The It Girl (5 page)

“Your dad should have offered an internship,” Jess commented, as we watched Sophie and Josie giggle with some other pretty girls in our grade who were buying plenty of tickets each. “Everyone would have bought tickets then, not just the school's princess contingent.”

I snorted. “Sadly you exaggerate. I hardly think anyone at this school is interested in tanks.”

“Whatever—he interviews celebrities all the time.”

“I guess.” I shrugged. “Most of the time he just sits at home yelling about writer's block and standing still with his forehead against the wall. He says it helps him think. He can stand there for about half an hour. Once I stood with him with my forehead against the wall to see what happened. I got no inspiration whatsoever. We both just stood there in silence with our heads touching the wall until I finally got hungry and left him to it. Not sure an intern would be a good idea.”

“They're so embarrassing.” Jess shook her head as Josie took out a pocket mirror and admired herself. “I bet Sophie has already bought half the tickets. The idea of getting in there with Brendan's family will be the only thing she cares about. She couldn't care less about the internship.”

“Why don't you buy a raffle ticket? You're pretty good at photography.”

Jess burst out laughing. “Yeah, on my camera phone. Not sure that counts.”

“Go on, it's only a dollar a ticket, and if you win, I bet you'd get to go on some cool fashion shoots too. You'd be great!”

I wasn't lying. Jess
is
good at photography; she has a framed photo on her wall at home that she won a competition with when she was younger. Plus she is artistic too; her mom has shown me some of her paintings.

I made sure that when Jess came over to my house for the first time, Dad hid my pottery attempts that he usually displays on the mantel. Not proudly, he always likes to tease me, but because they are excellent conversation starters. I don't protest this. My Christmas robin is quite literally a blob of clay with a red circle in the middle.

“Anna.” Jess sighed. “They won't be looking for someone like me, will they? I'm sure Brendan's mom will be much happier with someone like Sophie who can hang on to her every word and look the part.”

“You look the perfect part,” I said sharply. “Come on; if you don't get one, then I'll buy one for you.”

She finally gave in to my pestering, and we made our way over to the table. Sophie saw us approaching and nudged Josie in the ribs, who looked up and immediately scowled.
“What do you want?” she spat, folding her arms.

“I'm so sorry about chemistry, Josie,” I squeaked, feeling genuinely bad. “If there's anything I can do—”

“Personally,” Jess interrupted chirpily, “I think your hair looks much better that length, Josie.”

“That hardly makes things okay,” Sophie replied angrily, tilting her head.

“Yes.” Josie pouted, taking her cue as ever from Queen Sophie. “There's nothing you can do about it now.”

“Great, glad that's all sorted,” Jess said firmly. “Now, I'd like to buy a raffle ticket please.”

Sophie's mouth dropped open. “You.
You
would like to buy a raffle ticket.”

“Yes, one please.”

“But”—Josie sniggered, looking her up and down—“you clearly don't care about . . . the way things look.”

Jess's cheeks started to go red.

“I'm not really sure it's your thing, Jess,” Sophie said with a tone of mock regret and then shrugged. “I wouldn't bother buying a ticket. It's
professional
photography.”

Jess looked at the ground, embarrassed, and I'm really not quite sure what came over me, but suddenly words were coming out of my mouth.

“Ten tickets please.”

They all stared at me in shock. “Yeah, ten.” I repeated in a squeakier tone than I would have liked. I reached into my purse and held out the money.

Sophie snorted and Josie followed suit, but there was now a small line beginning to form behind me. Josie looked at Sophie for instruction. Sophie pursed her lips and gave a curt nod. Josie snatched the money and shoved the tickets across the table.

I walked away triumphantly, my heart slamming against my chest.

“Well, what do you know.” Jess grinned as I passed her the tickets. She gave me a small grateful nudge. “Thanks.”

•  •  •

Sitting in French later that afternoon, I couldn't stop thinking about the Beatus dance. What would happen if they didn't let me in because I didn't have a date? Even worse, what would happen if they did let me in, but then everyone was dancing in pairs and I was the ONLY one not dancing?! What would happen if everyone started pointing and laughing at me because I was so pathetic?! WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF I GENUINELY DID HAVE TO BRING DOG AS MY DATE?!

This called for emergency note passing with Jess.

Hey—can I ask you a question?

Anna, you're passing notes in French? Are you crazy?! She'll catch us! Ms. Brockley is very smart—she does archery in her spare time.

It's important.

Okay, go on then, ask away.

Would you date me?

What?

If you were a boy, would you date me?

This is uncomfortable.

No it's not. I need to know.

Well I don't know. Probably not.

WHAT? WHY NOT?

Because of your obsession with your dog. He's cute and everything but you're out of control.

Do I talk about Dog a lot?

Yes. But maybe not so much around boys so they might not know about the obsession, which is a good thing. You could keep it under wraps until you marry the guy and then, BOOM. Let out the truth about your weirdness.

Oh. Okay.

Why does it bother you so much that you don't have a date? It's just a dance. Who cares?

It is not just a dance. Everyone is talking about it. And it's only the beginning of the semester so it will get worse leading up to it.

I don't have a date.

You have Danny. And anyway you CHOOSE not to have a date. I bet every boy in our grade would do
anything to be your date to the Beatus dance.

You have Danny too. We'll go as a trio.

What about the slow dances?

What ABOUT the slow dances?

We can't dance as a trio!

Why not?

BECAUSE. That would look weird. How would you even do that?

We could all hold hands in a circle and sway.

Like some kind of cult? I don't think that would go over very well.

We could chant too.

I can tell you're making fun of me now. I don't know whether you've
noticed but I am actually being serious.

Why do you get so worked up about stupid things like this? It's a DANCE. Only people like Sophie get worked up about stupid things like this.

