Plastic Polly, page 6
While we wait, I’m reading a text from Kelsey. She came home from the hospital this morning and wants me to walk over to her house after the meeting is over. Next to me, Lindsey is filing her nails. On my other side Melinda is hunched over a fashion magazine with Jenna, taking some kind of quiz. Surprisingly, Mr. Fish isn’t wearing his shorts and Wildcats T-shirt. He’s wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a tie. The rest of the committee sits on his other side, chatting.
“When are they coming?” Kristy fidgets in her cheer uniform. “I’m going to be late to practi—”
Kristy breaks off at the sound of several feet stomping up the hallway, like a small marching band is coming our way. Then there’s a loud knock at the door.
“Everyone ready?” Mr. Fish asks. After we nod he says, “Come in!”
The door opens, and a man who I assume is American River’s teacher adviser strides in wearing a black polo shirt and khaki pants. He holds a clipboard in one hand.
Several students file in after him. They halt and take their seats, all at the same time, like they’re doing some kind of military exercise. Each of them is also wearing a polo shirt and khakis. They all hold clipboards. And none of them smile.
“Good afternoon,” Mr. Fish says when they’re all seated. “Welcome to Winston Academy. Let’s go around and introduce ourselves.”
Mr. Fish lets American River go first. The teacher adviser introduces himself as Mr. Pritchard, and then the students introduce themselves. I’m not really paying attention, because I’m texting Kelsey back under my desk. Until I hear a boy say, “I’m Justin Goodwin. I’m the PlanMaster for American River.”
I freeze in midtext. I know that voice. I just heard it last night. From Justin at the mall. The Justin who didn’t want to tell me how Pretty Percy got his name. The Justin I spilled my guts to about Groove It Up.
Justin is American River’s PlanMaster? I look up. Justin is sitting directly across from me. He’s staring at me with wide eyes and a pale face. He shakes his head slightly and mouths something at me. I’m sorry, maybe?
“Say ‘Polly,’” Melinda spits, jabbing me in the side with her elbow, way harder than she needs to. “It’s your turn. Stop being such a spaz.”
“Uh, Polly Pierce.” Then I give Justin my best Popular Polly look and add, “I’m the PlanMaster for Winston Academy.”
Mr. Fish launches into a speech about how much he’s looking forward to partnering with American River and how he hopes we can all work together to make it a great event for both our schools and for Maple Oaks as a whole. I’m surprised, because it sounds like he actually cares. I tune out after a while, though, because I’m thinking back to last night. Did I tell Justin anything really important? I feel like the biggest idiot on the face of the planet. Of all the people I could’ve confided in, it had to be American River’s PlanMaster?
Justin could’ve said something like, “Hey, I’m your rival, so you might want to shut it.” But did he do that? No. He just sat there acting like he cared. He was probably only listening so he could spy on me.
“Before we get to the coin toss,” Mr. Pritchard says, “I’d like to direct everyone’s attention to one of the rules.” He opens a copy of The PlanMaster’s PlanMaster and reads, “A school club or organization may only participate in one act in the talent competition. Similarly, a student may not participate in more than one act for each annual competition.” Mr. Pritchard stops reading and looks pointedly at Kristy. “This would include the cheerleading squad.”
I look over at Justin, who is steadfastly staring at his shoes. He was spying on me!
“Thank you for sharing that,” Mr. Fish says, seeming a little puzzled. “That’s very helpful.”
While Mr. Fish makes a couple more announcements, a white-faced Melinda, who seems to have forgotten she’s not speaking to me, whispers, “How did they know?”
“I have no idea,” I whisper back. I glare at the American River team and try to look properly outraged.
Melinda writes something in the margin of her magazine and pushes it over to me:
I TOLD Kelsey not to have so many seventh graders on the committee. They can’t keep their mouths shut.
Totally, I write back.
Melinda glances at the seventh graders next to Mr. Fish, a look of disgust on her face, then turns back to me and rolls her eyes. I roll mine back. For the moment it looks like all’s forgiven between us. I feel bad throwing the seventh graders under the bus, but what can I do, tell Melinda that last night I was blabbing our strategy to American River’s PlanMaster? Forget being banished from the Court. I might get banished from Winston Academy altogether.
