Crush Alert (6 page)

A
fter dinner, her dad asked Charlotte to watch a special on the Serengeti with him. When they’d lived in Africa, her father had written a book called
Serengeti Summer…or, How I Survived an Elephant Stampede
. If she closed her eyes, Charlotte could still hear the sounds of the thundering animals.

“Dad, someday I’m going back to Africa,” Charlotte suddenly blurted as she watched a mother elephant charge a jeep that had gotten too close to her baby.

Mr. Ramsey smiled and nodded. “I believe that you will, Charlotte. You were always drawn to the wildlife there, and you have the heart of an adventurer.”

Her dad glanced down at Marty, who sat by their feet, his nose resting on his paws. Mr. Ramsey’s smile melted into a look of concern. “But the wildlife around here still seems a little, well, less than wild,” he said as he tried to get Marty to liven up by waving Happy Lucky Thingy in front of his face. Marty just turned his head away.

Charlotte frowned. “Dad, something is definitely wrong with Marty. He’s crazy about Happy Lucky Thingy! Now he doesn’t even care that you’re waving it in front of his nose.”

Happy Lucky Thingy was a toy that used to belong to Avery. The little pink character had traveled with her from Korea to the U.S., when Avery was adopted by her parents. The really weird thing about him was that he had a happy face on one side and a mad face on the other. Marty was obsessed with him.

Mr. Ramsey reached down and scratched the little dude behind the ears. “Don’t worry, Charlotte. We’ll take him back to Dr. Clayton if he doesn’t bounce back soon.”

Charlotte bent down to stroke Marty’s fur. Staring mindlessly at the television screen, Charlotte tried to concentrate on the show again, but it was hopeless. And it wasn’t just because of Marty. A teeny, tiny little worry started growing in Charlotte’s mind.
Where was Nick after school, anyway? Was he talking to Chelsea the whole time?

Charlotte chewed her nail as the worry got bigger. Chelsea
was
acting a lot more friendly and confident these days. Everyone had noticed it.

Aside from the BSG, Nick and Chelsea were probably her best friends in Brookline. So what if…what if…Charlotte didn’t even want to think it, but she couldn’t help it:
WHAT IF NICK LIKES CHELSEA?

The idea was so uncomfortable, it made her sit up suddenly on the couch. What if Nick hadn’t asked her to the dance yet because he didn’t want to? And because…because he was going to ask Chelsea to the dance instead?
The thought made her feel like someone had just punched her in the stomach and she was about to turn green. Nick was the only boy she really wanted to go to the dance with. She couldn’t imagine going with anyone else…. she’d rather go alone!

“What’s up, Charlotte?” her dad asked in a concerned voice, breaking into her thoughts. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Charlotte scratched Marty’s ears. “Nothing. Just thinking,” she said.

Mr. Ramsey reached for the bowl of microwave popcorn sitting on the coffee table. “About what? This show is about your favorite place in the whole world, and you’re not even paying attention. What’s going on, kiddo?”

Charlotte shook her head. Talking to her dad about boy stuff felt weird. It was at a time like this that Charlotte really missed her mom the most. Times when she needed advice that only a mom could give. But…looking at her dad’s concerned expression, she decided that just maybe he might understand.

“Oh, Dad. It’s just that…well…there’s this, uhhh…boy.”

Mr. Ramsey put the popcorn bowl down and turned toward her, his eyes serious. Charlotte took a deep breath. “I kind of like him and there’s a big Valentine’s Dance on Friday and I’m just thinking that, well…maybe he doesn’t want to go with me.” Her words came out in a rush.

Her dad smiled reassuringly. “Well, how do you know? Maybe he just hasn’t worked up to asking you yet.”

Charlotte leaned against him, resting her head on
his shoulder. Marty jumped down from her lap and scrambled out of the room. “What do you mean?”

Mr. Ramsey gave her a quick hug. She looked up at him.

