The Hot List (16 page)

“I'm just on my way home,” I said. “I had no idea you guys were out here,” I said. Oh wow, that sounded paranoid and dorky.

I glanced over at Elio and Gabriel and knew they felt as surprised as I did. What were Squid and Hayden doing together skateboarding? How could Squid be skateboarding with Hayden.
The
Hayden Carus. My Hayden.

Oh, right. I had told him to find a Hot Lister to hang out with (step 6), and apparently that Hot Lister was none other than Hayden. I should have told him to pick someone else, because, well, when it came to Squid and Hayden, the embarrassment potential was high.

“You've got to show me how you did that last one,” said Squid after Hayden did a Kickflip McTwist or something McDifficult. “'Cause I keep on blowing it.”

Hayden pointed with his board. “You need more speed going into it.”

I tried not to stare at Squid. What had changed? Mentally, I took inventory. Same small size, but decent-looking. But he was acting so uneager to see me and his friends that I thought I had entered into a different reality.

A Volvo pulled up and Hayden picked up his skateboard. “Anyone need a ride?” asked Hayden. He glanced around at all of us, including me.

“I'll go,” said Squid. “But I'm calling shotgun.”

Gabriel and Elio stared at Squid like he was an alien. “Aren't you staying after school for animation club?” asked Gabriel.

“Nah, I'm good,” said Squid.

I pointed in the direction of my home. “I'm good too.” I lived just a half-block away from the school. It would be so embarrassing to have Hayden's mother drive me one block. Then she would know, along with Hayden really and truly, that I was crushing on him big-time.

“See you,” said Hayden. He nodded at everyone as he saluted good-bye.

“Later,” said Squid.

Elio and Gabriel looked so depressed that they didn't even say good-bye, and in the pit of my stomach, I felt so
wrong. I was making Squid abandon his friends just like Maddie had abandoned me.

And then I remembered. Squid was doing everything that I had asked him to do. I should be feeling pure pride, joy. Not panic. Inside I felt as if I were being split apart. I tried to knead the panic like it was dough that I could shape any way that I wanted to, only it wasn't working.

M
rs. Casey, my English teacher, was asking questions
about nouns. “Here's one everyone can answer,” she said in her bizarrely slow manner. It was like she had gum in her mouth and didn't want to open it too much in case any of the flavor escaped. Actually she did have gum in her mouth. A little red stick of cinnamon the same color as her hair. You could smell the gum all the way in the back of the class where I sat.

The back of the class was the only place I felt comfortable because I didn't have to watch Maddie chatting with Nia. And Ava. And breathy-quiet McKenzie. And, well, anyone except for me.

Mrs. Casey chewed for a few moments and then paused. “Nouns can be person, places, or …” Things, of course. Mrs. Casey didn't care too much about prepping for class, which was cool because I could relax in the back and still do well.

Everyone was raising their hands. Except for Squid. He was kicking back in his chair, trying to be cool like I had taught him. He wasn't sitting with Elio and Gabriel.

I thought about the old Squid. The old Squid would have been silly and would be raising his hand as high as he could, which would probably mean standing on tiptoe or something or even on a chair.

He would have been shouting out the answer already: “Thing!” And saying when he grew up, he wanted to be one. A thing, that is.

But the new and improved Squid was yawning. And he was just about how I needed him to be to get onto the Hot List, except for one thing. The mullet haircut had to go. I should have taken care of that weeks ago.

“Um, Sophie, so?” Mrs. Casey called out, smiling at me sweetly like she needed a special favor such as going up to the office since I had a personal relationship with Mr. Fanuchi.

That happened to me just yesterday. Mrs. Casey had forgotten to fill out some kind of paperwork for her homeroom and asked me to take the sheet down to my dad and beg forgiveness for being a little late since we were—she put quotes in the air—“related.”

“Do you want me to go the office?” I asked.

The class laughed. I tried to shrink down into my hoodie.

