“When?”
“Today, after yoga class. I mentioned Rachel’s project to her and she just offered. Isn’t that great?”
“Wow,” I say, trying to imagine Rachel attempting to interview that woman.
“Can you ask her to call me when she gets in?”
“Sorry, Hannah, it will have to be in the morning. By the time she gets home it will be late.”
How could she be with Scarlett Hastings when I need her now more than ever? This is awful!
* * *
After a night of bad dreams and tossing and turning, I wake up exhausted. I really wish I could have talked to Rachel last night. She always knows how to settle me down when I’m freaking out. I guess I could have messaged her, but this news is way too huge. I need to talk to her face to face. Only now that it’s about to happen, I’m dreading it.
At school, I go to our usual meeting spot, on the bench in the front lobby. It doesn’t take long before she arrives.
“Hey,” I say, forcing a smile.
“Hi. Mom said you called last night.”
“Yeah … um … so how were things at the Hastings Mansion?” I ask.
“Oh, pretty good. She was actually really nice.”
“Who, that witchy lady? Scarlett’s mom? Are we talking about the same Claire Hastings?” I say, squishing up my nose.
“Yeah, she even gave me this.” Rachel holds out her arm, showing me the Bench label running up the side. “It was a sample she brought home, and Scarlett didn’t want it.”
“Really,” I say, shaking my head in disbelief, “she didn’t want it?” I mean, who would just give away a brand-new Bench jacket? Hmmm … what does Scarlett want?
“Okay, forget about Claire Hastings,” Rachel suddenly squeals. “I’ve got some awesome news!”
“What?”
“Guess who is in a bidding war on eBay for Josh Taylor tickets?”
“Um, you?”
“No, us! I went online last night and put a bid in. Even if we have to spend it all, we’re going to that concert Hannah!” she exclaims triumphantly.
“Oh … that was so sweet of you, Rachel, but … but I can’t …”
“What do you mean, you can’t?” she says, letting out a snort of laughter. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No, I’m not kidding.”
“Hannah, you’re being weird. What are you talking about?”
“We’re moving,” I blurt out.
“No, you’re not!”
“Yes, I am, Rachel,” I answer, feeling the sting of tears welling in my eyes.
“You’re moving?” she cries, now panicked, “When? Where!”
“At the end of the month,” I reply, as my eyes start to flood, “we’re moving to Maine.”
“Hannah Smart …” says Scarlett, suddenly appearing behind us, “did I hear right?” Her grin couldn’t be any more enormous as she holds her hand up to her ear and asks joyously, “Did you say you are moving to Maine?”
“Yeah, Scarlett, you heard right,” I say angrily, wiping the tears from my cheeks.
Just then, Anika and Missy come rushing over. I was wondering where the bookends were.
“What’s going on?” Anika demands, her eyes darting from face to face.
“Oh, terrible news, girls,” Scarlett says, bringing her hand to her chest. “Hannah is moving!”
“Why is that terrible news?” Missy whispers, tilting her head, confused, “I thought we didn’t like Hannah.”
“Well, on the bright side,” Scarlett says, her eyes gleaming, “nobody knows Hannah there, so she might be able to make a few friends. Well, at least for a while, until they find out how she operates.”
“How I operate?”
“You know, how you take advantage of your friends and basically treat them like crap.” She narrows her eyes. “Right Rachel? Isn’t that what you were saying last night?”
Rachel’s mouth falls open and she stammers, “No, no. I didn’t say that. You misunderstood what I meant.”
“Oh, did I?” Scarlett says shrugging. “My bad.”
“What did you say?” I ask Rachel.
“I just said that you like getting attention, but I meant …” She lets out a heavy sigh. “Well, you know how you are …”
“Yeah, Hannah, you know how you are,” Anika says smugly, crossing her arms.
“Yeah!” Missy sneers.
