The Stepsister (6 page)

“What did you say?” her friend Kathy joked, holding a hand up to her ear.

“Very funny.” Emily bent down to pick up her books.

“How'd you do on the trig test?” Kathy asked, waving to someone across the hall.

“Good. Terrible. I don't know,” Emily told her. The hall filled with kids. Lockers slammed. Voices echoed down the long tiled corridor. “Do you see Josh? He was supposed to meet me here.”

“I don't see him. Hey—there's Della. Hey, Della—wait up!” Kathy shouted, and took off down the hall.

Standing up, Emily was bumped from behind and
nearly dropped her books again. “Sorry,” a voice said. It was Ricky Schorr, loaded down with a tall stack of textbooks he was most likely taking to the book room.

“Hey, Ricky—can I borrow a quarter?” someone called. Everyone in earshot laughed.

Emily looked for Josh. He was always so punctual, she never could believe it when he was actually a minute or two late. She said hello to Lisa Blume and Cory Brooks, who were inseparable these days, then walked down the corridor and turned the corner where Josh's locker was. But he wasn't there either.

Finally she spotted him halfway down the hall. “Hey, Josh.” But when she saw the girl he was talking to, Emily stopped short. Her words caught in her throat.

He was leaning against a locker, talking enthusiastically to Jessie, gesturing with his hands, smiling. The two of them were standing very close to each other. As Emily watched in surprise from down the hall, Josh said something, and he and Jessie burst out laughing.

“They're laughing at
me,”
Emily told herself. “Hey—stop. Don't start getting paranoid.”

But what was going on?

Emily had introduced Josh to Jessie a few days after their big fight. They had had a pleasant, short conversation, a little awkward but not too bad.

So what did they have to talk about now? And why had Josh completely forgotten about the fact that he was supposed to meet Emily?

“Hi, Emily.”

Emily spun around, startled by the girl's voice. It was Krysta Meyers, a tiny, loud-voiced girl she never
could stand. Krysta had become friends with Jessie. In fact, she was the only friend Jessie had made so far at Shadyside.

“Oh, hi, Krysta.”

“Have you seen Jessie?” Krysta asked, squinting. She needed glasses but was too vain to wear them.

“She's right over there, talking to Josh,” Emily said, pointing. She suddenly felt foolish, standing in the middle of the hall like a traffic director.

Krysta hurried off to collect Jessie. Emily watched the two girls walk off, then she hurried up to Josh. “Oh. Hi,” he said, looking a little embarrassed. “Sorry, I didn't get over to you. I—”

“What were you and Jessie chatting about?” Emily asked. She didn't mean it to come out as accusing as it did.

“Nothing,” Josh said, walking across the hall to his locker and starting to turn the combination lock.

“Nothing?”

“I was just talking to her,” he said, pulling off the lock and opening the door. “I think she's lonely. She hasn't made any friends yet. Just Krysta.”

“She
would
pick a girl I hate for a friend!” Emily exclaimed, and then immediately regretted it. “Wow. I sound really nasty today, don't I?”

Josh didn't reply. He had his head in his locker, searching for something. He probably hadn't even heard her.

“I thought you and Jessie were getting along better,” he said, pulling his head out.

“Well, there hasn't been any bloodshed, if that's
what you mean,” Emily said, frowning. “Actually, we've been pretty much giving each other a lot of space. It hasn't been too bad. She even helped me retype my report.”

“Really? Maybe she's not a bad kid after all,” Josh said, waving to some guys down the hall.

“Maybe . . .” Emily said doubtfully. Jessie was still making late-night phone calls every night. When Mr. Wallner had asked her if she had been on the phone late at night, Jessie had lied and said no.

“Hey, do we have to talk about Jessie all afternoon?” Emily asked, giving Josh a playful shove into his locker.

“No. Who should we talk about?” he asked, laughing.

“I thought we were going to talk about the Homecoming dance.”

“Okay. What's to talk about?” He slammed his locker shut and locked it.

“Well, it
is
Friday night, you know.”

“Right. I know, Em. I'll be there. How about you?” He laughed.

She didn't crack a smile. “Sometimes I think you take me for granted.”

“That's okay,” he said, leading the way out the door. “You can take me for granted too.”

Can I? Emily wondered. She pictured him leaning so close to Jessie, talking and laughing with her in the hallway a few minutes before.

What
were
they talking about, anyway?

♦ ♦ ♦

Two nights later, Jessie and Emily found themselves in the kitchen.

“Three canisters of whipped cream? Who bought
three
canisters?” Emily asked.

Jessie picked them up one by one and examined them as if searching for the answer to Emily's question. “Beats me. But I guess we have enough whipped cream to make this cake.”

“Do we have the chocolate wafers?” Emily asked, standing on tiptoes to search the baking supplies cabinet over the stove.

“Probably not,” Jessie replied. “Maybe we'll just make a whipped cream cake.”

“I can't find the chocolate wafers. How can we make icebox cake without chocolate wafers?” Emily moaned.

Jessie flipped open one of the whipped cream canisters, pushed the top, and squirted a big, creamy blob of whipped cream into her mouth.

“Hey, stop—” Emily scolded. “We may need that.”

Jessie laughed. “Three cans?! We couldn't eat three cans of whipped cream if we tried.”

“I could!” Emily cracked. They both laughed.

Emily looked at the clock. Nine-thirty. “Come on, it's late,” she said. “Why are we making a whipped cream cake this late? I've still got homework.”

“Because we're
starving!”
Jessie declared. She shot another big blob of whipped cream into her mouth.

“But how can we do it without the chocolate wafers?” Emily complained. “Give me some of that.” She opened her mouth wide.

