Landry in Like

I
t was going
to be the best day ever. For once I was going to be one of the interesting girls with exciting news to share. I could just imagine myself walking down the path to school looking flawless, and I'd tell everyone my big news about how I won a chance to be in an ad in the
American Ingénue
modeling contest. Then, I'd share with my close friends how I got my first kiss and that my boyfriend, Vladi Yagudin, and I were back together. Yup, this was going to be the day dreams were made of… and then I walked into the bathroom and reality smacked me in the face. There sat a big, red, disgusting blemish right in the center of my cheek.

There were places where one could hide a giant flaw on your face: the forehead, neck, anywhere by the hairline, but the center of the cheek? Seriously? And it was the protruding type of breakout, so concealer would just make it look like a beigey colored mountain.

Why today? I mean, every time I've ever had any modeling news, some girl at school would say (usually behind my back and just loud enough for me to overhear) how surprised they were I could be a model, or they'd make a comment how I must have gotten picked because of my height or something. And now this huge, bulging thing rising out of my face just proved them right.

I got in the shower hoping the steam would miraculously shrink it. No such luck. I tried a hot washcloth, an ice cube, and a slice of cucumber, which I thought I read can take down inflammation, but, much like that article that promised that mayonnaise would thicken my hair and instead left me with a greasy, stinking mess — this was also a big, fat failure.

“I hate my life,” I said staring in the mirror.

“I thought last night you said everything was glorious,” my mother said, standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee.

“That was before my stupid skin decided to betray me. Look at this pimple.”

“Hon, I'm sure it's not as bad as you — oh wow. Well… uh, do you want to borrow some of my cover up?”

“I knew it! I'm hideous. I am a troll. I am gross—”

“You're fine. You just broke out. Probably from all that foundation they used on you over the weekend at the
Ingénue
competition. TV makeup is a lot heavier. In a couple of days it will be gone. No big deal.”

“But Mom, I was going to tell everyone about the
Ingénue
stuff today.”

“So, how is your breakout preventing that?”

“They're all going to stare and say, ‘Why her? She's not that great. She's not even pretty. Just look at her nasty skin.'”

“Landry, no one would ever say that. For one, it's not true, but that's such an awful thing for anyone to come out with. You're making too big a deal out of this—kids aren't that mean.”

Okay, that confirmed it: my mother was never, EVER a teenager. I used my Little Rose cosmetics concealer on it and even tried to use my round brush to blow dry the right side of my hair into my face to cover the pimple. It would help if I knew how to properly work a round brush. I had watched hairstylists use them on me, and it seemed so simple. They would whisk the brush through fast and my hair would come out looking smooth, yet full, and it would lay just right. But when I tried it by myself, I got the brush caught EVERY single time. I'd wind up with bristles clumped with hair that had been pulled out. And the part of my hair that didn't come out into the brush would be sticking straight out like a witch's. I was convinced beauty schools taught hairstylists some sort of sorcery to get the perfect blow out with a round brush. It was the only possible explanation.

I did the best I could with my hair and put on the navy sweater and khaki pants that made up my boring Hillcrest Academy uniform. The school acted like they were super laid back without a traditional uniform. “Oh, at Hillcrest, we don't implement a uniform, but rather our students partake in a color code.” Seriously? We were all dressed in boring beige, khaki, navy, and white — all colors that made me look like a dead goldfish. Once in a while we could sneak certain shades of blue in, like that boring washed-out blue you see mail carriers wear.

“Landry! Get your tush moving. The bus will be here in less than two minutes,” Mom said.

“Coming.” I grabbed my jacket and my baby blue backpack. I rushed to the kitchen where Mom had put my lunch money on the table.

“Don't forget I have a meeting at five at work so you cannot miss the bus or else you'll be stuck at school, got it?” she said.

“Right, miss the bus and have to live at the school due to child neglect.”

“Funny. Do not dawdle in the hall after your last class. Get right out there to the buses.”

Dawdle? Seriously? I was not a little kid, but I nodded and walked out to the bus stop where my friend Devon Abrams was standing eating a breakfast bar.

“Hey, where's everybody else?” I asked, glancing around.

She shrugged. “I saw Ericka Maines's mom pull into Tori Robins's driveway. They're getting a ride today. Probably because they want to go over the review sheet for the big social studies test.”

My stomach dropped. No. NO. Nonononono. I had completely forgotten about the test. With all the
American Ingénue
stuff online last night and Vladi coming over, and the kiss—the last thing on my mind was school. There was no way I could pass this test. If I could just run home before my mom left, I could tell her I felt sick and she might let me stay home and I wouldn't fail my test. Feeling sick, I began to walk toward my house when my mother's car backed out of the driveway and tore down the street. I started to jog down the street hoping I could catch up to her at the stop sign.

