Girls Acting Catty (2 page)

Claire looked at me with wide blue eyes. Her braid was half undone, and loose strands of red hair floated around her flushed cheeks. “You know their eggs are rotten, right?” she whispered.

I gulped and repeated one of the dog-training lessons in my head.
Never show fear. A dog that thinks
you're afraid of him is never going to respect you.

I hid my shaking hands behind my back and shrugged, copping my best “relaxed and casual” pose. “Maybe I'm lying and maybe I'm not. You really want to take that risk?”

“Which house is the Wiggenses'?” one of the ninjas asked.

“Second in from the corner across the street. The one with the lawn gnome.”

Two ninjas gazed at the house hungrily.

“Don't listen to her,” said Jackson, but it was too late. They were already gone—moving as fast as Pepper had the other day when I dropped some goldfish on the kitchen floor. (The crackers, not the fish.)

Now it was me and Claire against Jackson. He was outnumbered, but still armed.

“Sneaky,” said Jackson.

I shrugged and tried not to smile. “I call it self-defense.”

“Everyone knows they'd only give out king-size chocolate in Canyon Ranch, and even that's probably not true.”

Yes, the guy was annoying, but he wasn't completely clueless.

“Okay, fine,” I admitted. “The Wiggenses aren't even home. But who knows? Maybe they do have giant chocolate bars at their house. I never said they were passing them out. I just said they
had
them, which is entirely possible.”

He smirked and wound up again. “Oh, Spaz, you are gonna be sorry.”

I grabbed Claire's arm. “We're going to back away slowly,” I said, as if we were in the middle of a hostage situation. “And you're going to let us leave.”

Jackson paused. “You think I'd waste this perfectly good egg?”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “If you ruin our costumes, if you get even one trace of rotten egg on us, I'll get you back, twice as bad.”

“And how would you manage that?” he scoffed, disbelieving.

I tried to look intimidating. Unfortunately, I'm kind of shrimpy— short and blond and skinny too.

Not exactly built to intimidate an eighth grader or even a sixth-grade boy. Maybe I could intimidate a small third grader, but why would I want to? That would be cruel. “I'm not telling, but trust me, you'll be sorry.”

“Real sorry,” Claire added.

“Yeah, right,” Jackson said, all sarcastic.

Claire and I had to escape. Pretty soon those two ninja dudes would figure out I was lying about the Wiggenses' place, and then we'd be toast. Eggy toast. And I don't mean the French variety.

Suddenly Claire pointed over Jackson's shoulder and yelled, “Oh my gosh— it's a vampire bat!”

When he turned around to look, Claire sprang forward, grabbed the egg right out of his hand, and smashed it over his head.

“What the—”

Before Jackson could finish his sentence, we were gone, sprinting across the street to safety.

Yumi, Rachel, and Emma were waiting for us in the backyard— so giddy and excited they were jumping up and down.

“I can't believe you egged my brother. That's too excellent!” said Rachel.

“What did you say to him, anyway?” asked Emma.

“Yeah, tell us everything,” said Yumi.

After Claire finished the story, we peeked out front. As far as we could tell, the ninjas had moved on.

“Do you guys want to change before we head back out?” I asked, since the egg attack had left Emma and Rachel slightly stinky.

“There's no time,” said Emma. “Plus, we don't have new costumes to change into. Can you guys stand the smell for another half hour?”

“Sure. It's no biggie,” I said. “What are friends for?”

We continued trick-or-treating, and even got sympathy points (meaning extra candy) when we told this old man we'd been attacked by rotten-egg-wielding ninjas. So it was totally worth it. We were just debating whether or not we could hit our favorite spots a second time, when Rachel stopped in her tracks and whispered, “Yikes.”

I looked around, but didn't see Jackson or his friends anywhere. “Where are they?” I asked.

Rachel pointed to Taylor and Hannah, two sixth graders from school. They were with two other girls I didn't know. But I could tell they were all good friends, since they had on matching costumes. Each wore a shiny purple top and tight black pants. They were covered in body glitter, and had on makeup too: purple eye shadow, dark eyeliner, and red lipstick. If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought they were in high school. I knew it was Halloween and all, and dressing up like someone else is the point, but their costumes seemed different. Even without the body glitter, there was something sparkly about them.

“Hi!” I tried moving closer, but Rachel pulled me back.

Taylor held up her hands and scrunched up her nose. “Ew, what's that smell?” she asked.

“Um, we got egged,” I said. “Some of us did, anyway, but just a little.”

“And you're still, like, out here? Disgusting,” said one of the girls I didn't know. She had long, dark curly hair and braces with purple rubber bands. I wondered if her bands were always purple, or if she got special ones to match her costume. I didn't ask her, though. Something about the way she glared at us— like we'd just crawled out from under a sewer grate— made me not want to speak to her.

Taylor surveyed our whole group, asking, “What are you supposed to be, anyway?”

“Exotic fish,” I replied. “Except for Rachel. She's the castle in the tank.”

“A castle?” Taylor asked and then smirked. “Seriously. You're a castle?”

Rachel elbowed me. Everyone else got quiet so I did too.

Taylor stared pointedly at Rachel and said, “I'm surprised you didn't find a costume that would hide your face.”

Rachel's cheeks burned red. “What are you talking about?” she asked.

“If I had pimples like yours, I'd have worn a paper bag over my head,” said the girl with braces. “Except not just on Halloween. I'm talking about every day.”

Her friends giggled behind their hands.

“Well, at least I'm wearing a real costume,” said Rachel. She tried crossing her arms over her chest but the box got in the way, which made Taylor and her friends laugh harder.

“What are you guys supposed to be, anyway?”

Yumi asked.

