Plastic Polly, page 10
“Wow.”
Alyssa nods. “I know.”
“How did you know they’d be back here?”
“Most people know they’re back here. You need to get out around campus more.”
I start to protest but stop. The truth is, I spend most of my time, when I’m not in class, at the Court, or hanging out in the English hall by my locker. I rarely have to leave my locker to go find someone. People come to me. That probably sounds like I’m bragging, but I’m really not. That’s just how it is.
I clear my throat, and one of the boys turns around. Then he nudges the other boy, who also turns around.
“Oh, dude!” the second boy says. “It’s Plastic— I mean, shoot, it’s Polly Pierce!” He turns red. “Sorry.”
“No problem,” I say. “What’s your name?”
“Kai, and this is Aidan.”
“Nice to meet you guys. Do you know I’m the PlanMaster for Groove It Up this year?”
Kai and Aidan look at me strangely. “Everyone knows that,” Aidan says.
“Then you also probably know that tryouts are in a few days.”
Kai shrugs. “Yeah, so?”
“So, I want you two to try out. I think you’re really talented.”
Kai and Aidan stare at each other like they’re not sure they should believe me.
“I mean it. Tryouts are on Thursday, and I’d really like it if you could come.” In my head I imagine myself whipping out a business card that reads POLLY PIERCE, PROFESSIONAL PLANMASTER, and saying, “Call me anytime, dahling!”
“I heard tryouts this year were a sham,” Kai says, “that unless you were in with the Court, not to bother.”
“Well, it’s not like that,” I say. “At least, not anymore.”
“So you’re saying there’s, like, a new sheriff in town?” Kai grins at me.
“Yeah.” I grin back. “I guess there is.”
True confession: I’ve never hung out in the Dungeon. I’ve never had any reason to. I’m not involved with the choir or drama club, and I’m not friends with anyone who is—so I feel a little nervous at lunch when Alyssa and I meet at the top of the staircase leading into the Dungeon.
“One thing before we go,” Alyssa says.
“Shoot.”
Alyssa looks uncomfortable. “I know that the Court and you and Kelsey and all your friends are a big deal and everything, but people in the Dungeon don’t really care. It’s different down there.”
We walk down the stairs, and I’m struck by how different it really is. I’m not sure what I expected—a sad, cold, and gray place? But instead, the air is warm and musty. The walls are painted a cheery yellow, and clumps of students are relaxing in the hallway, eating lunch and laughing with their friends. I can even hear a few students singing in one of the practice rooms.
“Do people practice at lunchtime?” I ask.
Alyssa nods. “Any time they can. A lot of times I join them.”
As we walk down the hall past several more practice rooms, I notice a classroom where orange twinkle lights hang from the ceiling. In the corner a stuffed scarecrow sits on a bale of hay next to a pile of pumpkins.
“That’s Mrs. Marsden’s room,” Alyssa says, following my gaze. “She always decorates according to the season. You should see it in December.” Alyssa glances at me and quickly stops talking. Is she wondering—like I am—if we’ll still be speaking after Groove It Up is over? Or will we go back to pretending like the other one doesn’t exist?
We continue down the hall, and several students say hi to Alyssa. Their eyes flick over to me, and then they give Alyssa a questioning look as if to say, What are you doing with her? Which is funny, because upstairs it was the exact opposite. As we walked the halls, people looked at me like they couldn’t figure out why I was bothering to talk to Alyssa.
We stop, and Alyssa knocks on the door of a practice room. “Hold on a minute,” comes a voice from inside.
While we wait, a girl walks up to us. “Hey, Alyssa, can you tell me again about that warm-up technique your new voice coach taught you?” She stops when she finally notices me. “Oh, hey. I didn’t realize you were friends with Polly.”
Alyssa and I both glance at each other. I don’t think either of us knows how to answer that. Winston has a huge middle school section, so there are a lot of kids here who probably don’t realize Alyssa and I were ever friends. For some reason this makes me sad.
Alyssa promises the girl that she’ll talk to her later, and after she’s gone, I ask, “You have a new voice coach?”
“Yeah. I got tired of Lady Onion Breath.”
