How to Outfox Your Friends When You Don't Have a Clue (5 page)

“Ryan's the guy you like, right?” I leaned forward to see the picture she was finding on her phone.

She nodded. “He's
so
cute.” She held it out.

A boy with a snarly look on his face glared at whoever was taking the photo. His hair was dark and a little too long, like he hadn't gotten it cut in time for pictures like most kids. He didn't look cute to me, but I wasn't about to say that to Liv. He looked like the kind of guy I'd cross the street to avoid. She held the phone to her chest and sighed, all dramatic-like.

“We aren't going
out
, going out. Yet. But Leilani said that he told his brother Max that he liked me, so that has to count, right?” She bit her lip and stared at me.

“Right!” I said. “He looks…uh…”

Scary.

Greasy.

Murdery.

“Cool,” I said finally. “He looks pretty old for his age, actually,” I added, inspecting the picture again.

“He's in ninth grade with me, so that makes him a year older. He turns fourteen in a few months!” She giggled.

Fourteen.

If there was anything scarier sounding than thirteen, it was fourteen. But I guess if Liv was technically in ninth grade now, she would always be hanging out with older kids, right? Did that make me one of her “younger” friends?

I didn't like the sound of that.

Suddenly I felt a little dumb for wearing this stupid shirt, like I was proving to her even more that I was a little kid. Why hadn't I thought of that
before
I'd picked my outfit?

I shifted until I was sitting on my feet, tucking the blue laces out of sight. And then, the weirdest, craziest thing happened.

I wasn't expecting it.

I couldn't stop it.

For the first time in a decade of best friendship with Liv, a silence grew between us.

And I don't mean a quiet type of silence, where everyone takes a minute to have a drink or check their teeth for spinach.

No. I would have been okay with that.

Those types of silences are normal.

This was an
awkward
type of silence, when both people end up catching each other's eyes and they
know
someone needs to say something, but absolutely nothing comes out because you can't think of a
thing
to say and you get that squirmy feeling in your guts like you want to shrink down and fly away like a bug. When the whole world gets swallowed up by how downright quiet everything is.

My stomach dropped, like I'd swan dived off a cliff.

Liv cleared her throat.

The seconds on the wall clock ticked by…s-l-o-w-l-y...like they were counting down the last seconds of our friendship, as it was going to be washed away for good. Panic clawed at me.

Say something already!

“And here you go!” Lacey's perky voice interrupted the gigantic hole of nothingness between us. She set my vanilla shake in front of me and slid Liv's mess of toffee and whipped cream to her.

I unwrapped my straw. Could Lacey tell that there was currently a black hole floating in the middle of our booth? It probably had its own gravitational pull by now, sucking our friendship in like a Hoover.

As Lacey walked away, I scrambled for something to say before that horrible quiet took over the booth again, but Liv beat me to it.

“So are you glad you're not living in the zoo anymore?” she asked. She swirled a clump of toffee in with her ice cream and licked the spoon. “Mmm. I haven't had ice cream in so long,” she swooned.

“It ended up being pretty fun, actually. Mom says we'll probably get to move back in next summer for more of her research.” A buzz of adrenaline swam through me as I connected the dots. This was the perfect chance to tell Liv about Ashley, before she found out on her own. I tried to think of the best way to bring it up.

Tell her already. Now, while she's got ice cream!

“Grandpa opened up this cool aquarium exhibit during the summer, and they said that a whole bunch of students wanted to help out,” I started.

Liv smacked her lips on another bite, nodding.

“All because of you, I bet.” She narrowed her eyes at me. There was a sharp tone to her voice, even though her words were airy. “You got all famous with that crocodile thing, and now everyone wants to be like you! When is that documentary of your grandpa's going to be finished, you think?”

“Not for a long time, maybe like next summer,” I said casually, trying not to sound uppity about it. I didn't want Liv thinking I'd become some
diva
, especially since it's pretty much physically impossible to be a diva when your claim to fame is crocodile poop. And that's with or without people asking for your autograph.

I focused on the two cherries sitting on the top of my shake. For a moment, I wondered if they were also best friends. Did one cherry ever have some weird, awkward silence with the other while they were hanging out?

