Queen of Likes (15 page)

Mood: Extremely flippin' freaked out

From the other end of the hall, Mrs. Wallace, the principal, marches right toward me. Students part like the Red Sea. She stares at my polka-dot hair. She stares at my phone. “What's going on here?”

“Um, I'm advertising Crazy Hair Day.”

Mrs. Wallace crinkles her face as if she's about to laugh but quickly catches herself. “So you know about the little school rule, right? No phones on campus when school is in session. You heard about that?”

“Um, yeah.” My ribs squeeze all the air out of my chest. I'm not sure I'm breathing when I say, “I know about it. But it's not advisory yet, and I was helping people.”

Mrs. Wallace furrows her forehead. She runs her hands through her nonspotted blond updo. “I want to hear more about this.”

Ella's jaw drops.

And that's when Bailey, Megan, and Janel swish over toward me as I stand there with my polka-dot hair, being drilled by the principal. They're blinking and squinting in confusion.

“I'm—I'm just helping people,” I stammer. “I'm advertising Spirit Week. And then I was just . . .”

“You were on your phone,” states Mrs. Wallace.

Bailey elbows Megan and Janel.

The warning bell rings.

“Hand it to me,” commands Mrs. Wallace in a calm voice.

With my heart pounding, I give her Ella's phone.

Mrs. Wallace sighs deeply. “You've had several warnings, Karma Cooper. You've already had three detentions. You know what this means.”

I gasp.

Then Mrs. Wallace examines the phone. A funny look crosses her face. “Hold on. I understand that these days you don't really have a phone.” She peers at me intently. “Did you take someone else's?”

“No! I didn't take anybody's. Ella gave me hers. It's very different.” And then I clamp my hands over my mouth. Oh, I shouldn't have said that either. Bad Karma. Bad, bad Karma.

Ella's jaw drops farther. Bailey winces.

Mrs. Wallace closes her eyes and shakes her head. She whips out a pink pad and pen from her pocket. “I'm writing you both up.”  Writing both of us up?

“What's going to happen?” asks Ella. Her face turns pale.

“Well, Ms. Fuentes, your phone will be locked up in the office and you will get a detention.” Then she locks eyes with me. “And you, Karma Cooper, will get an in-school suspension.”

What?! My parents are going to kill me. “But it was all for a good cause,” I protest in one last-ditch effort.

“I appreciate you wanting to be helpful, Karma. But you know the rules and you broke them.”

Her usually friendly voice now sounds very official and extremely principal-y. Some kids turn to watch.

I peer over at Ella as Mrs. Wallace clutches her aqua phone with its manga stickers.

Ella blinks so rapidly her mascara smudges. Her eyes are getting red and wet-looking.

“Please don't lock up Ella's phone,” I beg. “It's all my fault.”

“I'm sorry, but your friend will not get her phone back until she comes to school with her parents and gets a signature to have it released.”

Ella gasps loudly. I groan. Ella's mom is going to be sooo mad, not to mention my mom, too. And my dad. My cheeks burn. My arms are shaking.

Mrs. Wallace motions for me to follow her down the hall. “Come with me to the office.”

I'm so tremble-y, I'm not sure I can walk.

“We're going to have a little talk with your parents.”

This does not get a
LIKE
at all.

“Dad, I was helping people. Seriously. That's it.” We're upstairs in the office atrium next to my parents' bedroom. Earlier we had spent twenty minutes in the principal's office with Mrs. Wallace going over what I had done wrong. I still can't believe she “locked up” Ella's phone
and
that Ella has detention.

Ella's mom is so strict. She'll be ridiculously mad. And now my parents are more than a little bit upset. In-school suspension, the Merton Middle School version of prison, will start tomorrow. I have to do it for two days. Mom sits down next to me on the couch, and Dad leans against the built-in desk across from her. There's no wall behind him since the office is on a mezzanine looking out over the living room.

That means everything being said carries down to the first floor, including the downstairs area where Toby sits, finishing up his snack. He's as silent as a mouse, listening.

“I don't care if you were advertising Crazy Hair Day,” Dad booms. “I don't think the principal saw it that way. I don't think they'd have a policy of confiscating a phone if there wasn't a problem!”

“But I was helping. I
promise
.” I gaze at Mom pleadingly, but she turns away from me and gets all interested in straightening the magazines on the side table. “Please,” I plead. “Please. Didn't you teach me to help others? It's part of having a bat mitzvah. You know—doing good deeds and stuff.”

“Are you telling me it was just today?” asks Mom.

That's not a question I want to answer, exactly. “I might have borrowed Ella's phone a few times, ” I admit, “but it was only to help her. She's the cochair of publicity and—”

“Maybe Ella doesn't need your help,” Mom points out. “Have you thought about that?”

“That's because . . .” I'm going to tell them about how I don't have time to help Ella because I have so many things to do, but I don't think my parents will understand. “Oh, forget it.” Tears tickle my cheeks and I wipe them away furiously.

Dad grabs a pencil off the desk and waves it me. “You didn't listen to our rules, Karma. It was simple. We gave you the pay-as-you go phone and said that if you had good behavior, you could get your real phone back. But sorry, that's not happening.”

“As far as I'm concerned, you're going to use the flip phone for the rest of the year,” says Mom.

“Unless Karma changes her attitude,” says Dad.

“She's not going to change.” Mom sighs.

“What? That's not fair,” I say. I throw up my hands. “You guys act like I'm evil.”

“Not evil,” says Mom. “Just out of line.”