“I don't need you to go to the office. I had asked you
a question.” Mrs. Casey tapped her foot slowly.

“Okay,” I said hesitantly, expecting her to ask me if I was willing to read the weekly writing assignment aloud again, which I would not. That was something I always said no to. My voice shook whenever I read out loud in public. I stumbled over words and my cheeks bloomed strawberry red. And it had gotten even worse lately. Mrs. Casey peered forward and tapped her freckled nose. “Sophie. What's the answer?”

“The answer?”

“To the question.”

Did I have my hand raised? How could she ask me? And how could I not know the question?

Maddie blew on her bangs and stared at me. She was probably upset that I got the privilege of answering.

I pulled my hoodie tighter around my face and slumped down into my chair.

“Sophie?” Mrs. Casey tapped her foot, which made a little clicking sound on the tile floor. “Have you been paying attention? Have you been listening?”

Mrs. Casey's head grew larger somehow right in front of me. I could hear the rushing of the blood in my veins, the beating of my heart so loudly that it drowned out any new thoughts trying to bubble out.

Pacing back and forth, Mrs. Casey looked like a hungry
cat. She furiously chomped on her gum. More cinnamon flavor blew into the classroom. Chatter erupted in the classroom. Maddie, who sat across from me, mouthed,
Adverbs
.

Why was she doing that? Was she trying to help me or mess with me?

Again she mouthed,
Adverbs
.

“Adverbs,” I repeated softly.

“What did you say?” asked Mrs. Casey, whose mission in life was to get me to speak up.

“Adverbs,” I repeated a little louder.

“Did you say ‘adverbs'?”

I nodded.

Mrs. Casey spun in her chair and clapped, which was shocking since she never usually acted caffeinated. “Good,” she said, smiling at me. “You have been paying attention, Sophie.” She clucked her tongue. “For a second, I was worried that you had flown out that window and landed out there somewhere near Pluto.”

My breathing was not so shallow anymore. Being the center of attention made my mind freeze like the rain sometimes does in April in the Rockies.

Mrs. Casey was now on to another question. Hooray!

Then Maddie smiled at me. “Thanks, Maddie,” I said hoarsely.

After class was over, Maddie followed me into the hallway. She looked as if she wanted to speak to me but was waiting for something. Maybe for me to speak first? A bunch of seventh-grade girls who were all in band slowed down to stare at us. Their clarinet cases clunked into one another as they stopped short. Did we have to attract the entire marching band into our already crowded section of the hallway?

Yes.

Maddie pushed up her nose where her lavender glasses used to sit. And just as I was about to tell Maddie that she had forgotten she wasn't wearing glasses, Nia strutted over toward us. She waved her multicolor hairbanded wrist at Maddie. “Over here,” she called out.

Maddie gave me a quick glance and then darted off to be with her best friend.

I pulled my hoodie farther over my eyes and imagined that it was a cloak of invisibility like in Harry Potter. The gaggle of band girls got bored and shoved off to watch other dramas. And I remained invisible girl.

I
needed to get Squid a haircut and complete the final phase
of the get-Squid-on-the-Hot-List plan [10) Get rid of mullet-type hairstyle.]. It was Thursday already, and Monday, December 5, List Day, was fast approaching. After lunch I went up to Squid. “Whether you like it or not, after school you're getting a haircut.”

He pulled on the tail of his mullet. “But I like my hair.”

“Squid. Trust me on this.”

“Sorry. The hair stays.”

“I know a lot about hotness and even more about the Hot List.”

“Whatever.”

“Just believe me.” I gritted my teeth. The new cool-talking Squid was irritating.

“No.”

“If I tell you why I know so much about the Hot List, will you do it?”

“You mean like a Hot List secret?”

“Exactly.”

“Then all right,” said Squid.

Texts sent and received on Sophie Fanuchi's phone:

After School

The Mall

Boulder, Colorado

USA

Thursday, December 1

Between 4:13 p.m. and 4:22 p.m.

