Bending Over Backwards (8 page)

“Kate said I should write a draft with the information you gave me, then interview you again to fill in the holes,” she whispered back. “I'm still writing. I think it's good, though. Mrs. Murphy's going to be impressed.”

I couldn't let her do all that work and then drop the bomb that I wasn't going to the Olympics.

Even though I was trying hard, I didn't think that I'd
ever
be going. Unless it was as a spectator.

“I have to talk to you,” I said.

“Quiet, girls,” Mrs. Murphy called. “Filling in your Europe map is an individual assignment.”

I hurried to lunch early that day, hoping to catch Roseann. Shrimp waved, but I was too nervous to go over. I rehearsed three different ways to tell Roseann that my Olympic dreams had all been a joke. Nothing sounded good.

I have to do this fast,
I decided.
Rip off the bandage as soon as she walks in.

Roseann arrived with Ms. Fairley, the Earth Science teacher with the cat's-eye glasses, and a tall boy I didn't know. They talked about a car wash for hurricane victims. I waited impatiently. By the time she finished and had greeted a bunch of other kids, our table had filled up.

Roseann bit into her sandwich, and I peeled back the foil from my strawberry yogurt. I didn't need an audience. I'd have to find Roseann alone later.

“We need to win,” Grace announced over the roar of the lunchroom. “We need to finish the dance.”

“There's a winner for each grade, right, Roseann?” Miranda asked.

I poked my plastic spoon into the yogurt and leaned forwards to hear better.

“Yes. Kate won in sixth grade, but she didn't win last year. Her eighth-grade group has been practicing
a lot
. They're singing a song with three-part harmony,” Roseann reported.

“We can sing too.” Fiona straightened her blue-framed glasses.

“Not me. I look horrible when I sing,” Miranda confided. “We should stick to dancing, so we can look pretty.”

“Look pretty for what?” I finally asked.

“The fall talent show is Friday, in front of the whole school. It's a big deal,” Roseann explained.

“We want to win,” Grace put in.

“Competitive much?” Miranda teased.

Grace wanted to win at everything. I'd figured that out already.

“We had a big sleepover this summer and choreographed a dance. Well, most of it. We need to practice,” Roseann explained.

“That sounds cool,” I said, twirling my spoon into the pink yogurt.

“We don't have much time,” she added, “especially since we have to fix it up for the six of us.”

I quickly added up Roseann, Grace, Miranda, Anna, and Fiona. They made five. Was I number six?

“We need cool matching outfits,” Grace said. “Really grown-up and sophisticated.”

“I agree. Nothing cute or babyish,” Fiona added. “No tutus like we talked about.”

“How about stretchy black miniskirts?” Anna suggested. “Does everyone have one of those?”

“Molly, do you have one?” Roseann asked when I didn't chime in.

My heart gave a thump. “I'm in the group?” I asked.

“Obviously!” Roseann gave me a playful nudge. “You need to look really good for the camera too.”

“What camera?”

“A professional photographer comes to the school and photographs each group. The photos are put up in the main hallway for parents' night. It's called the Hall of Fame. The winner's photo is put in a gold frame,” Roseann explained, “and it stays there for the whole year.”

“We so need to look extragood, because we're going to be in that winning photo,” Grace said. “What should we wear on top?”

The girls continued speaking, but I barely heard them.

I'd done it!

I was friends with Roseann Bleeker.

I was friends with Roseann Bleeker's friends!

They didn't have to discuss whether or not to include me in the talent show group. They assumed I'd be in it with them. I
belonged
!

“Molly, are you good with a silky, sleeveless top too?” Anna asked. She was the most into fashion of the group. She ripped pages out of magazines and carried them to school to show us her favorite outfits.

“We're doing jewel tones,” Grace added. “Turquoise, ruby red, royal blue, jade green.”

“I don't have that,” I admitted. The tops I owned were mainly T-shirts, spaghetti-strap tanks, and sweaters. Nothing silky.

“You can borrow one from me. Lauren has a silky red one that would look great on you,” Roseann offered.

Roseann and I were now sharing clothes! And she trusted me with her big sister's top. Eden was going to flip.

“You're the best,” I told Roseann, and I meant it.

“What about the dance? We should get together to teach it to Molly,” Miranda suggested. “I kind of forgot some of it too.”

“Seriously, Miranda?” Grace wrinkled her nose.

