Letters from the Heart (4 page)

None of the girls could think of a better plan. Someone needed to take care of Marty for the weekend. Maybe Avery was right. Marty hated going to the vet's and really—how much could possibly go wrong between Friday and Sunday evening?

Just then Nick Montoya walked by the girls' table. “Hey Charlotte, do you want to go over that Properties of Water experiment that's due tomorrow before science next period?” he asked casually.

Charlotte could feel her cheeks burn as Nick waited expectantly for an answer. “Sure. I'll meet you in the lab in a few minutes.”

Charlotte and the other Beacon Street Girls watched him walk off. “Oh, this is so embarrassing,” moaned Charlotte as she placed her hands on her pink cheeks. “I just can't stop blushing when I see him. It's a total curse!”

“Somebody needs to invent an anti-blush cream,” stated Katani.

“You could call it Blush Free Forever or BFF for short,” quipped Isabel.

Q
UEENS OF
M
EAN
V
ERSUS
Y
URT…

Suddenly, Dillon and Pete Wexler rushed by the table. “Science lab now! Anna and Joline are chasing Henry Yurt around the lab. He dumped water on Anna's head, and she's melting!” he cackled in his best imitation of the Wicked Witch of the West.

Marty was completely forgotten for the moment as the girls and everybody around them ran to catch the drama in the lab. No one wanted to miss it. Luckily the girls were right by the door of the cafeteria because the Yurt versus Anna and Joline story was spreading like wildfire through the cafeteria. The halls were filled with kids running and laughing at the idea of the nerdiest kid in seventh grade being chased around science lab by the school's “coolest” girls.

Avery was the first of the Beacon Street Girls to reach the door. Nick Montoya was already leaning at the doorway—a big grin plastered on his face. Anna and Joline were standing to one side of the lab bench. Black streaks of mascara dripped down Anna's face, wet stringy hair ruining her perfect look. Both Anna and Joline were looking like they could take Henry Yurt and bury him alive. Mr. Richardson was glaring at Henry, who was standing on the other side of the lab bench.

Nick gestured to everyone in the hall to be quiet.

“Henry,” Mr. Richardson said. “I think you need to apologize to Anna.”

“I don't want an apology. I want to sue him. He's such an idiot. Everyone knows you were supposed to make sure the water was level!” yelled Anna.

“No name calling, Anna. Henry made a mistake. He needs to be more careful about his lab procedures. But first, he needs to apologize and then clean up this mess. Go ahead, Henry. Apologize to Anna.”

Henry mumbled, “Sorry.” He didn't sound like he meant it.

“That's not an apology,” scowled Anna. “He's faking it.”

“I agree, Anna.”

There was a collective gasp in the room. Mrs. Fields had suddenly appeared and was sending all the kids who were peering into the room away.

The Beacon Street Girls were already in the room so they had to wait to file out. That meant they got to see and hear everything.

“Henry,” continued Mrs. Fields. “I want to hear a real Abigail Adams apology.”

Henry looked up. Nobody messed with a Mrs. Fields order. It just wasn't done. Resigned, Henry managed to squeak out, “Sorry, Anna, for spilling water on your head and making weird black streaks run down your face.”

Both Mr. Richardson and Mrs. Fields looked like they swallowed something sour.

“Now Anna, you need to apologize to Henry for the name calling.”

Anna put her hand on her hips and looked at Mrs. Fields with disbelief. She looked like she was about to say “No way.” But Mrs. Fields's raised eyebrow seemed to make her change her mind.

In a sickeningly sweet voice she said, “I am sorry, Henry, for calling you an idiot. It's not your fault that you can't follow directions and get your act together.”

Mr. Richardson sent Henry on his way, and Mrs. Fields took Anna to her office for cleanup. As Henry walked down the hall, everyone chanted in low tones, “Yurt, Yurt, Yurt.” Henry Yurt would now and forever remain a legend at Abigail Adams Junior High.

