Hannah Smart, Operation Josh Taylor (8 page)

“Well that's the most exciting part! When you get your bracelet, you make a wish, and just like back in the olden days, when it falls off, your wish will come true.” I hold up my arm, showing Maria my bracelet. “Rachel made this for me. If I keep it on until it falls off, I'll get my wish!” I smile. “It's a powerful spell that's woven into each and every bracelet.”

“Wow, that's really neat,” Maria says, smiling. “So Hannah, you're quite the clever entrepreneur. It seems to me that a lot of this was your idea, right?”

I shake my head. “No … like I said, it was fifty-fifty all the way!”

“And tell me more about the name; did you come up with it?”

“Yeah, but …”

“So, how did you come up with it?” she asks.

“I guess it just came to me when I was in the computer lab.”

“The computer lab where
you
came up with the idea in the first place, right?”

“Yeah, but …”

“I'm sure your partner, Rachel, did her fair share, but it seems like you're the brains of this operation,” she remarks, tapping my head, “Miss Smart.”

“No, no …” I stammer.

“So, what made you girls start your business in the first place? Was there a special reason?”

Now here's a question I like! I look over at Rachel to see if there's any chance she's ready to speak, but she's still in a bug-eyed trance.

“Maria, I can answer that question in two words,” I say, beaming, “Josh … Taylor.”

Maria tilts her head. “Josh Taylor?”

“Well, you see, Maria, Rachel and I are Josh Taylor's biggest fans, and when we found out that he's coming to Glen Haven to do a concert, we of course told our parents right away. Well, Maria, I can tell you it was quite a shock when they said there was no way they would be paying for our tickets.”

“It must have been.” Maria nods supportively.

“It's a
responsibility thing
.” I nod back.

“So you started the business to earn money for your tickets?”

“That's exactly what we did!” I answer proudly. “We started our business to earn money for our …”

Suddenly, I notice Scarlett Hastings, her eyes like slits, standing directly behind the cameraman. My hand flies up to my mouth, clamping it shut as I realize what I've done. My head is spinning … Scarlett … Rachel's lie … her aunt … the fake tickets …

Scarlett silently mouths to Rachel, “I-knew-you-were-lying.”

Rachel's eyes are filling with tears. I can't believe this is happening, that I made this happen; I took over the entire interview and even worse than that … I've ratted us out. I've ratted Rachel out.

“Well, thanks, girls. I think we have enough mater­ial to work with here,” Maria says.

“That's a wrap!” the cameraman adds.

“Hannah, you did super! You're not only a great little businesswoman, but you're a natural on camera,” Maria exclaims, giving my shoulders a little squeeze.

Suddenly, a crowd of kids swarms around us, and before I can get free to talk to Rachel, she's gone.

Attention-Grabbing, Backstabbing Jerk of a Friend

I
t
's official. I am the worst friend on the face of the earth. I'm so ashamed of what I've done, I couldn't even bring myself to call Rachel last night, not that she would have talked to me. Who would, unless it was to say,
Hi, Hannah, you attention-grabbing, backstabbing jerk of a friend
.

I march into school, fully prepared for the attack. I'm hoping no one saw me on TV last night. It was horrible. They barely showed Rachel at all, and worse than that, they cut out so much stuff they made it look like I was totally taking credit for everything! I'll be surprised if Rachel ever wants to speak to me again.

I rush through the lobby, trying to shield my face so that no one notices me. It's no use though;

they were all waiting. Kids start storming at me from all angles, and in like three seconds I'm surrounded. I stop in my tracks, squeeze my eyes shut and brace myself for what's coming. Everyone is yelling at me. I just want the ground to open up and swallow me so I can get out of this place.

Wouldn't it be great if that could actually happen, and a supernatural force could just suck you up and then magically drop you on some tropical island, where you'd be lying on a beautiful beach, and sipping a delicious, frozen strawberry smoothie? I don't know what I would do without these little daydreams. I think they keep me from going crazy when everything around me is falling apart. But they're only daydreams; they're not real, and no magic vacuum is going to swallow me up and spit me out in Aruba.

I open my eyes, squinting from the light. As I try to focus on the swarm of kids around me, I suddenly realize something strange is happening. It's almost like I really have been transported into an alternate universe, and that's when it hits me: these kids aren't angry, they're excited. No one is blaming me for stealing Rachel's spotlight. No one mentions the lie, either.

“How did you get to be on TV?” one kid yells out.

“They just asked me,” I answer, smiling with relief.

