School Squad, page 6
“OMG!” I shouted. “Mr. Haim is the new Bachelor? Why didn’t you tell us in class?”
“You’re Maisy’s teacher?” Bea asked at the same time. “What about the honors section? Are you teaching that, too?”
“No, no, no.” Now that Mr. Pembrook’s bowtie was as straight as possible, he moved on to smoothing his beard. “Dr. Butterfield is teaching honors.”
I got the feeling from his weird tone that he had to tell the principal he was dating Bea’s mom and it turned into a whole thing.
Bea looked toward the cafeteria. “We have to go to lunch.”
“Yeah, before the acai bowls sell out,” I added, so Mr. Pembrook wouldn’t feel bad.
“See you later,” Mr. Pembrook said.
Bea’s whole face tightened. “Later, as in literally or figuratively?”
“Um, for dinner… tonight… six p.m. Your mom’s cooking,” Mr. Pembrook said.
Before Bea could answer, Dr. Butterfield came out of nowhere and shoved an iPad under Mr. Pembrook’s nose. “I tweaked Mr. Haim’s lesson to fit the honors class, but now I’m not sure it meets the core curriculum standards. Can you take a quick look?”
Before Mr. Pembrook could answer, Bea grabbed my arm and dragged me down the hall.
“It’s not that bad, Bea,” I said, practically running to keep up with her.
“Did you see his bowtie? When people find out my mom’s dating him…”
“People like Mr. Pembrook. He explains things so we can actually understand them,” I said. “He even made up a rap song about the order of operations. It sounds cheesy, but I swear it wasn’t.”
Bea turned to me. “Would you want your mom dating him?”
Last night when I was trying to sleep, I couldn’t stop picturing Mom sitting on her bed at rehab, staring at her phone, waiting for me to text back. I almost did. But then she would think that I had forgiven her and that what she did wasn’t that bad. And maybe she would slip up. And maybe something really bad would happen this time. Addy can think I’m a jerk all she wants, but she doesn’t realize I’m just trying to protect us.
Bea stopped walking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
I held up my hand. “It’s fine.”
“Seriously, I—” Bea started.
“Whatever you do, don’t pull out your lunch bag. No one brings lunch,” I said.
Bea’s face crumpled. “But I didn’t bring money.”
“You can use my account. I have money left over from last year,” I said.
“Thanks,” Bea said.
I walked up to the food counter. “We’ll have two smoothie bowls with your famous granola.”
Mrs. Acres smiled at us. She had been our cafeteria lady since we were in kindergarten because our school district is so small that the elementary, middle, and high schools all share a cafeteria. “It’s your lucky day. You girls got the last two.”
Mrs. Acres topped our trays with acai bowls, and I paid with my account after grabbing us each a bottle of water.
Bea stood frozen at the entrance to the lunchroom holding her tray in front of her with shaky hands. “What if this is all a big mistake, Maisy? What if I say or do the wrong thing? Or even worse, what if I walk over to the table and they laugh at me when I try to sit down?”
“Didn’t you hear Mrs. Acres?” I asked. “It’s our lucky day.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
BEA
THE PTA THOUGHT IT WOULD BE CUTE TO GIVE THE CAFETERIA A “picnic theme,” so they painted the walls with grassy meadows and woodland creatures and replaced the long cafeteria tables with picnic tables and benches. The M & Ms were sitting at the middle picnic table in the middle row, so they were literally the center of everything.
Mia, Madeline, and Meghan sat on one bench, and Madison and Chloe sat across from them on the other one. There was just enough room for one more person at the popular table.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking and my water bottle rolled on its side into my smoothie bowl. It took all of my strength not to drop the tray. I realized I would have to back out of the cafeteria in front of the whole school.
But Maisy walked over to Chloe like it was no big deal and said, “Scoot over so Bea and I can fit.”
Madison and Chloe moved over, and Maisy plunked her tray down next to theirs. I settled on a tiny sliver of bench with half a butt cheek hanging over the edge. Sitting half on and half off the bench was a metaphor for my precarious status with the M & Ms.