We laugh. Then my cell phone pings with a text message from Kelsey:
You fired Melinda and Jenna? Are you out of your mind?
I’m surprised it took Kelsey this long to text me. I figured Melinda would tattle text on me the minute I left the Court yesterday.
I text back:
Possibly. I’ll call you after school.
“Who was that?” Alyssa asks after I stick my phone into my pocket.
“Kelsey.”
“How’s she doing?” She looks genuinely concerned.
“Good. She’s home from the hospital. I’m going over there after school today. Want to—” I stop. For one second I had forgotten that Kelsey and I aren’t friends with Alyssa anymore. I was going to invite Alyssa to come along.
Alyssa stops smiling. I know from her perspective it probably feels like I chose Kelsey over her, but that wasn’t it. That day, I was choosing the Court, and popularity, and everything I wanted.
Or at least, everything I thought I wanted.
The door opens, and a boy walks out. “Go on in,” he tells Alyssa. “They’re almost finished.”
Inside the practice room two twin girls with long black dreadlocked hair are standing on a small stage, singing. But they’re not singing in the diva-like way that Alyssa sings. They’re rapping. I keep trying to catch the words, because they sound familiar.
“Wait . . . is that—are they rapping to Hamlet?”
Alyssa nods. “That’s Tasha and Dominique. They call themselves the Shakespeare Twins. Brilliant, right?”
“Totally brilliant.” I stare at the girls. Tasha and Dominique. I’m pretty sure their names were originally on the sign-up list and were crossed off yesterday.
“Hey, Alyssa,” calls one of the girls. “No outsiders allowed.” Her gaze flicks over to me, then back to Alyssa like I’m not even there. Or like I’m someone she can’t stand, even though I’m pretty sure we’ve never met.
“I know, Tasha,” Alyssa says, “but I wanted Polly to see you guys. We’d like you to come try out for Groove It Up.”
Tasha crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I heard no one from drama had a chance of making it into Groove It Up this year.”
“Things are different now,” I say, stepping closer to the stage, “and I’d really like you to try out.”
Tasha looks at me and seems to consider this. “Is it true you fired Melinda Drake and Jenna Huff as judges?”
I feel something in my stomach tighten. “You heard about that?”
“Oh yeah. The whole school is talking about it. Man, there are a lot of people not happy with you right now.”
“Great,” I say. Then I add, “Yeah, it’s true. I fired them.”
Tasha turns to Dominique, and a silent look passes between them. “Then we’ll definitely be there,” Dominique finally answers.
Alyssa and I leave—she says there’s a gymnast named Betsy she wants me to meet. We get sidetracked, though, because people keep stopping to talk to Alyssa. One girl wants to know how Alyssa did on her math test. A boy hanging out in Mrs. Marsden’s room wants Alyssa to give a message to someone named Angelica. A couple girls sitting in the hallway ask if Alyssa has plans for Halloween next week.
I stand silently next to her as she answers each question, and I feel strange. All this time I guess I imagined Alyssa down here in the Dungeon by herself, a loner starved for friendship. I think back to all those photos Alyssa has tacked to her corkboard. I’m ashamed to admit this, but I guess a part of me assumed Alyssa hasn’t been happy this past year, not without me and Kelsey. But as I watch her talk and laugh with everyone down here, I can see that’s not the case.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad Alyssa is happy. But if she’s had such a great year, I can’t help but wonder, has she missed me at all?
Chapter 13
True Confession: Every day I stand in front of my closet door and ask myself, “What would a popular girl wear today?”
EVERY MIDDLE SCHOOL HAS A DRESS CODE. SURE, SOME schools have official dress codes and make you wear gross uniforms, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I mean, there can be several different unofficial dress codes at one school.
Like at Winston Academy if you’re a Court girl, you probably wear strappy sandals and flippy skirts. Down in the Dungeon, I’ve noticed the girls have a dress code of their own: long, flowing skirts, peasant blouses, and brightly colored scarfs.
I think about this as I stand in front of my closet one morning, trying to decide what to wear. For the past few days—ever since tryouts for Groove It Up finished—I’ve been avoiding the Court and eating lunch with Alyssa in the Dungeon.
