Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar (11 page)

I
adjusted the towel on my head and frowned at the outfit I’d just laid out on my bed.
Which is safer?
I wondered.
Jeans or leggings?

I decided to go with the jeans and a plain red shirt, no logo.
Don’t give the Princesses anything to pick on
, I thought.

I pulled on my “safe” outfit and found a pair of plain brown socks. I slipped my feet into a pair of low black boots. Then it was time to dry my hair.

No braids
, I thought.
No gel. Just plain.
I took the towel off my head.

“Rafe!” I screamed, practically flying down the stairs and into the kitchen. “That’s it! That’s IT!”

Rafe cracked up. Mom stepped between us, which was lucky—for Rafe.

“Oh, green hair!” Grandma Dotty said cheerfully. “Very daring, Georgia! I
love
punk rock!”

“Rafe, are you responsible for this?” Mom asked.

“Absolutely,” Rafe said between snickers.

“I’m going to shove that cereal spoon up your nose and into your brain!” I screeched at my brother. My wet, scraggly green hair dripped into my eyes.

“Worth it!” Rafe crowed. “You look like you’ve got seaweed on your head!”

“Why would you do something like this?” Mom demanded.

“Georgia knows why,” Rafe snapped. He flashed me an evil, triumphant grin.

“This is very serious, Rafe,” Mom said.

A flash of guilt passed across my brother’s face. He doesn’t like disappointing her either. “It’ll wash out…” he said. “After a while.”

“How long?” I demanded.

“A week?”

“Mom!” I screamed.

“Rafe, I don’t have time to deal with you this morning. But you will be punished for this.” She turned to me and put a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Georgia, maybe you can wear a hat or something.”

“How about a paper bag over her head?” Rafe suggested.

Mom glared at him, and he clamped his mouth shut.

No hats
, I thought grimly. “I’ll just suffer.”

“Rock the Casbah!” Grandma Dotty shouted.

I had no idea what that “casbah” thing was about, but somehow I got the message.
Mission: Blend In
was terminated. I needed to buck up and steel myself for whatever was next.

Rock on!

I
got a lot of stares the minute I walked through the double doors. Not surprising. Grandma Dotty had been so enthusiastic about the “punk” style I was rocking that I decided I might as well play it up. Before I left the apartment, I’d pulled my hair back with a sparkly barrette.

I spotted Rhonda at her locker, so I put my face down and steered in the other direction. Not to be mean—I just didn’t feel like answering ten zillion questions about my hair. But with my head down like that, I nearly ran right into someone else.

“Sorry,” I said as I swerved to avoid slamming into Sam Marks.

He stopped in his tracks. “Wow!” he said when he realized it was me, which made me blush. “You look like…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Like a leaf… with sparkly dew on it.”

“Um, thanks.” I hadn’t been expecting a compliment—at least, I thought it was a compliment—and didn’t really know how to handle it. “You look nice too,” I said, which didn’t make any sense at all. He was just wearing a T-shirt and jeans.

And then I heard the voice I’d been expecting—and dreading.

“Oh my gawd!” Missy screeched. “She went from Weedwacker to weed!”

Okay, so even though I knew I looked like I was about to start sprouting dandelions, the dig still really hurt, coming from Missy.

I cringed as the Princesses surrounded me. “Now her hair matches her face—ugly,” Brittany said.

“I thought her hairstyle was bad before,” Bethany agreed.

“Cut it out, you guys,” Sam said, which made me squirm even more than the insults did. I didn’t want him to hear this.

But Missy just ignored him. She pursed her lips.
“She’s having a bad hair year.”

Do they rehearse this stuff at home?

Then Missy got a really smug little smile on her face. It was a smile I did not like at all. “Not only is her hair ugly,” she said dramatically, “it’s just really
limp
.”

The other Princesses cracked up while I fought back tears. My face burned, and my blood boiled like acid through my whole body. I felt like I was going to dissolve.

“Shut up!” Sam shouted.

Missy stared at him. I stared at him. I think
everyone
was staring at him.

“You think you’re so great, Missy,” Sam went on. “But everyone just hates your guts!”

Well, it wasn’t quite like that. It was more like this:

Missy tossed her hair and said, “Oh, did you overhear that, Sam?” she asked. “It must be because your ears are so big.”

Sam shook his head at her, like she was an annoying piece of toilet paper that kept getting stuck to his shoe, no matter what he did. Then he turned to me. “Are you okay?” he asked gently.

I tried to talk. I really tried. I opened my mouth. I licked my lips. But nothing would come out. Somehow, Sam being nice to me made the Princesses’ meanness worse, and I couldn’t take it. I just couldn’t.

And so I ran.

I
didn’t care about my green hair. Well, okay, I didn’t care about it
much
.

It’s the other stuff I couldn’t stand.

You’re confused—I can tell. Look, there might be one or two things I’ve left out of this book so far. I guess I’ve never mentioned that one of my legs is shorter than the other. I wear a special shoe, which helps, but I still limp a little.

Get it?