Girls Acting Catty (6 page)

After my mom paid for them, she asked me if I wanted to try on the dress again.

“Not really.”

“Let me rephrase that,” she said. “I'd like for you to try on the dress again. It should look much better now, but we have to make sure. We're running out of time, you know.”

“The wedding is over a month away.”

“And it'll be here before you know it.”

Double aaargh!

Once we finally got home, I heard voices coming from the kitchen. At first I worried Dweeble was talking to himself. Then I remembered his son, Jason, was arriving today.

Great—mini-Dweeb was here. Just what I needed!

I followed my mom into the kitchen, but stopped short in the doorway— completely stunned. Because the guy standing next to Dweeble? He was anything but dweeby.

chapter five
bra-tastrophe

I
guess my mom already knew Jason, because she went right up to him and gave him a hug. She had to stand on her tiptoes to do so, because Jason was tall. Not freakishly tall, like his dad—just regular, perfect-height sort of tall.

“Welcome home, Jay,” she said.

“Thanks, Jeanie, it's great to be here. Love the new place.”

Unlike his dad, Jason had all his hair and it was really nice hair too— long and dark and pulled back into a low ponytail. He wore earrings—one thick silver hoop in each ear. Not a lot of guys can get away with wearing two earrings without looking weird, but this one could. And he didn't just look not-weird in them. He actually looked good. Cute, which was crazy, considering that I was describing Dweeble's son.

“And you must be Annabelle.”

Before I could answer, Jason walked up to me and gave me a bear hug. “My almost-stepsister,” he said as he squeezed.

I didn't know if I was just supposed to stand there or hug him back, so I kind of half-hugged him and patted his back, accidentally dropping my shopping bag in the process. Yeah, that's right— the one full of bras.

When Jason let go, we both looked at the ground— me horrified; him concerned. He bent down to pick it up and I did too and we bumped heads.

“Yee-ouch!” I yelled, clutching my throbbing skull.

“You okay?” asked Jason. His beautiful eyes crinkled in the corners, like he actually felt my pain.

“Yup. I'm fine.” I grabbed the bag and backed out of the room.

“Looks like the shopping was a success,” said Dweeble. “What did you get?”

“Um . . .” That's all I could say. Um. Which was perfect.

Jason already thought I was a total klutz. Now I was acting like a mute too.

“Oh, we went dress shopping,” my mom said, winking at me.

I mouthed a silent thanks, suddenly feeling bad about how I'd acted at the mall.

“That looks like a pretty small bag for a dress,” said Dweeble, since the underwear bag was pretty tiny. Small enough to hide behind my back, which I did, even though it was too late.

“The dress is at the tailor's,” Mom said. “But we did find some, um, barrettes for Annabelle's hair.” She turned to me and smiled. “Why don't you go upstairs and put them away.”

I nodded, so grateful, then bolted to my room.

I put on one bra— the lilac one, which matched my T-shirt—and shoved the rest of them into my underwear drawer. I checked myself out in the mirror above my dresser. You couldn't see the bra through my T-shirt unless I pulled it tight against my chest, and I wasn't about to do that.

In no hurry to get back downstairs, I flopped down on my bed. The clasp felt lumpy against my back. Mom told me that, pretty soon, I'd get so used to wearing a bra, I'd forget it was on. But somehow I doubted that.

The whole contraption felt weird, and I dreaded wearing it to school on Monday. What would happen when I had to change clothes in PE? Only a handful of the sixth graders in my class wore bras, and Taylor was one of them. What if she noticed mine and made a nasty comment about it? Like, what if I'd picked out the wrong kind? Or what if I did the whole thing out of order, and girls who wore bras are supposed to shave their legs
first
?

Of course, there were other things to worry about at the moment. Things that happened to be right downstairs. I could not believe I met my future stepbrother and could only say five dumb words in his presence. Not that
yee-ouch
was a word, even. And for that matter, neither was
um
.

Just then my mom called me for dinner, so I peeled myself off my bed and headed downstairs.

The only empty seat at the table was right across from Jason. I sat down and tried not to stare, which was more challenging than it sounds. I couldn't help but realize that he was a hundred times cuter than the cutest boy at Birchwood Middle School. He and his dad looked nothing alike, and they didn't sound alike, either. Jason had this cool, casual drawl and he said, “man” a lot. As in, “Oh, man, was my flight long.” And “Man, the skiing in Lucerne is incredible.”

Since Jason is a vegetarian, he and Dweeble had made vegetable stew for dinner. We had something called couscous on the side. The grains were smaller than rice but bigger than sand and tastier than both.

“My friend Claire is a vegetarian,” I said.

“Did she stop eating meat because of the animals or for health reasons?” Jason asked.

“Um, I don't know,” I said, shrugging, and suddenly feeling dumb. “I think because of the animals, though. I never really asked her.”

“I didn't stop eating meat until I was a senior in high school,” said Jason. “It's cool that someone your age would make that decision so young.”

I shrugged. “Claire is cool. Most of my friends are.”

Omigosh! Why did I say something so dumb? Of course I'd think my friends were cool. Otherwise, they wouldn't be my friends.

“So, Jason, you're in town for a while. Do you have any big plans for your vacation?” asked my mom.