Central Time

Sophiegrl
4:13 PM
December 1

I checked all 4 entrances don't see u

Squidster
4:13 PM
December 1

Im @ west

Sophiegrl
4:14 PM
December 1

Ill try agin

Squidster
4:14 PM
December 1

k

•   •   •   •

Sophiegrl
4:21 PM
December 1

Ur not here! Srsly

Squidster
4:22 PM
December 1

Look up!

Sophiegrl
4:22 PM
December 1

Get out of the tree!

On the way to the haircut place, Squid sprayed a tester bottle at the Cologne Hut, and the air smelled like lemons and watermelon.

I hated watermelon. More than peanut butter, even though that could kill me. If I had to be deathly allergic to anything, it'd be watermelon because it was so watery and weird crunchy with all of those annoying black seeds and white seeds to extra trip you up.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a guy leaning against the counter. He looked like Hayden. The same dark brown color hair. My insides flip-flopped. He turned around and the guy had zits all over his face and a weird handlebar mustache. Very gross and definitely not Hayden. Phew.

Squid was continuing to spray and pump the tester bottles on the counter, so that soon he smelled like every
scent combined into one. “We can't waste time,” I said since the haircut place always got crowded.

When we finally walked inside Hair Cutz, there were so many people inside the waiting area that some didn't have a place to sit.

“Are they giving something away?” I asked to a small man with a big mustache, leaning against a wall.

“Sorta,” he says. “All haircuts are fifteen dollars. It's a good deal.”

“Cool,” said Squid, who pulled out a wad of ones. The old Squid would have said something like,
For that price, I can get two haircuts
.

I went up to the lady sitting behind a register counter. She had little stars on her long red, white, and blue–striped nails. “Do we take a number or something?”

“Just give me your name,” she said as she chomped on her gum, which smelled like banana.

“Squid,” I said.

Her eyebrows lifted in a question. “It's not my name. It's his name.” I flicked my chin over at Squid, who was examining the hair products lined up on a shelf in the waiting area.

“Okay. Take a seat. If you can find one.”

“Do you know how long a wait?” I asked.

“An hour at least.”

“An hour. Wow.” I shot back to Squid who had somehow managed to find a seat. He was flipping through a hairstyling magazine. “Look,” he said, pointing to a photo. “I could get mine shaved like that.”

“Are you kidding me? You need it cut normally—and to get rid of the mullet.”

Squid pointed at a bald guy in a hairdresser's chair. “Do you think that guy really needs a haircut?”

“Maybe he's getting shaved in case the stubble is starting to grow back. The complete bald thing's a HOT look. But not the one you're going to get.”

“If I ever go bald that's what I'm going to do, shave it all off.”

“I don't think I'd like to see that. Look, I'm going to go into the mall and do a little shopping or something, so whatever you do, please, please wait for me. I don't want you getting a haircut without me. Call me when it's your turn, okay?”

“Fine,” says Squid, saluting me. “So when are you going to tell me your Hot List secret?”

Suddenly, I chickened out. “Uh, later,” I said. “I promise.” Then I turned to the hairdresser closest to us. She had tattoos that peeked out along her neck and blue stripes in her black hair. “Do you know who's going to be cutting his hair?”

She shrugged as she snipped a girl with long blond curls. “Probably me or Becky.” She nodded over at a hairdresser across the way with a shaggy-looking haircut.

I put my hands in a praying position. “Can you please, when you or whoever does his hair make it look, you know, regular? Like, get rid of the mullet, but no extreme spikes, no weird colors. He needs to look a little more average. But cute-way-above average. A trim. He needs help.”

“You sound like his mother,” she said as she spritzed her customer with a water bottle.

I stepped back and waved my hands in my face. “Oh, no, definitely not.”

“A little young.” The hairdresser smiled. “Don't worry. We'll make him look real nice.”

“Thanks,” I said, turning to Squid who was yawning.

“Just call me when it's your turn,” I reminded him.

“You told me that already.”

Ugh. He was so annoying.