by Coco Simon
“Thanks, Mom,” I said. I tried to muster up some excitement as I scraped my plate into the disposal, but all I could feel right now was dread.
“Wait, what’s all this about Granny?” asked Dylan, and I left my mother to explain. Dylan would hate to miss out on anything with our grandmother because she gives us great old things all the time, like clothes and records and stuff, which Dylan loves.
I took the stairs up two at a time and grabbed the cordless phone from the hall table as I sprinted by. Inside my room I frantically dialed Emma’s number without even stopping to think what I usually think, which is that my crush—her brother Matt—might answer the phone. Which he didn’t, luckily.
“Alexis?”
I love caller ID.
“Thank goodness you answered. I figured it all out.”
“Wait, the gingerbread house?”
I could hear the confusion in Emma’s voice.
“No! Olivia Allen!”
“Oh. What?”
“I know why she’s after me. Remember when we were in the hall talking the day we got out for break about my ski trip? And Maggie and Bella were there? And Maggie was asking where we were going and everything, and she said something about how Olivia used to be, like, a professional skier in the Alps or something?”
“Yeah . . . ”
(Yessss! I thought, channeling my mom, but I didn’t say it!) “Well, remember how Maggie said something that wasn’t really nice about Olivia, and we were kind of surprised because we thought they were BFFs?”
“Oh yeah! Something about how it always has to be the best with Olivia or whatever?”
“Right!” I agreed, feeling relief she remembered too. “So then I said some joke about, ‘Well, she probably thinks she’s an Olympic skier, but she’s really one of those people who just wears the outfits and sits in the lodge all day.’ Remember that?”
“Uh-huh,” agreed Emma, giggling. “It’s true!”
“Well, I was just trying to make Maggie feel better, because she was obviously annoyed at Olivia for some reason, and I thought I’d just chime in. But then I said something like, ‘I can’t stand those kind of posers!’ or something.”
“Oh,” said Emma, now not giggling.
“Uh-huh. And I think Maggie told her.”
“That traitor! You were just trying to make her feel better.”
“Well, all I did was make myself feel worse!”
“What can we do?” asked Emma.
I loved that she said “we”! “I don’t know. But you’re the best,” I said.
“Yeah, but you’re still number one on Olivia’s hit list.”
“Yessss,” I agreed sadly. “Yessss.”
CHAPTER 4
Quack
I resolved to confront Maggie first and to find out why she had ratted me out to Olivia. My nerves wavered, though, when I saw her walking in the hall with Callie. They were all dressed up, looking stylish and chatting intently, and I was too scared to interrupt them as they sailed by, oblivious to my existence.
My luck was with me, though, because I ran into Maggie in the bathroom just before homeroom.
“Uh, Maggie?” I started, approaching her at the sink. My voice was kind of shaky. So not the image I wanted to project! I cleared my throat and then tried to establish some presence and poise, as if I were delivering a business presentation.
“Hi,” she said in kind of an oh-it’s-just-you tone of voice. She peered at herself in the mirror and took out her makeup case.
“Listen, I just . . . I’m wondering . . . Why did you tell Olivia that dumb joke I made about her and skiing?”
Maggie turned and looked at me blankly. “What?” she asked.
“You know, the note you passed me yesterday. About being careful about what I say about people?”
“Yes, but it wasn’t me who told her. It was Bella.” Her face darkened, and she turned back to the mirror. “She said it was both of us—you and I—talking about Olivia. She’s a total tattletale, just trying to suck up to Olivia.”
Isn’t that what you do? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t think the timing was quite right.
“So, wait . . . Why isn’t Olivia mad at you too?”
“She was,” said Maggie, kissing her lips together to spread her clear lip gloss. She studied herself critically, took out a brush, and began to run it through her hair.
This was like pulling teeth! Now exasperated rather than intimidated, I said, “So why isn’t she mad at you anymore?”
