Romance of the Snob Squad (4 page)

“Uh, sure. You want me to leave?” I pushed to my feet.

He waved me back down. “Let’s see if we can get this family talking again.”

Dr. Sid ushered everyone in and asked them to sit. With one patient in there it was cramped. With four we’d be sitting on laps. I hoped I wouldn’t get Dr. Sid’s. In addition to his huge desk and big comfy chair, Dr. Sid had books and toys and electronic gadgets littered all over the place. Someone, his secretary probably, had carted in four folding chairs for our group. It was interesting, watching my family. They each grabbed a chair and retreated to the far corners of the room.

“So, how is everybody?” Dr. Sid folded his hands over his desk again and smiled.

In unison, as if we’d rehearsed on the way over, we chirped, “Fine.”

Dad and I looked at each other and cracked up. Dr. Sid chuckled. Mom and Vanessa stared at the floor.

Dr. Sid said, “Okay. I’m going to go around and ask you each to say one good thing about your family. Something you appreciate or enjoy about one another.”

Suddenly I understood the deeper meaning of dead silence.

“Katherine?”

Mom flinched. “I love my family,” she said. “Why do you think
I’m
the problem? Did Jenny tell you something?”

A guttural sound of shock issued from my mouth.

“No,” Dr. Sid said quickly. “Not at all. And I didn’t say you had a problem. I just thought I’d start on the left.”

“Oh,” Mom mumbled. “Sorry.”

Dr. Sid waited. When Mom didn’t continue, he said, “I am certain that you love your family, Katherine. But could you be specific? What is it about them you love? Specifically?”

I interrupted, “Is this like Oprah’s gratitude moment? You know, how you write down five things every day that you’re grateful for and it’s supposed to change your life?”

Everyone stared at me.

My face flared. “Never mind. Go ahead.”

Dr. Sid smiled at me and focused back on Mom. “Katherine?”

Mom pursed her lips. “Everything. I can’t pick just one thing. Are you saying there’s something about my family I don’t love? How can I be specific?”

Dr. Sid sighed and made a note on his yellow pad. Probably to go ahead and make that down payment on next year’s Ferrari.

After we were done as a family unit, Dr. Sid asked to speak to Vanessa alone for a few minutes. She came out looking like she’d been crying. Mom and Dad looked concerned, but I guess they knew better than to ask. She’d snap their heads off.

The appointment ended pretty much the way it had started. We didn’t speak the whole way home.

A
s leader of the Snob Squad, it was my responsibility to get our science fair project off the ground. Duty can be a drag, except in this case. Thinking about the project gave my mind something else to dwell on besides the fact that (1) my family would be in long-term psychotherapy forever, (2) Melanie Mason had her claws in Kevin Rooney, and (3) I had to meet with Minnette, my nutrition Nazi, on Saturday to go over my food diary.

“Prairie and Max, you’re in charge of building the obstacle course,” I told them before school started.

“W-with w-what?” Prairie asked.

I knew she’d ask. “With whatever building supplies you can find around the house. Or, in Max’s case, steal from the strip mall.”

Max smirked at me.

“Lydia, you write down the daily observations of Harley’s progress. Since you can spell.”

She beamed. “And what are you going to do?” Lydia asked.

“Motivate the team, of course. Especially the rat.” At the sound of his species, Harley peeked his head out of Max’s jacket pocket. From my backpack I removed a limp carrot and dangled it over Harley’s head. He snatched it out of my fingers faster than you can say, “Leggo my Eggo.” Just as I suspected, Harley and I responded to the same stimulus—food.

I cornered Mr. Biekmund at his desk before science started and described our new and improved science fair project. “A trained rat?” he repeated. “I’m sorry, Jenny, but the science fair rules state no experiments with live animals.”

“We’re not experimenting,” I told him. Although, I have to admit, dissecting Harley seemed more intriguing than watching him wiggle through milk cartons. “We’re training him. We’re demonstrating alternative learning styles. It’s totally educational. We’re not going to harm him in any way.”

“Hmmm.” The Beak Man sniffled. “I don’t know.”

“It’s the only thing we could come up with,” I added. “Unless you want us to grow mold.” Like how would that look for Montrose Middle School? Huh? Huh? You’d be the laughingstock of the entire scientific community. Good luck getting a job at Widener, or anywhere else. “Besides,” I lied, “we already built the course.”

He sighed. “All right. But I don’t want you to bring a live rat to class.”

