Glitter Girl (6 page)

Kat didn't know how much the owners made off their coin laundry business, but since the Sip N' Suds was just across the street, the kids at Willkie gravitated there on a daily basis. It was a lot better place than
the
library
to hang out after a practice or rehearsal while you were waiting for your mom to pick you up. Plus, Anastasia, the old Russian lady who ran the place, would sometimes give Kat and her friends a free root-beer float for being good customers. It was here that Kat, Darcy, and Zoe were flopped on the couch, paging through last year's yearbook, the
Willkie
Wolfpack
.

“What about Maeve Finnegan?” said Kat. “She seems kind of cool.”

“OMG. Her hair is soooo red,” said Zoe, grabbing the book from Darcy. “It's like Elmo red.”

“Elmo has a goldfish named Dorothy,” said Darcy randomly. Kat and Zoe just ignored her.

“So Maeve has red hair,” said Kat. “Is she in or out?”

“Well, personally I think red hair is out,” said Zoe, which came as a bit of a surprise to the redheaded Darcy sitting next to her.

Kat shrugged her shoulders, “You decide about Maeve. I don't know her that well.”

“Out!” said Zoe without the least bit of hesitation.

“How many girls do we have so far?” asked Kat.

Zoe counted up the names she had written on her napkin. “Nine for-sures and three maybes, not counting us.”

“This is soooo hard!” moaned Kat, now upside down on the sofa and playing with her hair. “I wish we could just invite everyone! Who's next?”

Darcy looked at the next picture in the yearbook. “Penny Fong.”

“Ha. Don't think so,” said Zoe. “Math Club girl. Fat chance.”

“What?” said Kat. “Jules is in the Math Club.”

“Exactly!” said Zoe.

“Yeah, she might know what a Gaussian integer is, but I ask you, can she tell a pair of gauchos from capris?” said Darcy.

“Okay, Darce, you're scaring me,” said Kat, all the while secretly wondering
what
a Gaussian integer was, and how the usually airheaded Darcy knew about them in the first place.

On it went for well over an hour. Zoe and Darcy seemed to have something to say about every one of the girls in the
Wolfpack
, and not a lot of it was good. This one had crooked teeth, and that one had parents that never let her spend money, and this other one was definitely
not
Glitter Girl material (a phrase that came up more than once). Kat wasn't a fan of the snarkiness, and she had to put her foot down more than a few times—it was her party, after all. Finally they had a list of names that everyone could agree on.

“Okay,” said Kat. “That makes sixteen. With the three of us and Jules, of course, we've got our twenty.”

“Wait a minute!” said Zoe. “You're not
actually
thinking of inviting Jules to this party, are you?”

Kat had never actually considered
not
inviting her. “Why not?” Kat said. “We've been besties since like forever. She's come to every slumber party I've ever had.”

“Kat,” said Zoe seriously, “We're not saying you can't still be her friend or anything. But just think about it. This party is different. Have you seen her wardrobe? And those shoes?”

“Yeah. It's like she's socially
detonated,”
Darcy agreed about something. Kat and Zoe weren't sure what.

“Okay, maybe some of her wardrobe choices are a little—”

“Lame?” interrupted Zoe.

“Different,” corrected Kat. “But they're kind of cool in their own way. For her.”

Zoe straightened up a bit in her seat. “Kat. Look at it this way. You used to have a flip phone, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So you move on. You
evolve
.”

“I don't know,” Kat said uncertainly. “Jules is a person, not a flip phone.”

“Exactly. She's the flip phone of friends! And you, you're tomorrow's version of the iPhone. Anyway, what do you think that Chelsea person would say about you inviting Jules?”

Oh, gee. Kat had almost forgotten about Chelsea. She and Jules hadn't exactly gotten off to a great start the other day. And Jules
did
seem to think the whole thing was lame in the first place. But still…this was Jules they were talking about here.

