Odd Girl In (5 page)

“It's a culmination of everything you'll learn in this class,” said Ms. Success. “You start with fund-raising the three hundred dollar team entry fee and then move on to the competition.”

“What if we
can't
raise the money?” asked Nick. “Do we
fail
?”

Ms. Success brought a hand to her chest and grimaced, as if my brother were killing her with his chump words. “In my class, you'll learn the skills necessary to make that money. I guarantee it.”

“So, what's the competition?” asked Parker. “A quiz bowl? Brainteasers? Puzzles?”

Ms. Success studied him for a moment, then leaned back in her cushiony leather chair. “Life is a rat race, and you're caught in the maze, Mr. Evins. You have to be smart enough to find the cheese, quick enough to outrun the other rats, and friendly enough that they don't try to bite off your tail when it's over.”

Everyone in my family looked at one another, mystified.

“So, the championship is a giant maze?” asked Nick.

“It's a combination of things,” said Ms. Success, bringing her hands together. “Trust, mixed with leadership, sprinkled with—”

“It's an obstacle course,” said Emily. “And a fire-building contest.”

Ms. Success pointed at Emily. “That too.”

“It sounds kind of cool,” said Nick, smiling.

“It is cooler than an Eskimo's freezer,” said Ms. Success. “And the winning team receives a thousand dollars.”

Money signs flashed in the greedy eyes of all of us Evil Evins.

“I think,” Dad said, “you now have their undivided attention.”

“Glad to hear it,” said Ms. Success. “Why don't we review Adventures in Organization?”

My brothers and I all flipped open our books and binders.

“I'd like to start by sharing a personal philosophy with you,” she said, resting her chin on her fingertips. “Get organized … or get lost.”

Two hours later, my brothers and I stumbled out of Ms. Success's office looking like victims of a zombie attack. Dad, on the other hand, almost cartwheeled into the hallway.

“This is going to be excellent!” He herded us toward the exit. “I'll admit, I initially had misgivings—”

“Please …” Nick clutched Dad's arm. “I can't take any more big words.”

“Or positive energy,” I said. “I just want to put on black lipstick and hang out with emo kids.”

Dad threw an arm around our shoulders. “I know it's a lot to process, but that's only because you're behind in class.”

“Uh, no.” Nick scoffed. “I've been behind in classes before. This is just the first time I've ever wanted to climb into a wood chipper.”

Dad raised an eyebrow. “I think that's a bit extreme.”

“These homework activities are extreme,” said Parker. “Have you seen the time schedule she expects us to follow? I'll only have ten minutes for my hair!”

“And she wants us to raise three hundred dollars!” said Nick. “Except for my allowance, the only money I've ever earned, I've found in the couch.”

Dad turned hopefully to me. “Alex, what do you think?”

I glanced down at my Champs gear, then up at Dad. “Do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to be nice?”

“You can't do both?”

“Not without electroshock therapy,” I said.

Dad's eyebrows knitted, but he forced a smile. “Come on. This is going to be excellent. Remember what Ralph Waldo Emerson said, ‘Nothing great was ever achieved without
enthusiasm'
!” He punched each of my brothers playfully in the shoulder.

Parker, of course, fell down.

“I guess we really
should
work on your physical conditioning,” said Dad, helping him to his feet.

“That's my problem with this whole thing,” said Nick. “Ms. Success wants us to improve ourselves, but … How am I supposed to suddenly get smarter?”

“You could try doing your homework,” said Dad.

“And listening in class,” said Parker.

“And taking notes,” I said.

Nick looked thoughtful. “Or maybe there's a pill….”

“You're getting a tutor,” said Dad, opening the door that led outside. “And you …”—he pointed at me—“are joining some clubs to work on your social skills.”

I stopped in my tracks. “But I'm already going to a slumber party! With awkward conversations about boys and feelings. Isn't that enough?”

“That's one night,” said Dad. “Even less if you pretend to be deaf or asleep, which I wouldn't put past you.”

“Fine.” I got into the backseat of the car. “I'll look at the list of clubs tomorrow.”

“I want you to sign up for two,” said Dad.

“Sure,” I said. I'd join as many as he wanted. It didn't mean I was going to participate.

“And I want signed proof that you were at the meetings,” he added.

I slammed my door, wishing Dad wasn't so smart sometimes.

“What about Parker?” I pointed out, blocking a slap my brother aimed at my head. “He's a weakling.”

“Don't worry about your brother,” said Dad. “I'll come up with something.”

“Just so you know, I refuse to sweat,” Parker spoke up. “It makes my hair look strange.”

“I don't think it's sweat doing that,” I said.

This time Parker succeeded in punching my shoulder. “See? I'm not a weakling.”

Nick glanced back from the front passenger seat. “Yeah, good job. You can beat up a twelve-year-old girl.”

Parker yawned and leaned back. “It still counts as physical activity.”

“You can't count hitting your sister as physical activity, Parker.” Dad pulled out of the campus lot. “Not unless you chase her for a while first.”

“Dad!” I laughed and pushed the back of his seat.

He winked at me in the rearview mirror. “I promise, this is going to be—”

“Excellent,” my brothers and I chorused.

“See?” said Dad with a grin. “You're already thinking like a team.”

Chapter 4

A
pparently, Dad's idea of excellence was
waking his children up for school with the terrifying blast of an air horn.

HOOOOOOOOOONK!

“Get up, get up! We're on a tight schedule!” Dad called into my room before sprinting down the hall.

HOOOOOOOOONK!

I opened my eyes and saw nothing but white.

“Wha—?” I gasped in confusion and almost sucked a sheet of paper into my throat.

