Nice and Mean (10 page)

I
was cranky? I could have said the same thing about her.

I
was
feeling grouchy on Tuesdays and Thursdays, though. There had been one beautiful moment today, shooting B-roll. My real footage and everything that went with it was like D-roll. D for disaster.

* Most Annoying Hairdresser: Bianca Glass

Come on! Just say yes!

* Most Surprising Hottie: Jake Ling

Look out, Julian!

* Worst Choosers of a Time to Get Rhinestones: Addie Ling, Marina Glass

How could they have known? And what can Marina do?

I slipped my new dress into the garment bag my mom had lent me. It had taken me three shopping trips to find the perfect Bar Mitzvah outfit, but I had done it: black satin with subtle, silver-thread stitching and a delicate scoop neck. Tonight was going to be hot, hot, hot. I zipped.

My duffel and purse were packed, and my hair was feel
ing dry enough, so I went back into the bathroom to use the straightening iron. Usually I just blew my hair dry, but tonight I wanted to put my hair up in a half bun with the rest of my hair hanging stick-straight around it, and that took work. I sat on the toilet, plugged in the straightener, and waited for it to heat up while I listened to Angelica's SpongeBob movie drift down the hall.

Twenty minutes later, SpongeBob had figured out the mystery of the missing Krabby Patties, but I was still sitting on the toilet, with the smell of toasted hair stinking up the bathroom. The stick-straight thing was not working at
all
. One side looked squashed and limp, while the other side kept curling out. I looked at my watch. Crud! Addie and I were supposed to start the anti-Rachel sound effects in twenty minutes, and every extra minute here meant chunks out of the half hour before Elizabeth and Rachel came over. Even if I took a cab to Addie's, I would need to get going soon.

“Mom!” I yelled. Sometimes she was good at hair emergencies.

“Whaa-aat?” came the reply from her end of the house.

“Can you help me with my hair?”

“Come in here!”

I groaned. “Can't you come in
here
?”

She didn't even answer. “Poop,” I muttered, turning off the not-very-straightening iron. She and my dad were going to some benefit that night, but that didn't start until seven. I had to leave
soon
.

I slumped into their room with my lame, hot straightener in hand. “It's not working,” I said, sitting on the bed.

“Be careful of my dress!” My mother ran over to me in her slip and stockings, a blush brush in one hand.

I looked at the plum-colored dress on the other side of the bed. “I'm nowhere near it,” I said. “Can you help me with my hair?”

She lifted parts of it with her free hand. “What's wrong with it?” she asked.

“It's totally flat on the left,” I said. Someone who spent as much time on her hair as she did should know
that
! “And see how it's all wavy on the right?”

“It looks fine,” she said, sitting down at her makeup table. Why did people always open their mouths when they put on eye makeup? “It has a natural wave.”

“I don't want a natural wave!” I said. “That's why I have the straightener.” Duh! “Can I just plug it in and you can help me? You did it for Annabelle's wedding.” My cousin's wedding had probably been the one and only perfect hair day of my life.

“Your dad is using the bathroom right now.” My mother sifted through her makeup drawer.

“So just come to mine! Please? I have to go in, like, five minutes.”

“Can't you wear your hair a different way?”

“No! I want to wear it in a half bun, and the rest has to be straight.” That was the whole concept!

My mother slammed the makeup drawer shut and stood up. “Marina, I don't know why you have to make such a production of everything. It wouldn't kill you to—”

Blah blah blah. At least she was going to help me. I followed her into my bathroom and didn't even complain when she almost burned my neck. Twice.

“Bye, guys,” I said to Angelica and her babysitter, grabbing my coat from the hall closet. They were eating hamburgers in front of the TV.

My mom came padding down the hall in her bathrobe. “Here,” she said. “Cab fare.”

“You're not going to come down with me?” I asked. Last year had been the first time I'd been allowed to take a cab alone. My mom had made a huge deal of always putting me in a cab with a “nice” driver, whatever that meant.

She waved me away. “You'll be fine for one night.”

