The Opposite Of Tidy (21 page)

“And you can never, ever tell Wade,” Junie said. “Promise?”

“I wouldn’t think of it,” Tabitha said solemnly. “Truly. It’s that gross.”

All the next day at school, Junie worried that she still smelled like shit, even though she knew better. Even still, she asked Tabitha, who insisted that all she could smell on her was her apple shampoo, but Junie still thought she could catch a whiff of her day down in the basement, slogging through the crap stew. Wade scooped her up in a hug when she got to World Studies. He kissed her on the lips, too. And without a grimace, so she was sure that Tabitha was right, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was wafting a wake of poo perfume behind her wherever she went.

She’d surveyed the basement before leaving for school that morning and was still convinced that they needed a professional crew in there to decontaminate. Her mother wouldn’t hear anything about it, though, no matter how Junie pleaded with her. Sure, she and Tabitha had been laughing about it the night before, but if Tab saw the basement, she’d call Social Services for sure. It was definitely not a safe home for a minor – or for anyone for that matter.

In Math, Mr. Benson sprung a pop quiz on them and announced that it would count for 10 percent of their overall grade. Everyone groaned—even Ollie—but Junie panicked.

“You’ll do fine,” Ollie whispered as Benson handed around the quiz.

“No talking!” he barked, dropping a quiz on Ollie’s desk. But Ollie, bless his little rebel heart, ignored him.

“Just stay calm and don’t over-think it. Go with your first answer.”

“Ollie, I’m warning you.” Benson retrieved Ollie’s quiz. “Your straight-A status does not mean you can break the rules. Go sit at the back, where I’ll be sure you’re not aiding and abetting in Miss Rawley’s demise here.”

Ollie winked at her as he made his way to the back. He mimed taking a slow, deep breath and letting it go.

Junie turned to her quiz. There had been hints that this might have been coming. On Friday, Benson had given them a chapter of homework, emphasizing that it would be wise to have the material under their belts by Monday. But Junie had been so busy being angry with That Woman on Saturday, and then dealing with the shit soup all day
Sunday, that she’d only glanced at the chapter before she’d collapsed, exhausted, into bed on Sunday night.

A right triangular prism has edges in the ratio 3:4:5:10. If the volume is 202.5 units find the actual length of the longest side.

The first question would be her last question. She set her head on the desk and squeezed her eyes shut. She would not cry. She would have to redo grade ten Math. This was no surprise. It was just a fact. Ollie had done his best, but this was beyond help. This was simply beyond Junie, period.

She didn’t even bother trying. There was no use. She was going to get a zero anyway, so why make herself crazy trying to figure out questions she would never get right?

Mr. Benson gave them half an hour for the quiz, during which Junie doodled on the piece of scrap paper they were allowed to have during tests. When he called for pencils down, Junie was almost calm. Not quite, but almost. Mr. Benson collected the quizzes and then gave them a textbook assignment to do while he marked them. Junie would rather have put off the inevitable until the next class, but Benson thought otherwise. Just five minutes before the bell, he handed them back.

Junie did not get a zero. She got minus five.

“For not even trying,” Mr. Benson said with a shake of his head. “Minus five, class. I can’t say that I’ve ever given a negative mark before.” He frowned at Junie. “Ever. And that’s in fifteen years of teaching. Congratulations on being the first.”

When the bell rang, Ollie put an arm across her
shoulders and led her to the cafeteria, where her friends— and Wade—were suitably sympathetic.

After school Wade asked if Junie wanted to go get a coffee.

“Something with lots of whipped cream,” he said. “To make your Math mark feel better.”

“Thanks, but no.” Junie shook her head. “If my mom finds out that I went out after school after getting a
minus five
mark, she’d kill me. I should go home and study today. Or pretend to, anyway. No studying in the world is going to help me at this point.”

“Rain check, then. We can stop for coffee on our way out of town tomorrow.” They were going to go out to Chilliwack to start filming. Both she and Wade had a spare period after lunch, so they were going to skip Art and Gym respectively to get the whole afternoon free.

“Sounds brilliant.”

“I’ll drive you and Tabitha home.”

Junie sat in front as usual, while Tabitha sat in the back, making plans to salvage Junie’s Math grade.

“We could do a math-athon,” she said. “Like a marathon, but with math. Spend next weekend totally immersed. Ollie can be in charge. All math, all the time. Try to soak it into you. Math by osmosis.”

“Wow,” Junie said. “Does that ever sound like fun.”

“Might work,” Tabitha said as Wade turned onto Lambert. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Whoa,” Wade said, pointing down the street. “What the hell is going on? Someone get murdered or something?”

He was pointing at Junie’s house. Her real house. The driveway was full of those TV vans with the big satellite dishes on top. Two cop cars sat at the bottom of the driveway, lights flashing.

“Oh my God.” Junie’s breath got stuck in her throat. “My mom!”

“What?” Wade turned to her.

“Stop the van!” In that moment, Junie didn’t care about her lie or that it was about to get blown out of the water, she had to get to her mother. “Let me out!”

“But—”

“Stop the van!” Junie banged on the window, desperate.

A collection of official-looking people stood on her front lawn, heads together, talking quietly. “Let me out now!”

Bewildered, Wade stopped the van in front of Junie’s real house. Junie flung open her door and raced across the lawn. The front door was wide open, and there was her mother, standing in the cluttered hall, talking to Kendra. Kendra, of
The Kendra Show.
In her house. In real life. In front of her. In person. Not on TV, in person. Right there. It was so strange, so out of context, that Junie had trouble processing the tableau in front of her.

