Revenge of the Snob Squad (8 page)

“Like devil worshipers,” Lydia breathed.

“No doubt. Ashley asked us both to wait in another room while they got ready. It was the laundry room, which, if you’ve ever
been alone with a washer and dryer in the dark, you know how creepy that is.”

“I d-do,” Prairie said. “Once when I was little I g-got locked in the laundry room.” She shivered. “I thought for sure the
b-boogeyman would jump out of the dryer and g-get me.”

“The boogeyman would’ve been better than Ashley Krupps,” I muttered. “She asked Zoe to come out first. Zoe was gone about
an hour, or at least it felt that way. I couldn’t hear much, just some muffled giggling. When Zoe came back, she was smiling.
‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,’ she said. I remember that now. Oh, God.” I covered my face with my hands.

An orderly whooshed through the door to retrieve the breakfast tray. “You didn’t eat much,” he said. “Not hungry?”

“Not crazy,” I mumbled. “Help yourself.”

He looked at the oatmeal with the sucker stuck in it and made a face.

“It just grew there,” I said.

After the orderly left, Lydia gripped my leg through the covers and said, “Tell us the rest.”

“Ow. Okay, don’t get a hernia.” I exhaled a long breath. “Where was I? Oh, yeah. The sisters sat me in a chair and made me
hold out my palms. Then Ashley dripped candle wax on my wrists.”

“Ouch. Didn’t that h-hurt?”

“It hurt like crazy. I still have a scar.” I showed them my right wrist. “Ashley recited some chant, then told me about the
initiation rite. About the secret. She said Zoe had passed. That she’d revealed a secret about me, and that I should tell
one about her. That surprised me. I didn’t remember telling Zoe any secrets. And I didn’t want to tell what I knew about Zoe.
She was my friend. But…” I stared off toward the bathroom wall. I wished Vanessa was there. Maybe she could show me how to
lose myself in the mirror.

“But what?” Lydia shifted on the bed and bounced my head. The headache roared back with a vengeance.

I looked at Lydia, at the others. In a small voice I told them, “But I didn’t want Zoe to be in the club and not me. You know?”

“Of course we know.” Lydia patted my kneecap. “Go on.”

I gulped. “I only knew one secret about Zoe. So I revealed it.” Time stopped. The room whirled.

“What was it?” they all said at once.

I widened my eyes at them.

Max shook her head. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to. It doesn’t matter now, anyway.” Suddenly my stomach hurt. It felt like knives were in there, stabbing at flesh.
That, plus the sore throat and the headache. Where was a doctor when you needed one? Close to convulsing, I continued, “I
told them Zoe’s real name was not Zoe Zarlengo.” A moment passed to let them take that in, to let my heart begin beating again,
before I added, “That’s all I said—at first. But of course Ashley needed to know Zoe’s real name. She said if I wanted to
join I’d have to tell the whole secret. To prove I trusted the sisters.”

“So you did,” Lydia said.

“Yeah. I told them Zoe’s name was Kayla Ferguson.”

The Snob Squad exchanged confused looks. “I don’t get it,” Max said. “So what?”

“Ashley wanted to know why Zoe was using a false name. She wouldn’t let it go. She kept badgering me. Finally I told her the
truth. I didn’t know. All I knew was that it was this big secret and I promised never to tell.”

Prairie asked, “So w-what happened?”

I said, “Ashley must’ve figured out the reason. And she must’ve run right upstairs after we left and told her father about
it, too, because the cops were at Zoe’s house by the time we got there. What’s worse is, on the way home, Zoe said she made
something up about me. She said I had a twenty-two-year-old boyfriend and we were going to elope. No one believed it until
she showed Ashley a picture of her brother and me together. Oh, man.” Tears welled in my eyes.

Prairie handed me a Kleenex. I blew my nose. “I never saw Zoe again. I found out later that her mom was hiding her and her
brother from their dad. They’d been running from him for years. She must’ve guessed what I did. I never even got to explain.
I never got to say good-bye.” The last word came out a squeak because a torrent of tears burst through the dam. They’d been
storing up for a year, and now they all flooded forth.

The Snob Squad just let me cry it out. Lydia patted my leg the whole time.

Once I’d wadded up an entire box of hospital Kleenex, Lydia said, “Ashley Krupps is a snake.”

I sniffed. “If she ever tells you she’s sworn to secrecy, just stab her in the back. Like she did to me.” Tears threatened
again.