Kate Newport served as the third judge—you should’ve seen the look on her face when I asked her—and overall, tryouts went really well. Kai and Aidan, the Shakespeare Twins, and Betsy the gymnast all showed up and were voted onto the Talent Team. Alyssa and I mostly voted the same way. Kate usually waited to cast her vote until after Alyssa and I voted. She didn’t seem to care all that much who made the cut. She just seemed happy to be included.
The only people not happy with the tryouts were Melinda and Jenna, and they started giving me the silent treatment at the Court. Since listening to Melinda and Jenna ignore me gets annoying (and Lindsey seems nervous every time she talks to me), I’ve started eating lunch with Alyssa in the Dungeon.
I pull a blue skirt from my closet. I feel out of place wearing my clothes in the Dungeon. No one else down there dresses like me. Plus, it’s hard sitting on the floor of Mrs. Marsden’s classroom in a shorter skirt. I decide against the skirt and put it back in my closet.
The first day that Alyssa and I ate lunch together, we mostly talked about Groove It Up (and we ignored the weird looks from everyone else in Mrs. Marsden’s room). But slowly we’ve started talking about other stuff too. We discuss the novels we’re reading—something I can’t talk to Kelsey about, since she thinks reading is a waste of her time. (Right now I’m reading Little Women for the book report in Mr. Fish’s class.) Alyssa also told me she’s trying out for the lead in the school play this spring, and that last year she had a huge crush on Derek Tanner, but he never noticed her, even though she sat next to him in three classes.
I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Derek—who barely speaks to me now that he’s made it onto the Talent Team—isn’t all that interesting, so instead I said, “Are you serious? You should have told me. I could have introduced you.”
Alyssa fell silent, suddenly seeming absorbed in her peanut butter and banana sandwich, and I realized how rude I probably sounded. Because for one thing, last year Alyssa and I weren’t even speaking to each other. And second, things that seem normal to me, like hanging out with the cheerleaders and the football players, are out of reach for Alyssa.
Sometimes it feels like Winston Academy is made up of several small countries (the Court, the Dungeon, and many other cliques) with strict rules in place to keep outsiders from breaching the boundaries. I wonder if it’s like that at other middle schools.
While I’m hunting through my closet, my fingers brush against a white flowing blouse I forgot I had. I pull it out and find the long skirt Mom made me buy last month for Grandma Pierce’s birthday party. After I put them on, I rustle through my dresser for the one scarf I own—a sparkly light green one Alyssa and I found at a thrift shop two years ago.
I dig through my jewelry box and put on the dangly silver earrings that Kate insisted I borrow last week after I told her I thought they were cute. Then I stare at myself again in the mirror. I look almost exactly like some of Alyssa’s friends.
It occurs to me that if I really want to be like the girls in the Dungeon, I could ask Mom to take me to see a few musicals. I think I could also—
My eyes fall on the picture of me, Alyssa, and Kelsey. The one from Alyssa’s room I forgot to stick back on her corkboard. It’s been sitting on my dresser ever since. I’m still standing in between Alyssa and Kelsey, with my ponytail and my T-shirt and cutoffs. Then I flick my eyes back to the mirror.
Who am I kidding? I hate musicals. And the flowing blouses and skirts may look cute on the girls in the Dungeon, but right now I personally feel like I’m wearing bed sheets. If I wear this outfit today, I’ll be itching and sweating before the first bell rings.
But if I wanted to, I could do it. I could turn myself into a clone of the Dungeon girls. I’m great at making myself over. I look back at the picture. I’ve done it once already, haven’t I? And if I did it again, what would people call me then? Broadway Polly? It doesn’t have quite the same ring as Plastic Polly.
I stare at the picture a while longer, then decide to change into something that’s more “me.” Whatever that is.
Actually, Plastic Polly is the perfect nickname, I think as I unwind the scarf from around my neck.
Because I am fake.