“Landry?” I heard Devon calling after me.

Diamond Avenue was a pretty busy street in Grand Rapids, but for the first time ever in life, my mom just had to pause for a second before turning onto it and taking off, leaving me standing there panting and sweaty. No, this could not be happening. Now my big day to announce my news was ruined. I was going to flunk a test, and I was all gross and sweaty and I was pretty sure my deodorant was failing me. To make matters worse, I spun around in time to see the bus pull up. Luckily, Devon saw me running and told the driver to wait. I felt like a total idiot as I ran to the bus getting even sweatier.

“You need to be on time,” the driver told me. “I can't wait because you got up late.”

“I was there, I just—”

“Please be seated,” she said, cutting me off.

Meanwhile, people were smirking at me for having to run down the sidewalk to catch the stupid bus. I sat down next to Devon who immediately handed me a mirror.

“That bad?” I asked.

“Um… not your best. Do you have any powder? You're kinda shiny, too.”

I groaned.

“I have some, Landry,” Peyton Urich, one of my best friends, said reaching over the seat with her anti-shine powder compact.

Peyton had dark red hair, so we didn't have quite the same coloring, but we were both pretty fair, so the powder wouldn't look too weird.

“Does anyone have a tissue? I need to apply it.”

“No worries, you can use my powder puff thingie,” Peyton said.

“Are you sure? I don't want to get it gross.”

“Nah, you're fine. I wash it once a week anyway.”

I opened her compact. Great. All the running and perspiring had caused most of my concealer to fade away.

“Anyone have any cover up?” I asked.

No one did, but Ashanti Russell, my other bestie, let me borrow her plum lip gloss so the focus would be on my lips and not my pimple.

“Don't worry,” India Allen said, leaning over the seat. “Everyone will be worried about the test that no one's ever going to notice a zit.”

I knew she was trying to be helpful, but all I heard was, “Your skin is gross and prepare to flunk out of school.” It was just not my day.

T
he bus dropped
us off and Ashanti walked me to homeroom. “So what all happened with the competition?” she asked. “You can talk about it now that it aired, right?”

“Yeah, and I will tell you everything, but I am
so
panicking right now. I forgot to study for social studies.”

Her big brown eyes widened. “Oh wow, and there are dates and stuff you have to memorize. Oh man, what are you gonna do?”

“No clue.”

“Tell you what. At lunch, buy a sandwich and a small juice box. We can sneak those into the library, and if we sit in the back, we can eat while we go over the review sheet.”

“But you hate the cafeteria sandwiches,” I said.

“Yeah, but it's the easiest thing to hide in our bags. Can't smuggle soup or nuggets or spaghetti in there. And no chips because those librarians have, like, supersonic hamster hearing and they'd hear the crunching. A candy bar would be safe as long as it's just nougat filled and no crispies or anything loud.”

“Thank you so much for helping me.”

“What are friends for?” she said shrugging.

I went into class and Thalia Zimmer asked me about the
Ingénue
webisode.

“It was kind of crazy,” I said. “Did you see the award they gave me?”

“Kind of. They sorta cut to that supermodel Talisa Milan looking pretty, and I missed what they said about you.”

“I get to be in an ad with her and Jem Jade.”

“No way! That's awesome!” she said.

“But aren't you afraid of looking like a big, plain nothing next to them, Landry?”

I glanced up to see who said that. It was Yasmin McCarty, the most popular girl at Hillcrest, who just happened to have a crush on my boyfriend.

“It's just… um, great to be included in something with them,” I said as my cheeks got hot.

“Right. I'm sure. And it's not like anyone will notice you anyway between those two. So is Talisa as pretty in person?”

I was unsure of what to say, so I just nodded.

“She has immaculate skin,” Yasmin said as Stuart Graham walked up. “I hear that's a
must
for a model.”

Stuart started laughing and Yasmin tried to hide a smirk. What a couple of jerks. Yasmin had put on cat eye liner and she appeared at least eighteen and, naturally, her skin was flawless today.

“I think what makes Talisa so pretty is that she doesn't need a lot of makeup,” Thalia said. “You'd never see her in anything tacky or overdone like wearing too much eyeliner. That just shows insecurity, don't you think?”

Yasmin gave Thalia a look like she smelled spoiled milk. Luckily, Ms. Ashcroft came in right then so Yasmin couldn't respond. I mouthed, “thank you” to Thalia, who opened her folder and pulled out her homework. Great, now I was all unnerved about the test and wondering how Yasmin and her crew might get back at Thalia and me.

When it was time for lunch, I went to get in line to pick up a quick sandwich.

“Why aren't you getting a hot lunch?” Tori asked.

