Plastic Polly (8 page)

Mom, possessed with more determination than I saw when she studied for the bar exam, decided she'd show prissy Mrs. Huff she could make decorations just like any other mother.

Mom stayed up all night snipping snowflakes, frosting gingerbread houses, stringing popcorn for the class Christmas tree, and making ornaments. (She had glitter stuck in her hair for days afterward.) When she brought her box of decorations to school, Mrs. Huff took it by the tips of her fingers, as though Mom's creations might soil her. “Laura, dear,” she said, “these are quite, um,
cute
. But usually we just buy the decorations.”

After that, Mom threw away anything the PTA ever sent her.

Mom's cell phone rings. She checks it and says, “Polly, I'm so sorry, but I have to take this. Hello? Hello? Are you
there? Yes, just a minute.” Mom covers the receiver with her hand. “The reception here is bad. I'm going to step away for a sec.”

“Fine,” I call as she walks away. “Nice talking to you.”

My cell pings then. It's another text from Kelsey:

Melinda just texted. She has serious issues with how you handled the meeting. Call me!!

How
I
handled the meeting? Is she serious? I drop my phone onto the table, harder than I intended, so it makes a clattering sound.

“Everything okay?” says a voice behind me.

I turn. Justin is holding a plate with a slice of pepperoni pizza. He smiles tentatively. “Can I sit down?”

“Sure.” I can feel my heart quickening, and I sit up a little straighter. “Where are your grandma and Pretty Percy?”

Justin makes a face. “Percy got pizza sauce on his sweater. So now they're over at the pet shop, getting him a new one.”

“Oh, that's a good idea.” I try not to laugh, and fail. Justin laughs too.

“How come you're abusing your phone?” Justin asks.

I look away and shrug. “It's just been a bad day.” I glance
back at Justin and add, “I mean, it hasn't been all bad. I mean . . .” Then I stop talking, because I can feel my face flushing redder than the glob of pizza sauce on Justin's plate.

My cell phone pings once. Then twice. Then again. Three more texts from Kelsey:

You haven't called me. Call me!!

Melinda says you need major help being the PlanMaster.

Are you ignoring me?

“Are you sure you're okay?” Justin asks. “You look kind of stressed.”

“I guess I am.” I push my phone away as it pings yet again. “There's this project at school I'm in charge of, and sometimes I think anyone else in the world would be better at it, you know?”

Justin smiles. “I know the feeling. What project is it?”

“I'm the PlanMaster at my school for something called Groove It Up, and it's
not
going well.”

Justin gets a strange look on his face. “Oh, look, Polly, I think—”

“The thing is,” I say, “my best friend, who was supposed
to be the PlanMaster, sort of dropped out, so now I'm in charge. But no one seems to think I can pull it off.”

Justin tries to say something, but I cut him off, because it feels good to talk to someone, even if it's a (cute!) boy I don't know. “Also, there are girls on my planning committee who are trying to take over, and I don't know how to deal with it.” I tell Justin a few more things, like how Mr. Fish refuses to help me, and how Kelsey planned to give half the slots to our cheerleading team. I also tell him how Melinda always says if our school wins, then the PlanMaster deserves the credit, but how I think she also means if Winston loses, then the PlanMaster is to blame. And I wonder if I could get banished from the Court.

Because that can happen. Last year Haley Miller made the mistake of saying yes when Gavin Clark asked her to the Spring Fling dance. Apparently, he'd been Brooklyn Jones's secret crush forever. One day Haley was popular. The next she was banished from the Court. Frozen out. She finished the rest of the year in exile, eating lunch by herself in the library. Because once Brooklyn made it clear Haley wasn't her friend, no one else wanted to be Haley's friend either.

I'm wondering now if I should have thought of that before deciding to become the PlanMaster. I'm starting to feel stupid for not resigning when I had the chance.
No guilt, and no explanations necessary
, Principal Allen had said. But if I resign now, won't that just prove what she and Mom thought? That I'm too frivolous, too plastic to do anything other than hang at the Court and text?

When I finish, Justin, who looks really uncomfortable, says, “Um, Polly, I think I should tell you—”

“I'm so sorry,” Mom says, walking up behind Justin. “That took longer than I expected. We need to get going. I have to go back to the office.” Mom looks stressed. She barely glances at Justin before turning around and heading for the exit.

“Okay.” I grab my phone and read the last text from Kelsey—she's threatening to break out of the hospital, hunt me down, and pummel me with her cast if I don't call her back ASAP.

“Thanks for listening,” I say to Justin, feeling shy all of a sudden. “I'll see you around.” I run to catch up to Mom.

“I'm sure you will,” he calls behind me.

And I don't know why, but this time Justin's the one who sounds disappointed.

True Confession: I practice different “looks” in front of the mirror. A useful one is my Popular Polly look, a mixture of indifference and boredom. I use it when I think someone has said something mean about me.

T
HE
G
ROOVE
I
T
U
P ANNUAL COIN TOSS TRADITIONALLY
happens about two weeks before the actual event. The planning committees for both schools meet and toss a coin to determine which campus will host Groove It Up. It's considered home court advantage. Last year American River won the toss. The year before that as well. They have a habit of winning the coin toss but losing Groove It Up.

This year the meeting is in Mr. Fish's classroom. I arrived five minutes early and helped him line up desks in two rows facing each other. Winston's entire planning committee decided to come, and we're sitting on
the side facing the door, waiting for American River's committee to show up. They're late, and people are getting antsy.