Scarlett runs her hand along her Gucci scarf as a satisfied grin creeps across her face. “Oh, BTW Rachel, my mother is bringing in a new shipment of designer clothes and accessories next week … really cool samples, all hot new stuff. Anyway, she told me to invite you over, which is kind of a big deal because we’ll get to pick out loot before it even makes it into the stores.”
“Before it even makes it to the stores?” Anika practically swoons.
“Are we invited?” Missy asks, her eyes wild with excitement.
Scarlett puts her finger to her lips to tell the girls to be quiet. “I got these last time.” She points down to her boots and beams. “They’re limited-edition UGGs. Awesome, right?”
“Why does your mother want to invite me?” Rachel asks.
“She thinks you’re totally smart, and a good influence.” Scarlett glances over at Anika and Missy and frowns. “Anyway, you’ll be needing a new BFF when Hannah moves away, and frankly, I’m getting bored —” she curves her hand at the side of her mouth and pretends to whisper “— with my current circle of friends.”
“What does she mean?” Missy asks, looking all around. “Does she mean us?”
“Shut up, Missy,” Anika snaps, obviously hurt by Scarlett’s sudden interest in Rachel.
Although, I don’t think Anika has anything to worry about; Rachel would never fall for Scarlett’s tricks. NEVER EVER! I mean she’s too smart for that, right? Right! At least I hope she is.
15
Never Show Up Late for a Shopping Date
Over the next few weeks, life goes on with almost the same grey awfulness as November. Only now, instead of agonizing over the concert, I’m agonizing over Maple Ridge and my future with no friends. Things between Rachel and I have been a bit weird, too. Between Christmas and getting ready for the move, I’ve hardly seen her or talked to her at all. Actually, I might be subconsciously trying to avoid her, maybe because every time I see her I feel so guilty. As if I didn’t feel bad enough with the whole interview mess and the radio contest disaster, when she found out I’d be leaving on the night of the concert, she ended her bidding war on eBay. She said she would rather see me off at the airport than go to the concert. How many people would do that? Seriously, how could I be so selfish? I have to call her.
“Hi, Rachel.”
“OMG Hannah, I’m so glad you finally called me back, but crap, I can’t talk; Mom’s waiting for me out in the car.”
“Rachel, I need to see you.”
“Me too,” she cries. “Hey! I’ve got a great idea. Feel like spending some cash?”
“Like, yeah! When do I not?”
“True,” she says with a laugh, “I think we need a shopping spree.”
“A shopping spree?” I squeal, wondering why I didn’t think of it myself. “When?”
“How about the Boxing Day Bonanza Sale at the mall on the twenty-ninth? Let’s spend some mon-aaay!”
“I’m there!” I exclaim just as I hear Rachel’s mom yell for her to get her butt out to the car pronto!
* * *
Our spree couldn’t come quickly enough for me, and when it finally does, I’m, like, crazy excited! Everywhere I turn there are Boxing Day sales. I’m supposed to be meeting Rachel in the food court in five minutes, but right now I’m eying an awesome striped scarf on an American Eagle sale table and it’s 75 percent off! The problem is some blond chick is now trying it on. I really want that scarf. Suddenly, she turns around — it’s Eden Payton-Patterson and she’s got my scarf.
“Um, do you want something?” She purses her lips, frowning.
“Um, no.”
“Well then, why are you staring at me?”
“I wasn’t.”
“Yes you were. Are you a stalker?”
“No … um … I just like the scarf.”
“Ew,” she says pulling it off her neck, “this thing?” She rolls her eyes and tosses it back on the table.
Before she can change her mind, I grab the scarf and race for the cash. There are two people ahead of me; one is returning a huge bag of clothes, and the other is having problems with her MasterCard. It takes ten full minutes for the two in front of me to finish. When it’s finally my turn, I throw the scarf down on the counter with a twenty. The girl then slowly scans the bar code, counts out my change, and starts neatly wrapping my scarf in tissue paper. She’s taking forever!