“Well, it takes a lot of courage to ask a pretty girl like you to a dance…probably more courage than walking up to that lion on the screen there,” he joked.

Charlotte smiled up at him. “Oh Dad, I’m just a regular girl. You should see some of the girls at school. They’re
really
beautiful.”

Mr. Ramsey turned to face his daughter. “Charlotte, you are a bright, beautiful girl! And I mean on the inside, too.” Charlotte opened her mouth, but her dad put up a hand to stop her. “I know, I know, parents say this stuff all the time, but just listen one more time, okay? Humor an old guy.”

She closed her mouth again and gave her dad a chance to finish. “Someone can be the most beautiful person on the planet,” he went on, “but if they’re unkind or selfish, it doesn’t matter how beautiful they are on the outside. Eventually no one will want to be around her.”

Immediately, images of Anna and Joline popped into her head. The Queens of Mean were two of the prettiest girls at Abigail Adams, but their personalities kind of reduced the dazzle of their looks. Charlotte imagined for a minute the Queens of Mean turned inside out…without their designer clothes and perfect makeup, but polite, friendly, and cheerful. Wow, what a crazy, mixed-up world that would be!

Mr. Ramsey reminisced. “I remember the first time
I planned on asking your mother out. I was a nervous wreck. I kept thinking about how I was going to ask her and whether she would say no. Trust me, kiddo. When a guy wants to ask a girl to a dance, it’s not the easiest thing in the world. Especially when the girl is as beautiful as my incredibly lovely daughter.”

Charlotte laughed and took a handful of popcorn. “I think you’re a little blinded by love, Dad.”

Mr. Ramsey crunched up his forehead. “Could be! But don’t worry. I have a funny feeling that Nick Montoya just needs little more time to work up his nerve.”

Charlotte gagged on the popcorn. Her dad gave her a few whacks on the back. When she finally got the popcorn down, she gazed at him with alarmed eyes. “Dad, how did you know—I mean, what makes you think I’m talking about Nick?”

Mr. Ramsey grinned and threw up his hands innocently. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! I only said Nick, you know, as an example. Could be anyone. What do I know? I’m just your
clueless
dad.”

Charlotte’s face burned as she stared at the TV. Was her crush that obvious?

Finally her dad reached over and squeezed her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you about it. It’s just that I’m so sure everything will turn out okay. So let’s get back the Serengeti, huh? Looks like that water buffalo is about to run down a zebra with a mean look in his eye.”

When she went up to the Tower later that evening, Charlotte’s worries returned in full force. Sure, her dad
thought she was beautiful and everything, but that was the thing: He was her
dad
. What if Nick didn’t think she was pretty? What if he thought of her as just a friend…a friend he had things in common with? What if he thought
Chelsea
was cool? Nick always asked to see Chelsea’s latest photos, and now they were working on that Sentinel project together….

Maybe if I write to Sophie, I can stop obsessing over this
, she thought, shaking her head as if that would make all the unpleasant thoughts fly out her ears. Sophie lived in Paris, one of the many places Charlotte and her dad had lived, and was one of her best friends. Charlotte still really missed her French friend, especially right now.

Ice Cream and Secrets

Writing to Sophie about chocolate inspired Charlotte to wander down to the kitchen in search of some double chocolate chip ice cream. She never quite understood the secret of ice cream. The creamy treat seemed to have the power to make everyone feel better, and chocolate chips put the dessert over the edge of perfection.
Whoever thought of adding chocolate chips to ice cream should get the Nobel Peace Prize,
she thought happily as she pulled open the freezer.

“What a day!” she said out loud. There was no ice cream. Not even a Popsicle!

Charlotte let out a lion-sized sigh of disappointment and walked over to the note pad by the phone to add “ICE CREAM!” (in capital letters) to her dad’s shopping list, but a red blinking light caught her attention.
A message! Could it be Nick?
That would definitely make up for no double chocolate chip ice cream!

Charlotte lifted up the phone and pressed play.

