Girls Acting Catty (7 page)

“Way,” I replied, gravely.

“Like her shoes are so great,” said Yumi as she unpacked her lunch.

“Forget her shoes, what about her jeans?” asked Rachel. “She wore those same ones three times last week.”

“So uncreative.” Claire munched on a carrot stick and turned toward Taylor's table. “It makes me sad.”

“But she could've washed them.” I felt it was important to point this out, since I usually wear my favorite jeans twice in one week.

“Hey, how come you always defend her when she's so mean to you?” asked Rachel.

“I don't,” I replied quickly.

Claire must have noticed my concern because she explained that it's okay to wear jeans twice in one week, especially if you wear them on a Monday and then again later in the week— like on Thursday or Friday. But wearing the same jeans three times in one week is overkill, especially if on two of those days you pair the jeans with the same exact top. Which is what Taylor did all the time.

Taylor's crowd—I mean Terrible T and the Three Terrors— sits just two tables over from ours and they have to pass us on their way to the trash can.

The next time Taylor walked by our table, Rachel said all sweetly, “I love those jeans.”

Taylor seemed wary at first but still mumbled an unenthusiastic thanks, at which point Rachel said, “At least that's what I thought when you wore them all last week.”

“Whatever,” said Taylor, which everyone knows is the weakest comeback out there.

We were pretty happy, for about five minutes.

Then Nikki walked up to Rachel, handed her a napkin, and said, “You have something on your face.”

“What?” asked a confused Rachel.

Nikki squinted at her. “It looks like spaghetti sauce,” she said, and then gasped and pretended to be embarrassed. “Oh my gosh. I'm so sorry. That's just your skin!”

Before Rachel could respond, she hurried back to her table, where her crowd sat, laughing at us.

It was way harsh. Unfair too, since Rachel's skin had cleared up this week. I was going to tell her so, but Rachel got all quiet and serious and stared down at her turkey sandwich, like she wanted to be left alone.

Then lunch ended before we even got the chance to retaliate.

At least Taylor didn't bug me during PE. She was too busy painting her nails. Yeah, only Taylor would polish her nails in class. And she didn't even flinch when our teacher, Ms. Chang, took away the bottle.

“No biggie,” she'd said with a shrug. “I'm getting sick of that shade, anyway.”

If she wasn't so terrible, I might've been impressed.

I wore a sweatshirt to dinner that night, so if my bra strap slipped off my shoulder, no one would see. But I don't think anyone would've noticed, anyway. My mom and Dweeble were too busy arguing about the wedding. Tonight's topic: food.

“Everyone likes passed hors d'oeuvres,” said Dweeble.

“But a cheese and cracker table makes much more sense,” Mom said.

Jason grinned at me and rolled his eyes.

I smiled back and wondered why my insides felt warm and melty.

“Maybe we should choose the caterer first,” said Dweeble. “What about Sammys Second Helpings?”

“The punctuation is all wrong in their sign.” My mom crossed her arms and leaned back. “
Sammy's
should have an apostrophe.”

“You're going to rule them out because of shoddy grammar?” asked Dweeble. “Can't you stop being an English teacher for five minutes?”

“Oh, I don't know, Dad,” said Jason. “I think she has a good point. It's an attention to detail kind of thing.”

“Fine, then what about Famous Dave's?” asked Dweeble.

“If he's so famous, how come I've never heard of him?” asked my mom.

“Now you're just being difficult,” said Dweeble.

“Why don't you guys just order a bunch of pizzas and call it a day?” asked Jason.

I laughed—right as I was taking a sip of water— and sprayed it all over the table.

Everyone looked at me.

“Sorry,” I said, wiping my mouth. “Can I please be excused?” I stood up, cleared my plate, and got out of there as fast as I could— all the time wondering if I could be more of a spaz.

Back in my room, I decided to take another look at Pepper's puppy-training manual. Even though my technique hadn't worked on Terrible T this morning, I figured there might've been something I'd missed.

Plus, it would be cool to find a way to make my mom and Dweeble not fight. I combed through all the pages but sadly couldn't find a thing that might help.

I did find one chapter I hadn't read before.

R
OLL
O
VER
. W
HY
? B
ECAUSE
I S
AID
S
O
.

Okay, rolling over isn't exactly a necessary or practical skill, like teaching your dog to make outside, sit, or stay. But that doesn't mean it's not worth learning. Just think about the bragging rights. Sure, my dog can roll over. No problem-o. How fabulously impressive will that sound? Very. Alright-y? So here's how you do it.

This trick was much more complicated than the others. No wonder I'd skipped it when I was first training Pepper. There were six whole steps involved.

First, I had to teach Pepper how to lie down. He already knew that, so I figured I was ahead of the game. Next, I had to get him to stay there. Then I had to take a treat and sort of wave it from one side of his neck to the other. In theory, Pepper was supposed to follow the treat with his eyes, move his head, and in the process, roll over so he could better reach it.

I tried this a few times, but it didn't work out so well. As soon as Pepper saw the treat, he sat up and offered his paw. No shocker, since sitting and shaking was something we did all the time.

“No, Pepper,” I said, hiding the treat and starting over from the beginning. Eventually, I got him to lie down, but every time I pulled out the treat, he sat up and offered his paw again. The longer I refused to feed him, the more spastic he became. Pretty soon he wouldn't even sit. Instead, he just jumped up and tried to get at the biscuit, all frantic, as if he hadn't eaten in a week.

When he started barking, I lost patience and just let him eat.

Oh well. Like the book said, rolling over wasn't exactly practical, and I guess Pepper knew enough tricks.