“Oh.” I pulled my coat out of the closet. “Okay.” I didn't
know why I cared—not like I wanted to spend more time with Bianca Glass. I just—I don't know. Thought she might want to see me off to the big Bar Mitzvah or something. Even if I was just starting off at Addie's.

“Marina,” said Angelica, “will you bring home your party favors?”

“No, I'll leave them there,” I joked.

Angelica blinked, surprised.

“Marina.” My mom gave me a sharp look. “There is no need to be obnoxious.”

“I was
kidding
.”

“She's too young to understand sarcasm.” My mother broke a dead leaf off the flower arrangement on the coffee table.

“Forget it,” I muttered. “Angelica, I'll give you anything I don't want.”

Angelica pulled the blanket over her knees. “Thanks.”

They were so annoying! I couldn't deal with kissing anybody good-bye, so I pulled on my coat and left.

When I got to Addie's house, the first person I saw after Addie was her older brother, Jake, wandering around the living room.

“Hi,” I said, keeping my voice down as I took off my coat. “What's
he
doing here?”

“He's leaving soon,” Addie whispered. “He can't find his wallet.”

“I'm leaving, I'm leaving,” Jake said, looking under a stack of magazines.

Addie whipped around. “We just want some privacy, Jake. Is that so much to ask?”

“It is,” he said. “I really want to watch you guys do your makeup.”

I laughed as Addie handed me a hanger.

He found his wallet and walked toward the coat closet, leaning past me to grab a jacket. Yowza! I hadn't seen him since before the summer, and he'd grown a lot. His hair had grown too, and now flopped over his eyes in a way that was just complete hotness. If this was what happened to guys once they hit tenth grade, I'd definitely stay in school.

“Just don't let me catch you in my room again,” he told Addie, pulling on a black fleece (preppy but manly.) “I don't know how long I spent picking your gum out of the carpet.”

“That was in fifth grade!” Addie cried. “God, you always—you just—”

She looked at me helplessly.

“Gross,” I said. “As if we'd even want to go into your room.” I ran a hand over my supersmooth hair.

He laughed and slid his wallet into his back pocket.
“You're bad, Marina,” he said, and picked up his backpack. “I'll see you guys later.”

“I'll see you
tomorrow
,” Addie yelled out the door. “We're staying at Elizabeth's tonight!”

“Whatever!” he called as the elevator door opened.

Addie closed the door, and for some reason, we burst out laughing.

“Can we get it?” I asked. “His computer?”

She nodded. “My stepmom's at the grocery store, so we need to do it now.”

Fifteen minutes later, we were laughing hysterically in Jake's room. “You have to burn me this CD!” I said. “I mean, how much better would your life be if you got to listen to this every day!”

I pressed “play” so we could hear “Barf #3”:
Bleh, bleh, bu-le-huuuuuuh . . . plunk plunk plunk.

Addie burst into giggles. “Or no, wait, let's try this one.” She pressed “Fart #4”
: Ffffff . . . doink!

I held my sides to stop them from hurting. I knew it was not exactly the most sophisticated thing in the world to laugh at the sounds of barfing and farting, but it was just not what you expected when you sat down at your computer. And especially not Jake's computer.

“Okay, so let's see where we should
put
these sounds,” I said, loading my DVD into the disc drive. This week in class I'd finally gotten to work on my video a little. I had to admit, Mr. Phillips's editing program was much better than the one I had at home. You could slow things down a lot more and take out bad light or weird sounds. This meant that the red carpet scene wasn't a total waste—no thanks to my biggest victim.

“This is cool,” I said when the video popped onto the screen. “I think I know a few places where we can play these sounds. What if . . .” I dragged the sound files into the frame-by-frame lineup. “What if we do this?”

I pressed “play” on the red carpet scene and watched everybody strolling by. Then, when I did the close-up on Rachel's heels (so nice and slow! Excellent job, Marina!), we heard the sound of “Barf 1,” the quick little
Bleh
. When the camera showed her balloon sleeves, there went “Barf 2,” a slightly longer
Bleh-heh-hehhh
. And for the fake pearls and eye shadow, “Barf 3:” the
Bleh
with the plunking. I grinned.

