Too Cool for This School (5 page)

“Go, go, go,” my mother said, pushing me toward the door.

“I want to talk more about this when I get home,” I said, sounding way too much like a parent.

“Absolutely,” my mother said.

I hurried outside and found everybody standing in a line in front of a bunch of prickly cacti.

“Finally. Why don’t you kneel in front?” Leslie said.

I liked the idea of being front and center, even if that meant I had to kneel in a dirt patch while wearing tights. When the photographer told us to smile and say the word “burrito,” I buried all my worries inside of me, gave him a big grin, and said, “Burrito.”

No, I wasn’t happy about how my mother had handled this situation, but I guess sometimes things happen in a way that we didn’t mean for them to happen. And we do our best and just move forward. Right? It was only for a month.

“Are you okay down there?” Derek asked as the photographer moved his tripod closer.

“I’m okay,” I said. I didn’t know why Derek annoyed me so much.

And then, right as the photographer clicked the last
photo, I felt a flicking sensation on the back of my head. I flipped around to see Derek’s finger curled in a position to flick me again.

“Sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t resist.”

I was stunned. Derek shouldn’t be flicking my head during our group photo.

“Don’t flick me,” I snapped at him. “I don’t like it.”

He smiled. “Okay,” he said. “It will never happen again.”

And I hoped that was true. The last thing I needed on top of all my problems was to be harassed by a fellow class captain. No. He needed to keep his flicks to himself. My life was complicated enough.

5

Later that night, during our family meeting, my mother agreed that it was way too weird for me not to mention Angelina’s visit to my friends.

“She can’t just appear out of nowhere,” I said. “I’ve got to prepare my friends for her. Ava has a difficult time adjusting to new people.”

My dad laughed at this. He felt Ava was spoiled. But we all had our hang-ups, and I didn’t have time to get into that with him. Basically, the way we left things at the family meeting was that I was allowed to tell my friends that Angelina was staying with us while her mother and new husband got things ready for their move.

“Don’t think of it as a lie,” my mom said. “Because you never know. Aunt Betina and Clark may decide to move here.”

My dad shook his head. “Your sister will never leave Alaska.”

And so that was how it was handled. That was what I was allowed to say.

I should probably have done a better job preparing my own life for Angelina’s arrival. I should probably have emailed her or texted her or returned her single phone call to me. But even after listening to her message four times, I didn’t quite know what to say.

Class sergeant?
I think Angelina’s message was a tipping point for me. On Friday, when my parents were ready to pick her up at the airport, I just couldn’t make myself join them.

“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” my mom asked as she tied her jacket belt around her waist.

I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “I’d better not. I’m behind with some important stuff.”

“I think it’s fine if she wants to hold down the fort. We’ll be back in thirty minutes,” my dad said.

“Maybe we should get a sitter,” my mom fretted.

“I’ll be fine,” I said.

My mother finally agreed. “Okay. But try to do something productive.”

Sometimes my parents treated me as if I was nine.

“I’m working on my creative writing homework,” I said, lifting up my spiral notebook. “Mr. Guzman told us to write a poem from the point of view of one of our chairs.”

“Really? I hope you say kind things about my butt,” my father joked, shaking his rear end back and forth.

“Gross,” I said.

My dad laughed again. “What a weird assignment. Can you believe that, Claire? Her teacher wants her to pretend she’s a couch.”

“A chair!” I called after them right as they slammed the door.

I decided it made sense to write the poem from the point of view of our wingback chair, which sat closest to the door. That was where most of our guests liked to sit. Of all the chairs in our house, it had the most severe butt dent. I’d only made it as far as the title, “Confessions of a Wingback Chair,” when my phone rang. I didn’t recognize the number. So of course I was hoping it was Todd calling me from a random phone. I wanted to let it ring four times so I didn’t look too eager, but I couldn’t stop myself from picking it up on the second ring.

Ring. Ring. Ring
.

It was the first time a class captain had called me. It seemed like I should stay on the phone until
she
had to go.

Ring. Ring. Ring
.

Ring. Ring. Ring
.

Ring. Ring. Ring
.

I took a deep breath and began walking toward the door. I didn’t even know the police kept a crime log. I mean, I rarely ever thought about crime. Unfortunately, I did live on the west side.

Ring. Ring. Ring
.

Leslie must have watched a ton of horror movies, because she was totally freaking out. She was starting to freak me out. I tried to look through the peephole, but I wasn’t quite tall enough.

That was a good idea. So I yelled.

As quietly as I could, I moved the curtain in the front window and tried to take a very quick peek.

But instead of an answer from Leslie, all I heard was silence. I kept reporting what I saw into the phone anyway. “She’s about my height. And she has a duffel bag.”

I stared at the girl outside my house. “She looks familiar. Wait. It might be my cousin. Angelina?” I said.

“Lane!” the voice cheered. “I thought I saw you peeking out the window. Open up! After two plane flights, I’m finally here!”

This didn’t make sense. Why was Angelina by herself? “Where are my parents?”

She shrugged. “They didn’t pick me up. I had to take a taxi.”

Since Leslie was completely nonresponsive, I ended the call and slid my phone in my pocket.

“They’re at the airport right now,” I explained.

“Oh,” Angelina said. “I arrived two hours ago. And just waited.”

I stared at my cousin underneath the yellow puddle of light made by our porch lamp. She didn’t look at all like I remembered her. She had long dark hair and bright pink lips, and her eyes were basically the greenest eyes I’d ever seen in my life. Greener than the eyes of Rachel’s Siamese cat, Petunia. There was no doubt about it, Angelina looked cute.

“Can you let me in?” Angelina asked. “I’ve had a long day.”

And since she was my cousin, I unlocked the dead bolt and opened the door. The first thing I noticed when she walked inside was her clothes. Her pants looked either stained or painted, and her shirt had a picture of a mean dog on it. Then I noticed that her mouth looked really small. Not to get all judge-y, but it was incredibly tiny. She probably had to visit a special dentist who had undersized hands.

Angelina set her duffel bag down and gave me a huge hug. “It is so great to see you!”

I did not return that compliment. I said, “We should probably call my parents.”

“I already tried,” Angelina said. “Your mom didn’t answer.”

That didn’t sound like my mom at all. She kept her phone’s volume turned up to the max, and she always picked up every call. Even telemarketers. So I pulled my phone back out and dialed her up.

I was surprised to hear my mother say that it was the best news she’d heard all year. Because I’d told her a bunch of newsworthy stuff that I thought ranked much higher.

“Can I get you anything to eat?” I asked. “Are you hungry?”

Angelina shook her head. “I bought a shrimp dinner at the airport.”

That was an interesting choice. I would have bought pizza or ice cream. It wouldn’t even have occurred to me to buy a shrimp dinner.

“I think I’m ready for bed,” Angelina said.