How Not To Be Popular (18 page)

Tired of staring at my five-inch-high self, I refold the paper and chuck it back to the guy behind me.

“You should go by the journalism room and get a couple of copies,” Jack says, so helpful.

Yeah, and authentically punch a sophomore reporter in her totally natural face. It would be fun.

“By the way,” he adds, “Mrs. Minnow needs the note from your parents excusing your absences.” I dig through my Star Fleet backpack, looking for the note Les scrawled out for me, but I can’t remember where I put it. In my hurry, I almost toss out a couple of maxi pads I had stashed in there in case of an emergency. I start to safely tuck them out of the way when it suddenly hits me:
why not let
everyone see them?
Yes! That’s it! I can humiliate myself back to loser status!

“Whoops!” I exclaim as I purposefully knock the two pads out of the bag. “Look at that! My
maxi pads
just fell onto the floor!”

The students down front take one look at them and break into nervous laughter. Then more kids bob up for a peek. I pretend to fumble with them so that as many people as possible can catch sight of what I’m doing. I try not to smile as the laughter grows. My mind spins up a lovely daydream in which groups of onlookers smirk and call me Maxi Maggie….

“Man, don’t you hate it when that happens?” says the girl who invited me to the party.

“Yeah,” goes her friend.

“Don’t feel bad,” says another girl to me. “One time I was reaching in my purse for a pen and I pulled out a tampon. Right in the middle of class.”

Everyone laughs at that.

“Man, guys have it easy,” says the party girl, pouting.

Others nod and mutter in agreement.

Suddenly I’m the center of a female-bonding session. I glance around at the guys. Jack at least has the sense to look embarrassed for me, but no one else seems all that bothered.

I finally find my note and hand it over to Mrs. Minnow. She exchanges it for a bright blue excused-absence pass and whispers something about a homework grace period. By the time I make my way back to my seat, the whole feminine-hygiene incident has passed. And from what I can tell, it didn’t leave the slightest pencil mark on my reputation.

As soon as I retake my seat, there’s a crackling sound above my head and Dr. Wohman’s voice comes

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over the intercom. “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “May I have your attention for some announcements?”

Funny how they always
ask
for our attention, as if we really have a choice in the matter.

“The nominees for homecoming queen have been selected. Congratulations to the following young ladies: Hannah Hirsh…Caitlyn Ward…”

“Please!” someone snorts.

Someone else groans.

“Shanna Applewhite, Tenisha Lewis, and Sugar Magnolia Dempsey.”
What?

Several people in the room clap. Jack smiles and says something I can’t hear. My heartbeat is twanging loudly, and everything around me looks a little off, as if I’m staring out from a fishbowl.

So
this
is why Sharla was sobbing. She didn’t make the cut and I did! I, Maggie Dempsey, loser extraordinaire, am now a nominee for
homecoming queen
?

If only Sharla knew that, right now, I feel like crying too.

“How did this happen?”

“They passed out the ballots yesterday while you were gone. The top five vote-getters become the nominees.”

“I know how it works but…why me?”

“I don’t know. I wrote down Hannah Hirsh. She once tried out for
American Idol.
” I’m sitting in the cafeteria with Penny, hoping to return to some normal strangeness after a morning full of
strange
strangeness. But I can’t even eat. The Stabbies are back—this time set to puree.

“Are you coming to water aerobics today?” Penny asks, carefully spearing her green beans so that no tine goes empty.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “I’m not feeling all that great.”

“Helen probably won’t be there. She just had surgery.”

“She did?” I’m sorry to hear that. I really like Helen.

“She hurt her knee. Apparently it was all swollen up with fluid and they had to stick a tube in and drain it….”

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I push aside my thermos of cauliflower soup and rest my head on my hand. The day’s only halfway over and already I’m wiped out. All morning I’ve been greeted and congratulated and quoted to from the article. I’ve seen Pokémon, Kim Possible, and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle backpacks. I’ve seen Winnie-the-Pooh and Transformer binders. One girl had a Scooby-Doo purse I really envied. And even now there’s a drama kid at the next table eating from an Elmo lunch pail.

“Way to go!” A pretty Hispanic girl pauses at our table on her way from the lunch line. “I voted for you, you know.”

I suppress the urge to grab her by her shoulders and shout,
Why in hell would you do a thing like
that?
Instead I mumble, “Thanks,” and shove a big glob of cauliflower into my mouth, making further conversation impossible.

The girl grins at me as if we’re sharing a secret and continues on to her seat.

“So after that they slice off part of the cartilage…,” Penny is saying.

I force myself to chew the cauliflower, trying not to choke. I see the girl sit down with her friends at the end of the table. Their heads dip together and they start up a chat storm, pausing occasionally to look over at me and smile.

Why do all these wonderful things have to happen to me? It’s not fair! First Jack. Then this stupid homecoming nomination. It’s like the Universe is determined to see me succeed. In the past, I would have been groggy with joy. But not now. Not when I have three months before I take leave of this place.

Take leave.
What a weird saying. Seems to me you either take something or leave something. But if you
take leave
, what happens to the something? Does it get canceled out?

Maybe that’s why I’m so tired. I’m literally being used up.

My gaze wanders over to the popular table. Lots of people over there are watching me, including Miles.

He’s nodding to something a guy in a baseball cap is saying, but his eyes keep drifting in my direction.

Caitlyn and Sharla are glaring at me like two mustache-twirling cartoon baddies. Sharla’s face is all puffy and splotchy, and I find myself feeling sorry for her. She was right. I don’t belong in that list of top-tier females. And strangely enough, I don’t
want
to be there. Not here. How could people have voted for me when I’ve been acting like a supreme loser for weeks?