“No paper,” I finally yell, “I’ll wear it!” I grab the scarf, yank the price tag off, and throw it around my neck as I tear out of the store. I race through the mall and hop on the escalator, squeezing my way up through passengers until I reach the top. When I arrive at the food court, I’m relieved to see Rachel right away. It looks like she is in the middle of a deep discussion with someone. That’s good; maybe she won’t notice that I’m late … Holy crap! It’s Scarlett Hastings. What is she doing here? I try to wave to Rachel to let her know that I’m on my way, but she can’t see me. She’s totally absorbed in her conversation with Scarlett. When I get a little closer I can hear them.
“You know, you’ll be better off without her.”
“What?” Rachel says.
“We could have been really great friends if it weren’t for Hannah. You know, she hasn’t let you out of her sight since the minute you moved here, don’t you? Haven’t you noticed that she sticks to you like glue?” Scarlett snipes.
“She doesn’t stick to me like glue!” Rachel exclaims.
“Really?” Scarlett says, folding her arms in front of her. “Did you know that Hannah didn’t have any friends before you came along?”
“No.”
“Well, she didn’t, and do you know why? Because she’s selfish!”
“Selfish?” Rachel echoes, confused.
“Look at how late she is, Rachel! She’s so self-centered, thinking her time is more important than yours!” Scarlett taps her watch. “She makes you wait a lot, doesn’t she?”
“Not really … sometimes,” Rachel says, glancing around the food court.
“Wasn’t she supposed to be here, like, a half an hour ago?”
“Actually, twenty minutes ago.” Rachel says, looking down at her wrist.
I yank up my sleeve to check the time. Am I really twenty minutes late? I have to get over there!
“Well, hello, Hannah,” Mrs. Harris says, suddenly appearing beside me. Where the heck did she come from? “Doing a little last-minute shopping before the big trip?”
“Yeah… yeah a little bit.” I stammer, feeling more desperate than ever to get to Rachel.
“How was your Christmas?”
“It was good,” I answer, scratching my head nervously.
“And you’re leaving in a couple of days?”
“Yes.”
“Hannah? Are you okay?” Mrs. Harris tilts her head.
“Yes, I’m okay, I’m just late.”
“Well, I’m so glad I got to see you before you left.” She leans over and gives me a big squeeze. “Safe travels!”
“Okay, Mrs. Harris, and thanks again for everything,” I say, hugging her good-bye.
When I look back, Rachel and Scarlett are gone. This is not good! Where are they?
After a frantic scan of the food court, I finally spot them sipping iced cappuccinos at a table in front of Starbucks.
As I approach, I hear Rachel’s voice.
“You’re right. Hannah is the most selfish person I know. I’ll totally ditch her and go to the concert with you. I mean after all, I’d be crazy to pass up those V.I.P. tickets right?” I gasp in shock.
Rachel looks up, panic-stricken. “No, no, you don’t understand, Hannah!” she cries.
Scarlett looks positively blissful. She crosses her legs and taps Rachel’s boot with her foot. Suddenly, I notice the brand new pair of UGGs on Rachel’s feet. And at that moment the reality of the situation becomes as clear as the word Prada on Rachel’s new bag. I’ve been replaced.
16
Go Means Go
It’s New Year’s Eve. I never could have imagined it, but I just want to get this day over with so I can get on with my life in Maple Ridge.
I haven’t spoken to Rachel since the mall. This whole situation seems so unreal. She’s tried to call me, but there is really nothing more to say. She’s right. I’ve been the most selfish person on the face of the earth. I’d like to say that I’m glad she’s at the concert, but every time I imagine her and Scarlett together, sitting in the V.I.P. section, wearing their designer outfits, with their designer boots and designer bags, I feel a little ill.
We’ve been standing in line at the airport for what seems like forever.
“What a crappy way to spend New Year’s Eve,” a kid in line says to the guy next to him.
“Tell me about it,” I find myself throwing in.
The kid stares at me and then looks away, shaking his head. Was he scowling? What a weirdo.
Suddenly, my attention is drawn to some crazy person darting back and forth through the crowd. I’m shocked when I discover who it is.