Jessie turned the can around and pushed the top. The whipped cream squirted all over Emily's chin.

“Hey!”

“Sorry!” Jessie burst out laughing. Her blue eyes sparkled mischievously.

“This means war!” Emily declared, picking up a canister and pulling off the red plastic top.

“No, wait—wait—” Jessie raised her arms protectively and backed away from Emily. “That was an accident. Hey—this is a clean sweatshirt!”

Emily sent a spray of whipped cream up and down the front of Jessie's sweatshirt. “Z for Zorro! Olé!” she cried.

But Jessie was on the offensive before Emily's mouth closed. She shot a white blob of cream into Emily's mouth. “Bull's-eye!” she cried, and continued spraying until Emily's face was covered.

Both girls, laughing so hard they could barely stand, let go with long accurate barrages. “Hey—not so loud! Mom and Hugh are upstairs in their room!” Emily cried.

“Truce! Truce! It's all over the floor!” Jessie said, her sneakers sliding over a wet spot on the linoleum.

Emily moved forward on the attack, slipped, and fell on her face. Jessie immediately bent down and sprayed Emily's back. Now both girls were laughing too hard to shoot accurately. The whipped cream flew up to the kitchen window curtains.

“Uh-oh!”

This started them laughing hysterically. They were both down on the floor now.

This is the most fun I've had in ages, Emily thought, wiping whipped cream from her sneaker laces. Maybe Jessie isn't so bad after all. She's actually pretty terrific now that she's loosening up.

“YAAIIII!”
Another full frontal attack from Jessie sent whipped cream all over the refrigerator door.

“What's going on in here?”

Both girls stopped and looked up to see Nancy stride into the kitchen in her striped pajamas, a bewildered look on her face.

“Let her have it!” Emily declared.

Nancy tried to back up, but she was hit full force by two streams of whipped cream at once. “Hey—my pajamas! My hair!” she cried, but Emily and Jessie didn't relent.

“Three can play at this,” Nancy declared.

Emily reached for the third canister, but Nancy dived and got there first. She had trouble popping the lid off. The other two girls took full advantage of her trouble, spraying her nonstop.

The battle heated up when Nancy finally got her can to work. The only problem was, they were all laughing too hard now to aim accurately.

“You look ridiculous!” Jessie cried to Emily.

“You both look ridiculous!
I
look dignified!” Nancy declared.

“Get her!” Emily cried, letting loose a giant blast of whipped cream.

The great battle ended a few minutes later when all three cans were empty. “Now we can't have any cake,” Emily complained.

“That's okay,” Jessie said. She scooped a pile of
whipped cream off her sweatshirt and sucked it into her mouth. “I'm pretty full, actually.”

“I've got to take a shower,” Emily said, feeling the sticky stuff in her hair.

“We all do,” Nancy said. She was sitting in the middle of the floor, surrounded by whipped cream.

“First we'd better clean up,” Emily said.

“Tell you what,” Jessie said to her, taking another mouthful of whipped cream. “You take the first shower. I'll start the cleanup. When you're done, come downstairs and help me finish.”

“Really? Great!” Emily said. “Thanks, Jessie. You're a pal.”

Emily pulled off her sneakers so she wouldn't track whipped cream all over the house and headed upstairs to take her shower. That was really nice of Jessie, she thought. She really is making an effort to make up for last week. It's like she's a changed person. I like this Jessie much better.

The hot water felt so good. Emily let it run through her hair for a long time. Amazing how quickly whipped cream starts to clot, she thought, rubbing in a big handful of shampoo.

I could stay in here forever, she thought. It's so warm and steamy.

But she remembered that Jessie was waiting for her to come downstairs and help, so she finished shampooing her hair, washed quickly, and stepped out of the shower. Humming to herself, feeling very refreshed, she walked over to the mirror. It was steamed up, rivulets of water trickling down.

Emily picked up a towel and rubbed it across the
mirror to wipe away the steam. She peered into the mirror.

Then she screamed.

And screamed again.

She had the feeling she might never stop screaming.

Emily's New Look

E
mily was still screaming when the bathroom door swung open. Nancy, looking very frightened, burst into the steamy bathroom, followed by a gust of cold air.

“Em—what's the matter?”

“My hair! My hair!” Emily shrieked, pulling wildly at her wet, tangled hair with both hands, staring into the mirror.

“Here—put this on.” Nancy slipped a bathrobe over Emily's shoulders. “Go ahead. Pull it tight.”

“My hair! Look at my hair!”

“Emily, stop screaming like that. Please—take your hands away so that I can see what you're talking about.”

Emily lowered her hands to tie the robe. She shivered from the cold air entering the bathroom through the open door.

Their mother hurried in, followed by Jessie and Mr.
Wallner. They all had to squeeze into the small, narrow bathroom.

“Em—your hair! What did you do?” Mrs. Wallner cried.

They could all see the ugly orange and yellow splotches and streaks.

“What did
I
do?!” Emily exploded. “I didn't do
anything!
And look!”

“How strange!” Mr. Wallner said, coming close to examine her hair.

“It's ruined forever!” Emily wailed, turning away from the mirror.

“You've bleached it somehow,” Mrs. Wallner said, holding a strand in her fingers, pulling it up close to her face.

“Me? Why do you keep saying
I
did it?” Emily shrieked. “All I did was shampoo my hair. And now look—”

The left side was almost entirely orange. The front was streaked with uneven lines of greenish yellow. The rest of her hair was dotted with blotches of orange and yellow.

“It—it's ruined. My hair is ruined!” Emily cried, keeping her head lowered so she wouldn't have to see herself in the mirror.

Mrs. Wallner put her arms around her daughter and tried to comfort her.