When I get to school, the hallways are festive. Tonight is Halloween, and a few students are wearing their costumes, even though it’s against the rules. A group of boys are wearing silver tuxedos—Shattered Stars’ trademark look—and singing. A boy dressed as Dracula comes screaming down the hall, scaring a girl so badly she screams and drops her textbooks. Another girl is passing out candy to anyone who stops by her locker.
I’m spinning my combination lock when I hear Alyssa come up behind me and say hi. When I turn around, I see she looks a little nervous. “Tasha, Dominique, and I are going to a harvest festival at the community center tonight. Want to join us?”
Alyssa smiles shyly, and I know she’s offering me something. A friendship outside of Groove It Up and a few lunches in the Dungeon. A chance to start over.
“I’d really like to, but I can’t,” I tell Alyssa truthfully. “But could you come with me somewhere? Kelsey and I were supposed to go to Kristy Palmer’s Halloween party—”
“I am not hanging out with a bunch of cheerleaders.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” I say.
Kelsey and I were supposed to go to Kristy’s Halloween party, but Mrs. Taylor said Kelsey can’t go because of her injuries. Kelsey sent me a ton of livid texts last night, so I texted her back that I’d skip the party and hang out with her at her house and pass out candy. I’m bummed, because I worked really hard on my costume, but I’d rather be with Kelsey.
After I tell Alyssa all that, I add, “And Kristy isn’t that bad.” Because she’s really not. She doesn’t join in with Melinda and Jenna when they ignore me. And yesterday in history class she leaned over and said she was glad I’d fired Melinda and Jenna. “I want to win,” she whispered fiercely. “American River can suck my snobby private school toenails.”
“Yeah, right,” Alyssa says now. “I’m sure Kristy and all your stuck-up Court friends are just a bundle of fun.”
I ignore that and say, “You could come with me to Kelsey’s house.” I don’t actually know if that’s true or not. I don’t know how Kelsey would react to seeing Alyssa. Not well, I guess. I deliberately haven’t mentioned that I’ve been hanging out with Alyssa whenever Kelsey and I have talked or texted this week. But I want Alyssa to know her invitation means something to me.
“I don’t think so.” Alyssa turns like she’s going to walk away.
“Okay,” I say quickly, “but maybe we could hang out tomorrow after school?”
“Um, I can’t,” Alyssa says. “I have a history test I have to study for.”
“Okay.” I decide not to remind Alyssa that we have the same history teacher, just during different periods, so I know that test isn’t until next week. “Maybe another time?”
“Sure, yeah,” Alyssa says, and walks away.
I turn and angrily stuff my backpack into my locker, ignoring Kate Newport when she approaches and offers me a handful of candy corn. Same old Alyssa. She expects me to drop everything for her, but she won’t change her plans for me, probably because she thinks her friends are better—and less shallow—than mine.
And she thinks I’m the stuck-up one?
Halloween is my favorite holiday. Not because of the candy, or because I like spiders and blood and guts and stuff. (Gross!) Nope, I like Halloween because it’s the one night in the year when I can pretend to be anyone I want and no one can call me fake.
Last year I dressed up as a butterfly. I had shiny, sparkly wings and a glittery face mask. Everyone liked my costume, except for Brooklyn Jones, who said it was “pretty but kind of immature.” So this year I wanted to pick out a costume that said, Now here’s a girl who’s mature and sophisticated. Here’s a girl who’s in control and worth talking to. So I decided to be Cleopatra. Besides my costume, which came with a really cool black wig, Mom let me buy chunky gold jewelry and gold strappy sandals.
When Mom and I pull up at Kelsey’s house, I see candlelit pumpkins lining the walkway, and spiderwebs hanging from the roof. I tell Mom I’ll see her in a few hours, straighten my wig, and hop out of the car. A couple of boys dressed as Jedi Knights from Star Wars stand outside the front door while Kelsey and her little sister, Molly, drop candy into their outstretched pillowcases.
After they’ve left and I’m inside, Kelsey slams the door. She’s got a murderous look in her eyes, and she’s holding up her hot-pink cast like she’d like to smack someone with it. “Why did you bother dressing up?” Kelsey raises her voice and calls out, “It’s not like we get to go anywhere.”