People like Sophie never get worked up about things like this. They don't need to. She doesn't need to ever worry about having a date. I bet she's going with Brendan Dakers.

Word on the street is that he hasn't asked her. Anyway, forget about Queen Sophie. Why don't you take Dog as your date?

Ha! Jess, you really do have the most bizarre brain! As if that would even occur to me as an idea!

You considered it, didn't you?

What?! You're ridiculous. Of course I did not consider taking Dog as my date to the Beatus dance.

You thought about putting a bow tie on him, didn't you?

This conversation is neither here nor there. Stop passing me notes please. Ms. Brockley is coming this way and I already have detention for a whole semester.

I think there are lots of people out there who would date you.

Really? You do?

Lesson number one about making friends and finding a date for the dance: play it cool. Seriously.

Got it. Should I write this down??

I was mocking you.

Oh. You should be clearer about things like that.

I'm going to go away now.

Okay! We can chat after class.

You have detention, dummy. E-mail me when you're home. Oh and, Anna?

Yes?

The only reason you wouldn't be able to find a date to the dance is because no one in this school is good enough.

Are you mocking me again?

No.

How can I tell?

By asking me. I just told you I wasn't mocking you.

That was a very nice thing for you to say! Like seriously nice. Like a true best friend thing to say! You never say nice things!

Don't be embarrassing.

I'm keeping that note forever.

Don't do that.

I'm going to stick it in my diary. I don't have a diary but I'm going to buy one ESPECIALLY so I can stick that note in it. And draw hearts around it.

Stop this.

And then one day I'll blow it up into a poster and frame it.

I would not put any of this past you. Leave me alone now. I'm not passing any more notes.

Fare thee well, Jess! You are a true and wonderful friend who believes in me. I will spread your kindness far and wide. You have brought hope and love to a troubled soul. Bless you and your people.

I strongly dislike you.

ANNA HUNTLEY's LIFE GOALS

Compiled with personal commentary in day one of detention

Spring term 2015

1. Be a better person.

I will try to be nicer to people, like Dad, even when he's being really annoying. And I will start doing nice things like talk to strangers on the street or something. I can ask them about their day and their ambitions in life. Although I will try to do this without coming across like a crazy person, like that woman on the bus who yells hello at everyone who gets on and actually just scares people. But I'm sure she's just being nice.

2. Go to Africa and hand out rice.

I've been lucky in life to have a wonderful family (even if they are annoying a lot of the time) and wonderful friends (even though there are only two of them). Therefore, it is only right that I should give something back to the world. I'm sure they always need people to go to Africa and do good things like hand out rice. Note to self: search for charities online that organize trips to do good things like hand out rice.

“What are you writing?”

I frowned. I could tell that Connor Lawrence had been trying to see what I was writing ever since I got out my pen. He had strolled in late to detention—who is this carefree?!—and sat down next to me without bothering to take his headphones off.

“Nice of you to join us, Connor,” Mr. Kenton had sniffed, not looking particularly bothered about it.

“Nothing,” I whispered back, trying to cover my notepad.

“Looks like a list.”

“It's not a list.”

“I can see it's a list.”

“Fine. It's a list.”

“What is the list of?”

“Are you always this nosy?” I asked, trying not to sound too defensive, but at the same time wanting him to leave me alone. This, after all, was the person who'd escalated Sophie's annoyance at me about sending Josie into a full-on tantrum for the whole class to witness.

“I'm interested,” he replied, smugly.

“It's nothing important.”

“What does it say at the top?”

“It says you're going to get us in trouble.”

“Funny.” We both looked up at Mr. Kenton. His head was hanging down, and his eyes were closed. A faint snore came from his direction.

Connor grinned. “I think we're safe.”

I gave him an “end of discussion” look and went back to my list.

3. Find a date for the Beatus dance—the ideal would be Brendan Dakers but clearly, at this point, anyone would be an achievement.

There will be more chance of this happening if I achieve point 1. Brendan Dakers isn't going to be interested in someone who is not kind and thoughtful.
Also he will probably be impressed by someone with cool skills (see point 5 below to nail this one) and by someone who is not a disaster and talks about interesting things (for example, their recent trip to Africa to hand out rice to those in need).

4. Meet comic book world GOD, Stan Lee, and inspire a great comic strip about a girl keeping London safe from the threat of evil.

Should this ever happen I will be content for the rest of my days and never complain about one single thing AGAIN. I promise not to say anything embarrassing to the man who created some of the best characters in the world. Note to self: Does asking him to make me into a comic book superhero count as embarrassing? Confer with Jess.

5. Learn how to do hip-hop dancing.

A necessary skill in life. Bound to impress pretty much everyone anywhere. Handy to pull out in an awkward or sad situation to make things better. Your friend just got dumped? Pull out the running man! Lost your homework the day it's due? Wait a
second, let me pull out the running man! Hate your life? So does everyone! Pull out the running man!

6. Save someone's life.

Preferably on land and not in the sea because I hate seaweed and jellyfish.

“Wait, you know who Stan Lee is?”

I whipped my head up. “Hey!”

“What? It's not like you're covering it very well.” Connor shrugged. “Go on, let me have a look.”

“I didn't want you to see,” I complained. “How would you like it if I just leaned over and looked at your work?”

“Feel free.” He slid his notepad along the desk to the edge. “You might actually appreciate it.”

I glanced at the open page and then pulled it closer to gaze down in awe. The notepad was littered with animation sketches. “You drew these? They're good.”

“Thanks. I'm thinking of doing my own graphic novel some day. I approve of point four. Personally I've always thought Batman the best creation of all time.” He pulled his notebook away from my gaze.

“Please, Batman? He's amazing, but Marvel has SO many
cooler heroes. Look at Spider-Man, for example.”