It feels like my stomach is folding itself up. Halfs. Quarters. Eighths. Sixteenths. Maybe it’s possible to implode from stress. Maybe the force of the Stabbies will pull everything inward until there’s nothing left of me but a wavy distortion.

What happened to what’s-her-name?

She collapsed under too much strain and became a black hole.

“Hi!” Another total stranger—this time a girl with thick red hair and glasses—has come up and tapped me on the shoulder. “I just wanted to let you know that my friends and I are going to vote for you. Good luck!” She gives me a wide smile and walks away, her Hello Kitty backpack bouncing along behind her.

“Wow.” Penny’s sparse brows push together as she scrutinizes me with all her mouth-breathing might.

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“You’re really…”

No! Don’t say it!

“…popular.”

After school I hide in the bathroom, waiting for most people to clear out before I leave. Forty minutes and twenty-two pages of
Gulliver’s Travels
later, I finally decide it’s safe to venture outside.

The halls are empty except for the custodial staff, and the bus pickup point is deserted. I head down the sidewalk, wondering if I should do the bathroom-hiding thing every day until we move. Maybe I can arrive early in the morning and stake out a stall then too. Maybe I can even convince Penny to eat lunch in there.

I turn onto a street parallel to the one I usually take. Once again I’m following one of Penny’s elaborate maps. I told her I’d pick up the flyers for the Helping Hands Halloween Dance. The print shop isn’t far off my route home, so it’s no big deal. Besides, our next meeting is tomorrow after school, and if I show up with the flyers, it might earn points with Mrs. Pratt. I just hope Jack doesn’t decide to ask me out in front of her again.

My brain starts rolling footage of the kiss, and once again that squashy feeling comes over me. I don’t know what to do. I’m really trying not to like him, but my mind is still confused. Just seeing his wide smile this morning and breathing in his clean, papery scent made me want to fall into his arms all over again. At least I managed not to give him my phone number. I just have to keep putting him off until he gives up.

I repeat these thoughts as I head into the print shop, pick up the stack of papers, pay for the order with the tax-free account number Penny gave me, and wander back outside. The smell of coffee wafts over me from a nearby café, and I suddenly get the urge for an iced chai latte.

As I meander down the sidewalk, I pull one of the orange flyers out of the stack and study it. The design is hokey but cute. There’s a sketch of some ghosts, witches, mummies, and vampires dancing under a full-moon disco ball, and across the top it says “Join the Helping Hands for their Spook-tacular Halloween Dance. We’ll be dancing to DJ Master-Man and ‘goblin’ up treats!” Something tells me Carter helped with the wording.

Finally I reach the café. As I cross the red and black checkerboard floor, I suddenly sense the speed and temperature in the room change. Glancing up from the flyer, I see several beautiful and familiar faces looking right at me. I’ve wandered right into a hive of Bippies. The gleaming tans, as well as the smell of salon products, should have been a tip-off.

“Nice of you to join us,” says someone in a drawling voice. It’s Miles, hanging over the back of a chrome bistro chair.

Beautiful.

He gets to his feet and stalks toward me, all smirky and snakelike.

“Watch out, dude,” says one of his chucklehead friends. “Or she might jab you with her big trash stick.”
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“Yeah, I got a big stick for her,” Miles quips.

Lovely.

Forget the chai. Forget the notion of ever having a moment’s peace in this town. I spin around in my rubber boots and head toward the door.

“Hey!” Miles steps in front of me, causing me to veer left. Only he keeps matching me pace for pace until I end up wedged in the corner between him and the window. “Hey, chill! Don’t be so pure. I was just joking.”

“Please move out of my way,” I whine.

“Wait. Just listen, okay?”

He has me trapped. I really can’t leave. So I fold my arms across my chest and raise my eyebrows impatiently.

After a quick glance back at his pals, he hunches his shoulders and says, “I know you act like you don’t like me, but that’s crap. You and I could be great together as soon as you stop.” His tone is sulky yet demanding. “So how about tonight? The Golly Bums are at the Hole in the Wall and I can probably get us in.” He dips his head and levels his eyes at me in a sultry sort of look. “Come on. I’m not so bad.

You’ll see.”

What is
with
this guy? I think I made myself pretty clear at the park. Why does everyone in this whole crappy city seem determined to like me no matter what I do?

“No,”
I say as firmly as I can.

Miles looks surprised, then insulted. “No you
can’t
? Or no you don’t want to?”

“Just
no
! No to everything. Always. Forever and ever.” He blows out his breath and rakes his hand through his choppy haircut. “What is your deal? I just…don’t get you.” All the swagger has left his voice and posture. For the very first time, Miles is being straight with me. “You act like you’re too good for everyone, but then you go and hang out with those weirdo kids.”

“Maybe I’m a weirdo.”

“No, you
aren’t.
And you know it.”

He says this with such total conviction all I can do is stare back at him. I’m seriously freaked now. It’s as if Miles just barged into my mind, kicked up his feet, and started reading my innermost thoughts. Does he know? Can he really tell I’m faking it?

Miles shakes his head. “I don’t know why, but you’re trying to pull something here. Whatever it is, it’s just…sad.”

He gives me a long, dissecting stare. It’s like Norm looking at me—if Norm were gorgeous and had
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better breath.

I feel my neck starting to flush. In a moment my face will be like one of those flashing lights on top of emergency vehicles, all red and glowing and obvious. I have to end this. Fast.