“How ’bout a dead one?”

He didn’t acknowledge the humor.

“You can work on your poster board display and type up your observations during science period.”

We could continue zoning out, is what I heard. How was I going to tell Max not to bring Harley to school, since she’d already smuggled him in? He’d built a homey little nest in her camouflage jacket pocket. Maybe I’d accidentally on purpose forget to relay the Beak Man’s message to Max.

Ashley and Melanie whooped with laughter over at the computer center, diverting Mr. Biekmund’s attention and mine. “Oh, Hugh,” I heard Ashley coo as she clenched his arm. “You are sooo smart.” She glanced over her shoulder to make sure Lydia was listening.

Lydia heard all right. Prairie did, too.

Kevin said something, Melanie giggled, and I gagged.

A formidable force wrenched me backward. It was Lydia, tugging on my T-shirt. “I’ve got it,” she said.

“Well, don’t give it to me,” I replied, lurching away.

“No, listen. I know how to break up that cozy little foursome. Max, come here.” She waved her over.

Max blinked out of her usual reverie, staring across the crowded room, plotting some cerebral carnage. She clunked down off the heater vent, where she’d been perched, and lumbered over.

Lydia whispered, “Let’s sabotage their project. Make it look like Ashley and Melanie wrecked it. That’ll pit the guys against the girls.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. Melanie laughed again, and I added, “Okay, how?”

Max ambled away, but not before I caught the gleam in her eyes. She clomped across the room in her army boots and paused at the PC center.

“What’s she doing?” Lydia asked.

“Don’t ask me. Whatever you said hit a nerve. If I were you, I’d be nervous.”

Max stuck a boot behind the first carrel and jerked. Without warning, all the computer screens went blank.

“Hey!” Ashley wailed. “What happened?”

Max twisted her head toward us. The most serene expression spread across her face.

Ashley hauled her extra-large carcass out of the chair and waddled around the carrel. When she saw the dangling plug near Max’s boot, she almost shoved Max. Almost. Ashley wasn’t stupid. Just stuck-up. And spoiled. She screamed, “Mr. Biekmund, tell Max to… to get away from here.”

“Maxine?” the Beak Man warned.

Max cringed. She hated her name. Who didn’t? “I tripped,” she said.

Kevin groaned. He said, “We probably lost everything we keyed in today.”

I felt sorry for Kevin. Even in despair, he was adorable. I personally would’ve rekeyed all his work, if he’d asked. Naturally he didn’t. How can you ask someone something when you don’t even know they’re alive?

Ashley whined, “I’m not keying everything back in. You’re the fastest typist, Hugh. You do it.”

He stared at the blank screen, shook his head, and grumbled. “Well, move over then,” he growled at Ashley.

Max smirked, spun on her boot heel, and sauntered away, snickering.

You gotta love her.

*  *  *

“The only way Hugh is going to notice Prairie is if she talks to him,” Lydia announced at lunch. “She could bring up one of his favorite subjects, like how she just loves to bowl. And wouldn’t it be fun to go bowling together sometime, hint, hint?”

I just looked at Lydia. Sometimes I wondered what her skull protected besides dead air. “She won’t do it. She’s too shy,” I said. “Anyone want my asparaguts?”

Lydia spooned the slimy gray mass off my tray. “Maybe we could move her desk over by his,” Lydia suggested. “Even though she’s only in class for a couple of hours in the morning, he’d have to notice her sitting there.”

“Don’t count on it,” I muttered. “His glasses are so smeared, he’s lucky to see light.”

“Okay,” Lydia blabbered on, “then we put something of hers in his desk. Something he’d have to return.”

“Like what?” I said. “Her fake foot?”

Max snorted.

Lydia gave me a dirty look. Swallowing a glob of green goo, she said, “We could change her looks. Do something drastic. Curl her hair, or dye it even.”

“We could strap a PC on her back,” I said. “He might notice that.”

Lydia blinked at me. She didn’t even smile. Her eyes stared past me, like Vanessa’s used to do when she was totally obsessed. “Maybe we could somehow trick them into eating lunch at the same table. Order an anchovy pizza for him and say it was really Prairie’s—”

Max made a retching sound. It stopped Lydia cold. “Please,” Max said. “I’m trying to eat.” She sucked in a slimy stalk of asparagus and swallowed.

I lost my appetite. For everything but the gingerbread, of course.

