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  I smiled. “I’m available all week, except Monday.”

  “It’s a date,” she said, dropping a kiss on my forehead. “Good night, Amazing Artist.”

  “Good night, Even More Amazing Aunt.” I crawled into bed.

  She switched off the light, started to leave, then turned back. “Oh, and about that mustard girl?”

  I giggled under the covers. “Dijon.”

  “Yeah. I wouldn’t worry about her. I saw the look on her face today. That girl is scared of you.”

  I started to say, “I don’t think so,” but when I lifted my head, Iona was gone.

  It was kind of her to say that, but my aunt didn’t know Dijon the way I did. Her Fabulousness wasn’t frightened of anybody, least of all me. I pulled the blanket up under my chin and stared at the ceiling. Still, we had won the contest in leadership class, and that might have threatened her. A little. To be on the safe side, I vowed to stay out of the way of Her Fabulousness and the Royal Court until after the PTA meeting. It was two days away, and only one of those days was a school day, so how hard could it be?

  My plan would have worked perfectly, too, had it not been for one tiny hitch.

  On Monday morning I got on my bus with my new PE T-shirt in my backpack. I wasn’t about to give Coach Notting another opportunity to “simile” me. I could already hear her shouting in my head. “You know, Sherwood, forgetting things is like upchucking clam chowder. You only want to do it once.”

  Ugh.

  Three stops later Liezel got on the bus.

  “I’ll bet you can’t guess what happened to me this weekend,” she squealed, sliding in beside me. “Not in a million, trillion years.”

  I bet I could. But I didn’t. I let her tell me.

  “Madysen Prestwick called. She’s the head of the dance committee. They want to hire Avalanche to play at the fall dance!”

  “Congrats!”

  “I was so excited, I don’t think I slept at all last night. You are coming, right?”

  “To the dance? I don’t know . . .” I rarely went to school dances. There’s an awful lot of “much-ness” at a dance. Too much pressure to dance with someone that was not above your status level but also not below your status level. Too much pretending to be funnier or smarter or happier than you were. Too much warm punch and cheese in a can.

  “Please, Coco, you have to come. You have to.”

  I gave in pretty easily. I really did want to see her band play live.

  “Did you do your math homework?” Liezel asked as we got off the bus.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Did you figure out that last story problem on integers?”

  I fell into step beside her on the sidewalk. “You mean the one about the distance between the top of Mt. Rainier and the bottom of Death Valley?”

  On a typical morning at Big Mess it wasn’t unusual to see other girls chatting with their friends, talking on their phones, and wexting (you know, walking and texting at the same time). When Liezel and I strolled up the main walkway, the sun was in our faces, and we were discussing our math homework, so I wasn’t paying much attention to the other kids moving around us. But by the time we’d reached the shadow of the building, I could tell something wasn’t right.

  I stopped in the middle of the walkway and turned in a slow, tight circle. In the frosty morning air my breath formed little clouds in front of me. As I realized what was going on, the clouds came faster and faster.

  Had I done this?

  “We didn’t have to do the bonus questions at the end of the chapter, did we?” asked Liezel, still not seeing what I was seeing.

  Évian and Venice were coming toward us. Venice was chewing a thick wad of gum. Snap. Snap. Snap.

  “Oh no!”

  I had done this.

  Liezel moaned. “I knew I should have done the bonus questions.”

  Venice blew a blue bubble at me, then popped it.

  Bang!

  “What are you staring at, Cuckoo?” she asked.

  I said the first thing that came to my mind. I said, “Fish.”

  Venice tipped her head in wonder, but it was the only thought going through my head. Their lips glowing bright yellow, Venice and Évian reminded me of a pair of tropical tang fish!

  “Coco?” Liezel was nudging me. “What in the world is that?”

  “That,” I answered weakly, “is Firefly lip gloss.”

  Twenty

  I felt dizzy. And cold. And hot. And did I say dizzy?

  “I never meant for this to happen,” I said to myself, rushing past Venice and Évian. “She was the only one who was supposed to see the board.”

  “Who?” asked Liezel.

  “Dijon.” I flung open the door.

  “Oh my God!” Liezel was on my heels. “You touched the sacred beauty board while I was acting as our lookout, didn’t you?”

  “How was I supposed to know she was going to be absent?”

  “This is brilliant!” Liezel laughed. “Just look at everybody.”

  That’s what I was trying not to do. I flung my hoodie over my head and raced down the hallway.

  “Hi,” said seventh grader Brie Alvarez, her lips shining like a couple of glow sticks at midnight.

  “Hi,” we said.

  “Unreal,” said Liezel, her head swiveling. “They’re all wearing some ridiculous lip gloss because a popular girl told them to.”

  “They thought a popular girl told them to,” I corrected.