“Hannah!” Rachel yells, gasping for air, “I’m so glad you haven’t left!” She thrusts a Josh Taylor concert T-shirt at me.
“How was the show?” I ask, looking down at the shirt.
“Hannah, I didn’t go to the concert with Scarlett,” she says in between pants.
“Whatever.” I shrug.
“Really, I didn’t!”
“I heard you at the mall, Rachel; I heard you say you’d be crazy not to go. I heard everything.”
“I was being sarcastic, Hannah.”
“Sarcastic?”
“Couldn’t you tell by my voice? I just wanted Scarlett to hear how stupid she sounded so I was repeating back every word she said.”
“Really?”
“Oh my gosh, Hannah, yes really!” Rachel says, exasperated. “I mean come on, can you seriously imagine me as one of the bookends?”
“What about the UGGs and the Prada bag and all the designer clothes?”
“The UGGs were a Christmas present from my aunt, and the Prada bag, well, after what Scarlett did, I told her to take her tickets and her bag and shove it up her …”
“Rachel,” I say with a gasp, “you didn’t!”
“Yes, I did,” she says giggling.
“What about the Bench jacket?”
“Oh, I’m keeping that!” She smirks. “I figure I earned it.”
“Then where did the Josh Taylor T-shirt come from?”
“Well, I went to the concert, but only because of my aunt.”
“Your aunt? The one who gave you the UGGs … the allergy specialist?”
“Yup, that’s the one,” Rachel answers. “Well, Aunt Becky was working today, and just happened to be in the emergency room when an ambulance brought in …get this … Josh Taylor’s new stage manager!”
“His stage manager?”
“Yeah, with a severe allergic reaction.”
“From what?”
“From a clam or a scallop or something,” Rachel says incredulously. “Apparently, her airway was closed off and she almost died!”
“Really?” My jaw drops.
“Yeah, and my aunt saved her life!” Rachel exclaims. “Well, this lady was so grateful that she gave Aunt Becky tickets and souvenir programs and Josh Taylor glow sticks and T-shirts and even backstage passes.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, we got to sit in the skybox with all these big shots in fancy suits, and they served us snacks and drinks and slushies and … oh …” Rachel’s smile suddenly falls as she glances down at the Josh Taylor shirt
in my hands. “I wish you could’ve been there, Hannah.”
I know from the sadness in her eyes that she really means it.
“Wow, did you see Scarlett there?” I blurt out, trying to lighten the mood (not to mention, I’m really curious).
“Yeah, I saw her … through my binoculars.”
“In the V.I.P. section?” I can’t help but sneer.
“No,” she says with a snort of laughter, “in the nosebleed section!”
“Nosebleed section?”
“Yeah, like the worst seats in the whole place!”
“Really? What happened?”
“Well, from what I hear, at the last minute her dad’s connection fell through, so she had to buy her tickets on ebay at triple the price.”
“Karma,” I say.
“Total karma,” she agrees, nodding.
“Wait … how did you even get here?” I ask suddenly.
Rachel points behind her. “My mom is waiting outside with the car. She didn’t want to pay for parking and told me to be quick.” She shrugs, grinning. “But whatever. I won’t be seeing you again for, like … I don’t even know how long!”
“I know!” I look down at the floor, avoiding her eyes. I don’t want to cry.
“So, what was it like backstage?” I ask. “Did you meet him?”
“No …” Rachel shakes her head with a smile. “We left before the last song.”
“But why?” I look at her, confused.
“That’s a stupid question,” she says, yanking my hair playfully. “We had to beat the traffic so we could make it to the airport in time.”
“What?” I half whisper, shaking my head, “but you could have met him … Josh Taylor.”
“Maybe,” she says with a shrug, “but Josh Taylor hasn’t been my very best friend in the entire world for the past five years, has he?”
“It’s time to go, Hannah,” Mom says, softly.
Rachel looks down at her feet, rocking back and forth. “See ya later, Movie Star,” she says, glancing up at me.
Hannah Smart, Operation Josh Taylor Page 8