Plastic Polly (10 page)

“You should slot in someone with a great science experiment.”

“Excuse me?” I say, and try not to notice that the three extra large boxes of pizza are really heavy. And
hot
.

“Yeah. I tried to tell the planning committee the year I tried out, but they didn't care. But listen, it takes talent to be a great scientist, right?”

“Well, I guess that's probably true.” What is definitely true is that I'm going to drop these pizzas if I can't put them down somewhere. Where is Derek Tanner when I really need him?

“Yes, exactly! So what you need to do is find someone who likes science and give them a slot on the Talent Team. It'd be a great way to show off good science experiments.”

I frown. “Isn't that what science fairs are for?”

The pizza girl's shoulders slump. “That's what the judges said the year I tried out too.” She gives me a dirty look as she walks back to her car.

Inside the auditorium is a cacophony of sound. Students are sprawled in seats and chatting with their friends. One boy is testing out his tuba. The boys in the Frankenstein masks are running around throwing candy at other students.

Alyssa is huddled in the corner with a couple of girls I recognize from the choir. I pause, wondering if I should go and say something to her. Something like
Good luck
or
Break a leg
. But I doubt Alyssa wants to see me, and as a judge I don't want to be accused of playing favorites.

“I'll get that,” Derek says, taking the pizza boxes from me.

“Thank you.” I flash him a smile that I hope tells him I'm grateful without letting him think I like him. “Can you bring those into the practice room?”

“Sure. Can I snag a slice?”

“Just one.” Most students brought takeout with them to have as sort of a dinner picnic, so the auditorium smells like a combination of hamburgers, fries, and tacos.

Derek heads toward the practice room, passing Kate Newport, who approaches me. “Hey, Polly! Can I help you with anything?”

“Um . . . yeah. That would be super helpful. Let me think.” This is the third time in the last twenty minutes Kate has offered to help. “Maybe you could help keep things in order out here once the judging starts.” I gesture to an irritated-looking Lindsey. She's surrounded by a group of Jenna Huff's friends who are demanding access to a private practice room before their audition.

“Okay,” Kate says. Before she leaves, she adds, “I saw Jenna Huff got invited to eat at the Court?” She says it like it's a question, not an observation. I'm not sure what she's asking me, so I shrug in response. Whatever Kelsey texted
to Melinda last night didn't seem to work, because today Jenna sat at the Court acting like she'd belonged there all along, and that it was only because of some oversight that she hadn't been invited before. I decided not to mention it to Kelsey when we texted back and forth today. And I doubt Melinda told Kelsey she ignored her command.

I tell Kate good-bye and then tell Lindsey she can send the first act in to the judges in five minutes. Auditions are private, so they're held in a large practice room backstage. No one is allowed in except the judges, the teacher adviser, and the person or group auditioning.

Inside the practice room Melinda and Jenna are sitting at the judge's table. Melinda is now sprawled out in the middle seat, where I was sitting ten minutes ago before I went to pay for the pizza. I decide not to make a big deal about it and plunk down next to her. To the side of us Mr. Fish sits at another table, eating a slice of pepperoni pizza and flipping through a magazine.

“Pesto cheese was the only meatless option?” Melinda says, and that's when I remember she's a vegetarian. She takes a slice and shoots me an irritated look. “You couldn't have ordered something normal, like a plain cheese pizza?”

Lindsey sends the first student in—an eighth grader with flowing auburn hair who plays the violin. I wish her
good luck and tell her she can start anytime. Going first is really hard. Mr. Fish told me yesterday we have ten slots available for Groove It Up—which is two more than we had last year—but still, we're not giving one away to someone who's just okay, especially not at the beginning.

But this violin player is more than just okay. She's amazing. In fact, the
Winston Times
did a story on her last month. (Once, Melinda asked me why I felt the need to read the school newspaper every week, and I said it was because I wanted to see if the gossip section mentioned me or Kelsey. That was true, but secretly I also keep track of how well the AcaSmackers are doing. At their last meet they lost to American River by two points.)

