The Popularity Spell (5 page)

I
wake up on Monday morning feeling different. At the beginning of every week since I started at Friendship Community School, there's always been an icky feeling in my belly. It knows something is going to go badly—that I'm going to do something dumb, or someone like Madison is going to make fun of me.

But today my stomach feels okay, all because of the hex Samantha and I did. I'm not truly expecting anything to happen, but it's still new and exciting and something to look forward to. Before I leave for school, I pat the voodoo doll on his head and straighten his tutu. And when I'm in the car—in the front where I belong—I can't help bouncing around in a way that I never would if someone like Madison was watching.

“You're in a strangely good mood,” Dad says. “Why's that?”

I can't tell him the truth:
Well, Samantha and I decided to use the voodoo doll Uncle Arnie sent me—the voodoo doll you told me not to play with—to put a positive voodoo charm on her, and I can't wait to see if it works.
So I quickly come up with something that's true but not
quite
as truthful: “I'm glad I got two millipedes. And I had fun with Samantha when she came over.”

I look at Dad to see if that story is good enough…and I can tell it is by the reaction on his face. “Her mom called afterward and said Sam had a great time too. She invited you to her house this coming weekend.”

“Woo-hoo!” I shout, bouncing, until Dad tells me to calm down. When he drops me off and I run into the courtyard at school, I'm thinking this is going to be a pretty good day.

And it's okay, I guess—but nothing special happens to Samantha in our first class, history. I'm hoping something might go down at morning break, but it's nobody's birthday, so we don't get any sort of treat there. Instead we just sit at our desks like usual, eating our nutritious snacks and enriching our lives in our own personal way.

I'm quietly munching my pita chips when I hear a whisper from Madison. “Mmmm, yum yum yum,” she says, making fake chewing sounds. “Cleo, don't you want any carrots?”

Sure enough, when I look over at Scabby Larry, he's chowing on his favorite little vegetable. Can't he eat anything else?

All animated villains have evil henchmen, and Madison has her henchwomen, who join in the “fun.” Lisa Lee makes chewing noises, throwing in a few “Ohio piggy” comments and snorts. Her face is tight and pointy, probably because her skin is being pulled back by the brown braid she always has at the back of her head. If I made her into a cartoon character, she'd be a rat. She always does the same things Madison does, a second later. Kylie Mae doesn't do anything specific. She doesn't ever really do anything, but she always has a sour frown on her face and these super-light blue eyes that make it look like she's thinking about absolutely nothing. I can't even imagine an animated animal for her. She'd be…a balloon.

I look toward the front of the classroom to see if Kevin's heard any of the comments or chewing sounds, but he has earbuds in. He must be enriching his life by listening to music during snack break.

I turn to Madison and her friends and stick my tongue out. My mouth is full of chewed-up chips and they squeal and “ewww” like the girly girls they are. Across the room, Samantha gives me a thumbs-up. It's an enjoyable moment, but more for me than Samantha, so we can't give the credit to voodoo.

Math class goes by without anything special either. Then Sam and I are walking across the lawn together like we always do, heading toward the lunchroom, when suddenly Sam stops. I keep walking but she grabs my arm.

“It's happening!” she says in an excited whisper.

“What is?” I ask.

“Take a sniff.”

I sniff a few times, like a bunny rabbit with a dandelion, but I don't smell anything out of the ordinary.

“No, take a big breath in. Really sniff,” Sam says.

I do. Then I smell what she smells.

She's right. It's happening.

Pizza!

My heart starts pounding and I can't hold back my smile from becoming big and goofy. “Oh my gosh!” I scream, jumping up and down.

“Pizza!” Sam shouts.

“Pizza!” I shout back, and we run toward the lunchroom. “A treat you can see and smell and taste
and
touch!”

The thing is, Monday is not pizza day. Monday is veggie stir-fry day, which is why I bring a sandwich because I only eat vegetables at dinnertime when Dad makes me. Pizza day only comes every couple of weeks, and never on a Monday. And Samantha loves the school pizza because it's the square kind with pepperonis that curl up around the edges and make little pools of grease.

I prefer triangular pizza to square pizza, so this treat is not as special for me. But it definitely is for Samantha, which means our hex worked! I can't believe we have to sit through the rest of the school day knowing what we know!

“This is unbelievable,” Sam says at our lunch table, chewing happily on her greasy pizza.

“It tastes good?” I ask.

“Of course it tastes good,” she says, “but that's not what I'm talking about.”