A.M. W
EIRDNESS

Maeve's mom was acting strange on Friday morning. Usually, she was the only one in the Kaplan-Taylor household who had much energy before eight o'clock. But this morning, she was just sitting with the newspaper spread out in front of her at the kitchen table, looking blankly at the headlines without really reading them. Sam and Maeve were running around trying to get ready, but she wasn't jumping up to help them the way she always did. Not even when Sam freaked out about where he'd left his homework.

“Where's Daddy?” Maeve asked, pouring herself some cereal.

“Still asleep,” her mother said absently. “He had a film festival that ran late last night.”

Maeve glanced at her mother. Her voice sounded weird—kind of muffled and distant, like she was thinking about something else. Not her mother's style at all.

“Maeve? Sam?” her mother said, as Maeve and her little brother were trying to cram everything they could remember
that they needed for school into their book bags. “Your dad and I want to take some time this weekend to have a family talk. Can you be sure to be around on Saturday, around dinnertime?”

Maeve stared at her mom. Since when did they make family plans on a Saturday evening? Wasn't that prime time for hanging out with friends?

“Uh…I don't know, Mom,” she began. But she stopped when she saw the look on her mother's face. Clearly this was something serious.

“Nobody's sick, are they, Mom?” asked Maeve nervously.

“No, honey. No one is sick. But we all need to talk.”

“Okay,” Maeve said. Whatever this was, it sounded non-negotiable.

But what could be going on? What kind of talk did they all need to have?

“How serious?” she asked, suddenly curious.

Her mom wasn't going to talk about it now, though. That much was clear. “Maeve, it's time for school. You'll be late! We'll talk this weekend,” she said.

Not really reassuring, Maeve thought. She could've just said
No, nothing serious
, and Maeve would've been relieved, and that would be that.

Now she had to go off to school wondering what on earth was the matter. Parents could be so frustrating sometimes.

D
AYDREAMS AND
P
RIZES

Isabel, Maeve, Katani, Charlotte, and Avery met at their lockers before homeroom to discuss plans for the big “Marty-Drop.” The girls were going to bring Marty to Avery's house on Friday evening. “We'll meet you at your back door and
help you get him set up in the carriage house,” Katani said.

“I've got all his stuff to bring, too. His water bowl, his leash…” Charlotte began.

“But we'll have to hide him in something in case anyone's around,” Maeve pointed out.

“Put him in my soccer bag,” Avery instructed.

“Won't he suffocate in that thing?” Isabel demanded.

“I didn't mean to zip it up,” Avery retorted, laughing.

Finally, they had a plan: that evening the four girls would bring Marty and his things over. Marty, the little stowaway, would be hidden in Avery's soccer bag—unzipped. Meanwhile Avery would set up a warm spot for him in the carriage house, and with any luck, Avery's mother would be none the wiser—no sneezing or hives, no trace of dog.

The homeroom bell rang, and everyone made their way into Ms. Rodriguez's classroom, still talking about Marty and how to keep a hyper dog out of sight for a whole weekend. Avery was so excited she could hardly contain herself for the rest of the day. Maeve slid into her desk, taking out her laptop. She was having a hard time concentrating. She was getting more and more preoccupied by what her mom had said. The big family discussion planned for Saturday seemed to be weighing on her mom's mind. And suddenly it was weighing on Maeve's, too.

What could be going on?

Maeve fiddled with her pen. It was her favorite—bright pink, with a long feathery plume. Maybe she was the problem. Maeve and her mother hadn't been getting along so well lately. Maeve's grades had suffered this year. Seventh grade was so much harder than sixth! It seemed that one week she would do really well in history and then the next week she would forget an assignment. And lately, there'd been friction at home
over her grades. Her mom wanted her to be more organized. Her dad, on the other hand, thought Maeve's mom was too hard on her. He thought—

“Maeve,” Ms. Rodriguez said, with the gentle firmness that suggested it wasn't the first time she'd said her name. “Are you with us?”