“All right.” Mr. Pritchard pulls a penny from his pocket. “I’ll just toss the coin. We call heads.”
“Wait a minute,” Mr. Fish says. “That’s not a regulation coin toss.”
“Excuse me?” Mr. Pritchard frowns.
“I think we should observe certain rules, just as they do in football.”
“Football?” Mr. Pritchard says contemptuously.
“Yes,” Mr. Fish answers. His voice sounds pleasant, but his eyes harden as he adds, “It’s amazing to me how American River seems to win the coin toss year after year. What do you think are the odds of that?”
Then Mr. Fish directs everyone to stand in a circle at the side of the room. Justin slides into place next to me and starts to whisper, “Polly, I really—” but I move over in between Melinda and Lindsey before he can finish.
“Are you satisfied?” Mr. Pritchard says to Mr. Fish, who nods. “All right, then. Let’s get this over with. We call heads.”
“Hold it,” Mr. Fish says. “Show me the coin.”
“Why?” Mr. Pritchard asks.
“Because I want to make sure it isn’t a two-headed coin.”
Mr. Pritchard sputters and turns red, but while he’s defending his integrity and talking about the importance of trust between rivals, I notice he slips his penny into his pocket. And maybe it’s just me, but does the coin he’s holding now look just a little bit shinier?
While Mr. Fish examines the coin, I close my eyes, because I can see Justin is trying to get my attention. If Melinda or anyone else finds out I was hanging out with him last night, I am so dead.
Once Mr. Fish is satisfied the penny is genuine, Mr. Pritchard calls heads again and tosses it into the air. A glint of copper catches the sunlight streaming in from the window. When the penny hits the floor, it bounces and rolls in between Kristy’s and Jenna’s shoes until it spins and lands under a desk.
“Nobody move,” Mr. Pritchard says. “I’ll check the coin.”
“I’ll check it with you,” Mr. Fish says. Before Mr. Pritchard can move, Mr. Fish has turned aside the desk so they can both stare at it.
“It’s tails!” Mr. Fish hollers.
“Are you sure it’s tails, because it looks like it could be—”
“It’s tails,” Mr. Fish says. “Tails, definitely.”
Once we’re seated again, Mr. Fish says, “We’re happy to host Groove It Up. I think you’ll find that Winston’s auditorium is quite sizeable and can easily accommodate both schools.”
Mr. Pritchard smiles, although it looks like the effort might kill him. And I’m pretty sure I hear him mutter something about “snobby private school kids” before he says, “Thank you.”
A girl from American River—Montana, I think—who has beady black eyes, slicked-back brown hair, and really chubby cheeks says, “We have a list of things we’ll need from you as the host school.” She looks expectantly at Justin, who’s staring at the fire alarm, looking like he wishes someone would give it a good pull. Then, with a disgusted grunt, she picks up Justin’s clipboard and says, “Each act from our Talent Team has a list of needs.”
“You had tryouts already?” I ask.
“We had them last month. Our students have been perfecting their acts for the last several weeks. You’d better prepare yourself.” Montana regards our team coolly. “We’re through accepting second place. The concert and the spot on Good Morning, Maple Oaks are ours.”
“Oh yeah?” Melinda says. “Well, that’s just too bad, because our school has quite a nice collection of trophies. And we’d like another one.” She wrinkles her nose at Montana like she smells something rotten. “Those are nice cheeks you have there. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else right now, storing up nuts for the winter?”
Mr. Fish tells Melinda she’s out of line, but no one listens to him. Montana’s cheeks swell even larger, and she says something equally nasty to Melinda, which is followed by a cutting remark from Jenna. Then both teams are standing up and yelling, except for me. And for Justin, who’s leaning forward trying to get my attention.
“All right, that’s enough!” Mr. Fish hollers. “This meeting is now over!”
I ignore Justin and leave the classroom, barely hearing Melinda’s and Montana’s voices as they continue trading insults. I pull out my phone and send Kelsey a text.