“The hex! I know; I can't believe it!” It might be the most unbelievable thing that's happened to me in my whole entire life. My dad is wrong
and
voodoo is real!

“So what do we do next?” Sam asks, using her napkin to sop up one of the pepperoni's pools of grease. She says the grease is good for flavor but that eating it is unhealthy, which makes sense to me.

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“Well, it worked!” She looks around the lunchroom to make sure no one is listening, but of course no one is. Scabby Larry and a younger kid look like they're playing a game on a phone, and Madison and her friends are giggling, probably about something dumb. “So of course we have to do another hex,” she says.

Another hex?

I never considered doing another, I guess because I didn't exactly plan on this one working. But Dad said not to mess with voodoo and I don't want him to be mad at me, so I'm not sure what to say.

Sam doesn't wait for me to answer. “I was thinking about this last night….”

“Thinking about what?”

“I'm about to tell you,” Sam says in between chews. “I couldn't get to sleep and I was lying in bed wondering: what if the voodoo works? What will we do next?”

Of course she's already planning. Sam and her focus. She takes a breath like she's going to say something, but then she sighs, keeping me waiting. “Well?” I ask, impatient. “What?”

“I think we should…” She pauses. “Make ourselves popular.”

Obviously the pizza grease has gone to Sam's head. Her brain is not working properly. “That's impossible,” I say. “There's no way that little voodoo doll could do something like that.” We look at each other for a second, neither of us saying anything.

Sam raises her eyebrows and takes another bite of pizza. “But maybe”—she finally says, pausing dramatically—“just maybe, it could.”

I smile. If it
could,
it'd be great. Really, really great. Sam and I would have more friends than just each other. There'd be other people at our lunch table to share food and joke around and discuss triangular versus square pizza. And maybe I could wake up every morning like I did today. I'm sure Dad would like me to be happier at school. Then I could focus better, and get better grades, and be a better daughter—everything would be better, better, better!

“Okay,” I say, feeling a tingle of anticipation. “If you think it
could
actually happen, how would we do it?”

“Well, who's the most popular girl in our grade?”

She knows the answer to that. “Maddy Paddy, duh,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“Right. And if she did something—I don't know—something weird or embarrassing, people might not like her so much.”

I lean in and concentrate, even putting down my turkey, lettuce, and butter sandwich so I can give Sam my full attention.

“If people made fun of
her
for doing something embarrassing,” Sam whispers, “that might take some of the attention off us. It'd be good for you, it'd be good for me, it'd be good for everybody in Focus! It would really be good for the whole school if you think about it. And isn't that what the voodoo doll is for? Good?”

I'm impressed, and I tell her so. Samantha leans back in her chair, lifts her second piece of square pizza to her mouth, and takes a big chomp out of it. I've never seen her so happy.

Of course I hadn't thought of it her way. All I know is that Dad said to stay away from the voodoo, and it might've put a big scar on Uncle Arnie's hand. But Uncle Arnie didn't send me a spooky, scary doll; he sent me Positive Happy Voodoo Doll. That doll, with his stitched yarn mouth and silly pink tutu, brought Samantha her favorite pizza today.

And if he could make Madison do something so embarrassing in class it would make us popular, it could change my life—and Sam's—big-time. Nothing wrong with that! There's really no other choice but to try it.

“Okay,” I say. “Let's do it.”

Samantha's eyes look excited under her dark frizzy bangs. “Okay. So. How can you get Madison's hair?”

“Why
her
hair?” I ask. “It worked with your hair last time.”

“Yeah, but I'd say this time we're hexing
her
to reach
our
goal. And you know what? This is going to be good for her too. She does something super embarrassing; she'll see what it's like to be you or me. She'll probably learn something from it.”

“Okay,” I agree. “But why am
I
getting her hair?” We've been talking about some wild things today, but that sounds ridiculously nuts. “I don't even like to go near her! Her teeth are so white and sparkly, I'm afraid they'll turn me blind!”

“Well, I haven't gone near her in years, so she'd find it pretty weird if I suddenly became her buddy and got real close and plucked a piece of hair out of her head. At least you're new.”

I'm not sure I understand Samantha's logic. “So because I'm new, she won't think it's weird when
I
walk up to her and pull some hair out of her head?”

Sam's speedy brain has this all figured out already, of course. “You sit behind Madison in science lab tomorrow, right?”