“I spaced on the social studies test, so Ashanti and I are going to study in the library.”

“How could you forget something so important?”

“Well, there was a lot going on with the webisode and, well, Vladi kissed me last night, too.”

Ericka rolled her eyes. “Those are super stupid reasons to forget about a test. I mean, seriously. You're going to fail because of some silly modeling thing? The whole thing wasn't even worthy of being on TV.”

I didn't know how to respond.

“Yeah, you totally dropped the ball on this one, Landry,” Tori said. “In a few months, you and Vladi won't even be talking, but that social studies grade is going to carry over on your permanent record forever.”

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that it wasn't worth getting into it with them. “Well, that's why Ashanti and I are going to go study while we eat,” I said.

Halle Gephardt nodded at me. “I made flash cards to help me study,” she said. “I already took my test, so you can borrow them if you want.”

“Wow, thanks, Halle.” I took the cards.

“No worries. I'd forget my own name if Vladi Yagudin kissed me,” she said.

I took a ham sandwich and some grape juice and went to meet Ashanti at our usual table. She had eaten half her sandwich waiting for me.

“Okay, let's hit the books,” she said. “Anyone want to join us?”

Halle started to get up, but Maggie gave her a death glare. “Seriously? Nerd around much?”

Halle sat back down. I glanced over at Tori hoping she'd offer to come with us. Her mom was a teacher and she knew all sorts of cool ways to remember dates and stuff. I knew she could help me a lot, but she just stuck her fork in her spaghetti and began to eat. Things had been weird between Tori and Ericka and I for a while after we all tried out for the
Ingénue
competition in the fall and only I moved on out of the three of us. They stopped talking to me, but I thought we were past that. I mean, we used to be best friends.

Ashanti and I walked to the library and went to the back to sit in the bean bag chairs. We took turns eating while the other one read off Halle's cards.

“Okay, so all of the dates are nineteen-something, except three are from the eighteen-hundreds, so that should be easy to remember. Now if you make your ones and sevens look alike, that gives you a little leeway,” she said.

“Oh wow, that's smart.”

“You can also use your pencil eraser to make a three and an eight look close enough so that if the teacher's feeling lazy, they'll just let it go instead of trying to figure out which you meant.”

“Does that actually work?” I asked.

“I have no clue. I've never done it, but I overheard Kyle Eiton telling Arianna that.”

“Should I take academic advice from Kyle?”

She laughed. “That's what I thought, but here's some advice my dad gave me on essay questions. He said if you aren't a hundred percent sure how to answer the exact question the teacher is asking for, then just write everything you know about that topic and sometimes they're so impressed by the stuff you did pick up on in class that they give you some credit.”

“Genius. Now that sounds like good advice.”

She quizzed me some more and then the bell rang.

“Do you feel more prepared?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Thank you so much for helping me study. You are the best. I don't know what I'd do without you,” I said.

“Anytime, girlie,” she said. She wished me luck and we went to our classes.

By the time I got to social studies, I felt like throwing up
and
passing out. I sat down and Ericka stared at me.

“It would take a miracle for you to pass this thing,” she said.

Peyton glared at her. “Landry, you pay attention in class, so you probably remember more than you think. And, unlike some people, you take notes and watch the movies and don't just use that time to talk or pass notes to your friends like some people do.”

Ericka's mouth puckered like she had just sucked on a lemon. Peyton was obviously talking about how she and Tori always passed notes to each other during movies. There had been a time they used to include me in their note passing, but it hadn't happened in a while. Sure, I had made some new friends since then, but it still hurt to be excluded.

India came in just as Mrs. Hearst started to pass out the tests. I felt my stomach flip-flop as I wrote my name at the top. Then I saw the first question, which just happened to be the first flash card Ashanti and I went over. Half the test was multiple choice, which was confusing, but still easier than filling in the blanks. I hated those. The essay questions weren't easy, but I remembered what Ashanti's dad told her about putting down everything you
did
know. I was still writing on the last question when Mrs. Hearst gave us the two minute warning.

“Okay, pens down,” she said. “Pass your exam booklets to your neighbor on your left.”

The bell rang and I picked up my backpack.

“How bad did you bomb it?” Ericka asked.

“It was easier than I thought,” I said. That was sort of true. After all, I had expected not to know anything on the test.

“Next time you need to focus on what's important,” Tori said. “Not boys and stupid modeling.”

“Boys?” India asked looking at me.

“Yeah, she and Vladi kissed. What? Didn't she tell you?” Ericka asked.

India gave me a hurt look. “No. I have to get to class.”

She and Peyton walked away from us. Great, I never told Ericka about the kiss. Tori must have, but now it seemed like India was the last to know. Ugh. And there was nothing I could do about it until later.