by Betsy Haynes
I thought I'd die. I knew my face must be turning a thousand shades of red, and my ears were so hot they felt as if they would melt and run down onto my desk. My FORMER friends really had ganged up against me after all. The Fabulous Four! They hated me and wanted everyone in the whole school to know it. They hated me so much they didn't even care if Wiggins knew.
Just then Wiggins turned and faced our class. Of course, she spotted the T-shirts right away. I held my breath. What in the world would she do?
She looked at them for a minute as if she were thinking it over. "Well, since there are only four of you, you're certainly not a basketball team, are you?"
"No, ma'am," said Christie. I couldn't believe how fast she answered. "We've formed this really private club, and we call ourselves The Fabulous Four."
From the way Christie said it, I could tell she had practiced that speech. The four of them had probably spent days deciding what to say to Wiggins and fixing it so she couldn't trap them into telling the truth. Well, I was betting on Wiggins, and I couldn't wait to hear what she would say next.
Wiggins didn't say anything. I couldn't believe it. She opened her mouth as if she was going to, but then she shot a funny glance at me and waved them to their seats. I could tell they were looking at me as they went by, but I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of looking back.
At that moment I would have bet that the day couldn't get any worse, but it did. Wiggins made it worse as soon as we got back into our room after lunch.
"I'd like to suggest that the Halloween party committee stay in during afternoon recess to plan the refreshments and decorations. After all, Halloween is less than a week away."
We all knew what it meant when Wiggins made a suggestion, and so when the recess bell rang, the six of us stayed in our seats while everybody else, including Wiggins, piled out of the room to get their coats and go outside.
Curtis Trowbridge jumped up like a jack-in-the-box and marched over to the reading table in the library corner.
"We'll meet over here," he said importantly.
Sally Schmidt was the first one to follow him. Randy and Taffy were next. I knew I should go over there, but I felt as if my feet were set in concrete. The last thing I wanted to do was to sit across a table from Beth Barry, but Beth hadn't gone over either.
"Hey, you guys," called Curtis. "We don't have all day."
Suddenly Beth jumped up and ran to the table. I didn't understand why she did that until I noticed that the only empty seat left was between her and Curtis Trowbridge. She had done that on purpose so I would have to sit next to the nerd!
When everybody was finally sitting down, Curtis started the meeting. Randy suggested that we decorate the gym with orange and black crepe paper streamers. Taffy suggested potato chips and cider for refreshments, and Sally said her mother could probably bake a cake. I didn't say anything, and neither did Beth. We just sat there, hating each other.
Just then I began having this funny feeling that someone was looking at me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see who it was. My heart stopped. It was Randy, and he was more than looking. He was staring. Was he doing that because of the phone call yesterday? Was he still wondering who had called? Did he know it was me? He didn't look mad. Maybe he was grateful someone had called. Maybe he was sitting there right then trying to get up his nerve to talk to me.
All of a sudden I could feel Beth's foot pushing against my foot, and she sort of scooted her chair sideways until it was touching mine. She was looking straight at me, and I gave her a hateful look and scooted my chair away from her. Then she started grinning, and I knew what she had done. She had made me scoot my chair closer to Curtis Trowbridge.
I couldn't let her get away with a thing like that. She thought she was so smart wearing a Fabulous Four T-shirt and practically pushing me into Curtis Trowbridge's lap right in front of Randy Kirwan.
I made my eyes into poison darts and leaned toward her. "Just wait," I whispered. "I'm going to tell everybody what I heard about you!" I really hadn't heard anything, but Beth didn't know that. Anyway, it was the best thing I could think of at the moment.
Beth's eyes got really big, and she opened her mouth to say something back, but just then Wiggins came charging into the room.
"Well, now, committee. What plans have you made?"
Curtis told her, making everything sound like his idea, and then we all went back to our seats while the rest of the class came in from recess.