I do sit behind Madison, and sometimes I can't pay attention to Kevin's experiments because her perfect golden hair hypnotizes me. I imagine how often she must wash it, and how expensive her shampoo must be, and how she probably has a maid or butler to comb it a thousand times for her every night.

“So just sneeze or something, and grab a piece of her hair,” Sam says, again like it's the easiest thing in the world.

I'm not totally sure this will work, but when I see the look on Samantha's face and I think about our future, full of all the positive happy juju, mojo, gris-gris, or hoodoo that popularity will bring, I know I will give it my best try.

S
amantha must still have the taste of pizza on her lips because she's smiling for the next couple of hours. Neither of us, however, is thrilled when it's time for Recreational Wellness. It's what normal schools would call Phys Ed and we strongly
don't like
gym. I don't want to lose my breath and play stupid games in front of the whole class. Even worse, I have to get changed in a locker room in front of all the girls.

But Samantha always figures out a way to make it fun. Today she walks over to my locker like she's a model and says, “Fresh from Paris, it's the stunning Mirabelle Escoofay, wearing the latest in Phys Ed fashion!”

Normally I wouldn't goof around like this, but Sam's so confident, it rubs off on me. So I jump up and suck my cheeks in all skinny and start walking like a model too, with a snotty smirk on my face.

“Where would these two be modeling?
Mars?
” asks Madison from across the locker room, and her sidekick friends laugh like always.

I feel like a balloon that's just been untied—all my model air comes hissing out. Not Samantha. She starts talking in a robot voice and says, “Yes, I am the most beautiful Martian model in the universe, and I have come to kill mean Earthlings.” I laugh, but I'm too embarrassed to add any more. Then our Recreational Wellness teacher, Janet, blows a whistle and says it's time to go out to the gym. As Madison walks off, I hear her mutter, “So stupid.” But when Samantha looks at me with her arms still held up stiff like a robot, I don't care about Madison at all. I just think about how she's going to have one less hair tomorrow after science lab! And after we do the charm, one less hair for Madison will equal lots more happiness for us!

Samantha and I practically skip into the gym, but once again my happiness hisses away. Sitting on the floor in between the two basketball nets is a gigantic white ball, big as a tire on an eighteen-wheeler. I know what's coming next.

“Crab soccer, everyone!” shouts Janet.

Samantha and I frown at each other. Crab soccer is, in a word, horrible. Everyone gets down on all fours, but not facedown like a dog. We're faceup, like a crab. Then you have to crawl around, kicking the gigantic ball with your crab legs until it goes into the other team's goal. How is this supposed to make us better human beings? How is this supposed to teach us about sportsmanship and teamwork? All I know is that it makes the inside of your elbows hurt and gets your shorts all dirty because, let's face it, even though you're not supposed to drag your butt on the floor of the gym, it's hard not to.

Janet divides us into teams, and Samantha's on the opposite one, along with Madison. “Goodbye, Martian model,” Samantha says in her robot voice, then crawls to the other side of the gym. I see Madison roll her eyes.

Janet blows the whistle and tosses the big ball into the center of the gym. All of us crabs start crawling around, and I wonder:
If a Martian model really did come down and watch this, what would she think? Would she try to learn from us, or would she blow us all away and then report to the king of Mars how stupid we all look down here?

“What are you
doing
?” Madison yells, suddenly reminding me that I'm in the middle of a crab soccer game. She's trying to get around me to the ball, but I'm just sitting there. “Pick up your bony butt and get out of my way!”

Right then I decide that there's nothing more I want to do in the world than kick that huge ball into Madison's goal and force my team to cheer for me. She and I get to the ball at the same time and kick it until it winds up in the corner of the gym. We're both kicking and kicking, but the ball isn't going anywhere.

Suddenly I hear a scream. “Waaaah! Cleo kicked me!” Madison is curled up on the ground holding her leg. “She couldn't get the ball out of the corner, so she kicked me!”

I didn't kick her, not even close, and her whining is so fake I can almost see her snickering at me. It makes me wish I had a pin to prick her with like the voodoo doll!

And in that exact moment, as Janet is blowing her whistle and the rest of our crab teammates are confused, I know I can do it. While Madison's rolling on the ground, fake crying, tossing around her perfect flowing hair, I reach out my fingers and pluck a piece right out of her head. My aim isn't perfect, though, so I might actually get two or three. Ha ha, Maddy Paddy!

“Now she pulled my hair! Cleo kicked me, and then she pulled my hair!”