My Stats:

1 lecture by an angry principal

1 lecture by very angry parents

1 in-school suspension

1 best friend's phone that is also locked up

2 parents who think I'm Bad Karma

Mood: Beyond dismal; cataclysmic

When I get to school, I go to meet Ella at our usual meet-up spot by the water fountain, but she's not there.

Kids with purple and pink hair pass me. Others wear crazy orange wigs with hair that rustles. Oh, Crazy Hair Day. Great. My hair is completely normal when everyone else's is wacked out. I can't win.

On the other side of the quad, Auggie is singing a song he made up about Crazy Hair Day. Justin and Graeme also strum their ukuleles. A small crowd stands in front of them, clapping their hands. I try not to listen.

I glance around the halls looking for Ella. Where is she? She probably double-extra hates me.

And that's when I see Bailey and the Bees standing by the water fountain. There is still no Ella in sight.

Bailey's straight chin-length hair is so jelled it appears wet. Snakelike blue braids stick straight up on Janel's head, and Megan's hair has sprayed-on rainbow colors. They make their way over to me.

Bailey lowers her voice as she pats her crunchy hair. “I still can't believe you got caught by the principal. That was
so
bad.”

“I know,” I say.

“It's such a bummer you got the in-school suspension. I mean, really. That was super”—Bailey clears her throat as she adjusts her scarf—“harsh.”

I swallow hard. “Yeah.” I had called Ella last night but she didn't pick up. I'm sure every kid in the school now knows what happened.

“It's probably not the best thing for you to be publicity cochair of the Spirit Week committee. Since you're going to be”—Bailey flinches—“suspended.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Wouldn't look good, I guess.” My heart sinks to my feet. I have just been fired from my first job, and probably from my new group of friends.

“My parents would kill me if I got sent to Mr. Morley,” says Megan. “So you're just lucky you're not dead or something.” She smiles as if this is the best news ever.

Janel elbows Megan. “Like that's going to make Karma feel better.”

“Well, she got caught,” says Megan as she opens up a package of gum. She offers it to everyone except me. “And lots of people got in trouble, right?”

My stomach shifts uncomfortably since she, along with Ella and five others, had her phone locked up in the office because of me.

“Ella's super upset with you, Karma,” she adds. “She has to get her mom to sign a note to get her phone back.”

“I know,” I say with a sigh. “But I was trying to help.”

“That's exactly what you said to me when you put that chunky peanut butter into my hair,” says Bailey.

I wince. “You still remember that?”

She touches her bangs. “My hair only smelled like Jiffy for weeks.”

“I put it in to get out the gum.”

“Which it didn't do.”

“Well, it was supposed to. That was just—”

“Bad luck. Not your fault. I know,” says Bailey, and she singsongs
I know
like she knows way too much about me.

That's when Ella brushes past a knot of kids and makes her way over to us. She's got purple sprayed in her hair that's so neon bright I have to blink. But she hasn't changed into her skinny jeans or put on her lip gloss or any mascara. Actually, she's wearing the oversize jeans that she hates. But worst of all, she doesn't say
good morning
in her usual quiet but warm way. Her lips are pressed together in a frown.

My stomach tightens as if there's belt around it.

“Sorry again about your phone,” I squeak. “And getting caught.” I can tell she's very,
very
mad.

Ella blinks hard and flees into the bathroom. “What's the matter?” I ask, my voice rising. “Did something else happen?”

“You've done enough,” says Bailey. The Bees glare at me. I pivot around and go into the bathroom too.

Ella stands in front of the sink, dabbing at her eyes with a balled-up piece of bathroom tissue. Her face is as white as milk. Tears streak down her cheeks.

“Let me make it up to you,” I beg.

She glares at me and whispers, “Go away, Karma!”

She thinks she's whispering, but she yells it so loudly that my ears ring.

“What? What else did I do? Whatever it is, I'm sorry!”

Ella shakes her head and waves her hands like she's pushing me away.

So I leave the bathroom and race around the corner to my first in-school suspension.

There are only two other people imprisoned with me, two eighth-grade boys who I've never seen before because they rarely come to school when the weather is nice. Mr. Morley, the official jail keeper, scowls at me.

The boy with longer hair yawns every ten seconds.

The one with shorter long hair yawns every five seconds.

This will be my day.

No gym. Or morning break. Or time to chat by the water fountains.

Nothing to do except schoolwork.

Or read a book.

My Hebrew, which I brought with me to school, seems more exciting. I can imagine the singsong chant in my head from that girl on YouTube.

Long Hair is in the bathroom and Longer Hair is going next. The bathroom is attached to the classroom so we don't need to leave.

I want to go to the bathroom in the outside world, and Mr. Morley lets me. Maybe because he feels sorry for me, since he says, “You're not the kind who's usually in my jail.” He actually calls it jail.

But he lets me go, and for the first time in a long time, I'm excited about something.

Being excited about going to the bathroom. Really, if you think about it, that's pathetic.

And cursed. Because inside the bathroom is . . . Ella.

This school has around seven hundred kids. What are the chances that Ella is in the bathroom again? This is
my
chance.

“Ella,” I say as she sprays on more purple hair dye. “I get why you're mad, but it was an accident. Please. And if there's something else going on, I want to know.”

The spray can fills the room with an ammonia smell and I try not to cough. Ella takes a deep breath and opens her mouth as if she's about to speak. Two sixth graders rush into the bathroom. Ella clamps her mouth shut.