Kat stared across the room, lost in thought. She watched as a load of whites tumbled around in one of the dryers. Tossed in among the T-shirts and, ew, underwear (Jules was right) was a single purple blouse, which must have been the only colored thing that needed washing in that load. Kat couldn't take her eyes off that purple blouse as it moved up and down in the dryer. It
did
look out of place. But still…

Kat was up even before the alarm clock went off, which was really rare for her because sleep was one of her absolute favorite things, next to shopping the sales at Forever 21 and watching zombie movies. The way those zombies lumbered around really cracked her up.

This
is
the
day
, she thought as she checked her look in the mirror. Her bangs were giving her a little trouble this morning. That annoying cowlick she inherited from her dad just wasn't responding to anything, not even the industrial-strength gel she got at the beauty supply store after reading it was the one Angelina Jolie uses. Oh well. She wasn't going to let it get to her. Not today. No siree. Because today was Wednesday, Ticket Day, and she was sure she felt just as excited to pass them out as the girls at school must be feeling to find out
who
exactly was getting one.

Kat saw herself as a little like Willy Wonka from one of her favorite childhood books,
Charlie
and
the
Chocolate
Factory
. And she was absolutely
convinced
that being the giver-outerer of the golden tickets—or, in this case, the shiny, hot pink, rhinestone-studded tickets that Chelsea had supplied her with—was a heckuva lot better than being the receiver.

There was a certain power to it that made her feel all, well, powerful. She sure wouldn't want to be one of the girls who got passed up. For a fleeting moment she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach, thinking about the girls who wouldn't be chosen, but she quickly pushed it aside. “Not everyone has what it takes,” as her mother often said.

She picked up the stack of tickets and carefully placed them in her backpack, her feeling of excitement rising again. She put a quick spritz of hairspray on her bangs in a final futile attempt to tame them and bounded down the stairs.

• • •

As Kat slipped into the waiting Prius, that sick feeling returned. Jules greeted her with an anxious smile.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Kat responded, fumbling with the hem of her skirt to avoid eye contact. She still hadn't talked to Jules about the fact that she wasn't getting one of the tickets. Not that she felt she needed to. After all, Jules wouldn't want to come to the slumber party. She'd made it clear she thought the whole thing was superficial and stupid and a big, fat waste of life. It definitely wasn't her scene.

So why did Kat feel so guilty about it? It's not like she and Jules did absolutely everything together. Well, not lately anyway. Especially not since they hit junior high. Didn't Jules have her Math Club and Shakespeare Club, which Kat wasn't a part of? Surely Jules wouldn't care in the least that she wasn't going to be included in a Glitter Girl party.

“So today's the big day, huh?” asked Jules, trying to sound casual but not doing a very good job of it.

“Huh?” responded Kat, shocked out of her rationalizations.

“The tickets. You're giving out the tickets today?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah, I am,” said Kat, also trying to sound casual but also not doing a very good job of it. “I'm going to have to keep it on the down low, though, and probably pass them out after school. Ms. Donovan's all worried about hurt feelings and stuff. Like people are really going to care about a silly slumber party. Right? Uh, anyway, you don't have to wait for me after school, if you don't want. I can walk.”

And there it was. Kat had put it out there without actually saying it. She even let herself believe that Jules's silence for the rest of the ride to school meant she was okay with it.

• • •

If the hallways were abuzz the day Kat walked into school after being chosen by Glitter Girl, today they were positively chaotic. Girls everywhere were bouncing around with a sense of anticipation she hadn't seen since the time everybody's favorite singer, Troy Cousins, did a concert at the White Oak Mall. Except when Troy made his appearance, there were shrieks and screaming and crying. Kat's classmate Savannah Lee had her usual fainting spell, which she had been doing since moving from Atlanta in the middle of second grade. She said it was a “Southern” thing. Secretly, Kat thought it was more of a “get attention” thing.

The moment Kat walked in, instead of shrieks, there was utter silence. All eyes fell on her, and for the first time in her life, the attention made her a little uncomfortable. She wasn't sure why. Maybe because she let herself think for just a second that Ms. Donovan might be right. Someone might get their feelings hurt.

But then suddenly the talking started up again. Girls, lots she didn't even know, were saying good morning to her and saying how cool she looked and how pretty her hair was, even though her bangs were clearly not cooperating!