Maggie put her brush away, zipped her case shut, and stowed it into her bag. “Because I apologized,” she said briskly. And she turned on her heel and left me there, gaping.
Great, I thought. Now I have to apologize to Olivia? I couldn’t even picture it. And since she’d been so mean to me, part of me didn’t even want to. Like, why should I be nice and kiss up to her, after all the mean stuff she’s said this week? She should apologize to me!
I felt that horrible dread in my stomach that I’d been feeling the past two days, ever since Olivia started being mean to me. I looked in the mirror Maggie had just vacated and saw my pale face, worried eyes, and set jaw. I looked scared and unhappy.
I took a deep breath and rearranged my features. Then, looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was around to see, I smiled at myself. I read in some self-improvement manual of Dylan’s that if you smile, it tricks your body into thinking you’re happy. But it wasn’t working. I smiled harder. Still nothing.
Sighing, I frowned and felt better.
Well, at least I had a game face. Maybe that would scare Olivia away.
And I had math right after homeroom. That would be fun.
Except that it wasn’t.
In math class, Mr. Donnelly announced we’d be merging with the other two sections to form teams for the school’s math rally. He said we’ve move around classrooms for the next couple of days, and then he read the list of who was on which team.
See if you can guess who was on mine.
The good news was I got to stay in my classroom. The bad news was that Olivia came in and sat one row away from me. When Mr. Donnelly handed out the sheets of practice problems for us to work on, he broke us into groups of four or five kids and had us all move our desks into little circles, so we could talk. That left me staring right at Olivia Allen. Ugh.
Kids were chatting about their weekend plans when Olivia asked loudly, “Alexis, do you do anything besides math homework and baking on the weekends?”
All the other kids turned to listen, because they could tell by her tone of voice that something was brewing. Kids love a good drama. But I didn’t want to be the star of it.
I took a deep breath and then I looked her in the eyes and replied, “It depends on what my boyfriend is doing. He’s in high school.” I had no idea how I came up with that! I felt my face turn red with the lie, but I also had to hide my grin. It was the first time I’d had any sort of comeback for her, and I was thrilled, even if it was a fib. Maybe if you practice enough, you can get kind of good at comebacks, I thought.
I looked down at Mr. Donnelly’s practice sheet as if to say, This conversation is finished. I could feel the other kids watching Olivia to see what she would come up with next, but seconds passed, and she didn’t say anything. I was so proud of myself, I wanted to burst!
Finally, she said, “Good luck with that. I think it’s illegal.”
I shrugged without looking up, like, Who cares what you think? I turned to this kid, Aubrey Peterson, next to me and asked if he wanted to quiz me. I felt light-headed, like I was floating. It must’ve been the adrenaline from my fear, but I was pleased with myself. By the end of class she hadn’t said another word to me and I had come back down to Earth.
Maybe I’d made things worse in the long run by winning the battle but not the war. I mean, how was I going to come up with a boyfriend in high school? But it didn’t matter. It had felt great. And even if she threw worse stuff at me now, thinking I was tougher
than I looked, it didn’t matter. I’d always savor my first victory.
At home in bed that night, I mentally replayed the whole scene in math class. I was proud of myself for my bravery and my cleverness. But as the minutes ticked by in the dark, my pride shrank and my fear grew. I was ashamed of myself for lying and being mean, and I knew my fighting back had only fanned the flames of Olivia’s anger. I dreaded the wildfire I was sure to face from her soon.
On Thursday I snuck around school like a hunted animal, peering around corners and slinking down halls. I skipped lunch with my friends again and ate alone, then at dismissal, I raced out of there and literally ran home. I was relieved I’d avoided Olivia again, but it was no way to live.
By dinner I was exhausted. I guess I didn’t say much, or maybe it was obvious I was tired and stressed, because my mom came into my room after she did the dishes and sat on my bed.
“What’s up?” she asked.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to get into it with her. As I said, she can get a little too intense about problem-solving sometimes. I sighed.