“That's so not true!” I yell, even though half of it
is
true.

“Cleo,” says Janet. She's got a real serious sound in her voice, like Dad when I forget to feed Toby or I break a dish. “Go to the locker room
right now.
I'll deal with you after I send Madison to the nurse.” Then Janet's voice gets all friendly when she turns to Madison. “That is, if you can walk. Can you walk, Madison?”

“I'll…try,” Madison says, sniffling.

I can't believe her! She's such a Fakey Fakerson! So I yell something. It's not on purpose; I just
do
it. It begins with
holy
and ends with something like
poop.
But it's not
poop;
it's a bad word. I didn't mean to say it; I just can't believe what's happening.

“Cleo!” shouts Janet, harsher than before. “Go to the locker room!”

As I stomp off, I see Janet holding her hand out to Madison, and Madison pretending like it's hard to get up. I'm mad at first, but once I'm alone between the lockers, my mood gets better—because when I open my left hand, I see
three
pieces of Madison Paddington's hair!

I open my locker with my right hand and pull out my science notebook. Between my drawings and my pages of millipede notes is a plastic folder. Like a scientist working with dangerous materials, I carefully pick up each individual hair and slide them inside one by one. I'd like to stand there and admire them for a while, but I realize I'd better change and wait for Janet like I'm ashamed of what just happened.

Janet is more serious than angry. She tells me to go to the principal's office and sit on the chair outside. My dad will meet me there. He was going to have to pick me up soon anyway, but I've never gotten in this much trouble before and I hope he's not too mad.

Luckily the principal, Frederick, doesn't want to talk to me. I have to sit in a hallway in the courtyard as all the other kids walk by on their way to their parents' or nannies' cars. I can tell that some of them are talking about me by the way they look over, but I'm not embarrassed. I'm kind of proud. I may be in trouble, but that's a small price to pay for what the final result is going to be. A whole new life of fun and friends and good times all the time!

Samantha walks by and gives me a concerned look. I start to give her a thumbs-up but change my mind when I see Dad walking toward me. His mouth is a straight line above his chin.

“You know I don't want to talk to the principal, right?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, acting sorry.

While Dad's gone, I read from a library book I got on millipedes. I learn that when millipedes are threatened, they coil up into a tight ball. The picture in the book reminds me of Madison curled up on the gym floor pretending to be hurt. But of course the millipede is
much
more attractive than Madison.

Dad's only in Frederick's office for a few minutes; then he walks out toward the parking lot. “Come on, let's go home,” he says, already way ahead of me. We get in the car without talking at all. I figure it's best if I wait for Dad to start.

He doesn't say anything as he drives us home. He just listens to a talky podcast while I stare out the window. When the story ends much later, he looks over at me.

“Listen, I know you've been having a hard time since we moved here,” he says. “It's not easy to move across the country to a new place. Go to a new school, make new friends. And meeting Terri was a big deal that you probably weren't ready for. So I can understand why you might act out and get in some trouble.”

Wow. I thought Dad was going to be mad, but it sounds like he's blaming himself. This is the best!

“But I don't want any more of it, Cleo. No more bad behavior.” Sounding more serious now, he continues, “It is
not
okay to say those kinds of words. In school or anywhere.”

“I know. I won't do it again.”

“Don't make promises you can't keep,” Dad says.

“Okay. I promise I'll
try
not to do it again.”

“Good,” says Dad. Then it's quiet for a minute. I think that's all he's going to say!

I can see he's not too upset, so I wonder if he can take a joke. “Can I say ‘poo'?” I ask, all sweet and innocent.

Dad laughs out loud. “Yes, you can say ‘poo.' ”

“I won't say ‘poo,' ” I tell him. “That's for losers.”

“Don't say ‘loser.' That's not right,” says Dad, but he's still kind of joking. So I ask him what words I can say. He says no to
fart hole,
but yes to
butt noodle.
Yes to
booger snot,
but no to
crap ferret.
We start laughing and Dad turns on music, which is better than a podcast any day.

Back home he tells me to start on my homework, but it's hard because when I open my science notebook, all I want to do is stare at those three long blond hairs. And my voodoo doll is standing nearby on top of my dresser, waiting to be put to good use. But it's one of Dad's rules that I can only get together with Samantha on weekends, so I'm going to have to wait four more days before we can cast our spell using “the power of two.” Four loooooong days that are going to feel like forever.

After today, though, I can't ask Dad for any favors. So I do my whining on the inside.