When I got to our apartment after school, I went straight to my room and pulled my boot box from under my bed. Then I got out my Fabulous Five notebook and my black Magic Marker and went to work. First, I tore out all the pages about The Fabulous Five and pitched them into my wastebasket. I never wanted to see them again. On a blank page I wrote The Fabulous Four across the top and under that I wrote each of my FORMER friends' names. Now I was ready, I thought. On the first line I wrote "jealous" under every name. On the second line I wrote "snotty," "snotty," "snotty," "snotty." On the third line I wrote "gross" four times, and on the fourth I wrote "nerd." Even Curtis Trowbridge couldn't compete with them. By the time Mom got home I was down to line ten after adding "dumb," "stupid," "mean," "conceited," and "ugly." I was feeling a lot better by then. I didn't care what Mom said about looking for good points instead of faults. Faults were all that my FORMER friends had.
"I hope you won't mind if Pink has dinner with us again," said Mom after I stashed my notebook in the boot box and went out to the kitchen.
"Sure," I said sort of absently. I could have cared less if Pink came over or went to the moon. I had plenty of other things on my mind.
"Good. I've decided to cook Chinese. Care to help me chop?"
"Sure," I said again. Mom got out the celery and onions and mushrooms and a cutting board and knife for me and then started boning chicken breasts and cutting the meat into little pieces. I really sort of liked helping Mom chop up all the stuff and stir fry it in the wok. I just hoped she wouldn't try to start up a conversation the way she usually did, by asking me how my day was. She didn't. Instead she brought up my Jolly Green Giant costume again.
"I bought a green sweater and leotards for you to wear under this little jumper thing I'm making out of the green felt," she said. "I've also cut about thirty leaves out of the felt, and tonight after Pink goes home, I'll staple them on. You know, sort of overlapping them like shingles on a roof. You're going to look adorable."
Just then I thought of another fault to add to my friends' lists. "Sure, Mom," I said. "I'll be back in a minute." I dried my hands and hurried to my room. I got out my notebook again and wrote "bratty" on line ten. I looked at the page. It was getting better all the time. Then I wrote "spoiled," "spoiled," "spoiled," "spoiled." They were coming faster now. "Impolite," "impolite," "impolite," "impolite," and I was halfway down the page.
I nearly starved before Pink arrived. Mom and I usually ate around a quarter to six, but according to my watch it was eight minutes and thirty-five seconds after seven before he knocked on the door.
Pink did most of the talking during dinner, which was fine with me. Just as Mom and I were clearing the table, I thought of another word to add to the lists of faults.
"Excuse me for just a minute," I said and shot off to my room. I was giggling when I pulled my notebook out that time. In fact, I was laughing so hard it was all I could do to write "flat chested" four times. I thought about not writing it under Melanie's name, but I did it anyway. She still had a long way to go.
I couldn't think of any other faults just then and was putting my notebook away when the phone rang. I knew I couldn't reach it before the second ring, so I didn't try. Somehow my telephone answering record didn't seem so important anymore. A minute later Mom knocked on my bedroom door.
"Jana, it's for you."
"For me?" I asked half aloud. Who in the world would be calling me? It wouldn't be Taffy Sinclair. She wasn't allowed to talk on the phone after supper. Then I started tingling all over.
It was Randy! It had to be. He was finally calling to tell me he was crazy about me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Mom had a big grin on her face as I went streaking toward the phone. "It's Beth," she said.
I slowed to a walk. Beth! I couldn't figure out why Beth Barry was calling me, and I reached for the telephone receiver as if it were a snake. Then I remembered those awful T-shirts that said The Fabulous Four and how snotty Beth had been in the Halloween party committee meeting that day, and I snatched that phone off the table and growled, "Hello."
"Jana Morgan. You have to tell me right now what Taffy Sinclair has been saying about me!" Beth was practically shrieking into my ear. It was obvious that pointing out the fact that she was overdramatic hadn't done much good. "If you heard something, it has to have been from her. She's the only friend you've got."