I went on, before I could lose my nerve. “About the aquarium,” I said, thinking of the best way to work Ashley into the story. “Some kids from our school showed up to help too. I was surprised at first, but we ended up being really good friends. You're not going to believe it, but one of them was—”

A loud chime interrupted me. Liv's eyes brightened as she stuck her spoon back in her ice cream and scrambled for her purse. She snorted loudly as she pulled out her phone and read the screen.

“Oh my God, Leilani is the
funniest
,” she said absently. Her fingers raced along the keyboard of her phone as she giggled.

“Ashley,” I muttered.

You'd think that Liv would have dropped her phone and acted completely surprised when I mentioned Ashley, right? Maybe ask me how on earth I'd coped working with Ashley at the zoo. That's what a real friend would do, right?

But nope.

Liv didn't do any of those things because she was too busy texting someone else.

Her
other
friend.

She turned the phone to me, showing me the screen. “Check it out,” she said. “She dyed some of her bangs
green
with a Magic Marker! It looks so great!”

I stared at the picture. It was the first time I'd ever seen Leilani, and I don't know what I was expecting. Maybe a supermodel? Or a robot with dead-shark eyes that stared through me as they stole away my best friend?

But she just looked like a girl with messed-up purple-and-green hair. Mom would have
killed
me if I'd tried a stunt like that! To be honest, she looked like a kid that got sent to the principal's office for saying bad words to the teacher.

I avoided her eyes.

“I have to get back soon,” I fumbled, shoving the last third of my shake away from me. A greasy, slimy feeling crawled over me like a wet snake. “I promised Mom I'd help her at the zoo tonight,” I lied.

Liv grabbed her purse and swung it under her arm. “Okay,” she said. “What were you saying about Ashley again?”

I shook my head, feeling my shake rumbling dangerously close to my throat. “Nothing. She's still a giant Sneerer,” I said, shrugging. The words popped out of my mouth without warning.

I hadn't meant to lie. Or had I?

Bighorn sheep have four-chambered stomachs. To eat, they regurgitate their food (called “cud”) and then re-swallow it for further digestion.

—Animal Wisdom

Who wears high heels and always has perfect hair?

No, it's not the start of a lame joke, but it
is
the truth about Grandpa's girlfriend, Sugar.

There are two things you should know about Grandpa and Sugar.

1. They are both so stinkin' famous that they can barely go out the door without someone jamming a camera in their faces, hoping for a million-dollar moment they can sell to some tabloid. Grandpa is famous because he's a super-popular naturalist and reality TV star. Seriously, he films documentaries where he wears bandanas and eats worms and all that. Sugar, on the other hand, is his supermodel girlfriend with perfect hair, manicured toes, and a stomach like those ladies on the magazines at the checkout. That's pretty much enough of a reason to be famous these days, but she's so nice too. She's a lot younger than Grandpa, but the more I hang out with him, the more I realize he's actually a twenty-year-old trapped in an old guy's body.

2. After three months of living in Los Angeles again, they were super eager to visit us. Even if Mom put them to work doing yard cleanup.

“Daz!” Mom shouted. “Your job is to pick up all the branches and twigs from the tree, not climb the actual tree!” She shielded her eyes from the sun as she gawked up at him. Daz swung down a branch and let his feet dangle. I wasn't surprised he was so good at climbing trees and swinging on branches. Most monkeys are, after all.

Grandpa tossed a pebble at him from below. “Get down here and help out your grandpa, young man! I'm too old for this!” His tone was serious, but I could see the trademark sparkle in his eyes as he twirled around his rake in a graceful move like the guy from
Singin' in the Rain
on the lamppost.

Beside him, Sugar had swapped her usual high heels for a pair of oversized boots. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a “glamping” magazine, where people camp out in glamorous RVs instead of tents like normal people.

“It's so nice to get out and get some fresh air!” she said, reaching over to grab a handful of broken twigs from one of our windy storms last week. “LA has been suffocating lately. I miss this Denver air!” She took a huge breath, sighing loudly and tipping her tanned face to the sun.

“Enjoy it while you can, Sugar,” Dad said. “Knowing the weather around here, it will snow any minute!”

I squinted into the sun as I kicked the last of my own twig pile together. “Done!” I turned to see if I'd beaten Dad in our yearly cleanup race.

He tipped his ball cap at me and scooped some of his leaves with his rake, flinging them in the air. “You got me this time, peanut!” he said, bowing regally. “Why can't your brother get through chores that quickly?”

