Geek Chic (9 page)

Do you know what my mother said?

… Here’s what my mother said:

“What an imagination you have, Zoey.”

… Oh really?

My Auntie Barbara has earlobes that are so long, they swing back and forth. On her, earrings are dangerous weapons. A mosquito buzzing around her head is a goner.

5.
Jazz sent the school the photographs that are in the magazine. There are pictures of The Bashleys and the Friends of The Bashleys.
(They are sort of out of focus, and the hallway and lockers are more in focus.)

There are also pictures of Harry, WHT, Big Ben, Harrison, and my bowling shirt (back and front pocket), fedora feather, one sneaker, and a close-up of my braces.

The Bashleys think that is funny in the extreme. And … not cool or chic
(noun or adjective)
.

6.
No sign of a fairy godmother. My idea of having one of those has been a fiasco
(see number one)
.

(Told you. Snoozerama. Don’t have time for the toe story. Maybe later.)

Beeeeeeee-eeeee-eeeeeep.

ATTENTION, PLEASE.
… Zoey Zinevich,
report to the
principal’s office.

Me? That Zoey Zinevich?

To the principal’s office?

Sixteen pairs of eyeballs—not counting the ones belonging to Mrs. Helferich—are eyeballing the person in desk five, row three.

Me.

This is all curiouser and more curiouser, because I have never been called to the principal’s office on the loudspeaker. …

Not even when I had to turn in the fedora.

(That was only a Hall Call.)

Mrs. Helferich is stunned by this surprising, ugly turn of events too. She hands me the hall pass, because if you don’t have a hall pass and you’re caught in the hall without having a hall pass, you’re going to have big trouble.

You have broken Rule #8:

You MUST Have a Hall Pass.

Since I’m already called over the loudspeaker, I don’t need any more trouble. I hold on to the hall pass and power walk to Mrs. Pappazian’s office. Does a hall pass work like a …

Get-out-of-Jail-Free Card?

Or does it mean …

Go Directly to the Office.

Do Not Pass Go.

Do Not Go to the Bathroom.

Is a fifth grader allowed in a second-grade girls’ bathroom … ?

Mrs. Katterman, the school secretary, is on the phone as I walk into the Main Office.

She waves me in behind the
COUNTER
.

Uh-oh. Nobody ever goes behind the
COUNTER
in the Main Office unless Mrs. Katterman waves you in. Or you have a broken
nose. Mika Sanderberg got a broken nose when a volleyball hit her in the face during gym period.

The nurse wasn’t in school that day, so Mrs. Shulman, the gym teacher who is lucky because she gets to wear sweatpants every day, took Mika to the principal’s office. Mrs. Katterman waved her in behind the
COUNTER
immediately!

Mika told Venus and me all about it. Her nasal septum got smashed.
(Technically, that means the membrane thingie dividing her nostrils wasn’t ever going to be dividing anything again, unless she had an operation, which she did.)

Mika dripped blood on the
COUNTER
and also behind the
COUNTER
.

Having a broken nose and dripping real blood is the only reason I’ve ever heard of somebody getting waved behind Mrs. Katterman’s
COUNTER
.

Unless you are in really
BIG
trouble.

Mrs. Katterman is still on the phone.

“Well, yes, I will do that. …”

I’ve never noticed it before … but Mrs.
Katterman has very big earlobes.

“Yes. Absolutely. I understand. I will get back to you shortly.”

I smile.

Mrs. Katterman doesn’t smile back.

She hangs up the phone.

She stares.

I clear my throat. Swallow. Whisper.

“I’m Zoey Zinevich.”

“
WHO?
Speak up. Don’t garble. All you kids garble. Speak clearly when you’re spoken to.”

“I’m
Zoey Zinevich.”

“Don’t raise your voice, young lady. Didn’t I call your name over the loudspeaker?”

I nod.

Not too big. Not too little. Just right.

Mrs. Katterman nods back. An okay-you-
nodded-back-correctly nod.

She opens her desk drawer.

She closes her desk drawer.

She puts a pencil in her pencil holder.

She sighs.

She gets up from behind her desk, very slowly.

Then she walks over to Mrs. Pappazian’s closed door even slower.

Mrs. Katterman knocks. She opens the door a little and peeks in.

Only her head does the peeking. The rest of Mrs. Katterman can’t fit.

“Do you want to see Zoey Zinevich now?”

I hear Mrs. Pappazian from the other side of the door: “
Send her in
.”

I power walk toward the door.

Suddenly, Mrs. Katterman stops me.