I put the book away and turned to my homework. I had stuff due in all my classes so it took forever. By the time I finished I was exhausted, so I changed into my pajamas and headed for the bathroom.

Tried to, anyway. When I opened up the door, I found myself face-to-face with Jason. An almost-naked Jason.

He was brushing his teeth with a towel wrapped around his waist. Yes, a towel, and only a towel.

Ack! “Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry!” I yelled, covering my eyes and backing out.

“It's fine,” he said. At least I think that's what he said. It was hard to tell, since he was talking with the toothbrush in his mouth.

I slammed the door shut and called, “Sorry,” again.

He didn't say anything, but I heard him spit, and then turn on the water. I didn't know if I should stand there and wait, or go back to my room.

I also didn't know why I hadn't knocked. It's not like I forgot about Jason. I just sat across from him for an entire meal and he's not exactly a forgettable type of guy.

So what had I been thinking? And how come I was just standing around now?

I turned, about to head for my room, when the door opened. Jason was on his way out—still dressed in only the towel. His hair hung down loose and damp around his shoulders, curling at the ends in the most adorable way.

“Sorry,” I tried one more time, feeling silly for lurking in the hall, like a weirdo. “I was just leaving. I mean, I didn't know how long you'd be but I wasn't listening or anything.”

I wasn't
listening
? Did I really just say that? I think I did.

Jason held the door open for me. “Bathroom's all yours.”

“Sorry,” I said, yet again.

“No worries,” he replied as he headed down the hall.

Ha! That's easy for him to say.

chapter seven
microorganism; macro-mistake

G
uess what?” Yumi asked at lunch the next day.

“Aliens landed in your backyard,” Rachel guessed.

“And they gave you the power to fly,” Claire said.

“But you used that power to spy on your cute neighbor,” said Emma. “So they took it away.”

“And then they got so fed up with earthlings, they flew back to Mars,” Claire finished. “Which is too bad, because they were going to bring peace on earth.”

“You guys, that's not funny!” Yumi stomped her foot and tried to keep from giggling, which proved to be impossible.

“You're the one who told us to guess,” Rachel pointed out.

“Okay, fine. Stop guessing. I'll just tell you. I got a cat.”

“I'm allergic to cats,” said Rachel.

“I thought you were allergic to dogs,” said Yumi.

“I'm allergic to both.”

“Is it a sphynx?” asked Claire. “Because sphynx cats are hairless, so then you'd be okay.”

“Although not totally okay, because then you'd be stuck with a really funny-looking cat,” Rachel said.

“That's a common misconception but, actually, most people with cat allergies are allergic to the dander,” said Emma. “And there's no such thing as a cat without dander, I don't think.”

“My cat has fur,” Yumi informed us. “Really cute fur too. She's gray with black stripes and she has the cutest little meow. I can't wait for you guys to meet her—my first real pet! I'm so excited!”

“What about your fish?” asked Emma.

“Those are my mom's, and they're cool to look at, but there's nothing like having a pet you can actually pet. Annabelle, you know what I'm talking about.

Right?”

Yumi waved her hand in front of my face. “Earth to Annabelle.”

“Huh?” I blinked and looked around. All my friends were staring at me. “What?” I asked.

“You tell us. How come you're acting so spacey?” Rachel asked.

“Spacey?” I stared at her, completely confused.

She smiled. “You're, like, in a daze. You even repeated the word
spacey
in a super-spacey way. So what's up?”

“Oh, I didn't get much sleep last night.” As soon as I told her this, I realized I'd had a hard time sleeping for a couple of nights. Ever since Jason came to stay with us, actually. Just knowing he was right down the hall from me made it impossible to relax.

I guess my explanation was good enough, because my friends went right on talking.

“What's her name?” asked Emma.

“Hiroki Kuroda. I named her after the starting pitcher for the Dodgers.”

Rachel frowned. “I still think it would've been cooler if aliens landed in your backyard.”

“Maybe Hiroki is an alien cat,” said Emma.

“Her origins
are
mysterious,” said Yumi. “She just showed up at my dad's office park last week and she wouldn't go away. My dad's boss wanted to call animal control, but my dad said no way.”

“He rescued her? How sweet,” said Claire.

“I dunno. Sounds like the beginning of some scary movie,” said Emma.
“Attack of the Killer Kitty.”

We all laughed.

My friends cracked me up. I wished Jason could see me now, here like this, having fun and being goofy in my normal element. He only knew me as the too-quiet, clumsy kid who spit water like a broken fountain and didn't know how to knock.

A little while later I heard someone say, “Hey, Annabelle.”

I looked up to find all my friends standing over the table—their stuff packed away and ready to go.

“Didn't you hear the bell?” asked Rachel.

“Bell?”

Everyone looked at one another, not knowing whether to laugh or to be concerned. “Um, lunch is over,” Yumi said, finally.

“Right.” I stood up fast. “Of course. I knew that. I totally did.”

I threw out my stuff and headed to science. On my way in, I had to squeeze past Tobias and Oliver, who were wrestling in the aisle. Oliver accidentally pushed me into a table. It didn't hurt, and he did apologize, but it was annoying just the same.

Funny that Jason was once a Birchwood Boy. Hard to imagine too. I'll bet he was never this immature.

I hoped I'd get used to having him around soon, so I could actually relax and be myself. Maybe we could even hang out. After dinner last night (before the bathroom incident), he and his dad played some one-on-one in our driveway. Dweeble had asked me if I wanted to shoot hoops too, but I'd said no.

I did watch them from my window, though.

Jason had an amazing jump shot, and he could slam-dunk too.