“Not really. I'm just here to chill. Catch up with some old friends, that sort of thing. Switzerland is great and all, but it's so quiet. It gets kind of boring after a while. And there's already snow on the ground, so it's nice to be in sunny Cali.”

“Cali?” I asked.

“California,” he said with a grin as he spooned more couscous onto his plate.

I'd never heard anyone call California Cali and I liked it. A lot. I took more couscous too, and hoped it didn't seem like I was copying him.

“So, Annabelle. What do you think of Birchwood?”

“Um, it's fine.” I shrugged. “You know. It's school.”

It's school?
Way to wow this guy with my stellar conversational skills.

“I went there, but it was ages ago,” Jason continued.

“I know. Dwee—, um, Ted, I mean your dad told me.”

“I wonder if you have any of my old teachers. Is Ms. Guzman around? Are you taking Spanish or French?”

Before I could answer him a piece of carrot got stuck in my throat and I started coughing. Mom patted my back but it didn't really help.

I reached for my iced tea but knocked over the glass, and it spilled across the table. Mom gave me her water and I gulped it down. Meanwhile, Jason threw his napkin over the spill before it leaked onto the floor.

Once I could finally breathe again, I noticed everyone watching me.

“You okay?” asked Dweeble.

“Fine,” I said. “Just fine.” Just hugely embarrassed. With a tomato-red face, probably.

What's wrong with me?

I took another sip of water and then felt something weird on my arm. Something that shouldn't have been there. I looked at my shoulder and noticed some random strap sticking out of my sleeve. Huh? I was puzzled at first—then panicked. Extremely panicked. Why? Um, that would be because of my bra strap. Yeah—my bra strap slipped off my shoulder. And it was still slipping—right out of the arm of my T-shirt.

I tugged it back up with my other hand, but it still felt loose, so I raised my shoulder up, hoping that gravity would work in my favor.

Then I felt the other side start to slip. Or maybe it was my imagination. Just in case, I raised my other shoulder.

Now they were both just about an inch from my earlobes.

Hi, Jason, I'm Annabelle Stevens, the mute, klutzy, neckless wonder.

“Something the matter, Annabelle?” asked my mom. Everyone looked my way.

Was she
trying
to humiliate me?

“Nope. Nothing,” I said, shooting daggers at her with my eyes. “Everything is fine, but can I please be excused? I have tons of homework.”

“They still give homework at Birchwood? Man, that's a shame.” Jason leaned back in his chair and winked at me.

When Dweeble winked it was completely dweeby. But when Jason did, he somehow made it look cool, and not like he had something stuck in his eye.

I couldn't help but smile at him. In fact, I almost winked back but stopped myself just in time. That would've been too dorky. I think.

Instead, I put my plate in the sink and got out of there— fast.

chapter six
terrible t strikes again

I
t took me forever to get dressed on Monday, since I had to try on six different shirts before finding one thick enough to hide my new bra. After carefully adjusting the straps, I wiggled around in front of the mirror for a few minutes, just to be sure that everything stayed where it was supposed to stay. I also wore my bright yellow Converse All Stars with rainbow-striped laces. Sure my feet were a little loud, but I figured that would keep the focus off my chest.

Unfortunately, my plan backfired before I even made it to first period.

As soon as I got to school I saw Taylor sitting on a bench, sandwiched between two Terrors: Nikki and Jesse.

When I tried to walk by, Taylor did an exaggerated double take— like a cartoon character would— and zeroed in on my shoes, asking, “What are those supposed to be?” Then she turned to Nikki and said, “Did someone forget to tell me about circus day?”

The three of them giggled.

“What are you talking about?” I asked.

Taylor flipped her hair over one shoulder and grinned. “I'm just trying to figure out why you're wearing clown shoes,” she said.

Nikki laughed so hard she snapped a rubber band on her braces, which made Jesse crack up even more. Taylor just stared at me, like she was actually waiting for an answer.

I stood there for a moment, stunned and frozen, my mind blank and my legs planted firmly on the ground— like they'd grown roots, or something.

If she were a boy making fun of me, I'd use one of Pepper's dog-training lessons, and in fact, one of them came to mind.

Sometimes dogs act out to get attention. Ignore them until they calm down.

Figuring this wasn't the worst strategy, I walked away.

Before I was even out of earshot, Jesse asked, “Oh my gosh, did you see her face?”

Then the three of them went off again, laughing hysterically.

I wondered if Taylor was right, and it really did look like I was wearing clown shoes. I thought about ducking into the locker room to trade my rainbow laces for the plain white ones in my PE shoes, but that seemed too obvious. I didn't want Taylor to think I actually cared about what she thought— although obviously I did, because I stressed about it all morning.

When Claire told me she liked my shoelaces at lunchtime, I cringed and waited for the punch line. It took a few seconds to remember that Claire was a good friend, and would never make fun of me. “Really?” I asked, just to be sure.

“They're absolutely fierce. Primary colors are totally hot this season.”

I trusted Claire's opinion completely, since she cared about fashion so much and always wore cute clothes. Today she had on faded jeans with purple and blue flowers embroidered onto the back pockets— ones she'd sewn herself.

“Taylor said it looks like I'm wearing clown shoes.”

Rachel was just sitting down and overheard. “No way,” she said.