Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar (14 page)

And that was when I knew that this was really mean. Too mean. Meaner than turning someone’s hair green.

“Wait—” I said. I didn’t want to be an evil mad scientist.

“Hey, Jeanne?” Rafe grinned. “Hey, it’s Rafe!” There was a pause. “Yeah, that Rafe.” Another pause. His smile faltered a bit. “Well… I called because I heard you left a message earlier….” My brother looked at me, clearly confused. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Of course not. It, uh, must have been Jeanne from my new school….” He gave a fake little laugh, but his face was so red I thought it might melt off.

He glared in my direction.
Yikes.
I wanted to tell him I was sorry, but he was still on the phone with Jeanne.

“Oh, yeah, I really like Airbrook Arts,” Rafe said cheerfully into the receiver.
Watch out
, he mouthed at me, eyes narrowed. “How’s HVMS? What are you up to?” Then he turned his back on me and started toward the stairs. I heard him slam the door to his bedroom.

I looked down at my apple. I’d only taken one bite, but I didn’t want it anymore.

It ain’t easy being mean.

G
EORGIA! GEORGIA, CONGRATULATIONS!” Rhonda screeched as I walked into HVMS five days later.

It wasn’t even first period, and I already had no idea what was going on. “What are you congratulating me for?”

“THE LIST FOR BATTLE OF THE BANDS IS UP—AND YOUR BAND IS ON IT!” She grabbed my arms and shook me. “YOU’RE GOING TO PERFORM AT THE DANCE!”

“WHAT?” I shrieked. For once, my voice was as loud as Rhonda’s. “Are you sure?”

Rhonda pointed, and I dashed over to the display case in the school lobby. Here’s what I saw:

“We can’t play the dance!” I wailed. “How did this happen?” And then, like lightning striking, I realized two things:

He got me. Rafe got me in my own school. He was going to make sure I humiliated myself in front of everyone.

“YOU’RE GOING TO BE AMAZING!” Rhonda gushed.

This doesn’t even have anything to do with you!
I wanted to shout. But I didn’t. Instead, I sat down right there, in the middle of the floor.

“ARE YOU OKAY?” Rhonda plopped down next to me.

“Rhonda—we can’t play the dance! We really do stink. We’re not ready!” I buried my head in my arms. “What am I going to tell the band?”

Rhonda sat there for a long time, not saying anything. That was so unusual that I actually peeked out from behind my arms, just to make sure she was still breathing.

She was. In fact, she was watching me and smiling. Sometime while I had my head in my arms, she had already managed to make a sign that read WE STINK RULES! She put a gentle hand on my shoulder.

“YOU CAN TELL THE BAND,” she said seriously, “TO GET READY TO ROCK.”

M
om and Rafe were playing cards in the living room when I got home from school. Rafe looked up from his hand and narrowed his eyes at me. “What’s new, Georgia?” he asked.

I snorted. “You already know what’s new, Rafe.” I nearly tripped over the pile of mail in the front hall.
Am I the only one who picks things up around here?
I thought as I gathered up the mess and sorted through it.

Mom slapped down a card, then Rafe did the same. “Ha!” Rafe said, greedily snapping up the pair and kissing it with a gross, wet smack. I thought I saw the jack of clubs get a little green in the face.

Mom laughed. “How was your day, sweetheart?” she asked as I hung my coat on a peg in the hall and walked over to the couch.

“Fine,” I said sweetly. I held up a treasure I’d just found in the pile of mail. “Look, Rafe! It’s from Airbrook Arts! Did you get progress reports already?” I smile at him. “I wonder how you did!”

“Give me that!” Rafe snarled, reaching for the envelope.

I yanked it away. “I bet you can’t wait to open it up and see!”

Mom stood up. “I’ll take that, Georgia,” she said, and I handed it to her.

Rafe glowered at me as Mom tore off the end of the envelope and pulled out the report. Her eyes went wide. “Rafe!” she shouted. “You did great!” Mom wrapped Rafe in a huge hug. “Look at this! An A in art! And all the rest are B’s!”

Rafe looked down at the paper, as if he could hardly believe it himself. “I’m getting a C in math,” he pointed out.

“A C-plus,” Mom corrected. “You’ll pull it up—I know you will! Oh, Rafe!” She squeezed him tight. “I’m so proud of you!” Mom dabbed at her eyes a little bit. Seriously, I hadn’t seen her this happy since the time she found a ten-dollar bill at the playground.

“I’m making pie to celebrate,” Mom announced, and started for the kitchen.

“Apple?” Rafe asked, padding after her.

I watched them go.
Well, that backfired big-time.
Rafe was actually doing well in school, while I’m working on a D in English.

Welcome to my alternate universe.

I
stomped to my bedroom, flopped onto my bed, and recapped everything that had gone wrong in the past few days. Green hair and detention were just two of the highlights. And now… Rafe revenge reversal.
Mom is baking him a pie!
I still couldn’t believe it.