Max stood. “Tonight. Peacemobile. Sleep-over,” she said. “We’re gonna kick Krupp’s butt from here to kingdom come.”

Lydia and Prairie both nodded agreement.

I had no idea where kingdom come was. But those were the words I’d been longing to hear. I looked around and thought, I love
you guys. I wish I could have told them.

T
he Snob Squad left right before Mom showed up to bring me home from the hospital. That afternoon I had a lot of time to think.
Usually I can veg out in front of soaps all day when I’m home sick, but today I couldn’t put the brakes to the brain. I relived
the whole Ashley incident, even the end, when I felt so guilty. When I knew in my heart I’d betrayed Zoe. Even if Ashley had
held a gun to my head, I should never have revealed Zoe’s secret. What are friends for if you can’t trust each other? Trust
is a precious bond. You can’t form a club. You can’t pledge trust.

During a commercial for Kraft macaroni and cheese, the big revelation came. It wasn’t Ashley’s fault. She didn’t hold a gun
to my head. She didn’t force me to say a word. I should’ve known not to believe her. I should’ve gone with my gut instinct,
especially when Ashley said she was sworn to secrecy. The only thing Ashley Krupps is sworn to is building herself up by tearing
others down. She always has. She always will.

It was my fault Zoe went away. My fault. I missed her. I miss her still. The worst part is wondering where Zoe is now, how
she’s doing. Wondering if she’s found a new best friend. Knowing Zoe, she has. She was such a great person. I just hope her
new best friend is a better friend than I was.

Mom said I could go to the sleep-over as long as I took it easy. What I took was a box of Eskimo Pies.

Handing them out, I said to Max, “I know I didn’t exactly die, but do you think I’ve experienced enough misery, suffering,
loss, and defeat?”

Max just clucked.

“What are you talking about?” Lydia said.

I explained about my tarot cards. About the swords. About the Death card.

“The D-Death card?” Prairie shuddered.

“It doesn’t mean death,” Max said. “At least not physical death. The Death card only means a change of consciousness. Like
death of the old self and rebirth of the new.” At my awed expression, she shrugged. “So I know how to read tarot cards. So
what?”

“It could mean physical death,” Lydia said. “It could mean we should firebomb Ashley’s house.”

“We don’t know where she lives,” I said. “And even if we did—” I stopped and took a deep breath. This was risky, I knew. “Let’s
just forget it.”

“Forget what?” Lydia said.

“Forget about taking revenge on Ashley Krupps.”

“What!” Lydia squeezed her Eskimo Pie, and it plopped out of the wrapper onto her lap. While she wiped it up, she said, “You
mean just forget all the mean and horrible things she’s done to us? Not get back at her at all?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“But she lied to you. She almost got you killed! She made you get hit by a bus.”

We all let that ring in our ears. It sounded stupid, even to Lydia. You could tell by the red in her cheeks.

“I ran into the street,” I said. “I got hit by the bus. And I betrayed my friend Zoe. Don’t get me wrong. I hate Ashley Krupps,
but I think it’s a waste of time to keep thinking up ways to get her. Nothing’s going to change. She sure isn’t.”

“But we’ll feel better,” Lydia’s voice rose an octave.

“Will we? Okay, I admit, it was hilarious seeing the Nikes all sticky with mustard and beer hair. But who got in trouble?
Us. And who’s on the Crips’ hit list for TP’ing Tony’s cousin’s house? Us. And who ended up with a concussion and almost died?
Us. I mean, me. But you could’ve been right behind me. Face it. We’re lousy at this.”

“I think that concussion cracked your skull,” Lydia muttered.

“Yeah,” I said. “It cracked open my head and let a little sense in. Listen, every time we do something mean to the Nikes,
we’re just like them. And I don’t want to be like them. I especially don’t want to be like their leader, Ashley Krupps. We’re
better than that. Aren’t we?”

No one answered.

“Well, aren’t we?” My eyes circled around the Snob Squad. They all gaped at me, wondering, I’m sure, whether they should call
the hospital and have me readmitted. On the psycho ward. It was no use. I figured I’d been wrong abut them. “Would you buy
just as good?” I mumbled as I got up to leave.

Prairie said, “N-no. We’re better.”

I turned back. “You bet we are. Anybody want another Eskimo Pie?”

Lydia scowled. “So what do you suggest we do, Jenny? Just let them get away with it? Let people like Ashley Krupps keep on
humiliating us forever?” Her voice edged toward a screech.