Even the boys, who weren't looking to get a ticket, were giving her special attention. The seventh-grade boys who were usually too shy to talk to her and instead watched her through dreamy eyes as she walked through the halls. The eighth-grade boys, boys her own age, who sometimes mustered the guts to toss her a hello or buy her milk at lunch. But best of all, the ninth-grade boys—those boys on the verge of high school and shaving and driving cars—those boys who normally reserved all their attention for girls their own age, for girls who were out of training bras and already shaving their legs, were definitely sending the vibes her way. Some were nodding; some said hello.

Kat floated to her locker, because that's exactly what this moment felt like—floating on a cloud.

“OMG!” exclaimed Zoe, coming right up to Kat's locker. “Do you believe this? Positively everyone is talking about the invitations. I mean, I must have gotten a hundred texts last night asking if I knew who you'd decided to invite. And I said that of course I knew since, duh, I
helped
you decide, but I couldn't possibly tell and they'd have to wait like everyone else. And I love it! Do you love it? I mean, you've got to be the absolute most popular girl in school!”

As one cute ninth-grade guy—Randy Weaver, whose broad shoulders made him a shoo-in for the high-school football team next year—held her homeroom door open for her, Kat knew that Zoe was right. She, Kat Connors, was without a doubt the most popular girl in school. And she didn't mind it, not one bit.

• • •

At 2:58 p.m., all eyes were on the clock above the head of Mrs. Pittsenbarger, the social studies teacher. No one was paying her the least bit of attention. Everyone had pink on the brain. Especially Kat, who was counting down the seconds until the final bell rang.

As the last few minutes passed with the speed of molasses on an iceberg, Kat stole a glance over to Jules in the back of the classroom. They'd hardly spoken all day, although Kat hadn't made much of an effort. They had eaten lunch together, but Kat had been so swamped by girls who were stopping by the table to say hi that there wasn't much time to chat. When Araceli Chavez stopped by the table to give Kat the extra brownie her mom “accidentally” packed in her lunch, Kat saw Jules roll her eyes. She was sure that confirmed Jules's total lack of interest in the whole Glitter Girl scene.

But now, as the moment of the ticket giveaway approached, Kat wasn't so sure. Because now, as the last few seconds ticked away and she glanced over to Jules, she thought that she might have seen a hopeful, longing look in her friend's eyes. (Like that time in fifth grade when Jules found that stray Maltese and really, really wanted to keep it.) Just then Jules quickly looked down, pretending to write something in her notebook, and suddenly Kat wasn't so sure again.

RING!
As the three o'clock bell rang, the madness began. Kat hightailed it out the door without even the slightest glance back at Jules. So she missed the crestfallen look on her friend's face.

Kat made her way out of the classroom, and flanked by Darcy and Zoe, she pulled out the pink tickets and began passing them out whenever she saw someone on her list.

“Aly Washington!”

Screams.

“Hannah Stafford!”

More screams.

“Misty! Misty Wilkins,” she called to Misty through the crowd. Misty lit up as she reached over a bunch of heads and took the coveted ticket.

“Where's Lily Diaz?” Kat asked and heard a squeal as she saw the top of Lily's head bob up and down over the crowd. As Kat reached past a group of girls to hand Lily her ticket, she saw the utter disappointment in the eyes of the “unchosen.”

But she ignored it as best she could and continued passing out the tickets as Darcy checked off the names on her list and Zoe acted as bodyguard, protecting Kat from anyone who was getting too close. “Daphne Momsette. Cee Cee Lewis.” And so it went, name after name, squeal after squeal, the occasional “aw” of disappointment and even some sobs. But by now Kat had stopped noticing. She was too caught up in the excitement of the moment and this exhilarating feeling of, well, power that surged through her.

Finally Zoe turned to her and whispered, “That's it, except for Kelsey Miller. She had cheerleading practice right after school. She'll be in the gym.”

Kat then held up a hand and was amazed and pretty darned thrilled that this tiny gesture caused instant silence. “That's it, ladies. Congrats to those of you who have been chosen. I'll see you Saturday night!”