“Hi, Richard! Sorry I missed you.” Normally Charlotte would hang up the phone at Richard—her dad got calls from other professors all the time—but this woman’s voice sounded familiar. “Friday at eight is perfect. Le Bistro Français is my favorite restaurant! How did you know? I’ll see you there!” The woman ended her message with a lighthearted laugh.

Charlotte’s hands flew up to her mouth to stifle a surprised yelp. Only one person she knew laughed that way: Bif Madden, Avery’s mom! But why was
her
dad meeting Avery’s mom at Le Bistro Français? The restaurant was a trendy, cozy café with dim lighting and romantic little booths.

Oh, my gosh! My dad is going on a date with Avery’s mom!
Charlotte stiffened. She didn’t know if she
wanted
her dad to have a date with Avery’s mom. It was beyond weird.
Mrs. Madden going out with my dad
? And something told her that Avery wouldn’t be too thrilled with the idea either.

Suddenly, thoughts of her dad and Avery’s mom sharing a single strand of pasta like Lady and the Tramp floated through her brain. To keep that way-too-weird image from her mind, Charlotte headed back up to the Tower to start working on an outline for her
Sentinel
article. But all she
could do was stare at the computer screen. “Serious case of writer’s block,” she said out loud to the empty Tower room.
How am I going to write an article about the Valentine’s Day Dance when my dad can find a date that night, but Nick Montoya doesn’t even like me anymore?

Marty was cowering under Charlotte’s desk, looking just as miserable as she felt. Lifting him into her lap, Charlotte scratched behind his ears.

“It’s okay, Marty. We’ll get through this. Somehow.”

Charlotte’s Journal
My Top Ten Things to Do Alone on
Valentine’s Day:

1. Eat double-chocolate-chip ice cream. (Make sure there’s some on hand ahead of time.)
   
2. Take Marty to the park and play a game of fetch. (This only works if the little dude isn’t moping around looking just as depressed as me!)
   
3. Write in my journal. (Only one paragraph of self-pity allowed.)
   
4. Watch a National Geographic Special on TV. (Avoid talking to Dad about his date.)
   
5. Go to the Book Nook and spend my allowance on a brand-new novel (fantasy or science fiction?).
   
6. Read all day.
   
7. IM with the BSG. They’ll cheer me up.
   
8. Start a new story. (Set in Paris? Characters? A woman in a purple raincoat?)
   
9. E-mail Sophie.
   
10. Go to the Tower and watch the stars. (Ask Miss Pierce to show me the nebula she’s researching.)
    

Charlotte closed her journal. She was about to shut down the computer and go to bed, when a blinking light in her e-mail program alerted her:
one new message
.

M
aeve opened the door to AAJH feeling so much better than she had the night before.
I mean
, she thought confidently,
what’s a little face plant in the mud when a girl is wearing a super outfit?
Maeve felt so fabuloso that she had to restrain herself from dancing down the hallway.

The night before she and her mother had picked out her new boot-cut jeans, a white-and-pink-striped V-neck sweater, and soft pink loafers to match (boots were sooo yesterday, anyway) for Maeve to wear to school.

Her mother, after spending a half hour wiping sticky mud off Maeve’s face with her special lavender-rose face lotion, explained that when you were having a terrible, awful day, looking good could make you feel so much better.

Maeve had gone to sleep glowing with the happy memory of her winning goal (minus the face plant, of course). Her sleepy vision included a cheer and a sweet kiss on the cheek from Dillon for an extra dollop of dreaminess.

Remembering how her mother had cheered her on—“You
are MKT! You kicked in the winning goal. So, dress for the success you are and no one will remember your little mud mishap”—Maeve felt ready to tackle whatever came her way. In fact, she was all set to continue her campaign to get Dillon to ask her to the Valentine’s Day Dance.

Suddenly, she heard one of her least-favorite voices at AAJH.

“Hey, it’s MFT!” Anna (QOM#1) pointed from her locker across the hall. Joline (QOM #2), stood giggling beside her, hiding her mouth with her hand.