“Well, we never really finished it,” Roseann reminded her. “We need to add more steps.”

“Come to my house tomorrow after school!” I blurted out.

I could see it now. Roseann and all the other girls dancing in my family room. The six of us together onstage and the crowd going wild. The photo of us in our silky tops hanging in the winning gold frame in the school hall. Roseann and me standing arm in arm in the middle. Best friends.

Every kid walking by the photo would point out Roseann and Molly Larsen, the new girl. They wouldn't
be able to put a name to it, but they'd all recognize that we shared the It Girl sparkle.

Me and Roseann.

Best friends forever!

I flung my book bag to its usual spot on the hall floor as I raced into my house Thursday after school. Roseann and crowd would be here soon. My fingers tingled as I thought of it. We were going to have so much fun.

I eyed the bag again, then scooped it up and tossed it into the hall closet. Alex's dirty sneakers lay farther down the hall. I tossed those into the closet too. I added yesterday's newspaper and a sweater draped over a chair. The house had to look good.

I opened the sliding door from the family room to the patio. It was a beautiful day. I wondered if we should have our snack out here.

I hurried into the kitchen. Breakfast dishes still lay on the table. Alex was supposed to clear. Never going to happen, I realized. I plopped them into the dishwasher without scraping them. Opening the cabinet, I found a big bag of sour gummy worms. I remembered Roseann's
jelly bean jars. I searched for jars, but we had none. I settled on the tiny glasses we used for juice. I filled each with candy and placed them around the house.

Then I pulled out the box of cupcakes Mom had bought last night. When I told her about the girls coming over, she was so excited for me. She offered to bake her famous double-chocolate brownies.

“No way!” I cried. I couldn't risk reminding them of the brownie-poop mess.

Instead she agreed to drive to the cupcake store. They had a big banner outside, proclaiming they'd won a cupcake competition on TV. I chose seven prize-winning cupcakes, all different flavors. All super-pretty.

Now I placed them on a big plate. Then I raced about, fluffing the sofa pillows and spraying the rooms with Mom's perfume. I paused outside Alex's closed bedroom door, listening to the ping of a video game from his computer. He was supposed to be in charge of me after school, but it wasn't as if I needed a babysitter. I crossed my toes that he'd stay hidden.

In my room, I pulled on my stretchy black skirt and examined myself in the mirror. It was a little tight. Last year, Eden and I had bought black skirts, tights, and tanks for Halloween. We'd been vampire cats,
complete with bloody plastic fangs and ears. I even carried a stuffed animal mouse.

I left on my T-shirt. Roseann was bringing me her silky top. Our one rehearsal was a dress rehearsal because the talent show was tomorrow. I wondered what shoes everyone was wearing. Roseann and Grace kept talking about looking grown-up and cool. Would we wear makeup to school? All I owned was lip gloss. Maybe I could borrow some of Mom's.

I rushed back downstairs, grabbed a plaid tablecloth, then hurried out to the patio. I tried to make the metal table look festive. I wished we had flowers. I'd cut them and put them in a vase or jug. I looked around the yard. All we had was dirt and the grass seed Mom had planted last weekend.

And Shrimp flying through the sky.

I watched her twist and twirl. Up, then out of sight again.

“What's the deal, banana peel?” she called to me.

“Hey!” I called back. I tiptoed over to the fence. I wasn't supposed to walk on the grass seed. Mom warned that stepping on it would stop it from sprouting. I heard Shrimp scramble down from her trampoline to our special spot. We'd found a place in the fence where two boards had warped enough that we could peek
with one eye through to the other side.

“Whatcha doing?” she asked.

“Roseann and Grace and Miranda and them are coming over to practice our dance for the talent show. Do you know about that?”

“Sure do. I'm doing a tumbling thing.”

“With who?” I asked.

“With me. It's going to be awesome. I'm going to use that new song from Two Hearts. The one with that crazy techno beat.”

“That's a great tumbling song,” I agreed.

Shrimp sure was brave to get up in front of the whole grade by herself. “Did you work out a routine?”

“Nah. I'll play the music and do what feels right. It's more fun to just let loose,” Shrimp said. “What kind of dance are you doing?”

“I have no idea,” I admitted. “They're going to show me today.”

“Good luck. Hey, here's a move. Can you see me?”

