Between Us (8 page)

“Maybe I could do some flyers for Hannah,” Vivi said. “Dogs are one of my favorite things to draw.”

Finally they had some time alone without Hannah—and all they were going to talk about was Hannah? That was so wrong.

1.
    
Host practice sessions for challenges.

2.
    
Bring extra supplies—like for costumes—to school in case people forget.

3.
    
Cheer for your class at every event.

4.
    
Wear school colors on days when there aren't costumes.

5.
    
Send text reminders to everyone of what the next day's events will be.

6.
    
Be a star!

7.
    
Relax!!!

“What a pair,” Bailey murmured to herself. That was the costume theme for the first day of Spirit Week. It
was finally almost here. It started on Monday! Now that Bailey had some Hannah-free time, Bailey could focus on a goal for herself—getting voted sixth-grade MVP. She wanted to win those Katy Perry tickets. Olivia loved Katy Perry. If Bailey won, she'd take Olivia to the concert as a makeup birthday adventure.

First she needed to think of the perfect costume. She tapped her pen against her lip, then wrote down
Candy Crush characters
, then added
pair of dice
.

“What else?” She tapped her lip harder. She didn't know why she always made her lists with a notebook and pen instead of on the computer. Somehow she just got more ideas with a pen in her hand.

Thing One and Thing Two? Maybe that was babyish. It
was
Dr. Seuss. She definitely didn't want to risk looking infantile in middle school! She didn't write it down. Maybe they could both be minions from
Despicable Me
? Or was that babyish too?

Bailey nibbled on the end of her pen. She didn't usually have such a hard time coming up with ideas. Olivia called her an idea machine. Maybe she needed a break. She pulled up the school blog to see if the post on Hannah and the club was on it yet.

Nope. Well, she'd just had that mini-interview a couple of days ago. Bailey refreshed the page, just in
case the post had gone up. Nope.

She returned to her list and added
Angry Bird and pig
. Then she got it. Got! It! Elphaba and Glinda from
Wicked
. That was perfect. Bailey didn't even care which one she was—although Hannah would probably let her pick. It would be fun to go all froufrou in pink or to paint her face green.

Bailey grabbed her cell and sent Hannah a text.

perfect costumes for mon. elphaba + glinda.

Impatiently, she waited for Hannah to text back. She had to love the idea. Who wouldn't love the idea?

Bailey refreshed the school blog again—nothing new—then searched for images of the
Wicked
characters. She started a new list of things she and Hannah would need:
broom, wand, tiara, pointed hat—

Her phone buzzed, and she dropped her pen and grabbed it. Her mouth fell open when she read the text from Hannah.

sorry. tess + me already partners. sorry!!!

no prob,
Bailey texted back.

Wow. She'd been sure she and Hannah would be partners. Sometimes it felt like Hannah hadn't been more than two feet away from Bailey since Hannah moved to town. And it wasn't as if the club had gotten actual members yet. It hadn't even really started.

Clearly Tess and Hannah were becoming friends, real friends. And that meant—Bailey and Olivia could be partners! Whoop! She shot off a text to Olivia.

guess what? we can b partners for the costume contest. h + tess teaming.

While she waited for Olivia to answer, she went back to the school blog. Still nothing. She was just so curious what the article would say about Hannah. And how long the post would be. And if there would end up being a picture. And if Hannah would say she was Bailey's cousin.

She hit refresh a couple more times, then texted Olivia again. She was too excited to wait for her to answer.

me + you. glinda + elphaba = awesomness, right???

Olivia answered a few seconds later.

oh nos. thought u + hannah. me + vivi already.

Bailey felt like she'd just swallowed an ice cube—and that the cold, hard lump was jammed halfway down her throat. She couldn't believe Olivia already had a partner. It had only been announced today that the first costume competition would be for teams.

kk,
Bailey texted back.
BOL!!!

u 2,
Olivia answered.

Relax!
Bailey ordered herself.
Relax, relax, relax.
Everybody can't have a partner yet.
Her thumbs flew over her cell keys as she sent text after text. After text. After text. After text.