Maeve sat bolt upright, knocking her pen off her desk and onto the floor. A few people laughed, including Anna and Joline. Maeve could feel her cheeks redden. “Uh, sure. I'm—I was just…” Maeve sat up straighter. “Could you repeat the question?” she asked, trying to ignore the superior glance that Betsy was giving her. Betsy Fitzgerald, of course, would never daydream in class. Maeve snatched her pen by its feathery plume, ignoring Betsy's frown.

“I was just saying,” Ms. Rodriguez continued with a smile, “there is a community service award being given in Brookline. They're looking for nominations for students who have made special contributions to their communities. And I wanted to let you and the whole class know, Maeve, that you've been nominated. Project Thread has made a real difference for the children at Jeri's Place, and the seventh-grade teachers at Abigail Adams have selected you and your project to represent our school.”

Maeve couldn't believe her ears. For a minute, she thought she was still daydreaming. But as she looked around at her friends' smiling faces, she realized that this was actually happening. Inside she was really proud of the way her blanket project had turned out. But she'd never expected to be nominated for an award because of it.

“Whoa, way to go, Maeve!” Avery called out, unable to contain her enthusiasm. On the other side of the room, Katani and Charlotte burst into applause. And behind
Charlotte, Isabel gave Maeve an enthusiastic thumbs-up.

“Speech! Speech!” yelled Dillon.

Maeve's blush deepened. She wasn't used to being singled out like this. The blanket project was something that she'd dreamed up one night, wondering what it would be like to be alone and cold, without best friends for consolation. When she grew up, Maeve was determined that she would
always
do something for homeless people. The thought of anyone, especially children, being homeless really bothered her.

Whoever would have believed this?
Maeve thought now, looking across the homeroom at Katani and Isabel. Talk about proving that teamwork can get the job done! Once Katani stopped worrying about Isabel being a fifth wheel, she threw in her incredible organizational talent, and the blanket project really got off the ground.

“Ms. Rodriguez,” Maeve said slowly, “I—thanks so much, that's so great, but I wanted to say that I don't think it should just be ME getting nominated. It took a whole group of us to get this to happen.” She glanced appreciatively around the room at her friends.

Ms. Rodriguez nodded. “We talked about that, Maeve. The seventh-grade teachers really do want to acknowledge the whole group of you who gave your study hall second period to get this wonderful project off the ground. But Maeve, you're the one who came up with the idea. You spearheaded the project, and your vision carried it through. You should be very proud,” she added, her dark eyes sparkling. “There'll be a ceremony at the Community Center next Friday evening at seven o'clock. The winners will be announced then. So everyone, I hope you'll all come out to support Maeve and our school. Good luck, Maeve!”

Everyone clapped, and Maeve could feel her heart pounding.

The bell rang, signaling that homeroom was over. Maeve's fingers were trembling as she tried to get her laptop into her book bag. She couldn't believe it. In all her years of school, Maeve had never been nominated for anything. She could sing and dance, but she'd never been honored for a school project before. Usually when her name got called, it meant that she'd probably forgotten her homework. This was GOOD news. Wait until her mom and dad heard about this—they'd be so proud of her. Maybe it would even pick her mother's spirits up!

“Way to go, Kaplan-Taylor! You blanket-making goddess,” Avery cried, thumping Maeve on her back as the girls congregated outside of homeroom.

Maeve giggled as Avery's friendly thwack almost knocked her into Katani. Avery wasn't exactly a delicate flower, despite her diminutive stature.

“This calls for a celebration. Montoya's, after school!” Katani said, putting her arm around Maeve and giving her a squeeze.

Maeve had the vague feeling that she was supposed to be somewhere after school. “Just a sec,” she said, rummaging around in her book bag for her day planner. Darn—she'd left it at home, on her dresser. She couldn't remember what, if anything, she had planned. Didn't she have an appointment or lesson after school today?

She couldn't remember. If she had somewhere else to be, she'd figure it out later.

“Okay,” she said happily, linking arms with Katani and Isabel. “Montoya's it is!”

Katani was right. This was something to celebrate.

S
TAR OF THE
S
HOW

“Okay, guys. Grab a table and let's splurge,” Isabel cried, pushing through the door to Montoya's that afternoon. “The sky's the limit!” She opened up her wallet and a shadow crossed her face. “Katani,” she whispered, grabbing her arm. “Can we split this? I thought I had more money, but I've only got three dollars!”