When the violin player is finished, we thank her for performing and tell her that the final Talent Team list will be posted early next week. After she leaves, I turn to Melinda and Jenna and cast my vote.

“Yes.”

“No to the violin. Yes to the pesto cheese.” Melinda helps herself to another slice. “It's actually one of your better ideas.”

I'm surprised, but I turn to Jenna. It takes two yes votes to get a slot on the team. “What's your vote?”

“No,” Jenna says.

“Really? You didn't like it?”

Jenna shrugs. “I just wasn't feeling it.”

“I think we can do better,” Melinda says.

Mr. Fish is staring at Melinda and Jenna with a puzzled expression on his face, like he can't figure out why they didn't vote yes. But then he shrugs to himself and goes back to his magazine.

Next up are the soccer players, who impersonate a boy band. They're calling themselves the Soccer Shakers. So they shake, and strut, and karaoke. It's funny watching them perform, but also annoying at the same time. Anyone can try out for Groove It Up, even if they're just doing it as a joke.

“Thanks, guys,” I call as they leave.

I'm about to tell Lindsey to bring in the next act—I figure we don't even need to vote—when Melinda says, “I vote yes.”

“Yes for me too.” Jenna adds their names to the yes list.

“But they were just doing it as a joke,” I say. “They weren't actually expecting to make the cut.”

“I think they're funny,” Jenna says.

“And cute.” Melinda giggles.

“That doesn't mean they're talented,” I say. “We can kiss the TV spot and the Shattered Stars concert good-bye if our team is less talented than American River's.”

“Whatever,” Jenna says. “The American River team always loses. Their entire school is completely talentless.”

“But—”

“Polly,” Melinda says in an irritated voice, “the rules say you need two yeses to make the cut. We have two yeses. Just because you're the PlanMaster doesn't mean you get to have your way all the time.”

“But—” I glance over to Mr. Fish and see he's watching us closely. I say nothing and motion to Lindsey to bring in the next act, which turns out to be Kristy and the rest of the cheerleading squad. They're voted onto the Talent Team with three yeses, and they promise us they'll do a great job, even if they now only get one slot in the show.

The next three auditions are unremarkable, except for the boys in the Frankenstein masks, who offer us the rest of their candy if we'll just give them a spot on the Talent Team. Before Jenna or Melinda can say anything, I tell them thanks, but no thanks.

Then Lindsey brings in Alyssa. She's gnawing on her lip like she always does when she's nervous, and she's fidgeting with a tassel on her turquoise scarf.

“Hey, it's that ugly girl from my history class,” Melinda whispers, loud enough that I'm pretty sure Alyssa hears.

“And what, exactly, is your talent?” Jenna asks, in a
voice suggesting she finds it difficult to believe Alyssa actually has one.

“I'm going to sing.” Alyssa stares at Jenna and Melinda, but she won't look at me.

“Everybody cover your ears,” Jenna whispers, and Melinda has to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.

I ignore them and cross my fingers. My stomach is churning from all the pizza. For a lot of students Groove It Up is just a cool middle school event and a chance to see a Shattered Stars concert. But for students like Alyssa, I know it's so much more. It's her chance to shine in front of everyone—especially if we win and she gets to perform on
Good Morning, Maple Oaks
. I haven't heard Alyssa sing in over a year, and I wonder if she's as good as I remember. I know boys' voices change as they get older, but does that ever happen to girls?

I shouldn't have worried, though, because Alyssa is awesome. Much better than I remembered. Mr. Fish even closes his magazine so he can listen to her. My mouth is hanging open after she finishes and leaves the room.

“Yes,” I croak, casting my vote. “That was amazing.”

“No,” Melinda and Jenna say in unison.

“No?” I turn to them. “How can you say no? Did you just hear that? It was incredible.”

Jenna yawns. “I was kind of bored.”

“Me too.” Melinda says. “And, jeez, someone should get her a pair of tweezers for her birthday. I really wish the nobodies of this school wouldn't pester us. I don't want to be here all night.”

Lindsey goes to get the next act. And I feel dread creeping through my stomach. Nobodies? Is that Melinda and Jenna's real agenda?