Not only was my butt cheek hanging off, so was my tray. Maisy put my acai bowl and water on the end of the table and grabbed my tray and stacked it under hers. Such a simple solution, yet one I was not capable of figuring out in my anxious state.
Madeline scooped up a big spoonful of dark purple smoothie and granola. “Did you see Taylor Horvath?”
“Do you think she’s going goth?” Madison asked.
“No, Madison.” Mia rolled her eyes. “She’s trying to be preppy with her black hair, black nail polish, and all-black clothes.”
Madeline laughed and pointed her spoon at Madison. “Madison’s always been the queen of obvious.”
“Remember that time she asked Mrs. Palmer if she was having a baby after Mrs. Palmer told the class she was going on maternity leave?” Meghan teased.
“We were only in second grade back then.” Madison’s cheeks reddened as she stabbed at her acai bowl. “I didn’t know what that meant.”
“You mean her bowling-ball belly didn’t clue you in?” Meghan joked.
Everyone laughed, but I noticed Madison’s and Chloe’s laughter was more forced.
I watched as the other girls skimmed the top of their smoothie bowls with their plastic spoons, capturing a thin layer of smoothie and granola before popping it in their mouths. I mimicked their action, before realizing that I don’t like smoothie bowls. But now was not the time to be picky about food. I was willing to eat a whole plate of brussels sprouts if it meant not eating alone in the library.
Mia leaned in close. “Did you guys see Sutter walking to school alone? I heard her friend group dropped her.”
“I heard it was because…” Madeline stabbed her plastic spoon in the air for emphasis, “they couldn’t stand her B.O.”
It took a lot of brain power to study the subtle nuances in their language and to figure out their speech patterns. But I was getting the hang of it.
I took a big swig of water. “Did you guys see Samantha’s hair? Someone should leave a can of dry shampoo in her locker.”
Madison and Chloe practically shrieked with laughter.
“OMG! That would be the best prank ever!” Meghan said.
Maisy shot a me a look.
“So, Genius Whisperer. What’s the deal with Clark?” Madeline held up her phone. It showed a Snapchat picture of Clark standing with Simone, Mia’s rival and the head of the second most popular friend group.
Mia cut in. “Simone’s in his homeroom and she already put a picture with him on her story. Now everyone’s gonna think he’s with her friend group.”
“Oh, heck no,” Meghan said.
“What’s your plan, Bea?” Mia asked.
“Yeah, what’s your plan?” Madison echoed.
My heart sank as I realized having one plan wasn’t going to be enough to make it with these girls. I was going to have to come up with new plans all the time, which was Maisy’s strength, not mine.
MAISY
Last year it didn’t bother me when the M & Ms spent the lunch period trash-talking the other girls in the grade. Talking about how Emily Robbins got her period while wearing white jeans in the middle of English class or how Tisha Stevens had a huge crush on Peter Hutchins when he was obviously in love with her best friend helped distract me from the Mom situation. But after spending the summer with the Sunflower girls, I realized there are so many more interesting things to talk about than other people.
Part of me wanted to mess this up for Bea, mess this up for us, so we could go sit somewhere else, just the two of us. Eating lunch in the library with Bea sounded pretty good to me. At least then we could both be ourselves, like at camp.
But Bea looked at me with her big brown eyes, begging me to fix this for her.
“Bea was just telling me her idea when we were buying lunch,” I said.
“What’s the plan, Bea?” Madeline asked, while she scraped the sides of her plastic bowl for every last bit of purple acai goodness.
Two red dots appeared on Bea’s cheeks, and her freckles flashed through her thick layer of concealer. “Um, Maisy can explain it better.”
“Bea’s partnering up with Clark, Griffin, and Marshall for the robotics competition. It’s the perfect way to hang out with him as much as possible,” I said.
Mia rolled her eyes. “We already knew that.”
“That isn’t really a plan,” Meghan said.
“And it doesn’t have anything to do with us,” Madeline added.
“That’s only the first part.” I grabbed a big cluster of granola off Bea’s bowl and popped it in my mouth. “Last year they won with a drone that takes selfies and posts to social media.”
“My mom showed me a video of it on the school website,” Madeline said. “It’s actually really cool. You don’t have to worry about someone holding the phone to take the picture, and everyone fits in the shot.”
