We Are All Made of Molecules (10 page)

I WAS IN A
super-crabby mood after school. First of all, Lauren showed up that morning wearing my skirt. Seriously, she was wearing the
exact skirt
I'd shown her on Saturday when we were in H&M.

“When did you get that?” I asked her at our lockers. Amira, Yoko, and Lindsay were there, too.

“What?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.

“You know what. The skirt.”

“Oh. My mom took me shopping yesterday.”

“So you bought it even though you knew it was the skirt I wanted.”

“Was this the one you wanted? I thought it was the brown one.”

I just crossed my arms over my chest and glared at her.

“Well, I was going to get the pants I'd tried on, but you told me they made my butt look big, remember? So then I tried on the skirt, and my mom said it looked great on me.”

“And you believed her? She's your
mom
.”

Lauren pursed her lips. “I like it.
I
think it looks good on me.”

“So do I,” Amira said.

“You could still get the brown one,” Yoko said to me. She doesn't like it when we fight.

“And have people think I copied her? No, thanks.”

Claudia walked past. “Hey, Lauren. Nice skirt.”

“Thanks.” Lauren threw me a defiant look. I wanted to throttle her.

Then, in English class, Mrs. Donnelly gave us back our essays on
To Kill a Mockingbird
. She'd asked us to write about something of “thematic importance” in the book, and, if I am one hundred percent totally honest, I never got past page fifty. So I'd cut and pasted parts of my essay from Wikipedia, and Mrs. Donnelly figured that out. I got an F. She took me aside after class and told me I had to redo the assignment or risk failing the class.

When I got home, I decided to pamper myself. I made some Red Velvet Cake tea from David's Tea, and I curled up on the couch to watch
Maury
. Shoo-Fly poked his head around the corner and meowed, but he didn't come over even after I called him. Stupid cat.

It was a good episode. It was about a guy who found out, right there on the show, that DNA testing had proved he wasn't the father of his girlfriend's baby, and that the real
father was the guy's own brother. I was starting to feel a bit better when
he
entered the room.

“Hello,” he said.

I turned up the volume on the TV.

“Why are they all screaming at each other?” he asked.

I turned up the volume a little more.

He picked up Shoo-Fly. “I'm supposed to pass on a message,” he yelled. “From Jared.”

Even though the brothers were now throwing chairs at each other, I muted the TV.

THERE ARE MANY SCIENTIFIC
mysteries that are still waiting to be solved. For example, is light a wave or a particle? What causes gravity? Does alien life exist? How did the universe begin? And why is Ashley's behavior so baffling?

One moment she acted like I was invisible; the next she was inviting me to sit down and have a cup of tea. She even got the mug herself, and put in lots of milk and sugar when I asked, because Red Velvet Cake tea is still tea.

“Sit,” she said, patting the cushion on the other end of the couch. So I sat. Schrödinger curled up in my lap. I try not to anthropomorphize animals, but I swear he eyed Ashley with suspicion.

“How do you know Jared?” she asked.

“We're in phys ed together.”

“And how did you get to talking about me?”

“Well,” I began. I tried to figure out how much I should tell her. My mom always said that honesty is the best policy, but then again, she also told her share of white lies. Things like telling our neighbor Mrs. Janowski that, no, she didn't notice she'd gained any weight, when, in fact, Mrs. Janowski had ballooned two dress sizes in six months. Or when she scratched the side of the car when we went shopping and told Dad, “Someone scratched the car in the parking lot.” It wasn't a lie, exactly; she just didn't tell him that the “someone” was her.

“It's kind of a funny story,” I began. “See, I thought Jared was about to do something really mean to me, so—and I know you're not going to like this part—I told him you were my sister because last week I'd heard him say you were hot—”

Ashley put her hand up for me to stop. I waited for her to launch into a tirade, something like
I'm not your sister, you freakazoid
. But, scientific mystery that she is, she surprised me. “Jared said I was hot?”

“Yes. So I thought he'd stop picking on me if I—”

“How, exactly, did he say it?”

The question stumped me. “I don't know. He said, ‘Ashley Anderson is hot.' ”

“But did he say it as kind of a throwaway comment, or did he say it kind of dreamily?”

I had no idea what she was talking about, so I picked one. “Dreamily?”

That seemed to be the right answer, because she grinned from ear to ear. “Did he say anything else about me?”

“Not that I remember. It was a week ago.”

“So why are you only telling me now?”

I felt so confused. “I don't know. I didn't know it was significant—”

“Okay, fine,” she interrupted. “Tell me about today.”

“Well, when he found out we lived together, he became really nice. And then he said, ‘Tell your sister Jared said hi.' ”

Again, I waited for her to freak out at the word
sister
. But she didn't. She just beamed. It dawned on me that this was the first time I'd seen her genuinely happy since we moved in.