“Rock stars, obviously. I'm so over this.” Taylor rolled her eyes, turned around, and headed off, teetering slightly on her spiky heels. Her three friends trailed close behind.

Meanwhile, Rachel fumed. “Rock stars?” she yelled. “You don't even have any instruments!”

Rather than answer her, Taylor and her friends laughed. Meanly.

“Just forget about it,” said Emma once they were out of earshot. “Come on, let's go.”

We finally got back to trick-or-treating, and ended up with an insane amount of candy. But after the run-in with Taylor's crowd, somehow all the fun had drained out of the night.

It was weird. Facing the ninjas had been hard, and they'd posed a real threat: rotten eggs, ruined costumes, and humiliation in front of Jackson—my least favorite boy, ever.

All Taylor and her friends did was talk to us and look at us in a mean way. It shouldn't have mattered, but it did.

Pepper's dog-training lessons usually worked on the Birchwood boys. Yet I had this eerie feeling that, somehow, the same tricks were never going to work on a bunch of girls.

chapter two
tulips and pepper don't mix

M
y mom raced into the kitchen bright and early the next morning, hair unbrushed and only half dressed in jeans, a nightshirt, and fuzzy pink bunny slippers.

“Annabelle, guess what? I'm going to be a bride!” she practically yelled.

I looked up from the pile of candy I was sorting through, totally confused. For one thing, I wasn't deaf. But more importantly, Halloween was over. “Um, isn't it a little early to start planning for next year?”

My mom laughed, and I didn't even know what was so funny, or why she was in such a great mood before she'd had her morning coffee.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“I'm better than okay. What I meant was, I'm going to be a bride in real life, because Ted and I just got engaged.”

I stared at her, not really comprehending.

“To be married,” she added.

“Oh.” I sat back and crossed my arms over my chest, which felt strangely tight. “Yeah, I know what engaged means.”

“Well, good.” She held out her hand and showed me her new ring—a thin gold band with a small diamond in the center. The stone sparkled, but not nearly as brightly as her green eyes. I hadn't seen her this excited since, well, I can't remember since when. “He surprised me with it last night.”

“Wow.” I tried to muster up some enthusiasm but my voice sounded flat, like a can of soda that'd been left out in the sun. I knew I should've been happy for her. So why did I feel a monster-size lump forming in my throat? And how come, when I glanced down at my candy, all the bright and shiny wrappers looked blurry?

“Oh, you're upset!” my mom cried.

“No, I'm not,” I said, but she could probably tell I was bluffing, since I had to blink to keep from crying.

“I'm sorry, Annabelle. I didn't mean to spring this on you. I'm just so excited. I couldn't help myself.”

She tried to put her hand over mine but I pulled it away.

“It's fine,” I said. “I mean it's great. I'm, um, really happy for you.” And I wanted to be, I really did. But my mom has never been married before. It's always been just the two of us. At least it was until last summer, when we moved in with her boyfriend, Ted Weeble. That's how we ended up in this big house in Westlake. Before that, Mom and I had lived in a cozy apartment in North Hollywood, thirty miles away. When Mom told me about the big move last summer, she said we'd all live together for a while to make sure we got along before she and Ted made a bigger commitment.

I'd thought that would take years, not months. “Isn't this kind of soon?” I asked.

“We
had
planned on waiting a little longer,” Mom said, pulling out a chair and sitting down next to me. “But it feels right. And I know it's big news, and you've already been so wonderful about the move and—” Just then she noticed my candy. “You're not eating that for breakfast, are you?”

“I'm just sorting it. Want a piece?” I offered her a cherry Jolly Rancher— her favorite.

“No thanks.” She shook her head. “Please don't worry, honey. Marriage isn't going to change anything, really, since we already all live together.”

“So I noticed.”

She sighed in sympathy, and tugged on her blond curls with one hand. “My point is, we've gotten through the hardest part. I know the move was a big adjustment, but you're doing so well here. And you certainly had a fun Halloween.”

I shrugged, thinking again about how un-fun the night turned out to be after we ran into Taylor and her friends. Not that I was going to tell my mom about that.

“Nothing is going to change except that Ted will be my husband, and not my boyfriend. And he'll be your stepdad too. But those are just labels, words.”

Sure, my mom was trying to make me feel better, but I hadn't even thought about the whole stepdad factor. I'd never had a real dad. Not one I've ever met, anyway. And now I'd have a stepdad? I didn't know what to make of it, so I went back to counting my candy: three Gobstoppers, six packets of SweeTarts, and four ropes of licorice. No, make that five. Three were red and two were black. I can't stand licorice.

“We'll have a small ceremony in the backyard, probably. I'm thinking very low-key, but Ted wants something traditional. We're still working that out. Oh, and I need to ask you something. Will you be my maid of honor?”

She'd made me lose count. Now I couldn't remember if I had six boxes of Junior Mints or seven.

“Annabelle?”

“Hold on a sec.” It was eight boxes, actually.

“Did you hear me?” she asked.

“Yup.”

She placed her palms on the table and leaned in closer. “Yes, you heard me? Or yes, you'll be my maid of honor?”

“Yes to both,” I said, and finally looked up at her. “But does that mean I have to get all dressed up?”

I felt bad as soon as the words left my mouth. Especially when I noticed Mom's smile fade. “Just kidding,” I said, even though I wasn't, completely.

My uncle, Jake, and his boyfriend, Shane, had a commitment ceremony two years ago. Mom made me wear a yellow dress
and
itchy tights
and
patent leather shoes that pinched my toes and left me with three blisters. It was ridiculously annoying— the outfit, that is. The ceremony was fine, a little boring, but worth it in the end because they served pigs in a blanket afterward, with three different kinds of mustard.