I slump in my seat. I can just imagine the look on Alyssa's face when she finds out she didn't make it. If she thinks I voted against her, she'll probably hate me even more than she does now.

Lindsey, looking irritated, pokes her head in. “Derek's been complaining about having to wait so long. Can I just let him in right now?”

“Sure,” Jenna says. “Send him in.”

We all settle back into our chairs as Lindsey leaves to find Derek. I still feel bad about Alyssa, but I'm also curious about this surprise act. Derek has been telling me for weeks how great it is, but whenever I've asked about it, he's told me I have to wait just like everyone else.

Derek saunters in carrying a carton of eggs and a tiny frying pan.

“Is he going to make us omelets, or what?” I whisper.

Melinda shushes me. “Don't be mean to your boyfriend.”

“He's
not
my boyfriend.”

Melinda giggles and smiles at Derek, and I wonder if she wishes Derek was
her
boyfriend.

“Those are interesting items you've got there,” Mr. Fish says. “What do you plan to do with them?”

“Hey, Coach,” Derek says. “I'm going to juggle them.”

“Are you serious?” I say before I can stop myself, but I'm drowned out by Melinda's and Jenna's cheers.

“Go, Derek!”

Derek begins but immediately has to stop when he drops the first egg and it splats on the floor. “Sorry,” he calls. “I totally had this last night.”

He starts again, but it's clear that whatever skill Derek had last night has taken a vacation. He drops multiple eggs and nails himself in the face with the frying pan. I look over at Mr. Fish and see he has closed his eyes, wincing when he hears another egg drop. Finally, when the last egg splatters the floor, Derek is forced to stop, and he says, “I'm working on it, but I've almost got it. What do you think?”

“We'll let you know.” Then I thank him and ask him to leave.

“Yes,” Melinda says after Mr. Fish has left to find a mop.

“Yes,” Jenna echoes.

“Why?” I say. “He can't juggle those eggs. He probably couldn't even make an omelet with those eggs. All he did was make a mess.”

“He said he was working on it,” Jenna says. “You don't have to be so mean all the time, Polly.”

“Yeah,” Melinda says. “Besides, he's our friend. Groove It Up won't be as much fun without him.”

The dread I felt in my stomach earlier comes creeping back. Forget actual talent. It seems like Melinda and Jenna have no interest in voting for anyone unless they're part of our crowd. The popular crowd.

The rest of the night shows me I'm right. After Mr. Fish mops up the eggs, the auditions resume. As each act goes on, I can predict how Jenna and Melinda will vote based on the popularity of the students auditioning. They vote no for a small seventh grader who's actually a great break-dancer, but vote yes for the Glitter Girls—a group of Jenna's friends who perform a dance routine—even though none of them have any rhythm.

After the last act has performed, Melinda and Jenna leave. I finish off a slice of pesto cheese—Melinda's right; it's really good—and then look under greasy napkins and empty pizza boxes for the yes list. If I counted it right, Melinda and Jenna
gave yes votes to five acts. That's half of the available slots.

But maybe I can change their minds,
I think as I continue to hunt for the list. Maybe Monday night there will be so much talent that they'll have to take some of these acts off the list.

Lindsey enters the room, looking tired. She drops into a seat and grabs the last slice of pepperoni. “What are you looking for?”

“The yes list.”

“Melinda and Jenna have it. They're posting it now.”

“
Now?
But tryouts aren't done yet.” I don't wait for Lindsey to answer. I dash past her, hoping to catch Melinda and Jenna, but I'm too late.

Out in the auditorium several clumps of students crowd in front of the list. Melinda and Jenna are surrounded by the cheerleaders and Glitter Girls. The Soccer Shakers look surprised, but they're cheering for Jenna and Melinda.

“Even Queen Kelsey couldn't have done a better job!” someone shouts.

“Kelsey who?” Melinda and Jenna say in unison, and everyone starts laughing.

Several other people in the auditorium aren't laughing. The violin player is wiping tears from her eyes. A girl who did a dramatic reading from Emily Dickinson is ripping the poem into shreds.