So off she went, led by Zoe and Darcy toward the gym, leaving a sea of heartbreak and disappointment in their wake.

“OMG! Did you see Candace Mack?” laughed Zoe.

“I know, she was actually sobbing!” said Darcy.

“She was sobbing? Candace Mack?” asked Kat a little surprised. “Seriously?”

“I know! I mean, how could she even think we'd consider her? Puny little seventh grader,” said Zoe as the trio pushed into the gym.

Kat started to feel a little guilty, but her guilt was interrupted by a feeling far more powerful when you're fourteen—the thrill of seeing your crush. As they entered the gym on their hunt for Kelsey, Kat's eyes caught those of Kyle, who was busy showing Coach Scofield his stuff during a pickup basketball game with some of the other ninth-grade boys.

“I don't see her,” said Zoe scanning the gym.

“Maybe she's in the locker room,” said Darcy.

“You guys check it out. I'll wait here,” said Kat, not taking her eyes off Kyle. Darcy and Zoe headed back to the girls' locker room. Coach Scofield blew his whistle and told the boys to get a drink of water. Kat watched as Kyle walked past the water fountain and straight across the court toward her. Her heart caught in her throat as she took a couple of steps toward him and smiled.

“Nice job out there,” Kat said, giggling a little and trying to think of something at least moderately intelligent to say about basketball. The best she could come up with was, “You're really good.”

“Yeah? Thanks. Coach is going to announce the fall tournament team soon, so I want to be ready. What did
you
think, dork?” Kyle looked to Kat's left.

“Pretty good, pea brain. You might actually have a shot,” replied Jules. She had been sitting on the bleachers and Kat, with all her distractions, hadn't even seen her.

“Oh, hey, what are you doing here?” asked Kat, taken aback.

“Waiting for Kyle to finish practice so we can go home. What are
you
doing here?” asked Jules, her eye on the single pink ticket in Kat's hand.

Kat looked from Jules to Kyle, who was looking back at her with his dark piercing eyes.

“I'm, uh, I came to give out the last ticket to, uh…to you! I mean, if you want it. You don't have to if—” but Kat was cut off because Jules, in spite of herself, jumped up and gave her a
huge
hug that frankly shocked the heck out of Kat.

“I'd
love
to go!” said Jules, quickly composing herself. “I mean, you know, only if you really want me to come. I mean, it's not a big deal, whatever.”

“Really? Cuz if you don't—” started Kat, backpedaling a little. But before she could go on…

“Kat Connors! Are you passing out those tickets on school grounds?”

Kat turned to see Ms. Donovan coming at her like a freight train. The crowd of boys around the drinking fountain simultaneously looked around to find the source of the commotion, and all eyes turned, for the second time today, to Kat.

“Uh, I thought it was okay as long as it was after school,” offered Kat.

“No. It is
not
okay. Do you know that I passed at least a half dozen girls in tears in the hallway? Tears! This is exactly what I—”

“Hey! There a problem here?” asked Coach Scofield, who had crossed the gym to join them.

“C–coach Scofield!” said Ms. Donovan, whirling around and realizing for the first time that she was now within inches of her own crush. Kat could see that Ms. D was trying to play it cool. Well, for her, anyway. “No, there's n–no problem,” the teacher stammered, playing with her glasses nervously. “It's just—just teenage girls, you know, being teenage girls. It's, uh, adolescents trying to establish parameters for their own social cohorts. It's all very Goneril and Cordelia from Act I of
Lear
.”

“Uh, ma'am, I'm sorry. You lost me at adolescents,” said the dumbfounded coach, not used to hearing so many syllables uttered at once that didn't involve the zone defense.

“Everything's cool, Coach.” Kat jumped in, seeing that Ms. Donovan could use a lifeline before she turned completely into girl-nerd crush goo. “Coach Scofield, do you know Ms. Donovan? She's like a humongous supporter of the basketball program.”

“Is that so?” said Coach Scofield, happy to have the conversation turn back to a topic that he knew something about: himself.

Ms. Donovan stood frozen in surprise, so Kat continued.