Lydia huffed. “Well, what are we going to do? We can’t trust fate.”

“We can’t trust Ashley, you mean,” I mumbled.

Max said something unintelligible through her asparagus.

“What?” Lydia snapped.

Max swallowed the glob. “I said, My brother’s girlfriend works at Glamour Photos. She said I could come for a free sitting anytime. So I’m thinking, we’ll send Prairie in my place. Then we stick her glamour photo in Hugh’s desk and
voilà
.”

“
Voilà
,” I repeated. “Instant humiliation.” I couldn’t believe Max was suggesting this.

A slow smile curled Lydia’s lips. “I love it!” she squealed. “Max, I love it!”

“Wait a minute,” I said.

They high-fived. They held up their palms to me. When I hesitated, Lydia said, “What’s the problem, Jenny? You act like you don’t want to help Prairie.”

“That’s not true. I just think we should let her in on the plan. It’s her life. Her love.”

“And if she says no, which she probably will, then what? We give up? Is that what you want? To ruin Prairie’s life?”

I glared at Lydia.

“Do you have a better idea?” she said.

I didn’t. She knew it. She held up her palm. Max did, too. I had a bad feeling about this. A feeling of foreboding, like something was going to go terribly wrong. But what could I do? It was two against one. And I was their leader. The sound of my slap echoed across the cafeteria as Prairie said behind me, “W-what are we c-celebrating?”

Lydia scootched over to let Prairie in. “You and Hugh. A match made in heaven.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

Prairie glanced across at me.

“We, uh, have a plan.” I forced a grim grin. “You tell her, Lydia.” I couldn’t look Prairie in the eye.

Lydia huffed. “Oh, all right.” She told Prairie about the plan, conveniently forgetting to mention the part about sneaking the picture to Hugh. I knew it was my responsibility to tell her, but Prairie seemed so excited about the glamour photo that I couldn’t burst her bubble. Now could I?

T
he Truly Amazing, Ultra-Impossible, Colossus Rat Contraption, aka the Extreme Rat-o-rama, began with a sheet of plywood that Max borrowed from behind the Ace hardware store. Borrowed, confiscated, swiped. We didn’t ask, and she didn’t tell. It was huge, dance floor size. Never mind getting the project off the ground. We’d barely got it in through the Peacemobile’s door.

The first components of our obstacle course consisted of five one-gallon milk jugs, cut out on both ends; two Quaker oatmeal cartons, also cut out; a saltines box; and a rolling tower of TP tubes hotglued together. Prairie said, “That’s all I could f-find in our recycling b-bins.”

Max contributed a jumble of car parts from the junkyard, including a steering wheel, a tire rim, an alternator (she called it), and a teeter-totter made out of two gas pedals welded together. She also threw in three stacks of Styrofoam and a hunk of foam rubber, which Harley was heartily devouring as we spoke.

“And last but not least,” Max said, shoving her hand into a grocery bag, “ta-da.” She pulled out a black box with buttons on it.

“What is it?” Lydia asked.

Max pressed the green button. The blare of a siren caused us all to scream and cover our ears. Max pressed the red button to turn it off. “It’s an old ambulance siren,” she said. “I had to bribe my brother to use it, so we better not bust it or anything. He’ll make me lube chassis for a year.”

“Geez, it’s loud.” I popped my eardrum back into place.

Max smiled. “I thought it’d be cool for Harley to set it off when he gets to the end of the obstacle course. Sort of like, ‘Hey, everybody, I did it.’ ”

Lydia muttered in my good ear, “Let’s hope he never makes it.”

After Max duct-taped everything together, she positioned Harley at the start. He just stood there, looking panicked. “Here, Harley.” Max snapped her fingers over the TP tower. “This way.”

Harley’s beady eyes bore into mine.

I seached my backpack. The only thing I could find was a package of crushed crackers with peanut butter. “Try this,” I said.

Max ripped off a corner of the cellophane with her teeth, which unleashed a shower of cracker crumbs. She broke off a corner of cracker and held it over Harley’s nose. He sniffed, then stood on his hind legs and wrapped his claws around Max’s hand.

“He’s going to bite you!” Lydia screeched.

Max gave her a withering look. Then Harley bit her.

“Yeow!” Max jerked back, sucking her bleeding thumb.

“Now you’re going to get bubonic plague!” Lydia cried. “It comes from rats, you know. And it’s highly contagious. You heard how a billion people died of the black death in Europe. Call 911.”