Maeve flushed, but no way was Anna going to ruin her moment!

“Excuse me?” she retorted as she shifted one hip. “It’s MKT for those in the know, but I’ll let it pass this once, Anna. You’re probably just upset about your
loss
yesterday.”

“I don’t think so, MFT. Do you, Joline?” Anna snickered and arched her eyebrow at her witchy partner.

Maeve began to walk away. Katani always said if you were going to defend yourself, do it quickly and move away before Anna and Joline worked up a head of steam. But then Maeve heard Joline’s reply.

“Yeah, MFT! You know, Maeve—Mud Face Taylor. It kind of suits you,” Joline spat out. And then they both cackled, their laughter filling the hallway.

Maeve gasped and spun around, her face burning with humiliation. It was all she could do to keep from screaming, “I’ll get you, my pretties,” in her best imitation of the Wicked Witch of the West. She had been practicing that line on her little brother Sam for years, and
he always ran away whenever she whispered it behind him. She had to whisper it because her mother threatened her with a week’s worth of grounding for scaring Sam. But this was different—Anna and Joline deserved a good scare.

“No, a name like that doesn’t suit Maeve at all,” a stern Mrs. Fields reprimanded. All three girls spun around to face the principal of AAJH.

“And if I hear it from anyone ever again, I’ll know just whom to call to my office. AAJH does not allow name calling…ever.”

Maeve looked up at Mrs. Fields, her face flushed with gratitude.

Mrs. Fields seems to have this knack for ferreting out hall trouble before anything bad really happens
, Maeve thought admiringly. And the principal was smart enough not to give special attention to the student who was being picked on. It was like she knew that any sympathy from her would cause problems for the victim later on.

“Now, get moving, girls. You will be late for class. And this ends right here and now. Am I understood?” She looked sternly at all of them. Maeve nodded, and so did Anna and Joline. Of course they pouted too, Maeve noted smugly. But she was relieved. Nobody messed with Mrs. Fields—the Queens of Mean included.

Maeve paused while the QOM flew off down the hall on their brooms. She gave a quick smile to Mrs. Fields, who simply said, “Nice goal.”

As she headed toward class, Maeve hoped that Anna and Joline hadn’t spread their little joke at her expense. All
of sudden she had a horrible thought.
What if Dillon and Avery are calling me MFT too?

Maeve paused at the door to first-period science class and took a deep breath, suddenly afraid that when she walked into the classroom, everyone would laugh at her.

“Maeve, I heard…” Isabel said, but before she could finish, Avery jogged up, followed by Charlotte and Katani.

“What were you doing with Anna and Joline and Mrs. Fields in the hallway? Yurt said Mrs. Fields looked really mad.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Maeve grumbled.

“Were the QOM on the attack?” Avery asked, concern in her voice.

“I said I don’t want to talk about it,” Maeve answered sharply. She’d had enough for one day.

“Let’s just go in and sit down?” Charlotte, sensitive to her friend’s discomfort, suggested when the bell rang. The rest of the class had already filed past, into the room. Maeve thought everyone would be looking at her, but no one was. Maybe Mrs. Fields really had saved the day.

Mixing up Some Love Potion

“You’re in luck, people,” Mr. Moore said. “I’m going to be Mr. Nice Guy and let you choose your own lab partners today.”
Oh, lovely,
Maeve thought.
Who will want to work with Mud Face Taylor!
Suddenly her mother’s words popped in her head and she decided to just try to pay attention to the science teacher. She was MKT. She was!

Mr. Moore picked up a huge stuffed cow from his desk and gave it a squeeze. It let out a long, loud “Mooooooooo.”
His bright orange tie, decorated with purple cows, looked to Maeve like a traffic cone with an awful disease. Mr. Moore was kind of obsessed with goofy-looking cow paraphernalia, but he was a good teacher.