It really made me mad when she said that. "I don't have to tell you anything. Besides, when Taffy says something, it's the truth. If it hadn't been for her, I wouldn't know how jealous you are of me and how you've been telling everybody in school that I'm boy crazy just to get revenge."
I smiled to myself. I knew I had told her a thing or two.
"Well, Miss Smarty Pants, then it must be true what Taffy says about you."
"About me?" I said in disbelief, but at the same time an icy feeling was creeping into my heart.
"About you," said Beth. "I saw her in the girls' bathroom after school today, and she was laughing like crazy. I asked her what was so funny, and she said, 'Jana Morgan is trying to talk to boys in body language, but the way she does it looks like baby talk.'" My heart froze into a solid lump and dropped down into my stomach.
"She didn't say anything like that. You're making it up!" I screamed.
"Oh, no, I'm not. And that's not all she said, either. She said you think that Randy Kirwan likes you, but he doesn't. The only boy who likes you is Curtis Trowbridge."
I slammed the telephone receiver down as hard as I could and marched back toward my room. Just then I realized that Mom and Pink were looking at me and that they had heard the whole thing.
I slipped into my room and flopped on the bed. I was glad it was dark because all I wanted to do was hide. Beth's words echoed in my mind. She said you think Randy Kirwan likes you, but he doesn't. The only boy who likes you is Curtis Trowbridge. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. But deep down, I knew it probably was. Taffy Sinclair still hated me as much as she had back in the days when we had the club against her, and she had seen the chance to make me look like an idiot in front of my friends and Randy Kirwan and the rest of the sixth grade.
I remembered the first morning at school after The Fabulous Five meeting when we had told each other our faults. That was the morning Beth had called me Randy Kirwan's lover girl on the playground in front of everybody. Everybody including Taffy Sinclair. It had been the very next day when Taffy had wanted to walk with me and had told me that pack of lies about my friends saying awful things about me behind my back. That was also the morning she had told me Randy Kirwan liked me. She had lied! But then I thought back to the times we had talked about him, and I realized she hadn't really lied. She had never once said his name. All she had said was that a really cute boy liked me. She knew I'd think it was Randy Kirwan. And I had even called him on the phone to ask him how he felt about me. Thank goodness I had disguised my voice. I had believed that Taffy was just lonely and didn't know how to make friends. My FORMER friends had said I was immature, but I felt stupid. I couldn't help wondering if "stupid" and "immature" weren't just about the same thing.
After a while I got up and turned on my light. Another thing I couldn't get out of my mind was that Taffy had said my body language looked like baby talk. That proved what a really snotty person she was. I walked to my mirror. Of course, I didn't look like Taffy Sinclair. Nobody did. But I had done everything she had told me to do, and I had practiced it every day. Probably she was just jealous. She was afraid I'd get so good at it that I'd be competition.
I stuck out my hip and tossed my imaginary long hair, watching myself out of the corner of my eye. I was pretty pleased with what I saw. I would know baby talk if I saw it, I thought, and this definitely wasn't it. I began prancing around the room swinging my hips and tossing my hair. I didn't need Taffy Sinclair. I didn't even need my FORMER friends.
Just then I looked in the mirror and saw another face. It was Mom and she was standing inside the door watching me. I was so embarrassed I thought I'd die.
"I'm sorry, Jana," she said, fumbling. I knew she was trying to explain what she was doing in my room. "You were so upset—and Pink just left—and, well, your door was open a little bit."
I tried to look casual as I straightened up but another lump was growing in my throat. "That's okay, Mom. I wasn't doing anything special. Just goofing around." Mom looked relieved that I wasn't mad. "Well, if there had been a boy in here, I would have sworn you were flirting," she said with a nervous laugh.
My heart jumped inside my chest. "That wasn't flirting," I said quickly. "That was body language. We're learning all about it in school."
"Well, it sure looked like flirting to me," she said. "And if you learned it in school, I'd be willing to bet it wasn't from Miss Wiggins." She turned to leave but then turned back again. "There's nothing wrong with flirting, Jana, or with body language or whatever you want to call it," she said quietly.