I grinned, propped the big paper yard waste bag against a tree, and settled at the picnic table with my notebook. The weight of any unfinished project felt heavy on my shoulders, but after my horrible meet up with Liv, it seemed even more important that I thought of the perfect way to do it. I wished that instead of a crabapple tree, we had a great idea tree. Then I could pluck ideas off whenever I needed one.

“What you got there?” Grandpa asked, sidling up next to me on the picnic table bench. He reached over to pour some of the cocoa from Mom's thermos into a mug. “Some of your sketches?” He peeked over at my notes.

“It's for a school project, actually,” I said. I handed him my project outline from Mr. Nicholson. “We've got to showcase five things that influence us using a form of media, like a record of what made us who we are in eighth grade. You know, like people and places and stuff.” I giggled at the cocoa mustache that had formed on his upper lip. “You're on the list, by the way.” I pointed out his name, beside Liv, Ashley, and Bella. “And as for places, I had to include the zoo.”

His mouth dropped open. “Me?” He wrapped his flannelly arm around me. “I'm one of your biggest influences? Banana, I'm
honored
!” He lifted his sleeve to his eye, sniffling once.

I squirmed. Something about making your grandpa tear up was a bit too much emotion for yard-work day. But still, it was kind of nice that he cared that much, you know?

“Of course,” I said. “You were one of the reasons I got…” I struggled for the right word to sum up how much bigger my life had gotten in such a short time. I had wanted to keep people from knowing we were even
related
, but now that seemed like a million years ago. “Braver,” I said finally. “I'm braver because of you.”

He sniffed. “Ditto.” He nudged me and eyed the rest of my list. “Liv is your friend that moved, right?” He tapped her name on the page.

“Yep,” I said, my chest tightening. The image of her giggling over Leilani's messages flashed in my head. “She's visiting, and we've been kind of weird since she got here. I really want to show her she's still my best friend, and I need the perfect way to do it. I want to do something
different
. Something nobody else will do,” I said, handing him a napkin for his cocoa mustache from the snack tray Mom had set out for us.

“Hmm…” he said, flipping the page over for Mr. Nicholson's list of potential media we could use. “Some of these are pretty boring, huh? A
blog post essay
?” He made a face. “I never did like writing essays in school,” he said, taking another sip of cocoa. “I always got too distracted by all the birds out the window to write more than a sentence or two.”

“Sounds like you.” I smirked. I couldn't picture Grandpa as a kid like me, stuck in a classroom. He seemed built for the outdoors, surrounded by scary animals. Sometimes I wondered if he was actually raised by wolves, instead of human parents. That might have explained his shaggy hair and tendency to bear his teeth at Daz when he tried to sneak candy from his coat pocket without asking.

“How about a documentary?” Grandpa asked. “That must run in your blood by now, kiddo!” He chuckled, breaking a granola bar in half and tossing it into the air to catch it in his mouth.

I narrowed my eyes. “Does that count?” I checked the list. Sure enough, under the list of film media, there it was.

“Huh,” I said, tapping my pencil next to the entry. “I must have skimmed right over that. It sounds kind of…meh,” I said.

Grandpa hacked on his granola bar. “Young lady!” He faked a shocked look, his cheeks turning rosy red. “The documentary is
the
single greatest invention of humankind!” He snatched the paper from me and stood up dramatically, gesturing wildly.

I settled back to watch him. Whenever Grandpa got all jazz hands like this it was always pretty entertaining.

“
The
greatest invention?” I questioned. “What about toilet paper? Or Personal Pan Pizzas? Or tranquilizer darts?” I thought about all those times I'd watched Grandpa's documentaries where he was helping relocate large predators, where the only thing between him and a set of snapping jaws was a teensy dart that calmed the animal down.

He pointed at me. “Yes! Those are all wonderful things! Not a day goes by when I'm not grateful for the brilliance of the human mind for such inventions as the Personal Pan Pizza!” He was getting going now, his eyes twinkling like Mom's when she's in front of a crowd.

“But documentaries, my dear Ana banana, are even better, providing a window into amazing worlds—
real
worlds with real creatures that people would never see otherwise! Now
that
is a noble pursuit! To teach
and
entertain? What could be better?”