While we wait, I'm reading a text from Kelsey. She came home from the hospital this morning and wants me to walk over to her house after the meeting is over. Next to me, Lindsey is filing her nails. On my other side Melinda is hunched over a fashion magazine with Jenna, taking some kind of quiz. Surprisingly, Mr. Fish isn't wearing his shorts and Wildcats T-shirt. He's wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a tie. The rest of the committee sits on his other side, chatting.

“When are they coming?” Kristy fidgets in her cheer uniform. “I'm going to be late to practi—”

Kristy breaks off at the sound of several feet stomping up the hallway, like a small marching band is coming our way. Then there's a loud knock at the door.

“Everyone ready?” Mr. Fish asks. After we nod he says, “Come in!”

The door opens, and a man who I assume is American River's teacher adviser strides in wearing a black polo shirt and khaki pants. He holds a clipboard in one hand.

Several students file in after him. They halt and take their seats, all at the same time, like they're doing some
kind of military exercise. Each of them is also wearing a polo shirt and khakis. They all hold clipboards. And none of them smile.

“Good afternoon,” Mr. Fish says when they're all seated. “Welcome to Winston Academy. Let's go around and introduce ourselves.”

Mr. Fish lets American River go first. The teacher adviser introduces himself as Mr. Pritchard, and then the students introduce themselves. I'm not really paying attention, because I'm texting Kelsey back under my desk. Until I hear a boy say, “I'm Justin Goodwin. I'm the PlanMaster for American River.”

I freeze in midtext. I know that voice. I just heard it last night. From Justin at the mall. The Justin who didn't want to tell me how Pretty Percy got his name. The Justin I spilled my guts to about Groove It Up.

Justin
is American River's PlanMaster? I look up. Justin is sitting directly across from me. He's staring at me with wide eyes and a pale face. He shakes his head slightly and mouths something at me.
I'm sorry,
maybe?

“Say ‘Polly,'” Melinda spits, jabbing me in the side with her elbow, way harder than she needs to. “It's your turn. Stop being such a spaz.”

“Uh, Polly Pierce.” Then I give Justin my best Popular
Polly look and add, “I'm the PlanMaster for Winston Academy.”

Mr. Fish launches into a speech about how much he's looking forward to partnering with American River and how he hopes we can all work together to make it a great event for both our schools and for Maple Oaks as a whole. I'm surprised, because it sounds like he actually cares. I tune out after a while, though, because I'm thinking back to last night. Did I tell Justin anything really important? I feel like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. Of all the people I could've confided in, it had to be American River's PlanMaster?

Justin could've said something like, “Hey, I'm your rival, so you might want to shut it.” But did he do that? No. He just sat there acting like he cared. He was probably only listening so he could spy on me.

“Before we get to the coin toss,” Mr. Pritchard says, “I'd like to direct everyone's attention to one of the rules.” He opens a copy of
The PlanMaster's PlanMaster
and reads, “A school club or organization may only participate in one act in the talent competition. Similarly, a student may not participate in more than one act for each annual competition.” Mr. Pritchard stops reading and looks pointedly at Kristy. “This would include the cheerleading squad.”

I look over at Justin, who is steadfastly staring at his shoes. He
was
spying on me!

“Thank you for sharing that,” Mr. Fish says, seeming a little puzzled. “That's very helpful.”

While Mr. Fish makes a couple more announcements, a white-faced Melinda, who seems to have forgotten she's not speaking to me, whispers, “How did they know?”

“I have no idea,” I whisper back. I glare at the American River team and try to look properly outraged.

Melinda writes something in the margin of her magazine and pushes it over to me:

I TOLD Kelsey not to have so many seventh graders on the committee. They can't keep their mouths shut.

Totally, I write back.

Melinda glances at the seventh graders next to Mr. Fish, a look of disgust on her face, then turns back to me and rolls her eyes. I roll mine back. For the moment it looks like all's forgiven between us. I feel bad throwing the seventh graders under the bus, but what can I do, tell Melinda that last night I was blabbing our strategy to American River's PlanMaster? Forget being banished
from the Court. I might get banished from Winston Academy altogether.

“All right.” Mr. Pritchard pulls a penny from his pocket. “I'll just toss the coin. We call heads.”

“Wait a minute,” Mr. Fish says. “That's not a regulation coin toss.”

“Excuse me?” Mr. Pritchard frowns.

“I think we should observe certain rules, just as they do in football.”

“Football?” Mr. Pritchard says contemptuously.

“Yes,” Mr. Fish answers. His voice sounds pleasant, but his eyes harden as he adds, “It's amazing to me how American River seems to win the coin toss year after year. What do you think are the odds of that?”

Then Mr. Fish directs everyone to stand in a circle at the side of the room. Justin slides into place next to me and starts to whisper, “Polly, I really—” but I move over in between Melinda and Lindsey before he can finish.

“Are you satisfied?” Mr. Pritchard says to Mr. Fish, who nods. “All right, then. Let's get this over with. We call heads.”

“Hold it,” Mr. Fish says. “Show me the coin.”

“Why?” Mr. Pritchard asks.

“Because I want to make sure it isn't a two-headed coin.”

Mr. Pritchard sputters and turns red, but while he's defending his integrity and talking about the importance of trust between rivals, I notice he slips his penny into his pocket. And maybe it's just me, but does the coin he's holding now look just a little bit shinier?

While Mr. Fish examines the coin, I close my eyes, because I can see Justin is trying to get my attention. If Melinda or anyone else finds out I was hanging out with him last night, I am so dead.

Once Mr. Fish is satisfied the penny is genuine, Mr. Pritchard calls heads again and tosses it into the air. A glint of copper catches the sunlight streaming in from the window. When the penny hits the floor, it bounces and rolls in between Kristy's and Jenna's shoes until it spins and lands under a desk.