Riley walked up to her desk so quietly, Maeve jumped when he spoke. “Want to be partners?” Maeve scanned the room for Dillon. He was talking to Henry Yurt. What was he saying? Her stomach began to churn. Her hopes for a date with Dillon were fading fast.

“I guess.” Maeve sounded so unfriendly, Riley hesitated for a moment. But when she scooched her stool over, Riley put down his backpack and stared at his shoes. “Um, I heard about your goal—”

“What?” Maeve snapped. “Wait, never mind. Don’t tell me.”

“No, I mean, your goal rocked!” Riley grimaced when he saw Maeve’s horrified expression. “I didn’t know you could play soccer.”

“I can’t.” Maeve stared hard at Riley’s face. Was he actually trying to make her feel better? Weird. They were kind of friends, but they usually just chatted about music. “I stink at soccer,” she said.

“Maeve, you rock at everything you do.” He grinned, and Maeve felt some of her frustration washing away. She pulled out her lab notebook and started reading the directions for Love Potion #9 out loud to Riley.

A Confident Girl

Katani strolled over to Reggie’s desk. “Want to work together?”

He nodded. “Sure thing.”

Chelsea watched Katani, wondering how that girl managed to be so calm and confident. Her ease with Reggie gave Chelsea an idea. This was a perfect opportunity to work with someone different. Someone like Trevor. He sat on the other side of the classroom, stuffing some papers in his notebook with a look of concentration that set Chelsea’s heart pounding in her ribcage.
I’ll ask if he wants to work together, and maybe we’ll get talking about photography again! Maybe I should tell him about the action shots I got of him playing soccer?

Chelsea opened her mouth to call out Trevor’s name. But she never got the chance.

“Hey, T-Dawg,” Avery said, bouncing over to him with a grin. “Wanna work with me?”

Trevor caught Chelsea looking at him from across the room and gave her a nod. But he turned right back to Avery. “Sure.” He scooted his stool over so that Avery could slip onto the one beside him.

Chelsea’s hope faded like a flower drooping and turning brown. Did Avery have to be buddies with every guy in the school? Chelsea turned to ask Charlotte to be her partner, but Char was talking to Isabel. Then she noticed Nick sitting alone. Maybe he’d be her partner.

Worse than a Klutz Attack

“Char, do you think Maeve is okay?” Isabel asked.

“Yeah, I think so….” Charlotte’s gaze drifted to a certain dark-haired boy. “Izzy, do you mind if I ask Nick to be my lab partner?”

Isabel looked over at Nick and Chelsea. “Better go quick!” she replied.

Charlotte made her way across the room, stopping to ask Avery a quick question about her dog depression research first. She didn’t want to look too obvious…but she was ready to take Sophie’s advice. Of course Nick still liked her. He and Chels were just friends, and she was friends with both of them.

“Hey, Nick.” Charlotte smiled. “Want to be my partner?”

Nick’s eyes opened wide for a second and he played with his pen, flipping it over and over in his fingers. “Ummm…sorry, Char. I’d love to, but Chelsea and I are kind of working together already, but…”

Charlotte stumbled away before she heard the rest of Nick’s sentence. Charlotte wanted to go to the nurse’s office and lie down. It was so obvious, and there was absolutely no denying it now: Nick definitely liked Chelsea. Charlotte glanced around the room, sweat breaking out on her palms. Whom could she work with? Isabel gave her an apologetic smile.
I thought you were working with Nick!
she mouthed from her stool next to Kevin.

Mortified, Charlotte realized not having anyone to work with was definitely worse than a klutz attack! It was a ticket to loserville!

“My, my!” Mr. Moore walked over to Charlotte. “It seems we have an odd number today. Would you like to be my lab assistant?” It was now official: Charlotte Ramsey was a loser!

Mr. Moore didn’t wait for a yes or no. He handed
Charlotte the stuffed cow and perched on the edge of his desk. “In honor of the holiday this weekend—I think you all know the one I mean—today we are going to perform an experiment, making a mixture I like to call “Love Potion Number Nine.”