“Holding the phone is the worst,” Meghan said. “Whoever holds the phone always has a gigantic head compared to the other people.”
“Agreed!” Mia said.
“And it posts right to Instagram,” Madeline said.
“I bet they could, like, sell it for real,” Madison said.
“I would totally buy one,” Chloe chimed in.
“What does their drone have to do with us?” Mia asked.
Bea jumped in. “We get Clark to your house by telling him we want to experiment with the drone in a social setting. Then we post pics with him so everyone knows we landed the Glow Up of the Year,” Bea said.
Mia held up two fingers. “There are two problems with this plan.”
Bea’s face crumpled and I could feel her body tense up next to me. “What?”
“You mean who,” Madeline said.
Mia waved her arms around. “Have you seen Marshall and Griffin lately?”
“OMG!” Madison shrieked. “Did you see what Marshall’s wearing?”
Before anyone could answer, Madison blurted out, “A Minecraft shirt!”
I leaned into the table and lowered my voice. “What seventh-grade boy is going to hang out with a bunch of girls by himself? Especially girls as popular as us.”
Mia sighed. “Good point.”
“Who said anything about Marshall and Griffin being in the pictures? We can crop those two losers out of the photos,” Bea said.
Bea was morphing into an M & M faster than I thought she would.
Mia looked at Bea with respect. “Good plan.”
Madison and Chloe both nodded and said, “Good plan.”
Mia plopped a bright yellow plastic bag from Forever 21 on the table. The bag crinkled as she reached inside and pulled out a Poppy Red scrunchie. She scraped her blond hair into a high ponytail and wrapped the scrunchie around it.
“OMG! So cute!” Madison said.
“Yeah, so cute,” Chloe chimed in.
Mia reached in the bag slowly and pulled out another scrunchie. She handed it to Meghan. “We need to keep our brand on point.”
“Love it!” Meghan bunched her wavy hair into a messy bun and wrapped the scrunchie around it. “This way everyone will know who’s in our group.”
I could feel Bea’s body freeze while Mia reached in the bag and handed Madeline and Madison scrunchies. Madeline put her scrunchie on her wrist and Madison pulled her limp hair into a low ponytail.
I wasn’t giving in to Mia’s little waiting game. I reached in the bag and pulled out a scrunchie. “Thanks,” I said, twisting my hair into a loose braid.
Mia stared at me while I wrapped the end of the braid with the Poppy Red fabric. Then she folded her arms across her chest. “Sorry, Chloe and Bea. There aren’t enough for everyone. I only got enough for the original M & Ms.”
“That’s okay,” Chloe said, in a breathless rush, with an expression on her face that made it clear she was definitely not okay.
Bea blinked and said in a small voice, “It’s fine.”
“Very funny, Mia,” I said. “I felt more scrunchies in there.”
“JK!!!” Mia laughed. “You should’ve seen your faces.” She reached in the bag and pulled out the last scrunchies.
She handed one to Chloe, who smiled like she had just been given a hundred-dollar bill.
Chloe held it in her hand for a full minute before pulling it over her wrist. “Thank you, Mia. I’ll wear it every day.”
Mia held out her hand in front of Bea’s face with the last scrunchie in it. Bea reached for it, but Mia snapped her hand into a fist. “Just make sure your plan works.”
“It’ll work,” Bea said. “I swear.”
Mia opened her hand. Bea grabbed the scrunchie and pulled her straight red hair up into a copycat version of Mia’s high ponytail.
CHAPTER NINE
BEA
“I WAS SO NERVOUS WHEN WE WALKED ACROSS THE CAFETERIA,” I practically shouted over the food processor.
“Why? You were already in the M & Ms’ back-to-school photo on Instagram.” Mom turned off the machine and squirted fresh lemon juice into the green sludge. “I saw it when I got to work. I was relieved because you looked so happy.”
“You know when you dream of something happening? Then it finally does and you’re waiting for someone to tell you it’s all a big mistake?” I asked.