Then I spilled the beans. All of them.
“Wow,” said my mom. “I’m sorry you’ve been going through all this. I wish you’d told me.”
“Yes, but it’s just been kind of snowballing, getting bigger and bigger. I didn’t realize it was my new way of life.”
My mom was looking thoughtful. “You know, there was a mean girl in my class when I was your age. . . . ”
“I know. Susan! You always tell us about her!” I rolled my eyes.
My mom smiled. “Well, she comes in handy in a lot of lessons. Anyway, mean people take a lot of energy, and it’s not worth it. And they can make you act mean too, just to protect yourself. That can be a terrible feeling, because then you’re losing yourself. It sounds like that’s what happened yesterday.”
I winced, thinking of how proud I’d been of my comeback yesterday but how bad it had made me feel later.
“You know, most of the Olivias in the world are really just insecure, and their mean streak comes from being hurt.”
I rolled my eyes again. “Excuses, excuses,” I said. “Everyone is insecure, Mom!”
She nodded. “Come on, though. Olivia is obviously hurt. And you were mean in what you said about her and skiing. Think of it this way: You’re the one who’s lived here all your life, and you’re the one with the tight-knit group of friends, who really knows yourself and has a strong identity and a good reputation in the school, right? And then you insult her behind her back, questioning her claims about her athletic abilities, all when she’s new to the school and trying to establish herself. How do you think that makes her feel?”
It was weird to flip the problem on its head like that, but it was true, when you looked at it from the other side. I felt bad now.
“I guess she’s probably hurt,” I said, ashamed.
My mom sighed. “You did start this, Alexis, and I didn’t raise you to be a mean girl. But I really didn’t raise you to be a victim, which is what Olivia’s retaliation is turning you into. Right?”
I nodded.
“Look, you don’t want to waste your time feeling bad, or being mean or hiding. Those are all negative states. You need to apologize to Olivia and to get that out of the way. I think it will clear the air with her, and it will take care of your conscience. No more sleepless nights!” she said.
I nodded again. Reluctantly. I dreaded apologizing. How soon would I have to do it? I wondered. And where would I do it? And what would I say? Ugh.
My mom prodded me out of my daydream. “So, you’ll get the ball rolling with an apology and let me know what happens? I support you all the way, sweetheart.” She leaned over and gave me a kiss and a hug. “Now we’d better get to the store to stock up on those ingredients you need for tomorrow.”
“Oh right. Hey, Mom,” I said. “What ever happened with Susan? I mean, did she stop being mean to you?”
Standing in the doorway now, my mom paused. “As you know from other stories, she was awful, and she had a crowd who hung on everything she said. She picked on me. So one day I just couldn’t take it anymore. I screwed up my courage, and I confronted her and told her that I didn’t appreciate it, but that, really, her behavior had no effect on me whatsoever. I asked why I was so fascinating to her that she was spending so much time watching and commenting on what I was doing.”
I gasped. “What happened?”
“Well, I guess Susan found me less interesting after that. We stayed away from each other, but she never singled me out again.”
“Huh,” I said.
“Something to think about,” Mom said. “But don’t think about it too much, Alexis. You are great the way you are. You have wonderful friends, a family who loves you, and one big, bad Olivia shouldn’t get in the way of any of that. You need to act like a duck.”
I had to smile. It’s one of my mom’s favorite things to say when Dylan or I get ruffled: Act like a duck and let it roll off your back.
“Quack!” I said, and my mom quacked back, and grinned.
Of course I didn’t see Olivia at all the next day. I’m not sure if she was even at school. But I marched around bravely, my head held high, ready for action, ready to change my situation.
At lunch I sat front and center with the Cupcakers, and even though we saw Bella, Maggie, and Callie, there was no Olivia. Typical. Just when I have my nerve up, she’s nowhere to be found.