Dad had taped a note to my forehead.

I ripped it off and flipped it over, squinting blearily at what was written on the other side.

7:00 Get up!

7:02 Evacuate.

7:05 Shower.

I groaned when I realized this was the exact schedule laid out in Ms. Success's book. Dad had picked Tuesday morning to practice the time management exercise.

“Alex!” Dad popped his head into my doorway again. “Get up! You're already behind!”

Nick appeared beside him, looking as irritated as I felt. “Why do we have to evacuate?” he asked. “Did Alex set
our
house on fire this time?”

I chucked my pillow at him, then got up to retrieve it when I realized I'd need it for sleep.

Dad saw me making the crawl back to the covers and grabbed my arm. “No you don't. Time to get up. And Nick, ‘evacuate' is a nicer way of saying ‘use the restroom.'”

Nick squinted for a moment, and then his eyes widened. “Ohhh. Like evacuating your body of … I only get three minutes for that?!”

“Well, yes. It's not supposed to be a leisure activity,” said Dad.

“I think I have someone else's schedule,” said Parker, rubbing his eyes as he stumbled toward us. “Mine says, ‘Seven twenty … Apply makeup.'”

Nick and I looked at our schedules.

“Mine says ‘Groom facial hair,'” said Nick.

I frowned. “So does mine.”

Parker leaned close to study me. “I was wondering when someone was going to mention your mustache.”

“Shut up!” I covered my upper lip and pushed him with my free hand.

Dad took both our schedules, glanced at them, and swapped them. “Sorry about that. Now, everyone get moving. It's”—he glanced at his watch—“seven ten and none of you have even gone to the bathroom yet!”

“Evacuated,” Nick corrected Dad.

Dad fixed him with a stare.

“And I'm gone,” said Nick, hurrying away.

“Alex, use my bathroom,” said Dad. “Parker, the guest bathroom.” Dad headed for the stairs. “Everyone needs to be dressed and at the breakfast table in twenty minutes.”

“For a guy who sometimes stirs his coffee with a pen, Dad's irritatingly together this morning,” grumbled Parker.

I smiled but didn't answer. Now that I was waking up, I kind of liked the extra attention from Dad. And the fact that his suspenders were actually holding up pants this time, and not pajamas, was a good sign.

Since I never took long in the shower and I didn't wear makeup, I whipped in and out of the bathroom, threw
on some jeans and a T-shirt, and headed downstairs.

Dad applauded when he saw me. “First one for breakfast, with five minutes to spare!”

I bowed at the waist. “Nick's right behind me, but I think Parker's still in the shower. He probably won't be down until after you leave for work.”

Most mornings Dad waited until he saw us downstairs at breakfast before he left the house. The occasional exceptions were for Parker's epic hair battles or when Nick forgot his homework and bribed Parker to do it. Yesterday had been different because of our Champs surveys, but I expected Dad wouldn't make that a habit.

“I'm sure your brother will be down
very
soon,” said Dad, flipping through the paper. “Mainly because I turned off the water heater.”

A moment later, we could hear Parker shrieking. I smirked at Dad, who hid a smile behind a sip of coffee.

Nick strolled into the kitchen, wincing. “Parker can really hit those high notes. You turned off the hot water?”

“I did,” said Dad.

Nick shook his head. “You know that's not going to speed up his styling process. He'll probably move even slower just to make you mad.”

Dad looked unconcerned. “Parker loves school too much to miss it.”

And he was right. Fifteen minutes later, when Nick and I were finishing breakfast, Parker stomped downstairs, fluffy hair and all.

“That … was cruel,” he growled at Dad, before continuing his march of gloom to the refrigerator.

“But you had plenty of time to do your hair,” I pointed out.

Parker wheeled around to glare at me. “
What
are you talking about? My hair is a nightmare!”

I wrinkled my forehead. “It looks the same as always.”

“Uh, nooo. It's an inch shorter because I didn't have time to volumize!”

Everyone at the table watched him quietly. After a pause, Nick and I glanced at each other.

Then we burst out laughing.

“It's not funny!” roared Parker.

“Dude, please,” Nick sputtered. “Tell me you
don't
measure your hair every day.”

“It's no weirder than you hitting on girls,” said Parker, his face reddening. “Or Alex keeping pennies that she finds on the ground. Even the ones in public restrooms!”

“Yeah.” Nick turned on me. “That's gross!”

“They're good luck!” I argued.

“Not if you get E. coli and die.”

“All right, that's enough,” said Dad. “You're each very special and I don't want you to stop being who you are.” He
cleared his throat. “Although, Alex, you should probably let the housekeeper sanitize those pennies.”

“Fine,” I said, carrying my dishes to the sink.

Emily's head popped up in the window just as I reached it.

“Augh!” I screamed, almost dropping my plate.

“Everything okay?” called Dad.

“Yeah.” I pressed my hand to my heart. “Nothing serious.” I glared at Emily and opened the kitchen window. “I have easy access to several sharp knives. Speak.”

“I need your help,” she said. “Can you meet me outside when you're ready? Please?”

I knew Emily's stubborn nature meant she wouldn't leave until she'd had her say. At least this time I wasn't in a bathroom stall.

“Fine,” I said with a sigh.

“And you might want to trim back these bushes,” she said. “I almost couldn't make it to the window.”

I fixed her with a stare.

“I'll just be on the porch,” she said quickly, and hurried away.

Back at the table, Dad was packing up for work.

“Who was that?” he asked.

“Emily,” I said. “She wanted to talk before school.”

“Sure she did,” said Parker with a snort. “I'll bet Ms. Success sent her to spy on us.”