Until she had to accept she was wrong. Everybody she knew
did
already have a partner.

What was she going to do? There's no way she could be Spirit Week Most Valuable Player for her class if she didn't participate in the very first event!

Bailey took a bite of her Cheerios.
Eww. Soggy.
So soggy they almost weren't even
O
s anymore.

“What's wrong?” her father asked, glancing up from the Saturday crossword puzzle for a whole three seconds.

“My cereal's all smushy,” Bailey complained.

“Probably because you've been staring at it for the last half an hour instead of eating it,” her dad said.

“Really?” It didn't feel like she'd been sitting at the kitchen table that long.

“Really,” he told her. “What were you thinking about so hard?” He started to fill in a letter, then hesitated.

“Spirit Week. It starts on Monday,” Bailey said. “I want to triumph.”

He laughed. “Well, whip up one of your lists. That usually works for you.” He brought his pen close to one
of the squares but still didn't commit to filling it in.

A list wouldn't help this time. It wasn't like Bailey could make a partner out of paper and ink.

Or wait. Could she? Not with paper and ink, but maybe with cloth, and papier-mâché, and some sparkles, for starters.

“You look like you've just had what your mother—and Oprah, I suppose—would call an aha moment,” her dad commented.

“I did!” Bailey exclaimed. Her idea would take a lot of work, though. And she couldn't ask Olivia or any of her friends for help. They were the competition. Well, the seventh and eighth graders were the real competition, but her friends were her competition for sixth-grade MVP, and they probably wanted to win the concert tickets as much as she did.

She took another bite of her cereal and grimaced.

“Get a fresh bowl and leave that for Gus.” Her father finally put a letter in one of the boxes of his puzzle. “That kid will eat anything.” He looked at the kitchen clock. “Where is he this morning, anyway? He always hits us up for a second breakfast after his post-paper-route nap.”

Gus! Gus didn't go to her school. He could help. He wouldn't want to. But she'd done him lots of favors.
And if reminding him of that didn't work, she could also remind him that she had a ton of dirt on him. One way or the other, he'd be helping her.

“Dad, can you take me to the craft store later?” Bailey asked as she dumped her cereal in the sink. She didn't think even Gus would want the mush.

“I think I can work that into my schedule,” he said.

“First I have to talk to Gus. Okay if I head over there?”

“If you tell me what Little Jack Horner's last words were,” he answered.

“Easy-peasy. He stuck in this thumb, and pulled out a plum, and said—”

“What a good boy am I,” Bailey and her dad said together.

“See, you knew it all along,” Bailey told him. “Remember to tell Mom where I am. I don't want her to think I left without saying where.”

He nodded, and she sped out the door, cut across her lawn, then Gus's, and knocked on his door. “Is Gus around?” she asked when his mother answered.

“He's over at the Speedy Clean car wash. They're letting the animal shelter where he volunteers do a fund-raiser there,” Gus's mother answered.

Bailey ran back home, got permission to go downtown, and took off again. She skidded to a stop
when she reached the car wash. Gus was covered in suds shaken off by a Great Dane that did
not
want a bath. Hannah was standing next to Gus, holding the dog's leash and laughing as she brushed soap bubbles off her sweatshirt. They looked like they were having a blast.

“Bailey, hi!” Hannah called.

She shouldn't be surprised that Hannah was here. She was all about the shelter now. Bailey headed over but stayed out of the Great Dane's range. “Hi, guys,” Bailey answered. “Hey, Gus, when you're done, I need you to help me with something. Your mom has a hot-glue gun, right? Bring that.”

“Can't. We're having two more dog washes today, in different parts of town,” he told her. Hannah tightened her grip on the Great Dane's leash. It had started to do something that looked like tap dancing in its eagerness to get away from the soap and water.
“Shhpt,”
Hannah said. “Easy, Big Ben.” The dog calmed down a little.

“Well, tomorrow then,” Bailey said.

Gus shook his head. “It's a whole weekend thing. Tomorrow we're doing a big adoption fair at Frank Liske Park. We're giving baths to all the dogs that are up for adoption too. It's crazy.”

