Leading Ladies #2 (6 page)

I usually liked Thursdays because all seventh-graders had a free period in the morning. It was a great time to catch up on homework. And we'd had a lot of that lately.

But today something was bothering me. Ivy had never gotten back to me yesterday. I left her a voice mail last night and also sent the whole group a link to a funny post on our blog.

It was the kind of thing Ivy usually found hilarious. But she hadn't answered at all. What was even more strange was that we always met at our lockers right before free period, but today she was nowhere to be seen.
What is going on?

I put my oversize social studies textbook in my locker, then closed it.

“Boo!”

I gave a little exclamation of surprise, something like “Wahooa!” as Benny Novak came suddenly into view.

Benny gave me an apologetic grin. “Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you,” he said.

“I'm betting you probably did,” I replied with a grin of my own. Not only did he startle me, I felt the old nervous flutter in my stomach again.

“You're actually not that much fun to scare. When I do that to my mom, she usually jumps about a foot into the air and screams.”

“Benny Novak, model son,” I said.

“I try to stay humble,” he said and took a little bow.

“Keep trying,” I suggested. “Hey, have you seen Ivy anywhere today? I really need to talk to her.”

Benny shook his head. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his varsity jacket. He really was ridiculously good-looking. He'd recently cut his thick, brown hair, but it still had that just-out-of-bed, shaggy look that boys can pull off as adorable. His eyes were a deep, ocean-blue that made me look twice every time I looked at them.

“So are The Four hard at work on the next Pulitzer Prize–worthy issue?” he asked.

I wasn't telling people that we were currently The Three. I was still determined to somehow get Miko to come back full-time. Then I remembered running into her yesterday while she was “working” with her friends. I had no idea how I was going to convince her that
4 Girls
—and its other three creators—were worthy of her time.

“Yep. I'm doing a feature on
Annie
. Kind of a ‘road to opening night' thing. We're going to get a review based on a dress rehearsal so the whole school will have it in time for the opening. Tally's going to do an interview with the director and an insider's perspective, and Ivy's handling Homecoming.”

“But you all kind of work on everything together, right?” he asked.

“Oh, definitely,” I said. “If this is anything like our first issue, we'll end up having a slumber party and getting everything finished up together at the last minute.”

“So you'll probably all be going to
Annie
,” Benny suggested. “And Homecoming. Like, even if you normally might not have?”

I saw someone walk down the hallway and instantly recognized the flash of Ivy's cranberry-colored hair.

“Oh, there she is! I'll catch up with you later, Benny, okay?”

I took off after Ivy before I heard Benny's response. She was moving so quickly, I had to run to catch up with her.

“Hey,” I said, coming up behind her.

“Oh, hey, Paulie,” Ivy said, not looking at me.

“I was just heading to the library for free period,” I said.

“Me too,” Ivy replied, adjusting her bag.

Still
not looking at me. There was definitely something up.

Neither of us said anything as we walked through the main door into the library. I was so nervous, I had to remind myself to breathe. I hated conflict, and I especially didn't like thinking my new best friend might be mad at me. I didn't know what was going on, but I needed to find out. I would just have to
ask
Ivy—“bite the bullet” as Mom would say.

I looked around for a place to sit. The table by the window was occupied by PQuits. Miko wasn't there, but Shelby was holding court while Daphne and another girl—Kit—listened intently.

“And how about her Facebook wall?” Shelby was saying. “I mean, duh—you're not supposed to ‘like' your own status, right? Seriously, who does that?”

Ivy and I both automatically headed for a corner that was several tables away from Shelby but still a safe distance from the librarian's office. This was too important to risk being interrupted in the name of Peace and Quiet. Ivy sat down cross-legged on a rug near the biography stacks, dropping her bag beside her. She chewed on her lower lip, toying with the laces on her boot. There was no doubt about it. She was upset. I sat down next to her and took a deep breath.

“Listen, Ivy, you're my best friend, so I'm just going to come right out and ask you,” I began.

Ivy looked up at me, her expression confused.

“I just . . . are you mad at me?”

Ivy looked surprised. “What? No! Of course not,” she said. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I . . . um . . . well,” I said. Great. Now I sounded like an Insecure Idiot. “I just felt like there's something going on with you, and I'm worried. I thought maybe I did something to offend you? I mean, how come you waited to call me last night until you knew I wasn't going to be home? You could have gotten me on my cell.”

Ivy sighed, fiddling with one of the oversize, silver buttons on her jacket.

“I'm really sorry,” she said. “I was being lame. I can't do the cover pictures like I said I would, and for some reason it felt easier to leave a message with your mom than to actually tell you in person. I'm getting a new camera, and I will take the pictures, I promise. Plus, I've been designing this survey for our readers to fill out online, you know, stuff like what worries you, what is important to you. I wanted to turn that information into a pie chart that gives a visual of us as a group. We can call it, like, ‘Slice of Middle School Life' or something.”

“That's great,” I said. “But it isn't
4 Girls
I'm worried about, Ivy. It's
you
. Why won't you tell me what's up?”

Ivy sighed again. “I guess . . . okay, I've been trying to put off telling you this for as long as possible.”

Uh. Oh. In the history of the world, no good news has
ever
come after that statement.

“Put what off?” I asked. “Ivy, what is going on?”