“So, how was it? Was it fun?” another kid asks.

“Well, it was actually, really fun.”

“What was Maria like?” one of the girls asks.

“She was
really
pretty, much prettier in real life, and
really
cool. She actually told me I was a natural.” I do a little curtsy, kind of feeling like I'm back on the red carpet again. That's when I see Rachel from the corner of my eye, standing against the wall, watching me. Instantly, I feel the shame rising up in my chest, knowing I don't deserve all this attention. Rachel really figured out our business plan, and without that, we wouldn't even have a business. Why didn't I remember to say that last night? It all happened so fast. It was over so quickly. Why didn't I remember?

By lunch, the shame has risen from my chest to my throat, where it forms a huge lump that makes it hard to breathe. It won't go away, even with all the attention that has been non-stop ever since I walked into the school this morning. I know the only way I will feel better is to somehow get Rachel to forgive me. But what am I going to say to her now? She hasn't spoken to me since the interview. I don't even know if I
deserve
her forgiveness. What I do know is I feel like crap.

I
t's been three days and Rachel and I still haven't spoken. With every minute that goes by, I get more and more miserable. Now that my fifteen minutes of fame are over and my superstar status has died down, all I'm left with is the misery of knowing that I may have lost my very best friend in the world. We should both be so excited and planning for the concert right now. The tickets go on sale in two days and we haven't even sorted out the money from our Wishbandz. I wonder if Rachel is even still wearing hers.

“Hannah,” Mrs. Harris calls out and motions to me to come into her office.

“Hi,” I say solemnly, following her inside.

“I saw you on the news,” she says, smiling. “You did very well.”

“Oh yeah, thanks,” I say, trying to manage a smile in return.

“You know, sometimes people are looking for the most interesting story, and
sometimes
, the
real
story is not the most interesting one. It's called editing.”

I nod. “Editing …”

“Well, Hannah, you really are a natural in front of the camera, and it's not your fault that the story was edited to include only the most interesting parts.”

“Yeah,” I say hoping she's right, that it's not completely my fault.

“I'm sure Rachel realizes this too.” Mrs. Harris smiles.

“Yeah, but …”

“Just talk to her, Hannah,” she says as her eyes soften. “It will all work out. Trust me.”

Trust her. Well, what have I got to lose? I'm miserable worrying over this. I need to fix things.

I run my fingers over the beads in the bracelet that Rachel made me. “She's my best friend,” I whisper to myself, walking out of the office.

“Who, Rachel?” I hear from behind me.

I spin around to see Scarlett admiring herself in her little compact mirror. Of course, Anika and Missy have positioned themselves on either side of her, as usual.

“She's not your best friend anymore.” She smiles smugly, snapping her compact shut.

“How would you know?” I bark.

“Oh, she's not stupid, Hannah. Look at what you did,” she says sneering. “Number one, you took over that whole interview. You didn't even give her a chance to speak! And then you totally bladed your little fibbing friend, exposing her lie. You know, that little story about ‘her aunt' who works at the ‘radio station.'” Scarlett makes finger quotes in the air and adds, “And her ‘V.I.P tickets.'”

“Scarlett!” I suddenly hear Rachel yell from behind me. “Hannah did not ‘
blade
'
me
!” She uses finger quotes, mimicking Scarlett. “You knew I was lying the whole time! Let's face it, I know it and you know it.”

“Whatever,” Scarlett says, waving her hand dismissively.

“And for your information Scarlett, Hannah did not take over that interview! She answered the questions Maria asked her and that's all!”

“If that's how you remember it,” Scarlett snaps, rolling her eyes.

“It's not how I remember it — it's how it happened!” Rachel shouts.

“I was just looking out for you Rachel, I mean Hannah's obviously not that loyal of a friend.”

“Obviously!” Anika squawks, clearly happy to be getting a word in.

“Yeah,” Missy adds, sneering.

“She is loyal, Scarlett!” Rachel grabs my wrist just below my bracelet and pulls it up in front of Scarlett's face. “And so am I!” she barks, holding up her own.

So, right now I'm standing here, speechless, with my wrist in the air, trying to figure out what just happened. Did we just make up? Scarlett, for once, is speechless, too.

With our Wishbandz in her face, Scarlett slowly raises her narrowed eyes and locks them on mine. Her hands plant themselves firmly on her hips as she continues her stare-down. After a few moments of silent glaring, she does her signature hair flick, turns, and storms off down the hall, motioning for the bookends to follow.