I’m on my way. I NEED to talk to you. Right now!
Fifteen minutes later I’m standing in front of Kelsey—who’s lying on her bed, propped up on a sea of hot-pink throw pillows—feeling like a chastened general giving a bad report to her queen.
“Let me get this straight,” Kelsey says, settling back under her red quilt. “Justin, the guy you were going on and on about last night, is American River’s PlanMaster?”
I nod, and blink several times. Every time I walk into Kelsey’s room, I feel like I need sunglasses. Last year she decided to decorate her room in bright shades of red and hot pink, saying they were her power colors. I’ve never told her this, but personally I think it looks like a valentine upchucked all over the place.
“It gets worse.” I tell her all about the meeting and how her brilliant plan to feature the cheerleading squad has been crushed.
When I’ve finished, Kelsey throws a pillow at me, which I catch. “That’s just great, Polly. The next time you decide to blab your business to a random guy at the mall, do me a favor? Make sure he’s not your competition.”
“Did you know?” I toss the pillow back at Kelsey, which she catches.
“Did I know what?”
“That giving the cheerleaders multiple slots in the show was against the rules?”
Kelsey shrugs. “Have you seen how thick that PlanMaster guide thingy is?”
Which is basically her way of saying no.
My cell rings—it’s a number I don’t recognize—and I answer it.
“Polly? Don’t hang up. It’s Justin.”
“Justin?” I look at Kelsey and mouth, It’s him! I punch the speakerphone button so she can hear.
Kelsey hurls the pillow at me. I duck, and it sails into a bunch of get-well cards on her desk. “You tell that lying, spying little—”
I motion for her to be quiet. To Justin I say, “That was my friend. Don’t mind her. What do you want? And how did you get this number, anyway?”
“It’s on the list of contact numbers Mr. Fish passed out after you left. You ran out of there really fast, and I wanted to talk to you.”
“Why? So you could spy on me some more? Did you tell your whole team about me?”
“Hang up!” Kelsey yells. “He’s probably spying on you right now!” Kelsey throws another pillow at me, and it hits me in the head.
“Don’t hang up!” Justin sounds panicky. “I’m not spying on you, and I wasn’t last night either. I tried to tell you not to talk about Groove It Up, but—”
“Tried!” Kelsey shouts. “Of all the idiotic, stupid, and—”
“Kelsey!” I yell. “If you don’t stop talking, I swear I’m going to tell your mom about the time you borrowed her diamond earrings without asking.”
Kelsey lies back in bed, grumbling. “Fine, but if you need me to beat him up with my cast, you just let me know.”
“Polly, I didn’t mean to spy on you,” Justin says. “And I didn’t tell Mr. Pritchard I met you. I just said I’d heard somewhere that Winston Academy was giving all their slots to their cheerleading squad.”
“So basically you just blew our whole strategy.”
“Polly, it was against the rules. It wasn’t fair.”
“Whatever,” I say, even though I agree with him. “I’ve got to go. Thanks to you I have to come up with a whole new plan.”
I punch the disconnect button and then collapse onto the bed next to Kelsey. The phone rings—it’s Justin again—but I let it go to voice mail.
“What an idiot,” Kelsey says.
“Justin’s not an idiot,” I say, staring at the ceiling.
“I wasn’t talking about Justin.” Kelsey nudges me, to let me know she’s just kidding.
I turn and look at her. “You’re not going to tell anyone about this, right? I mean, if Melinda and everyone else found out, I’d probably get banished from the Court.”
“What are you talking about? You’re not going to get kicked out of the Court.” Kelsey looks offended. “I’m the one who kicks people out of the Court, and I say you’re staying. Although, you do something like this again, and I might reconsider.”
“Gee, thanks. Your compassion is truly amazing.”
“Don’t mention it.” Kelsey settles back on her pillows. “How were things at the Court today?”
I shrug. “Melinda invited Jenna to eat with us.”
The minute the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. Melinda has mentioned inviting Jenna to the Court several times this year, and Kelsey has always told her to forget it.