Mom poured the green mixture into a glass dressing decanter and gave it a hearty shake. “Don’t laugh, but that’s how I felt about Gavin. It’s not like I dreamed of dating a vegan math teacher with a bowtie collection that rivals my shoe closet.”
I tried to adjust my facial expression so Mom couldn’t see my dismay at the direction our conversation had taken.
“But I really hoped I would find someone who gets me.” Mom looked up at the ceiling. “Someone who appreciates my weirdness. Someone who would make me believe in love again. Once I found that, I was convinced it was a big mistake. I was certain Gavin would text me to say he had been temporarily insane thinking we would work.”
“When did you stop worrying?” I asked.
“When we both got food poisoning from that all-you-can-eat burrito place,” Mom said. “You know the one at Maple Grove Shopping Center?”
I grimaced. “Talk about a questionable place for a date.”
“We realized that about an hour after dinner. But when you go through a weekend chugging Imodium and taking turns using the only bathroom and you’re still cracking jokes and enjoying each other, you know it’s for real,” Mom said.
“Let’s hope I don’t have to get diarrhea with the M & Ms to know it’s for real,” I said.
Mom put one hand on each side of my face. “Just make sure you aren’t so wrapped up in the dream of being popular that you don’t really get to know these girls. You need to figure out if they’re people you actually want to be friends with.”
“Okay, Mom,” I said. “No one brings lunch in middle school. We all get acai bowls.”
“Everyone thinks acai bowls are healthy, but they’re packed with sugar. You may as well eat a bowl of ice cream for lunch,” Mom said.
“I won’t get one every day. I swear. But no one brings lunch in middle school,” I said.
Mom pulled a twenty out of the pocket of her linen overalls. “Make sure you buy real food with this.”
“Thanks.” I shoved the money in my cell phone case. “Speaking of real food, what do we feed a vegan for dinner?”
“Sweet potato and black bean burgers, with green goddess salad on the side,” said Mom. “Don’t worry, it’s going to be delicious.”
“Does this mean we have to turn vegan now?” I asked.
“Let’s make a deal. I won’t make you turn vegan if you don’t turn me into a carnivore,” said a deep voice from behind me.
I spun around so fast the ends of my hair whipped my face. Mr. Pembrook was standing in my kitchen. He had swapped out the button-down shirt and bowtie for a red Gryffindor T-shirt and black joggers. It was weird enough to see a teacher in street clothes; having him standing in my kitchen made my brain feel like it would explode.
Mr. Pembrook reached out his closed fist with a lame smile on his face. Mom looked at me expectantly, so I gave him a fist bump back. Why does every grown-up in the world think they look cool when they give a fist bump?
Mom ran over to Mr. Pembrook and looked like she was about to hug him, but then she took a step back with her hands dangling awkwardly at her sides. “I made a copycat recipe of the sweet potato burger you love from Vegan Underground. I even made the green goddess salad with the shaved turnips. With chocolate chia pudding for dessert.”
Mr. Pembrook rubbed his nonexistent belly. “Sounds like the best first-day-of-school meal.”
I shuddered. “Maybe for you.”
“You’re going to love it, Bea.” Mom pulled a stack of plates from the cabinet. “And if you don’t, there’s always PB and J.”
I know lots of moms give the “There’s always PB and J speech,” but I had never heard it because it had been just Mom and me for so long, and we both like all the same exact things.
Until Mr. Pembrook came along.
Mr. Pembrook took drinking glasses out of the cabinet like he owned the place. “Did Bea tell you the news?”
“That she sat at the popular table at lunch?” Mom said.
I shot Mom daggers from my eyes, but she was so busy pouring Mr. Pembrook a tall glass of oat milk, she didn’t even notice.
“This is going to be anticlimactic compared to Bea’s news.” Mr. Pembrook grabbed a set of salad tongs from what Mom calls our miscellaneous drawer and scooped up salad onto our plates. “I got transferred to the middle school.”
Mom popped open a pack of gluten-free burger buns because, apparently, you can’t go vegan without riding the gluten-free train as well. “You’ve been dying to teach middle school! But how did this happen so last minute? I hope Dr. Butterfield’s okay. He wasn’t looking so good at the middle school orientation.”