“We're moving back to the city,” she blurted out.

I stared at her, my mouth open. This was the last thing I had expected.

“What?” I asked. “How is that possible? You just moved here two months ago—school's only just started. How can . . .
why
?”

How can my newest best friend be taken away, just like Evelyn? How can this happen to me
AGAIN
? How will
4 Girls
survive? I added silently.

Ivy pressed her lips together.

“
City Nation
magazine wants my mother to come back to work for them,” Ivy said. “They made her some big offer. And all week she and my dad have been having these hushed little talks about it. I was stuck in my room with that bug for two days so I had plenty of time to notice. It was totally obvious what was going on. And yesterday she finally decided to take the job.”

“I . . . oh, Ivy. Are you sure?”

Ivy nodded. “She hasn't
officially
told me,” she said. “But I know what I heard. She is
definitely
taking the job.”

“And she's moving you back to the city? Just like that? She's not going to commute or something?”

“She's definitely not going to commute. It's three hours by car each way. It's a city job—she's a city person. I should have known she'd change her mind eventually and make us move back. I mean, obviously it can't happen right away. They rented out our apartment, so she'll have to find some new place for us to live near her office. All that takes a while. I'm betting when the semester ends for Christmas break is when we'll go. I'm so furious. I feel like I have no power—like I don't count. I left my whole life behind when they decided to move. Now I have to do it again? And the crazy thing is, I really,
really
like it here. And I have you—and
4 Girls
. But apparently that just doesn't matter to her.”

“Well, have you said this to her?” I asked. “Because you have to, Ivy. You're a part of the family, not a piece of furniture. You have to explain how this affects your life.”

“I can't,” Ivy groaned. “Because she hasn't
officially
told me yet. As far as either of my parents know, I have no idea what's going on. I don't exactly want to tell them I was standing there with my ear pressed up against the door when they were talking yesterday.”

“Ivy . . . I don't know what to say,” I said quietly.

“There's nothing to say,” she told me. “Paulie, can we just not . . . I mean, the reason I didn't tell you she got the offer and didn't call you the second I found out we were moving is I just . . . I don't want to talk about it. For right now, for this month or however long it is, I'm still here. I just want to try to enjoy myself—hang out with you, work on
4 Girls
—just like this isn't happening.”

I nodded. I wanted to pretend it wasn't happening, too. But it was. All too soon, I'd be without a best friend for the second time in seventh grade.

“I get it,” I told Ivy. “For now, it's business as usual.”

“Business as usual,” Ivy repeated. “Except I've been out of the loop for a couple days. So what is our newest
4 Girls
business?”

“Well,” I said. “You should really witness the
Annie
audition workshops, where the drama never stops, even if there's no one onstage.”

Ivy grinned, suddenly looking more like her old self.

“Well, now you're talking, Paulina M. Barbosa,” she said. “I am definitely looking forward to seeing that.”

• • • • • • •

The sign outside the auditorium door was pretty clear.

REMAINING AUDITION WORKSHOPS OPEN TO ACTORS ONLY. THIS MEANS YOU.

“I guess that mean us,” I said to Ivy.

As we stood staring at the sign, I heard the tinny sounds of music being channeled through an iPod attached to somebody's ears. I turned around to see Buster coming up behind us wearing scarlet high-tops, orange jeans, and a fire-engine red sweatshirt that screamed
MACBETH
in gothic lettering. This was not a guy you would lose track of in a crowd.

Buster pulled off his earbuds when he saw Ivy and me standing by the closed door.

“Hey, guys,” he said.

“I guess things are getting serious in there,” Ivy said, pointing to the sign.

“Oh, you don't know the half of it,” Buster exclaimed. “Unless you've talked to Tally recently.”

“We were going to meet her here, but apparently we're no longer allowed in,” I said. “What's up?”

Buster took an enormous breath and planted both hands on his hips. He did love to deliver a juicy bit of news. “There's a
rumor
,” he said, his eyes glinting.

“Annnnnnd . . . ,”
Ivy prompted.

Buster waited as three eighth-graders walked around us and went into the auditorium. When the door swung shut, he gave me a giddy look, grinning wildly.

“Well, Mr. Barrymore has got all these Manhattan theater connections, right? So apparently Tally heard from someone on Facebook who saw a tweet that somebody apparently retweeted where somebody read an interview GB gave about this play he's directing as a last-minute favor for a friend—which is totally us, right? I mean it has to be—and that it said something about the fact that his agent thought it was a really cool thing for him to be doing and might even come to the show because you never knew where a star might be hiding!”

Buster flung both his hands in the air as he said the word
star
and then gave them a little shake for emphasis.

“So . . . that means . . .” I let my voice trail, hoping Buster would jump in and explain it to me. He did not disappoint.

“An undercover agent is coming to Bixby to, like . . . discover the next Julie Andrews! Or, in my case, the next Nathan Lane!”

“You need tea!” someone was exclaiming. “Tons and tons of boiling hot tea!”

I turned and saw Audriana, who was clinging tightly to Tally's arm, pulling her down the hall toward the auditorium. Tally's face was flushed, and her eyes were red and puffy as if she'd been crying. Or eating something ridiculously spicy.

“Why does Tal need tea?” Buster demanded. “Do I need it, too? Tea for two? For me, for you?”