My Best Frenemy (8 page)

Rachel looks up from the snow stream. “Where does all that water go? ” she asks.

I sigh and take a few steps toward her. “You know,” I say. “Into a pipe. Then to a river. Then to the nearest ocean. ”

“The
ocean
?” Rachel says, squinting through the grate. “Down
there
?”

“Yep,” I say. “Now come on, or I’m leaving without you. ” I take a fake step away.

Rachel stands up. She unwinds her scarf and dips the fringe through the grate. “Here, sharkie, sharkie, ” she says.

I sigh and trudge toward her again. “Rachel, you can’t catch a shark with a scarf. Not unless it tastes like tuna. ”

Rachel pulls the scarf out and gives the fringe a sniff. She looks at me. “Do you got any tuna? ”

“Yes, ” I say. “At my
house
. Where we were supposed to be five minutes ago.” I make my face go all responsible.

Rachel loops her scarf over her head and winds it around her neck. Then she picks up a stick that’s poking through the slushy snow and drops it through the grate. “Bye, stick,” she says. “Watch out for whales. ”

She heads down the sidewalk toward my house. “C’mon, Ida! ” she calls. “Or I’ll be late! ”

My mom opens the front door when we finally get to my house. “I was beginning to wonder if you two were lost. ”

“No,” I say. “We were just doing a little . . . fishing. ”

“Fishing? ” Mom says.

Rachel nods. “For sharks! ”

Mom helps Rachel with her coat. “Did you catch any? ”

“Nope,” Rachel says. “We didn’t have any tuna. Do you got some? ”

Mom smiles. “I’m fresh out,” she says. “But I do have cookies. I wonder if sharks like cookies? ”

“I bet they do,” Rachel says. “I bet they would even like two. ”

Mom does a little laugh. “Two cookies,” she says. “After your lesson. ”

Rachel smiles and kicks off her boots. She follows Mom into the living room, where we keep our piano.

I dump my stuff and head for the cookies. I take three. One for me, one for George, and one for my fish.

“Cookie, George? ” I ask as I plop down next to him on my bed.

George passes, so I take care of it for him.

I walk over to my fish tank and pick up the little container of fish food. I hold a cookie and the fish food up to the tank. “Choose, ” I say.

My fish swims up to the fish food and taps the glass.

“Good boy,” I say. I pop the cookie into my mouth and sprinkle fish food over the water.

I grab my journal, unclip the purple pen, and flip to a blank page. Then I sit on my bed and write TOP SECRET on the page and draw a few lightning bolts. Then I write IF YOU ARE NOT NAMED IDA MAY DO NOT READ PAST THIS POINT! Then I draw a needle with a very sharp point.

“I’m back, ” I say after walking Rachel home.

“Good,” Mom replies. She’s sitting by our piano, writing notes on a sheet of paper. “Thanks. ”

“You’re welcome,” I say. “I’m happy to do it, even though you’re not paying me. ”

Mom glances up and smiles. “I appreciate that.” Then she pauses and narrows her eyes. She does this when she’s studying something. Right now, the thing she is studying is me. Mostly my face. Mostly just my eyes.

“What? ” I ask. “Is it marker again? ” I lick my fingers and rub my forehead.

“No, ” Mom says, still studying me. “I was just wondering . . . have you been, by any chance, wearing makeup at school? ”

I blink. Several times. “Um . . . what? ”

Mom sets down her pencil. “Rachel said she saw you in the hallway a few days ago and your eyelids looked like tropical fish. ”

I scratch my neck. “Oh, ” I say. “
That
makeup.” I do a little yawn. “Brooke brought some eye shadow to school and everyone borrowed it. No big deal. ”

“Brooke is allowed to wear makeup?” Mom asks.

I scratch some more. “Only for recitals and stuff, ” I mumble. “You’re not going to tell her mom are you? ”

“No, ” Mom says. “But I think you’re too young to be wearing makeup at school. And it’s not a good idea to share it, especially not eye makeup. ”

Mom starts explaining about eye germs, but all I hear is
you’re too young
over and over again.

“Mom, ” I say when she’s done with her germ speech. “Some of the girls in my class get to wear fake ponytails, okay? Some of them have had their ears pierced since they were
three
. So I think it’s pretty unfair for you to say I’m too young for stuff when I’m the same age as them. ”

I cross my arms and take a breath.

“I’m not saying you’re too young for
everything,
” Mom replies, all calm. “Just for some things. ”

“Well, I should get to decide what I’m
not
too young for, ” I say.

Mom sits back in her chair and crosses her arms too. “For example? ”

I do the breath again because I hadn’t planned on her asking me for examples. If I say something too big I won’t get very far.

“I should get to choose my own clothes without you giving me that
look
, ” I say.

“What look? ” Mom asks.

I scrunch up my eyes like someone just turned on a very bright light.
“That orange top clashes with your red skirt, Ida, ”
I say in my mom voice.
“And toe socks aren’t meant to be worn with flip-flops. ”

Mom laughs. “Fair enough, ” she says. “Starting tomorrow you may choose your own outfits and I will do my best to keep my eye comments to myself. ”

I suck in one cheek. I know I should quit while I’m ahead, but instead I hear myself say, “And I should get to wear makeup if I want to.
And
get my ears pierced. ”

Mom’s laugh fades away. The only sound I hear is the scritch-scratch of my fingernails against my neck.

