s laugh fades away. The only sound I hear is the scritch-scratch of my fingernails against my neck.
“Nail polish, yes,” Mom says. “Makeup, no. Bracelets now and earrings when you’re ten. ”
“But everyone—” I start to say.
Mom holds up her hand like a crossing guard. “I don’t want you to make choices based on what everyone else is doing. There’s nothing wrong with saving some things for when you’re older. Besides, getting your ears pierced means you have to take care of them so they don’t get infected. And that means being responsible.”
I do a big snort. “I am very responsible,” I say. “I just walked Rachel all the way home without losing her once! ”
Mom drums her fingers against her arm. “Yes, but your room is a mess. You still haven’t written thank-you notes to Aunt Margo and Grandma May for the Christmas gifts they gave you.” She pauses, and narrows her eyes. “And what about your fish?”
I narrow my eyes back. “What about him? ”
“I keep asking you to clean the tank filter, but you haven’t done it yet, have you? ”
“I’ve thought about doing it lots of times,” I say.
“Thinking and doing aren’t the same thing, Ida. And what about a name for the fish? Or are you still thinking about that too? ”
“Mom,” I say, “you don’t rush into naming a fish, or you get stuck with something like Goldie or Flipper.”
Mom sighs. She picks up a stack of music and fusses with it until all the edges are straight. “If you can’t do what’s needed to take care of a pet, Ida, I don’t think you’re ready for other big-girl things. ”
My heart is pounding so hard it makes my ears ring. Actually, it’s the doorbell that’s ringing, but still, I’m pretty mad.
Mom gets up from her chair and rests her hands on my shoulders. “Here’s the deal,” she says. “You clean the fish filter and I’ll take you and your Christmas money shopping for a new outfit on Saturday. Tops, bottoms, bangles—the works—and I won’t give you the look once.” She does the look as an example. “But makeup and pierced ears will have to wait.”
I think about how much I would like to choose a whole outfit all by myself. Maybe I could even talk her into letting me get jingle bell boots and a fake ponytail. But instead I make myself say, “I will probably be too busy to go shopping with you. ”
“Oh? ” she says, sliding her hands off my shoulders and walking to the front door, which is still ringing.
I make my face go very smooth. “I have sledding plans. ”
Mom glances back at me and then opens the door. A piano kid comes in. He kicks off his boots and dumps his coat. Mom points toward the piano and he trudges past me in soggy socks, plopping down on the bench.
“Suit yourself, ” Mom says, brushing past me. “But I plan to go shopping at the mall on Saturday morning. ”
I do not storm out of the room.
I just turn around and do a slow stomp up the stairs.
I give my bedroom door a very small slam.
Chapter 10
Dear Stella,
I didn’t sleep so good Last night partly because I have been feeling a little bad about arguing with my mom, and partly because I checked the school’s Lunch menu th
at we keep on the fridge. I was hoping for Salisbury steak today, even though I hate it. Because guess what we are having?
Macaroni and cheese.
When I start yelling about a mouse in my macaroni it will really sound true. Which will make everyone else start yelling, too. And when Mrs. Kettleson comes out of the kitchen to see what all the yelling is about and doesn’t find one tiny paw or pink tail in my macaroni . . . I’m in for it. Mrs. Kettleson is not a big fan of yelling unless she’s the one doing it.
Bye (maybe forever),
Ida
I see Stacey before school, but I don’t mention my dare because all the other girls are around. Plus, I’m still thinking about what happened earlier at the bus stop.
We were all just standing there, not talking because it was cold and sometimes it feels warmer if you bury your chin in your collar and don’t move your lips. But then Tess did a big sneeze. A monster sneeze. Her face was snot city. So was her coat.
She looked at Quinn for help, but he just shook his head and said, “Nu-uh. No way. ” So I started fishing around in my pocket for a tissue even though I’m not a big fan of cleaning up snot, but before I could even check both pockets, Jenna said, “Here, ” and handed Tess a handkerchief made out of actual cloth. Tess took it and tried to wipe her face, but it didn’t work very well because it’s hard to grip a hankie with mittens on.
So Jenna picked the hankie up off the ground and wiped Tess’s face and cleaned the splatters off her coat, even though they were already frozen on, but still, she tried. Then Jenna bunched up the hankie and stuffed it back in her pocket.
I was mostly in shock. Partly because she kept all that snot, and partly because she had helped Tess without anyone telling her to.
I’m still wondering what has gotten into her when I sit down at my desk. But then Randi walks by making squeaky mouse sounds, so my mind gets right back to worrying about lunch again.
I’m dreading lunch so much, I can hardly even enjoy the other girls doing their dares. I barely giggle when Mr. Crow erases the board and leaves chalk streaks behind. When Jolene “accidentally” lets our hamster loose and it takes most of math to catch him, I don’t smile at all even though missing math is one of my favorite things to do.