“No problem. I've got my baby-sitting money,” Katani whispered back.

It was Friday afternoon, and the popular bakery was crowded with junior high students. Most of the tables were taken, but the Beacon Street Girls found one in the corner. They waved at people they knew and maneuvered their way up to the counter to order drinks. Nick Montoya and his sister Fabiana were helping out in the café after school, and Nick took everyone's orders. He gave Charlotte a special smile when she ordered her drink. Katani gave her a nudge. Lately, Nick had been paying a lot of attention to Charlotte, and she knew her friends were starting to notice. Charlotte wasn't sure about Nick as a boyfriend yet. But he was nice…
really
nice. He'd make a good friend.

A few minutes later, they were all sitting down, sipping iced hot chocolate and munching on pastries.

“Here's to Maeve,” Charlotte said, lifting her glass.

“No one I know has ever won an award before,” Isabel said admiringly, taking a bite of a buñuelo, one of the café's specialties.

“I haven't won yet,” Maeve pointed out, taking a delicate bite of her cookie. She pushed her red curls back, frowning thoughtfully. “I wonder how they're going to do this. Do you suppose they'll hand out awards? And what should I wear? D'you think it'll be super-dressy?”

Katani grinned. “Kind of like the Oscars?”

Maeve grinned. “Okay, okay. I guess this is a little different,” she admitted. But she was SO excited. “Should I write a speech—just in case?” she asked.

“I could help you,” Charlotte offered.

“And I could help with figuring out what to wear,” Katani added.

Just then, the door to Montoya's swung open and Anna and Joline came sauntering in. Anna had one arm flung casually around Joline's shoulder, in that “we are SO cool and such totally best friends” way that she had. It was amazing. Even the now-famous lab incident didn't affect their coolness. Anna and Joline almost always dressed alike. If it weren't for the fact that Anna was taller and blonde, you'd almost think they were clones. They managed to wear everything with an attitude that suggested that if it wasn't a trend yet, it would be by the end of the day. Today, they weren't dressed identically, but the effect was pretty much the same. Tight, low-rider jeans. Form-fitting T-shirts, and scrunchy terry-cloth sweatshirts, halfway unzipped. They walked up to the counter together to place their orders—water.

Katani looked incredulous. “WATER at Montoya's! What a waste,” she muttered.

“Sshhhh,” Maeve said. Anna and Joline were walking back from the counter, right toward their table.

“Hey, Maeve,” Anna said lazily, raising one eyebrow and looking intently at Maeve, totally ignoring Charlotte, Isabel, Katani, and Avery. She was making it very clear that she was interested in talking ONLY to Maeve. “Pretty cool about that award thingy you're getting.”

“Yeah,” Joline echoed, flicking her long brown hair back with one finger. “Nice going, Maeve.”

Maeve swallowed. She wasn't used to having the Queens of Mean bother to talk to her—let alone go out of their way to come over and say hi. “I haven't actually won yet—” she began. But Anna and Joline didn't seem to notice.

“It's cool,” Anna continued. “Who knows? Maybe you'll be famous.”

Okay…when was the backhanded compliment coming? Maeve wondered.

“We're sitting over there,” Joline said, gesturing over to a table filled with eighth graders. “If you want, you can come sit with us.” She made it sound like she'd just offered Maeve a chance to visit Mount Olympus and become immortal.

Maeve glanced around the table. Nobody said anything. Her friends' expressions were impossible to read. Maeve was surprised by the attention, and she couldn't help feeling a tiny bit flattered. She couldn't remember the last time Anna or Joline had asked her anything.

Maybe she'd misjudged them. Maybe they really weren't that horrible after all.

On the other hand, Anna and Joline hadn't exactly included the rest of her friends in the invitation. They'd clearly been talking just to her. That made Maeve feel a little uncomfortable—her personal mantra was always “the more the merrier.” She didn't accept invitations if they didn't include all her friends, too.