“Nail polish, yes,” Mom says. “Makeup, no. Bracelets now and earrings when you’re ten. ”

“But everyone—” I start to say.

Mom holds up her hand like a crossing guard. “I don’t want you to make choices based on what everyone else is doing. There’s nothing wrong with saving some things for when you’re older. Besides, getting your ears pierced means you have to take care of them so they don’t get infected. And that means being
responsible
.”

I do a big snort. “I am
very
responsible,” I say. “I just walked Rachel all the way home without losing her once! ”

Mom drums her fingers against her arm. “Yes, but your room is a mess. You still haven’t written thank-you notes to Aunt Margo and Grandma May for the Christmas gifts they gave you.” She pauses, and narrows her eyes. “And what about your
fish
?”

I narrow my eyes back. “What about him? ”

“I keep asking you to clean the tank filter, but you haven’t done it yet, have you? ”

“I’ve
thought
about doing it lots of times,” I say.

“Thinking and doing aren’t the same thing, Ida. And what about a name for the fish? Or are you still
thinking
about that too? ”

“Mom,” I say, “you don’t rush into naming a fish, or you get stuck with something like
Goldie
or
Flipper
.”

Mom sighs. She picks up a stack of music and fusses with it until all the edges are straight. “If you can’t do what’s needed to take care of a pet, Ida, I don’t think you’re ready for other big-girl things. ”

My heart is pounding so hard it makes my ears ring. Actually, it’s the doorbell that’s ringing, but still, I’m pretty mad.

Mom gets up from her chair and rests her hands on my shoulders. “Here’s the deal,” she says. “You clean the fish filter and I’ll take you and your Christmas money shopping for a new outfit on Saturday. Tops, bottoms, bangles—the works—and I won’t give you
the look
once.” She does the look as an example. “But makeup and pierced ears will have to
wait
.”

I think about how much I would like to choose a whole outfit all by myself. Maybe I could even talk her into letting me get jingle bell boots and a fake ponytail. But instead I make myself say, “I will probably be too busy to go shopping with you. ”

“Oh? ” she says, sliding her hands off my shoulders and walking to the front door, which is still ringing.

I make my face go very smooth. “I have sledding plans. ”

Mom glances back at me and then opens the door. A piano kid comes in. He kicks off his boots and dumps his coat. Mom points toward the piano and he trudges past me in soggy socks, plopping down on the bench.

“Suit yourself, ” Mom says, brushing past me. “But
I
plan to go shopping at the mall on Saturday morning. ”

I do not storm out of the room.

I just turn around and do a slow stomp up the stairs.

I give my bedroom door a very small slam.

I see Stacey before school, but I don’t mention my dare because all the other girls are around. Plus, I’m still thinking about what happened earlier at the bus stop.

We were all just standing there, not talking because it was cold and sometimes it feels warmer if you bury your chin in your collar and don’t move your lips. But then Tess did a big sneeze. A monster sneeze. Her face was snot city. So was her coat.

She looked at Quinn for help, but he just shook his head and said, “Nu-uh. No way. ” So I started fishing around in my pocket for a tissue even though I’m not a big fan of cleaning up snot, but before I could even check both pockets, Jenna said, “Here, ” and handed Tess a handkerchief made out of actual cloth. Tess took it and tried to wipe her face, but it didn’t work very well because it’s hard to grip a hankie with mittens on.

So Jenna picked the hankie up off the ground and wiped Tess’s face and cleaned the splatters off her coat, even though they were already frozen on, but still, she tried. Then Jenna bunched up the hankie and stuffed it back in her pocket.

I was mostly in shock. Partly because she kept all that snot, and partly because she had helped Tess without anyone telling her to.

I’m still wondering what has gotten into her when I sit down at my desk. But then Randi walks by making squeaky mouse sounds, so my mind gets right back to worrying about lunch again.

I’m dreading lunch so much, I can hardly even enjoy the other girls doing their dares. I barely giggle when Mr. Crow erases the board and leaves chalk streaks behind. When Jolene “accidentally” lets our hamster loose and it takes most of math to catch him, I don’t smile at all even though missing math is one of my favorite things to do.

But, worse yet, when Brooke touches Dylan’s shoe and then howls all the way to our classroom sink, I’m so busy keeping my worry locked inside, I can’t even open my mouth to laugh along with everyone else.

“What is going
on
? ” Mr. Crow asks sharply. He hands Brooke a wet wipe and sends her back to her desk. “First there’s chalk in my eraser. Then the hamster gets out. Yesterday, I found pencil shavings in my tea, and now Brooke is acting like she touched hazardous waste. ”

Mr. Crow steps to the front of the classroom. He crosses his arms and gives us all a very serious squint. “Anyone care to enlighten me? ”

All the boys shrug.

All the girls count ceiling tiles.

 

 

When it’s time for lunch, I stand in line between Quinn and Tom, wondering what I should do. If I ask Stacey to help me get out of the dare, she will probably tell me to stop worrying because everyone will think it’s so funny. Randi will think it’s funny, I know, because she’s the one who thought up the dare. And Brooke will think it’s funny because Stacey does. And probably Meeka and Jolene will agree.