I giggled. “It is noble. But for this project I'm only going to be showcasing a few people and the zoo,” I said. “You know. Nothing wild like anacondas or sharks or things that can carry people off and eat them. Aren't documentaries supposed to be”—I searched for the word—“exciting?”

He lifted his shoulders. “What could be more exciting than a real documentarian glimpse into
your
world? You could be showcasing your influences in
real
time! You could
film
them! You could show them as they've never been seen before—their truest, grittiest, honest selves! If you can tell me that wouldn't be the coolest project in your class, then I will eat my shorts!”

Laughing, I took the paper from him. I didn't tell him that I was sold on the documentary idea the second he'd found it on the list. Truthfully, I was surprised I hadn't thought of it before. I
did
have some experience with documentaries, especially being around Grandpa so much. That familiar warm tingle of excitement ran up my arms, despite the chill in the air.

“You know,” I said, playing along. “I think that's the
perfect
idea!”

Instantly, my mind buzzed into action as I started rambling to Grandpa. “I could interview and film everyone, and profile all the things about them that make them who
they
are, which would also show how they influence
me
! It's brilliant!” I high-fived him.

Daz bounded over to the picnic table. Leaves were scattered through his spiky hair at odd angles, so he looked like a doofy scarecrow.

“What's brilliant?” he asked, plunking down across from us. He tried to imitate Grandpa by throwing some granola in the air and catching it, but it bounced off his ear instead and onto the grass.

“Only the most awesome school project
ever
,” I said proudly.

Daz's lip curled as he chewed. “You get way too excited about school,” he said.

“But think of it!” I continued talking to Grandpa, ignoring Daz's attempt to stuff as many marshmallows as possible into his mug of cocoa. “I could even bring the camera into the zoo!” The idea zapped me like an electric eel. “I bet nobody will do a project like that. Do you think I could borrow a video camera, Grandpa?” I asked. “The only problem is I have no idea how to use a video camera.
Or
how to do any of that fancy editing stuff? Don't you need special programs for that?”

My shoulders drooped. Suddenly my awesome idea felt like Mount Everest, impossible to scale in such a short time.

“I think I know a certain someone who might be able to help you out there.” Grandpa's eyebrows lifted mischievously. “Someone who has plenty of experience working with cameras
and
editing software…”

“Woo?” Daz mumbled through his chubby, marshmallow-stuffed cheeks.

“You?” I guessed, translating Daz's marshmallow talk.

“Nope.” Grandpa shook his head. “Someone even better! Sugar! We need your help with a very urgent homework matter!”

Sugar skipped over to us, dancing around in her rain boots.

“Urgent homework matters?!” Her perfectly made-up eyes widened with fear. “Fair warning—I've never liked math.” She wrung her hands together, with her pumpkin-orange nails sparkling in the sunlight.

Grandpa smiled. “Ana wants to make a documentary for a project, to profile her influences. Think you could lend her a hand?”

“You?” My jaw dropped. “I mean.” I struggled to save face to not hurt Sugar's feelings. She
was
super nice, after all. But homework help? “I assumed you were always a model, so you probably were good at being in
front
of a camera. Not…behind it?”

Sugar batted her lashes. “It's true that I got into modeling, but that wasn't until I'd spent years behind the camera, doll.” She puffed up her already ample chest, practically giving Daz a coronary. “I went to school for filmmaking,” she said. “I've even been helping produce Shep's latest documentary.”

Mom, who had come over for a drink of water, stared at Sugar as she spoke. I could tell by her surprised face that she hadn't expected that one either.

“Wow!” I said. “Would you mind helping me then? I want to film everybody, and I'll need help with the camera and editing, and it needs to be done pretty quick—”

Sugar lifted her hand. “Ana doll, you're going to have the best documentary that school has ever seen! We can start right away!”

I gave her my media handout as she took a seat at the picnic table to read it. I had to hand it to Sugar. Mom and Dad were irked when they'd met her for the first time because she's loads younger than Grandpa. And yeah, okay, I had been too. But Sugar actually
did
fit into our family. Like, one time, Dad made me a hot cocoa with a teensy pinch of chili powder in it. I thought it would be super weird, but it was
so
good. That one little pinch of chili made it taste that much better. Maybe Sugar was like the pinch of chili powder in our family. She's unexpected, but she sure brought out the flavor in us, you know?