We chatted about our baking session later in the day and the fact that I’d made no progress on my diorama plans, but I promised to figure something out over the weekend. We only had the coming week and weekend to work on it, so if I didn’t figure it out now, I was sunk.
“I guess I could always ask Mrs. Carr if I can switch to a costume,” I said glumly.
“Yay!” said Mia, but Katie gave her a dirty look that silenced her.
“I’ll work on it too, Alexis,” said Katie. “It’s too cool of an idea to bag. You know, let’s at least try to make some gingerbread this afternoon and see how hard it is to work with. We’re not giving in to costumes yet!”
“Thanks.”
“By the way, speaking of costumes,” said Mia. “I was talking to my mom about the eighties clothes and everything, and I found out she was the wardrobe mistress for the school productions all through middle school and high school! Isn’t that typical?!”
We all laughed, and Emma said, “Guess what I found out about my mom? She played the flute! Just like me! Except she quit, and she always regretted it, and that’s why she wanted me to play.”
Katie said, “How about this: My mom was allergic to eggs and milk when she was a kid, and she never even ate a cupcake until she was fifteen!”
We were all still laughing. I didn’t have much to add. “I’m going to my grandma’s tomorrow to see some old photos of my mom and her dollhouse from when she was a kid.”
“Cool! I love dollhouses!” said Katie.
“I’ll take a picture and then e-mail it to you,” I promised.
We were quiet for a minute, picturing everyone’s moms as kids. Then Emma snapped her fingers. “Hey! You know what could be really cool? If we did a time capsule. We could put in tons of things about us and even stuff about our moms. Then we’ll bury it for our kids!”
“That’s a great idea!” I said, and everyone agreed.
We spent the rest of the meal brainstorming about what to put in and how to get it, and lunch flew by. We planned to meet up again later at Emma’s to bake and finish our plan.
CHAPTER 5
House Hunting
After school I stopped off at home to pick up some supplies, then headed over to Emma’s, but not without taking a few minutes to brush my hair, change out of my school clothes and into something cuter, and put on just a tiny dab of lip gloss and some earrings. Hey, you never know who could be over at the Taylors’, with all those cute brothers of hers. But hopefully the love of my life, Matt Taylor, would show up at some point.
At Emma’s, we set up three workstations. We only need one person to make Mona’s minis since we could all do it with our eyes closed at this point. Emma did that since Mona is her special friend. Mia took on the baby shower samples. She had the two different recipes to try—apple cinnamon and milk and cookies—and Katie and I played around with the gingerbread.
It was easy enough to make the dough, but the hard part was getting the sheets of baked gingerbread just right. Katie had found an amazing website that had recipes along with instructions on how to build elaborate gingerbread houses. We had to figure out what mine would look like and then we could start making templates for the pieces.
The back door slammed and my heart leaped. Was it Matt?
“Hey, Cupcakers,” greeted Matt, dumping his gear in his locker at the back door. “Smells like Christmas in here!”
Yes! It was him! I willed myself not to blush.
“It’s because we’re making apple-cinnamon cupcakes for a job and a gingerbread mansion for Alexis’s class project,” Mia said.
Matt went to Mia’s side to inspect the cupcakes, then he looked at me. “Alexis’s class project? Alexis has everyone working for her now?” he teased. “Why am I not surprised by that?”
And the blush I’d been fighting rose up my neck and cheeks as I giggled.
“She’s the CEO!” said Mia.
“In training!” I protested.
Matt came over to inspect the printed ginger-bread house instructions and our dough. “This looks hard!” he said.
“I know,” I agreed glumly.
He looked at me. “Couldn’t you do something easier for your class project? Like a costume or something?”
“That’s what I said!” singsonged Mia.
I groaned and put my head in my hands.
“Run along, now, Matthew! You’re scaring her!” said Katie, shooing him away.
He laughed, grabbed an apple and a pear from the fruit bowl on the counter, and headed up to his room. “Let me know if you need any computer help!” he called back over his shoulder.