I let out a big sigh of boredom and looked at her, wanting to tell her I already knew that, but she wasn't finished talking yet.
"Flirting is only good for one thing, though."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Attracting someone's attention. After that, you have to let that person see you for what you really are."
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks, and I looked back at myself in the mirror. I stood there staring for such a long time that I didn't notice when Mom left the room.
I thought a lot about what she had just said. Nobody in the whole world saw me for what I really was, and that was my biggest problem. Then I thought about Mom again and how I had watched her with Pink to see if she would talk to him in body language. Of course, she hadn't. She had already attracted his attention, and it was plain to see that he saw her for what she really was.
Finally I put on my pajamas and crawled into bed. I was so tired I didn't do my bust-developing exercises or my secret poster ritual. I just lay there, staring at the ceiling, but for the life of me, I couldn't go to sleep. I kept thinking about how nobody saw my good points because they were always looking for my faults. Mostly I was thinking about my FORMER friends.
Deep down I knew that I had started it all since I had been the one to say that The Fabulous Five should tell each other their faults. How could I know they would get so carried away? Later, I had planned for my former friends to die of jealousy when they saw me and Taffy Sinclair hanging around with a lot of cute boys. Then they would know how wrong they had been about me. And they had been wrong, too. If I were boy crazy as they thought, I'd even be crazy about that nerd Curtis Trowbridge. But maybe I had been as wrong about them as they had been about me.
As mad as I was at my FORMER friends, I had to admit that it gave me a really funny feeling to see them going around together again. It was plain to see that they didn't hate each other anymore. I couldn't help wondering if something had happened to make them want to be friends with each other again or if they had just decided to gang up on me and Taffy Sinclair. I wondered if they were talking on the phone to one another that very minute. For a long time I tried to think of a way to change their minds about me, something that would make them see me for what I really was.
I buried my head in my pillow and thought about how much I missed them. I remembered once Mom had said that when people wanted to apologize, one person always had to say it first. I thought about being the one to say it first, but I knew I just couldn't. My FORMER friends probably didn't ever want to hang around with me again, now that they thought I was suc
h a terrible person.
After a while I couldn't lie there any more, so I got up and turned on my desk light. Then I got my Fabulous Five notebook out of my boot box and opened it to a blank page. First, I put a heading, Jana Morgan, and then a subheading, My Good Points, and then I numbered down to twenty-five. I wasn't sure I'd be able to think of twenty-five good points, but I hoped I'd be able to come up with at least a dozen.
I sat there for a while, staring at that blank page, and I had to admit that thinking up my faults had been a lot easier. Finally, I put "kind to animals" next to number one. It wasn't that I had really had that much experience with animals since none of the apartments we had ever lived in had allowed pets, but all my life I had wanted a dog and a horse. Also, I had always petted Christie Winchell's poodle when I played at her house.
I thought awhile and then wrote "healthy" next to number two. Wasn't Mom always going on about how great it was that I was hardly ever sick?
Finally, I thought of a really super good point, and on line three I wrote "friendly."
I couldn't help remembering that my FORMER friends had good points, too, and I had to admit I hadn't thought about them for an awfully long time. But what was the point in thinking about their good points when they certainly weren't thinking about mine?
I put my notebook away and climbed into bed again. My heart felt like it had tumbled off a cliff. I was all alone. I didn't have a single friend. Not Randy. Not my four FORMER friends. Not even Taffy Sinclair.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
I have this brand new theory about Halloween: it's the dumbest holiday of the year. Since getting people to see each other for what they really are is supposed to be so important, why does everybody get dressed up like somebody else? Take me, for instance. Me and my Jolly Green Giant costume. The only vegetables I like are peas and corn, but when I show up dressed like the Jolly Green Giant, people are just naturally going to assume that I like cauliflower and brussels sprouts, too.