“Yeah.” I peered through the gap. Shrimp wore her black Lycra shorts, a neon-green tank, and her white cheering sneakers. She stood in a straddle, circled her upper body as she leaned back. Then she popped up and flung her head back and forth as she swayed her hips. “Whaddya think? New dance move from cheer.”

“Wild! Can you teach me?”

“Later, for sure. I'm off to cheer practice.”

“I have gymnastics tonight. Maybe I'll see you in the locker room.” Knowing silly Shrimp was dancing on the other side of the Top Flight wall gave me a good feeling.

“Mañana, iguana!” Shrimp called.

I wondered if she'd ever run out of funny sayings. I hoped not.

Back inside, I glanced at the clock. Everyone would be here in a few minutes. I decided to make lemonade from the powdered mix we had. I raced into the kitchen.

“Are you kidding me?” I cried when I saw what Alex had done.

Buttercream icing dotted the corners of his mouth. He held a chunk of red velvet cake in his hand. On the plate, the crumpled wrappers from four other cupcakes lay in a pile of crumbs alongside smears of icing.

“I'm loving this one. Don't buy that chocolate one again, and the lemon was too tart.” Alex licked his lips. “I saved this vanilla-looking one for you. You like vanilla, right?”

“I can't believe you!” I screamed. “You ate all my cupcakes!”

“Not all. I saved two for you. And the rest of this red
velvet guy.” He held out his hand. “You don't own all the food in this house.”

“Mom bought those for me. Me! Not you. Don't you listen? I told you at dinner last night that my friends were coming over!”

“Oops. My bad.” Alex shrugged.

“What am I supposed to do now?” I demanded.

“Cut these last two into pieces. Mini cupcakes. Make a new thing.” Alex smirked, totally not understanding how serious this was.

“No one wants cut-up cupcakes that you put your gross fingers in.” I grabbed the plate from him and dumped the rest in the garbage.

“Sorry, Mollster,” Alex said sheepishly.

“Yeah, great.” I pulled Mom's chore list off the refrigerator door. “You might want to finish some of these before I tell Mom what you did, 'cause I'm going to tell.”

“You can't!” he protested.

“Watch me.”

Alex swiped the list from my hand, grumbling as he disappeared into the garage.

Now what? We had no cookies or chips in the pantry. Last week Mom had announced that she was eating too much junk from the vending machine in her office, so she didn't want to be tempted at home.

I'd give anything to get my hands on that vending machine right now, I thought. With all the coins in my piggy bank, I'd buy great snacks.

I stared into the open refrigerator.
Okay,
I told myself.
This is like that cooking show on TV.
The one where they give the contestants weird ingredients that don't go together, and they have only a few minutes to create a fabulous meal.

Ready, set, go!

I pulled out a bag of baby carrots, a tub of cream cheese, and two green apples. From the pantry, I snagged a jar of Nutella, Ritz crackers, honey, and shelled sunflower seeds. Lining up all my ingredients on the counter, I jumped into action.

I laid out the crackers on a big plate. On some I spread Nutella and cream cheese. On others I spread cream cheese and honey. They looked like something you'd serve at a doll's tea party. I wondered about combining honey and Nutella, then decided against it. Instead, I sliced the apples and smeared them with honey. Then I sprinkled sunflower seeds on top. The carrots I just dumped into a bowl.

Not bad,
I thought as I placed the plates on the patio table. If I was on the TV show, I'd make it to the next round.

A few minutes later, they all arrived, and I changed into the silky red shirt Roseann handed me. The fabric smelled of vanilla and jasmine, just like her house. The shirt belonged to Lauren. I promised to take extragood care of it. Roseann wore a matching silk shirt in jade green.

I watched her quietly leave a pink notebook and pen on our front hall bench. I wanted to believe she planned to take notes for the talent show, but I knew better. That notebook was for me—for the follow-up questions to her article. I pretended I hadn't seen it.

“Where's your grass?” Miranda asked, as I brought everyone onto the patio.

For a moment, we all stopped and stared at the expanse of brown dirt that now made up the yard. Mom had raked it flat after laying down the seed. The dirt looked dusty and dry, which meant that Alex had forgotten to water it.

“We're growing it. Starting fresh,” I explained brightly. “Who's hungry? I have snacks.”

Roseann examined the crackers and the apple slices. Grace scrunched up her face. Fiona scrunched up her face too. No one reached for anything.