“You're not really going to do that, right?” Addie tugged on her gold chain, which did not go at all with her pink sweatshirt.

“Um, yeah, that was the idea,” I said. “Come on, it's hilarious.”

“You're going to do it for other people too, though, right?” she said. “So it's not just about Rachel?”

“I have to make it about Rachel,” I told her. “Otherwise, we have no victim.”

Addie picked at one of the stickers on Jake's computer—
mr. zogg's skate wax
, it said in big yellow letters. “She hasn't been that bad since the whole Hamptons thing,” she said softly. “Maybe that was just a misunderstanding.”

“What?” I asked. “You did not misunderstand her uninviting you. Come on, you said you were going to do this. You can't back out now.” No one ever wanted me to have any fun.

“Hey,” called a voice. “Can somebody come help me with these groceries?” Addie's stepmom, with perfect timing as usual.

Addie turned to me, panicked. “I'm not allowed to be in here,” she said. “Um—”

“Here,” I said, and clicked the video shut.

It wouldn't close.

“Hello?” said Addie's stepmom again. I heard a sound like grocery bags being thumped into the apartment. “Anybody home?”

“You go help her,” I said, giving Addie a nudge. “I'll get this out.”

“She'll hear you.” Addie stood up. “The kitchen's right out there.”

Did I have to figure everything out myself? Times like this, the “Biggest Plebe” thing really made sense. “Go meet your stepmom in the hall,” I told Addie, “and give her a big hug and go slow walking into the kitchen. I'll put Jake's computer in your room and we can get the disc out later. Okay?”

Addie breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Reener,” she said, and fled.

I unplugged the power cords, clutched the laptop with my baby inside—which I'd better be able to get out of the disc drive, hello—and dashed through the kitchen, past the dining room, and into Addie's bedroom. As the door swung shut behind me, I heard Addie's mom say, “Thanks, honey. Just be careful of the rip in that one.”

Phew.

When the doorbell rang ten minutes later, I still hadn't gotten the DVD unstuck. “Marina!” Addie wailed. “When are you going to get it out?”

“It's fine,” I said, really tired of the mini heart attacks. “The real thing is at school.” I wasn't actually supposed to have made my own copy, but what Mr. Phillips didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

“Addie!” called Addie's mom. “Your friends are here.”

Someone giggled, and Addie and I whirled around to see Rachel and Elizabeth in the doorway dumping their bags on the floor. Elizabeth's hair framed her face in beautiful blond waves, and Rachel had the stick-straightest blow-out I had ever seen.

No. Way.

“Hey!” said Addie, coming forward to hug them. “You guys look great!”

I closed Jake's laptop behind me with a click. How could Rachel and I have had the same hair idea? Did that make me victim-licious? Mine was the only one in the half bun, but her hair was ruining my effect.

“
Your
hair looks great, Bird,” I told Elizabeth.

She smiled. “Oh, you too!”

I came toward Elizabeth, ignoring Rachel. Rachel's face was so thin, the flat-ironed hair made her look like my cousin's poodle after his bath.

As I went to hug Elizabeth, she stepped back. “Hey,” she said in a joking voice, “don't mess the do.”

“No, no, of course.” I leaned in and gave her an air kiss.

“You really think it looks okay?” Rachel was asking Addie.

Elizabeth groaned. “As I told you five million times in the cab, yes, it looks fine.”

I burst out laughing. Elizabeth, giving Rachel a hard time? What was that about?

“I don't know,” said Rachel, taking a seat on Addie's bed, looking shrunken and wounded. “The whole thing was so traumatic.”

“Oh, Ray-Belle.” Addie sat next to her. “What happened?”

Prediction: This story was going to involve everybody worshipping Rachel. I leaned against the desk and mentally signed up for a barf bag.

“My mom took me to her hairdresser,” Rachel said (spoiled show-off), “and the stuff they put on it smelled like that acid we used in science, and they got some on the back of my neck, and it totally burned me!” She turned around so Addie could see her neck. “Look!”

“Ow!” said Addie, leaning in. “Do you guys want to see?” she asked me and Elizabeth.