“She what?” Kelsey’s voice is low. Dangerous. I figure it’s a good thing for Melinda that Kelsey won’t be in school tomorrow.
Kelsey grabs her cell phone from her nightstand, and soon her fingers are flying as she taps out one, two, three text messages with her good hand. I assume they’re to Melinda, but I don’t ask.
“Feel better?” I ask when she’s finished.
“Slightly.”
“You know, if you came back to school tomorrow, you could handle this in person.” Kelsey seems to think this over, and I add, “Also, you could help me with tryouts tomorrow night. You could come back and be the PlanMaster.”
Kelsey sighs.” Polly, I told you—”
Just then Kelsey’s mom enters the room carrying a tray of steaming mugs of apple cider. “Here you go, Polly.” She holds out my mug and a bottle of butterscotch syrup, because she knows I like to mix some into my cider. I call it butter cider.
“You’ve got the weirdest eating habits,” Kelsey says.
“Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.”
After Mrs. Taylor leaves I glance at Kelsey’s mug. It’s a picture of a girl holding a soccer ball, and the caption reads: OUTTA MY WAY. I KICK HARD. I remember Alyssa bought it two years ago for Kelsey’s birthday.
I gesture to the mug. “I didn’t know you still had that.”
Kelsey shrugs. “Did you think I was going to throw it away?”
“Alyssa’s trying out for Groove It Up. At least, her name’s on the sign-up sheet.”
“Mmmmm.” Kelsey makes a point of sipping her cider. Which is her way of saying she doesn’t want to talk about Alyssa.
“Don’t you ever miss her?”
“No.” Kelsey sets her mug on her nightstand. “I never miss people who talk smack about me behind my back. And you shouldn’t either.”
“Come on, Kelsey. We don’t know that’s what she did.”
“Oh yeah? Then how do you think everyone started calling you Plastic Polly?” Kelsey demands. “I’ll tell you something, if Alyssa ever came near the Court, I would banish her.”
I decide not to remind Kelsey that Alyssa couldn’t care less about the Court. That’s a big part of the reason we’re not friends with her anymore. Instead, I say, “Whatever. But doesn’t it ever bother you?”
“Does what ever bother me?”
“Having that kind of power? Don’t you think it’s weird that you can decide someone can or cannot eat at your table? Just because you’re the most popular girl in school?”
“Weird? No. Awesome? Most definitely. And if I didn’t do it, someone else would. And besides, I haven’t banished anyone this year, have I? I’d say I’m the nicest popular girl Winston Academy’s ever seen. Remember Brooklyn?”
Oh, boy, do I ever. After Brooklyn banished Haley, she started banishing people left and right. She reminded me of a paranoid queen who kept firing her advisers to secure her power.
When I say that to Kelsey, she says, “You see? That’s exactly the wrong thing to say. You’re popular. You’re not supposed to be talking about politics or any other boring things. Think clothes. Fashion. Football games. You have to be mean.” Kelsey makes a funny face, but I wonder if there’s a part of her that’s also serious.
“I can be mean,” I say, thinking about Alyssa and the choice I made last year. “I can be just as mean as you.”
“Yeah, but the difference is, you’re just pretending.”
“And you’re not?”
“No,” Kelsey says matter-of-factly. “I’m training for the day when I take over the world.”
Kelsey remains serious for another second before grinning. I grin back. And then we’re both laughing, so hard Mrs. Taylor raps on the wall and tells us to keep it down. And I realize that even though I’ve sometimes wondered if I made the wrong choice, even though I haven’t always liked being at the Court, I’ve always loved being friends with Kelsey. She may be bossy, and sometimes she says the most outrageous and crazy things, but if I had chosen differently, I would have missed her.
Just like I miss Alyssa now.
Chapter 9
True Confession: I hate reality TV, but I watch it anyway, just so I know what everyone else at the Court is talking about.
ON THE NIGHT OF GROOVE IT UP TRYOUTS, I’M STANDING outside Winston’s auditorium, waiting for the delivery guy to show up with the pizzas I ordered for the planning committee.