“You don’t have gum in your mouth, do you?

You know we don’t allow gum chewing.”

HST RULE #6:

Absolutely No Chewing Gum!

“I know. I don’t chew gum. I haven’t chewed gum for one year, two months, and twenty-four days … braces.”

“You kids always say that, but I know you pouch. I know you swallow, with or without those braces. Those braces are just an excuse. We know you chew. You can’t fool us.”

“I’m not fooling.”

I open my mouth.

Mrs. Katterman squeezes her eyes to itsy slits.

“Okay … well … go in.”

I walk into Mrs. Pappazian’s office.

It smells like … someone eating Chinese food at her desk? Are those duck sauce stains I see on one of those folders?

She shuffles a stack of folders on her desk and smiles without looking at me.

“The reason I called you down to the office is because …”

And most important, how much trouble can I be in when Mrs. Pappazian hasn’t fallen face-first onto her duck sauce—stained folders after seeing me hatless?

I squeeze my eyes into itsy slits just like Mrs. Katterman and stare at Mrs. Pappazian. Then I stop because it’s really giving me a headache.

Sitting in the principal’s office is all curiouser and curiouser. Especially when everything smells like pork lo mein.

“… Miss Jazz Duval, the creative director of the magazine that was here several weeks ago taking photographs, called today to leave a message for … you.”

“… Me?”

“She would like to speak with you and your parents.”

“… Me?”

“She asked that you call her.”

“… Me?”

“… Yes.
You
… Zoey Zinevich.”

  Maddie: “I’ll get it!”
    Mom: “I’ll get it!”
      Stewart: “I’ll get it!”
        Aunt Rootie: “I’ll get it!”
          Me: “I’ll get it!”

Dad: “No. I’ll get it.”

“Hello? Miss Duval?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Well, of course. Uh-huh. Agree.

Yes. Uh-huh … Yes. Yes.

Of course …

Mrs. Zinevich?

Right here …”

“Hello? Miss Duval?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Well, of course. Uh-huh. Agree.

Yes. Uh-huh … Yes. Yes.

Of course …

Aunt Rootie?

Aunt Rootie.

Yes. Right here …”

“Hello? Miss Duval?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Well, of course. Uh-huh. Agree.

Yes. Uh-huh … Yes. Yes.

Of course …

Mr. Zinevich?

Right here …”

“Hello? Miss Duval?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Well, of course. Uh-huh. Agree.

Yes. Uh-huh … Yes. Yes.

Of course …

Zoey?

She’s right here …”

“Hello? Jazz? …
            Yes. It’s me, Zoey.”

So, this is what I’m thinking. …

I really can’t do much thinking. Or dot connecting.

I have to go to bed
muy pronto
.

(Venus told me that’s Spanish for “very quick.”)

Tomorrow morning I am going to NYC
(New York City)
to meet with Jazz and her magazine people.
(I didn’t even know she had “people.”)
Actually, she’s picking me up in a limousine, which I know isn’t environmentally correct, but Jazz said it was a
hybrid, so my carbon footprint will still be neutral.

So I’m not thinking so I can go to sleep.

Except, I can’t stop thinking …

so I keep thinking.

I don’t really know
how
this all happened.

I only know
that
it happened, and when
it
happened, it was all
Molto exciting
!

Jazz’s note said she would call at 6:00.

From her office
.

And exactly at 6:00 she actually called, and it was all
Molto exciting
!

She asked me to come to her office and meet her people because they want to do an article on
ME
, which—
I know!
—is
Molto Molto exciting
!

(
Did she really say “article”?
)

Well, I can’t remember
exactly what
she said, or what she called
it
, only that she said
something
, and it was all
Molto exciting!

Venus and Aunt Rootie are coming with me too (
because my parents won’t let me go alone, blah blah blah
),
but
they also think it’s all
Molto Molto!

And luckily we have a day off from school for something or other—so we aren’t even breaking any
Harry S. Truman Rules
.

Jazz said for me to wear my bowling shirt, great-grandpop’s fedora, my Chucks, and not to even comb my hair …

which, actually …

when I keep thinking about it, doesn’t sound very exciting.

In fact, it sounds sort of weird.

But
, Venus says, her sister says it’s because Jazz is probably going to give me a complete, total, and unbelievably cool
   
Motto
   
Chic
makeover—which is
Molto exciting!

Which makes me think, even though I shouldn’t be thinking because I should be sleeping, that maybe … just maybe …a fairy godmother somewhere out wherever FGs hang out connected my dots.

Molto exciting!