“No,” I replied, handing her a pie to calm her down. “We’re not going to put up with any more crap. What we need is a new
attitude. You said it, Lydia. You called us the Snob Squad. Maybe we should act it. Allow me to demonstrate.” I pushed up
my nose with my index finger and strutted across the Peacemobile. Prairie covered her mouth and tittered. She jumped up and
copied me, and pretty soon Max was doing it. The Snob Squad Salute.

Lydia met my eyes. She wasn’t convinced, I could tell. This was hard for her. But maybe, like her tarot cards said, she had
to make a choice. Finally, reluctantly, she rose and joined us.

Our troubles weren’t over. We knew that. If it wasn’t Ashley and the Neon Nikes, it’d be somebody else tormenting us. We were
targets. But we didn’t have to be easy targets. Maybe, if we banded together, we’d make moving targets. And if we kept moving,
we might just make it through middle school.

My appointment with the psychologist was Saturday morning at ten. Since I couldn’t persuade Mom to cancel the appointment,
I devised a plan. I called it the “Jenny Solano Dummy Up Plan to Frustrate the Head Fed.” My best role was playing the Blob.
I looked the part. No one dared mess with my body, and no one was going to mess with my mind, either. Not even a trained professional.

Mom picked me up at Max’s, looking a little shocked over where I’d spent the night.

“Don’t worry, Mom,” I assured her. “We only drove the van to McDonald’s and back.”

I guess, seeing the tires on the Peacemobile were flat as Fruit Roll-Ups, she recognized the humor.

The shrink’s office was on the twenty-third floor of a glass and marble skyscraper. Even though we were rising up, up, up,
I felt my stomach plunging down, down, down.

The office had Mickey Mouses stenciled all over the walls. Appropriate, I thought.

“Hello, Jennifer. I’m Dr. Sidhwa.” A short, dumpy man came out to greet me. He extended a hand to shake.

I let him waggle my limp wrist. The way he said Jennifer, so exotic sounding, made my scalp tingle. He said hello to my mother
and ushered me in. My eyes strayed over my shoulder. I wanted Mom to come with me so bad. She smiled encouragement.

“You can call me Dr. Sid.” He pronounced it Dr. Seed. “Do you have a nickname?” He motioned to me to sit.

“Blubber Butt,” I said, taking the only chair. There was no couch or else I would’ve sprawled out for a nap. It’d been a late
night.

He smiled. “I’ll just call you Jennifer.”

“Jenny,” I said. If my scalp tingled too long, I might let down my guard. He had kind eyes.

“Jenny. Your mother tells me you have a problem.”

I rolled my eyes.

He folded his hands. His fingers were short and fat, like Vienna sausages. “Do you think you have a problem?”

“Yeah,” I said. “My mother.”

He chuckled. “Don’t get me started on mothers.” He threw up his hands. “Mine calls me twice a week to ask if I’m engaged yet.”

“Are you?” I said.

He pointed a fat finger. “Don’t you start.” Smiling, he settled back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself. You’re in sixth
grade, yes?” He arched an eyebrow.

Okay, I thought. Time to implement the Plan. I just sat there. In a second he’d start to squirm. He’d fill the empty space
with speech. A second went by. Then fifteen, twenty seconds. This was getting uncomfortable. How long could he stare at me,
eye-brows arched?

He won. I couldn’t stand it. “I’m fat,” I said. “So what else is new?”

“Is this new?” he asked.

“No. I was born fat. Not this fat. But then, I wasn’t born this tall either.”

Dr. Sid smiled. He studied me. “How long have you been this… weight?”

“I don’t know. A year. Do you watch
Oprah
?”

“What?” He frowned.

Oops, I cringed. It might be against his religion to watch tabloid TV. Even though Oprah was tasteful tabloid.

“
Oprah
. You know, the talk show? Never mind.”

“Yes, I know
Oprah
. I do watch her occasionally. I like her.”

“Really?” That surprised me. “Well, Oprah says if you overeat it’s because you have a void in your life. And she should know.
She’s weighed like two hundred and forty-three pounds.”

“She doesn’t look overweight to me.”

“No, because she found her void and filled it. With money, is my guess.”

He laughed. “What’s happened to you in the last year to create this void?”

“What hasn’t happened?” I stopped. The last year. The last year had been lousy. Talk about misery, suffering, loss, and defeat.

“Would you like to tell me?” Dr. Sid said.