It also looked pretty fun. Bailey waited for Gus to ask her to help out. Yeah, she was on Team Cat, but she could handle washing a dog.

He didn't ask. That wasn't usual Gus. Usual Gus would just hand her the shampoo and point at a pup.

It's because he has Hannah to help him, and she's a lot better with dogs than I am.
Bailey felt a twinge of jealousy.

She told herself she was being silly. She'd wanted Hannah to make friends. That was why she'd had the party. That was even why she'd told Gus and Hannah to take the food downstairs together. Gus would always be her brother from another mother, no matter how good of friends he got to be with Hannah. She should be happy.

She really should be.

Bailey snarled in frustration. Actually snarled. She just wasn't
crafty
. If Hannah was her partner, they'd be finished already. Hannah could make anything. Bailey used the back of her hand to wipe her sweaty bangs off her forehead, and pink sparkles rained down on the kitchen table. How had they gotten in her hair?

Didn't matter. She had to keep going. It was already
three o'clock. She could maybe convince her parents to let her stay up until ten, even though it was Sunday and she had school in the morning. That only gave her seven hours.

She'd started working on her costume yesterday. She'd already put in—she did a fast calculation—eighteen and a quarter hours. And she wasn't close to being done.

Because she wasn't crafty. Or artsy. She flexed her hand. It was aching from all the cutting she'd been doing. Her fingers felt weird. She snarled again when she realized that she'd managed to glue two of them together. At least she hadn't been using a hot glue gun, only superglue. Even so, a layer of skin came off as she pried her fingers apart.

“Oh, Bailey. Oh my.”

Bailey hadn't even heard her mom come into the room. “It's a disaster. It's the
Titanic
of craft projects.”

“It's not that bad. There won't be any casualties,” her mother said.

“There already have been.” Bailey held up her injured fingers, then moved back her bangs again to show the bruise on her forehead. “I dropped the tiara on the floor, then hit my head on the table when I leaned over to pick it up. I also got a paper cut on my chin.
Don't ask me how.” She pointed to the little scratch. “And I stubbed my toe on a box of plaster lawn gnomes at the craft store yesterday.”

When she leaned over to rub the toe, which was still sore, she heard a muffled snorting sound. She jerked up her head and saw that her mother had both hands pressed over her mouth as she struggled not to laugh.

“I'm sorry,” Mom said. “It's just that you get it from me. Once I was trying to make some felt Christmas tree ornaments. I was leaning over cutting out a felt reindeer, and I ended up giving myself a very bad asymmetrical haircut at the same time. My hair was longer back then.”

“Good thing mine is short,” Bailey said. She looked at the clock again. “Do you think I could stay up late, just this one time?”

“How late are we talking?” her mother asked.

She needed the whole night, but she knew that she'd never get the okay for that. “Midnight?” she asked.

“Not with school in the morning. Ten at the latest,” her mother countered, which was what Bailey had figured she'd say. “You want me to try to help?”

“Thanks. But no.” Bailey had learned years ago not to get her mother involved in projects involving glue, scissors, or needles.

“I know! I could call your aunt. She got all the crafty
talent. That's why I have none. She'd help you, I'm sure,” Mom said.

Bailey shook her head. “I'm competing against Hannah. I can't ask her mom to help me.” She narrowed her eyes at her mother. “You wouldn't help Hannah beat me at something, would you?”

“No way,” her mother answered, crossing her heart like a goofball.

“It's not like Hannah needs help anyway,” Bailey muttered. “I'm sure she even did Tess's costume for her.”

“Show me what you've got so far,” her mom said.

Bailey nodded at the bent tiara, wad of white cloth, wad of black cloth, half-empty packet of sparkles, and hunk of black yarn tangled at her feet. She'd decided to go as
both
Glinda and Elphaba—one on the front of her body and one on the back. It had seemed so cool, so perfect, when she'd come up with the idea of being her own partner.

“Maybe you need to try something different,” Mom suggested, her eyes wide as she stared at the lump of craft supplies. “This costume might be a little ambitious.”