Pink & Green is the New Black

PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Greenwald, Lisa.
Pink & green is the new black / Lisa Greenwald.
pages cm. — (Pink & green ; book 3)
ISBN 978-1-4197-1225-8 (hardback) — ISBN 978-1-61312-700-1 (ebook)
[1. Middle schools—Fiction. 2. Schools—Fiction. 3. Cosmetics—Fiction. 4. Dating (Social customs)—Fiction.] I. Title. II. Title: Pink and green is the new black.
PZ7.G85199Pi 2014
[Fic]—dc23
2014011249

Text copyright © 2014 Lisa Greenwald
Title page illustrations copyright © 2014 Jonathan Beckerman
Book design by Jessie Gang

Published in 2014 by Amulet Books, an imprint of ABRAMS. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission from the publisher.

Amulet Books and Amulet Paperbacks are registered trademarks of Harry N. Abrams, Inc.

Amulet Books are available at special discounts when purchased in quantity for premiums and promotions as well as fundraising or educational use. Special editions can also be created to specification. For details, contact [email protected] or the address below.

115 West 18th Street
New York, NY 10011
www.abramsbooks.com

Contents

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

23

24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

33

34

35

36

37

38

39

40

41

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Lucy's tip for surviving eighth grade:

Reach out to people for help when you need it.

My dad and I are sitting
on the rocking chairs on the front porch drinking hot chocolate. It's freezing outside, but sometimes you need fresh air, even in January.

“Are you sure this is instant hot chocolate?” my dad asks. “It tastes like gourmet, like the homemade kind they have at 384 Sprinkles.”

I know he's just saying this to be nice. It's nothing fancy, just the powdered kind, but to me it's delicious. My dad doesn't live with us, but he's close enough that he's able to stop by pretty much every other day. It's so much better than when he lived in London. Every visit with my dad needed careful planning and of course involved plane tickets and school breaks and passports. Now we can have hot chocolate in the middle of the week, whenever we feel like it, without really even having to plan. It's pretty great.

“Are you okay, Luce? You seem quiet.”

I nod. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

Once you start telling people you're fine and that nothing is wrong, it's hard to go back and say that there is actually something bothering you. I've gotten so used to saying everything is fine that it just kind of comes out of my mouth now. A tiny part of me even believes it.

And the thing is, so many parts of my life really are great. Our family's eco-spa is up and running, and business is booming. Grandma is so happy about that, and Mom is too. They barely fight these days. Dad lives close by and I see him all the time. Sunny and I are BFFs like always, and in a way it seems like we've gotten even closer. All my efforts at the pharmacy and on the grant totally paid off, and my work with Earth Club has been going well too. The school board vote on approving a green cafeteria is tomorrow night.

But even when so many things are going well, there can still be lingering frustrating parts to life. And sometimes, even if you don't talk about them, those things take over.

“You'd tell me if something was wrong, right?” my dad asks, finishing the last few sips of hot chocolate.

I nod again but don't say anything. It's not like something is seriously wrong—not like I'm failing out of school or I robbed a bank or anything. If things were really bad, I could
talk about it. At least I think I could. But right now all my thoughts are jumbled like a word search. It's hard to express your feelings when you're not even sure how you feel.

Our hands are about to freeze, so we head inside and put our mugs in the dishwasher. Grandma is making her famous chicken potpie for dinner, and Mom is closing up at the pharmacy.

“You staying for dinner, Sam?” Grandma asks from the stove.

“Um, sure, I'd love to.”

I'm grateful for the little things like this.

“Grandma, don't forget that tomorrow is my big meeting with the school board,” I tell her. “So I won't be home for dinner.”

My grandma is a big believer in the whole family-eating-together thing. Claudia's back at school, so it's just the three of us again. Except when Dad stays for dinner, and then it's the four of us.

“Got it, Lucy. You all set for that?” She finally turns around and faces me. “Any last-minute preparations?”

“I don't think so.” I pop a grape in my mouth. “We've been ready for ages, since we were supposed to have the meeting in October. Waiting for the school board to put it back on the agenda after the hurricane hasn't fazed us at all.”

“She talks like an adult, doesn't she, Sam?” My grandma laughs. “Thirteen going on forty-five.”

I want to tell her that there's an actual movie called
13 Going on 30
, but I don't because I get what she's saying. Most kids wouldn't really care that much about a school board meeting, but I've been working on making the cafeteria green since last year. It may actually happen soon. Fingers crossed.

My dad has to make a few calls for work, and Grandma is busy finishing dinner. My homework is done, so I go upstairs to check my e-mail.

But as soon as I sign in, I see that there's nothing new. I had hoped that Yamir would get in touch, but both my phone and e-mail are just as I left them this morning.

I can't be the one to contact him again. It just makes me feel stupid. But sitting here thinking all of this makes me feel stupid too.

The one good thing is that Yamir is my best friend's brother, so I can always call their house, looking for Sunny—but really hoping Yamir picks up the phone. The only problem is that I rarely call their home phone anymore, now that we all have cell phones. I wonder why anyone even bothers having a landline.

“I tried your cell but it went straight to voice mail,” I say to Sunny after she answers. I'm totally lying and she probably
knows it, but that's the thing about best friends—sometimes it's okay to tell a little lie.

“Oh, my battery's probably dead again,” she says. “What's up?”

I listen very carefully to see if I can hear Yamir in the background. If he's home and didn't e-mail or text, that will be even more upsetting. But it sounds like he's still out, at basketball practice maybe.

“Oh, nothing. Just bored. Did you understand the math homework?” As I talk, I keep refreshing my e-mail in-box. But still nothing.

“Kind of. Those word problems are always hard,” she says. “But Mrs. O'Rourke never minds explaining it the next day if we're confused.”

It seems like Sunny's home alone, because it's silent in her house. “So, what are you doing now?”

“Just sitting around. My dad has a meeting tonight, so my mom said we were going out for Mexican food, but now it's snowing again.”