“Mom?” Junie stood frozen, uncomprehending. “What’s going on?”

“Hi, I’m Kendra.” As if an introduction was necessary. Kendra was smaller in person, shorter than Junie would have imagined. Heavily made up, and in heels, her coiffure shaped and sprayed so that not one hair was out of place, she looked like a life-sized living doll. A very, very famous doll. Junie spun around, spotting a boom and mic, and a
guy with an enormous camera on his shoulder. “You must be Juniper,” Kendra purred, arm elegantly outstretched, waiting for Junie to grasp it in return.

“Mom?” Junie backed toward the door. This was the very definition of surreal. Why was Kendra, world-famous host and creator of
The Kendra Show
empire, in her horrible house?

“This must be a big shock, honey.” Kendra smiled widely, her teeth blazingly white. She gestured at the camera guy. “Turn on her, Jake. Let’s get a shot of her reaction. This is good.”

The camera guy aimed the camera at her, just as Wade and Tabitha came up the walk behind her.

“What’s going on?” Wade asked. “Junie? What is all this?”

“I don’t know. Mom? What’s going on?”

“Junie, it’s
The Kendra Show
! And Kendra herself! They’ve come to help us.”

Kendra smiled at Tabitha and Wade. “And who have we got here?” Neither Wade nor Tabitha offered introductions, and Junie couldn’t bring herself to. Junie’s mother—summoning a sense of propriety from somewhere deep within, for the sole benefit of the celebrity standing in front of her—did the honours.

“This is Tabitha, Junie’s best friend—” Junie’s mother pointed to Tabitha, and then Wade. “And this . . . this . . .” Junie’s mother suddenly put it all together, despite the chaos. “And this must be Wade! Of course!”

Junie’s mother thrust her hand out, and Wade shook it obligingly, his eyes on Junie, questioning.

“I’m Junie’s mom. Marla. I’ve heard a lot about you.” She dropped Wade’s hand and grabbed Junie’s. “This is crazy. Crazy, crazy, crazy. Junie, can you believe it? Kendra is here. She’s here at our
house
! In person! For real!”

This was not how it was supposed to happen. Junie wasn’t sure what she’d had in mind, but not this. That much was for sure. This was not how Wade was supposed to find out that Junie had been lying to him. He was never supposed to find out. Not ever.

Wade looked Junie’s mother up and down. “You’re Junie’s mom? But—”

“This isn’t live, is it?” Junie’s stomach lurched into her throat. She wondered if she was about to throw up on national television. “Please, please tell me that we are not on TV right now.”

“No, honey,” Kendra assured her. “We just came today to get things started.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Junie glared at her, not caring one iota that she was back-talking one of the richest, most famous, most highly respected women in the entire world. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“What are
you
doing here?” Wade asked Junie as he looked around, taking in the mess. “I don’t get it. I don’t understand, Junie. And why does it smell like shit?”

“Let me explain,” Junie begged. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t explain any of this. “What’s happening, Mom?”

“I applied! You know at the end of the show when they’re rolling the credits and they post those little invitations for people to contact the show if they should be on one of her shows? Well, I did it!”

Junie remembered then her mother saying something about writing to Kendra, but Junie hadn’t given it a second thought. “You invited her … here?”

“Yes! I never thought she’d come in a million years, but it was worth a shot, you know?”

“For a show about. . . ?” But Junie knew. Of course she knew.

“Hoarding,” her mother said simply, even though it was anything but simple.

“It was a total long shot. But can you believe it! Kendra herself is right here! In real life! I would never have bet she’d actually pick us, not in a million years. And if they did, I thought they’d call first. And then I was going to tell you. Of course I would’ve!”

“We typically don’t call first,” Kendra interrupted. “We like to get gut reactions to our arrival, and we can’t get that if you know we’re coming.”

“And now they’re here! They picked
us
!”

It was embarrassing that her mother was ecstatic about being picked when they were picking extreme hoarders. That was nothing to be proud about. Not at all.

And now Kendra, world-famous celebrity and interloper, was in her house. Her horrible, awful, no good, rotten, shit-stink-hole of a house. And so was Wade. This was all wrong. So very wrong. If only she could take it all back, start all over, and make something different out of it. Something better than this current state of emergency in the nation of her miserable self.

Junie forced herself to look at Wade. His arms were folded tightly across his chest, and his eyes were piercingly
dark. “So it was all a lie.” His words all had edges, each and every one of them cutting into her, drawing blood. “You’ve been lying to me this whole time.”

“She can explain,” Tabitha blurted.

“Wade, please, I can explain everything,” Junie said. The camera swung slowly from her to Wade and back while he glared at her, two red slashes of anger high on his cheeks. “Turn it off.”

“No can do, kid.” The cameraman peeked out from behind the camera. “Part of the deal.”

“What deal?” Junie held up her hands in front of her face, blocking the shot. “Wade, wait! I can explain.”

Wade was backing out of the house, his hands up too, but palms outward in resignation. Disgusted resignation.

“Forget it. I’m out of here.”

“No! Don’t go!”

“I’ll talk to you later,” Wade said with a dismissive little wave. “Maybe then you can take a few minutes and tell me the truth.”

Junie was frozen. Tabitha shoved her, “Go after him!”

“I’ll tell you now!” Junie ran after him. The cameraman followed her. “Please don’t go. I’m sorry I lied. I just didn’t want you to see my house. And after you saw my parents that day—”