“How about a taste test?” I tried. “See what combo works best?” I explained the choices.

Everyone tried a cracker. They weren't terrible, but no one wanted a second. The sticky seed-covered apples lay untouched. My snacks were weird. I could see that now.

“How about a blindfold test? They'll taste better if you can't see them.” I laughed, just as Dad had taught me.

“How about we eat later, Molly?” Roseann said. “We should work on the dance.”

I sighed. Roseann hadn't said anything mean, but she hadn't laughed along with me, either. Just like with the brownie mess.

“Wait here.” I ran back into the house and gathered all the juice glasses of sour gummy worms. I handed them out when I returned.

“Much better,” Roseann agreed, sucking the sugar off a green worm.

We lined up on the patio and began to piece together moves. Roseann hooked up her iPod to portable speakers and blasted a Beyoncé song they'd selected. She showed me the steps they'd worked out.

As I followed along, Alex wandered onto the patio. He glanced at the leftover snacks, then kept moving towards the side of the yard.
They must really be bad if my brother, the human vacuum, won't eat them,
I realized.

Then again, he had just demolished five of my gourmet cupcakes.

I raised my arms and twirled slowly with the group.

What was Alex doing? I squinted into the sun. Mom's chore list peeked out of his back pocket. He knelt along the side of the yard with a bag of . . . were they onions?

Who planted onions? And why now, when my new friends were here?

I wanted to yell at him to get away. But then I thought of how Roseann and her sisters seemed to be the best of friends. I sensed her watching him too. If I said anything, I'd look mean. I didn't want to look mean. I kept dancing. Finally Alex strolled around the side of the house towards the garage, out of sight.

“Miranda, stop elbowing me!” Grace cried.

“I need more space,” Miranda complained. She was the tallest, and her arms and legs were long and lanky.

“Just don't flail so much,” Grace said. “Let's try again. Ready, and . . .”

“Whoa, Miranda. Now you're in my space!” Anna said.

“Your space?” Miranda pushed her bangs from her eyes.

“Yeah. This area”—Anna waved her arms to her
sides and in front of her—“is my space. I can't dance if you invade my space.”

“We need more room,” Roseann decided. “Everyone off the patio. Hey, Molly, is it okay if we dance out here?”

Mom had instructed me not to step on the grass seed. I chewed my lip, wondering what would happen if the seeds were pushed deeper into the earth. I didn't think it would be that bad. We weren't going to be out here that long. “Sure, just dance lightly.”

“This is much better,” Roseann said after we'd spread out. “Grace, Fiona, Anna, and I will stand up here. Molly and Miranda stand behind us.”

“You're trying to hide me, aren't you?” Miranda seemed amused, not upset.

“No offense, Flick, but you're a little klutzy,” Roseann replied.

“A little? I'd say a lot!” Miranda giggled.

Why was I being stuck in the back? I wasn't klutzy. I was a good dancer.

Don't ask,
I warned myself.
You're part of Roseann's group. Don't get greedy.

I stood beside Miranda and dodged her windmill arms.

“I'm copying everything you do,” Miranda told me.

“Sure thing!” I said.

We all practiced the dance Roseann and Grace had made up. The movements were jerky and stiff and seemed more like poses to me.

“Yoo-hoo, Molly? Are you paying attention?” Grace called. “We're changing the arm movement to up-and-down.”

“Got it.” I followed along, feeling as if I were doing jumping jacks instead of dancing. . . .

“Hold up!” I said finally.

Fiona turned off the music.

“Don't take this the wrong way, but the steps don't go with the music. The beat's much faster.” I clapped out the rhythm. “We need to move our bodies more like this.” I did a full-body shimmy.

Fiona started up the music, and I let my body groove to the beat. I shook my hips and shoulders. I loosened up the moves and added a few of my own. I flung my hair and rolled my neck. The steps came naturally to me. I windmilled my arms like Miranda, then touched the ground.

“What do you think?” I asked when I finished.

Roseann shook her head. “You're a great dancer, Molly, but we're going to look silly if we do that.”

“No, we won't,” I promised. “We need to add more pop. More wow!”

“I liked the dance moves they way we had them,” Grace protested.

“Me too,” Fiona agreed. I'd begun to notice she agreed with everything Grace said or did.

“Molly's way looks fun,” Miranda spoke up.