The class erupted into laughter. Charlotte smiled weakly.

The Yurtmeister waved his hand in the air. “Hey! What happened to the other eight?”

Everyone giggled.

Mr. Moore rolled his eyes. “Very clever, Mr. Yurt. It comes from an old song—‘Love Potion Number 9.’ Ask your grandparents.”

Mr. Moore took out a jar of pickled red cabbage, opened it with a flourish, poured a little bit into a beaker, and handed the jar to Charlotte. She wrinkled up her nose at the strong smell.

“Do you know what this substance is?” Mr. Moore asked.

“Smells like dirty gym socks!” the always wisecracking Dillon shouted. Henry Yurt gave him a high five.

“Oh, it’s even better than that! This cabbage juice is an acid-base indicator. Would you like to hand me the baking soda and vinegar, Charlotte?”

Trevor lifted a hand in the air. “We made volcanoes out of baking soda and vinegar at my old school.”

Mr. Moore nodded. “I bet you’ll like this experiment better. Prepare to be amazed! Charlotte, pour in a pinch of that baking soda.”

Charlotte gritted her teeth with concentration. This
was the perfect opportunity for disaster, but her hands held steady, and to her surprise, just the tiniest sprinkling of baking soda caused an explosion of blue-green foam!

“Cool!” several voices called out from around the room.

Mr. Moore whisked the beaker over to the sink by his desk before any foam got on the floor. “Now the vinegar!” His tie was stuck sideways in one of his buttonholes, but he didn’t seem to notice. Charlotte walked over to the sink and tipped the bottle of vinegar over the green foam.

Pink froth bubbled up, completely covering the green!

Cheers and whistles erupted from around the classroom. Mr. Moore took a bow, put the beaker down and, recognizing Charlotte’s discomfort, led her over to Maeve and Riley.

“You’ll be a group of three. Now everyone get to work! Your job is to explain
why
Love Potion Number Nine changes color. If you get up to page three before the end of the period, I have some other household items you can drop in your beakers for extra credit. Tums, ammonia, lemon juice…have a blast, and,
may the force be with you
!”

Mr. Moore was both a cow lover
and
a card-carrying member of the official Star Wars Fan Club. He never let a class period go by without trying to include some dialogue from the movies. That was just part of his weirdness, and most of the students loved it.

Usually Mr. Moore’s quotes made Maeve laugh. Not today. She studied the handout, her brow wrinkled in
concentration. Math and science always made her brain fog. Why did there have to be so many numbers and symbols? What if Riley thought she was stupid? At least Charlotte was in the group to save her from complete embarrassment.

“Maeve, the experiment’s easy,” Charlotte promised. Despite her own misery, Charlotte knew that numbers always put Maeve into a panic, and she couldn’t stand seeing one of her best friends get upset.

“Yeah, but look at these questions!” Maeve bit her lip. “What the heck is this word? Looks like Nacho-Three.”

“There’s a chart on page one,” Riley flipped back. “NaHCO
₃
is baking soda, I guess. Why don’t they just say that?”

“That’s what I was just thinking!” Maeve grinned, but her smile faded when she heard Dillon laugh. He was goofing around with Avery. They kept flicking green foam across the table—until Mr. Moore came along and told them to cut it out or they’d have extra homework that night.

“Uh…Maeve?” Riley said, putting the beaker down on the lab table. It quietly
clinked
. He followed her eyes and saw what had drawn her attention. Charlotte watched Riley stare at his hands under the table. She felt bad, but how could she explain to him that this was just how Maeve was? She’d be over Dillon eventually, and then some other boy would get her attention. Maybe it would even be Riley. You never knew with Maeve.

Charlotte added a spoonful of vinegar and watched pink froth bubble over the side of the beaker.
Excellent,
she thought.
Maybe my love potion will work on Nick. Then
he’ll ask me, not Chelsea, to the dance, and everything will be perfect.