“I guess I should leave you to your show,” I said, taking one last sip of my tea.

“You can stay and watch it with me if you want,” she replied.

Like I said: scientific mystery.

But I peeled off my socks and stayed.

AFTER DINNER I WENT
to my room to read
To Kill a Mockingbird
. Only I couldn't concentrate. So I went online instead, this time checking out all the photos Jared had posted on Instagram. I think he has a lot of money because he always seems to be posed beside a pool or in a sailboat or in front of the pyramids.

Then I tried again to read—I really did. But my mind kept drifting. I imagined we were boyfriend and girlfriend. We would be one of
those
couples, the kind that would make other people stop and stare because we'd look so fabulous together.

But then I suddenly realized I'd missed an important step. I hadn't passed on a message to Jared in return. So
I hurried out of my room, knocked on Stewart's door, and opened it.

“Stewart—”

I froze. Stewart was sitting on his bed, a hideous brown-and-orange knitted blanket draped over him like a tent.

“Haven't you heard of knocking?” he cried.

“What are you doing?”

“It's personal!”

Oh,
gross!!!
I backed out of his room, yanking the door shut behind me. “Just—tell Jared I said hi back!” I shouted.

Under my breath I added, “Pervert!”

I CAME DOWNSTAIRS IN
the morning with a bounce in my step because overall, it felt like things were looking up. Even my dad could tell the difference because I hummed a tune over breakfast, and that tune was “My Favorite Things,” a song from Mom's second-favorite musical,
The Sound of Music
(her first was
West Side Story
).

“Someone's in a good mood.” My dad smiled as he handed me a bowl of porridge (real, not instant). I'd told him over dinner the night before that I'd joined Mathletes, and he was very pleased for me, and so was Caroline, and even Ashley said it seemed like a club that would be happy to have me as a member.

So Dad and I started to sing “My Favorite Things” really
loud, and we both thought it was funny that just as we started singing
“When the dog bites,”
Ashley walked in.

“Want some porridge?” Dad asked her.

“No, thanks,” she mumbled. She grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl and left without making eye contact with either of us.

“Oh well,” said my dad. “At least she said
thanks
. That's progress.”

I thought about telling him what had happened the night before, when Ashley had opened my bedroom door unannounced. I know what she thought I was doing. I wasn't. But even Dad doesn't know about my nightly ritual, and I wasn't sure I wanted to tell him. Then Caroline came into the kitchen and pretty soon we were all singing “My Favorite Things,” and I forgot all about it.

—

WHEN PHOEBE ASKED ME
to join her and Violet for lunch, the day got better still. The cafeteria felt a lot less threatening when I had other people to sit with. I laid out my lunch (two egg salad sandwiches, one apple, one banana, one juice box, two Babybels, and six Oreos) on the table.

“Wow. Someone has a big appetite,” said Violet. Both she and Phoebe were eating fries and gravy.

“My entire lunch probably doesn't have many more calories than those plates of deep-fried grease you guys are eating,” I replied.

“True.” Phoebe smiled. “But ours tastes better.” She was wearing the best T-shirt ever. It was purple and said,
ALWAYS BE YOURSELF. UNLESS YOU CAN BE A UNICORN. THEN ALWAYS BE A UNICORN
.

I bit into my first egg salad. “Hey, do you guys know a guy named Jared?”

“Jared Mitchell. The new guy. Yeah. Why?” asked Phoebe.

“I think we're becoming friends. He wants me to meet him after school, by the gym.”

“Why?”

“I don't know. He was rather cryptic.”

“Isn't it basketball tryouts?” asked Violet.

“No offense,” said Phoebe, “but you don't seem to have the height for basketball.”

“I'm a mathlete, not an athlete,” I joked.

But Phoebe didn't laugh. “Just be careful, okay? I don't trust that guy.”

“Ditto,” said Violet.

“Why not?”

“Just rumors we've heard.”

My stomach burbled and churned all afternoon as I thought about what they'd said. If they didn't trust Jared, why should I? Especially after what he'd almost done to me?

I thought about heading home right after school, but I knew there was no point; it wasn't like I could hide from Jared forever. So I made my way to the gym, letting loose a few toots as I went. My mind was whirring. What if this was another initiation ritual? I'd read about enough of them in books or seen them in movies.
What if he wants to beat me
on my bare butt with a paddle? What if he wants to dunk my head in a toilet and flush?

Suddenly a hand clamped down on my shoulder, scaring me so badly I tooted again. “Stewie! There you are!” Jared said. He was in a basketball uniform.

“Actually, I prefer Stewart—”

He gripped my arm. “C'mon.” He was really strong. There was nothing I could do but let myself be propelled along as he pulled me into the gym. “Hey, Mr. Stellar! Coach! I found someone. He's perfect, don't you think?”