  Apparently, no one, not even a Somebody, had dared to question Dijon’s board. Instead, with Her Fabulousness gone on Friday, they’d done as they’d always done: They had obeyed. Over the weekend, hundreds of middle-school girls had raced to the mall to purchase—and were now proudly wearing—the worst lip gloss in the history of girlkind. When they found out the truth, they were going to be shattered! Nobodies were fragile creatures. You couldn’t always see the cracks—they might be hidden under a bulky coat or behind a tenor saxophone case—but they were there. One little tap in the wrong spot, and a person could fracture into a million pieces. And all because I thought it would be funny to get back at Dijon. How could I have been so thoughtless?

  “I won’t tell,” said Liezel as we turned the corner to B wing. “Nobody ever has to know you did it, if that’s what you’re worried about. Besides, no one with an ounce of common sense takes that whole beauty board stuff—”

  Fawn was standing in front of our locker. She was not alone. Adair was there too, looking like she ought to be swimming in the tropical tank at the aquarium with Venice and Évian.

  “Seriously,” finished Liezel.

  Fawn gestured to Adair as we approached. “Look, our very own garden solar gnome.”

  “Clever,” said Adair. She held the tube of lip gloss out to Liezel. “Want to try some?”

  “No, thanks,” said Liezel, putting her books in our locker. “It’s a little bright for me.”

  “A little?” Fawn rubbed her eyes. “I’m starting to see spots.”

  “Well, I like it,” announced Adair.

  “Only because Her Fabulousness told you to,” I said.

  “That’s not true.”

  “How come when I told you about Firefly lip gloss, you said, ‘Ick to the hundredth power’?”

  “Well, that was . . . before.” Adair’s mouth formed a pouty O, making her look more like a fish than ever. “And I asked you to stop calling Dijon names.”

  “Why don’t you ever tell Venice to quit calling me Cuckoo or Liezel Weasel?”

  Adair ignored me, pretending to be deeply engrossed in a chipped fingernail.

  We heard the clitter-clap, clitter-clap of heels against white-and-green-speckled tiles. Turning, I found myself face-to-face with Dijon. Venice, Évian, and Stocklifter flanked her. Venice and Évian were furiously wiping gloss from their lips with tissues. Clearly, Dijon had informed them of the security breach at the beauty board.

  Dijon’s eyes drilled into me. “I know what you di
d, Coco Sherwood. What gives you the right to touch other people’s stuff?”

  I wanted to argue with her, to say what I had done was not anywhere near as bad as what she had done to Fawn. But I remembered my plan to get through the day and the PTA meeting tonight without any royal drama. “Sorry, Dijon,” I said as sincerely as possible. “I shouldn’t have written on your beauty board.”

  “You?” the entire circle of girls, including Dijon, said simultaneously.

  Fawn’s thumb motioned to Adair. “You did this?”

  I lifted a shoulder.

  “I wasn’t talking about the board,” said Dijon. “I meant—”

  “Oh, you mean, the stinky gym sock and sauerkraut under your locker,” I squeaked. “Sorry about that, too.”

  Dijon’s mouth fell open.

  “That was you!” shrieked Venice, flicking her tissue at me. “You owe me for, like, five cans of Glade, Cuckoo.”

  “She does not,” said Liezel, muscling her way between Venice and Stocklifter. “Dijon bullied Fawn out of her own locker. She started it.”

  “She did not,” spat Stocklifter.

  “Did, too!” I cried.

  “You shut up!” shot Venice.

  “You shut up,” Liezel fired at Venice.

  “She yelled first,” snapped Venice, pointing at me, which set off a chain reaction of accusations about who started what and when. Stock, Venice, and Évian were shouting at Fawn, Liezel, and me, who were, naturally, shouting right back.

  “Quiet!”

  We froze at Dijon’s scream.

  “Is everything okay out here?” Mrs. Dawkins stuck her head out of the library.

  All eight of us nodded.

  “Please keep it down, girls. I don’t want to have to come out here again.” The librarian turned away.

  Putting her hands out in front of her, Dijon took a long, deep breath. “I wasn’t talking about the beauty board or the smelly locker, though we will be discussing these things later.” She whirled to face me. “I was talking about my tiara.”

  I tipped my head. “What about it?”

  “As if you didn’t know.”

  I didn’t. “What?”

  “It’s missing.”

  “Missing?”

  “It was in my locker last Friday, and now it’s not. Évian told me she’d seen you’d sneaking around my locker, and with all of the weird smells and everything—”

  “You think I took your tiara?” I couldn’t help snorting. “What would I possibly want with that dumb thing?”

  Dijon’s pretty lips became a thin line. “Look, I’m not going to get you in trouble for stealing it. I just want it back. I need to have it back.” It was the first time I’d ever heard desperation in Dijon’s voice.

  A shudder went through me.

  “I told you, I don’t have it. I didn’t take it,” I said. “I don’t know what else I can say.”

  “If that’s the way you want it, Coco.” Dijon stuck her chin up, flung her hair over one shoulder, and pushed past me. The Royal Court was inches behind her.

  Clitter-clap, clitter-clap. Clitter-clap, clitter-clap.

  The usual heel clicking doubled in speed as the four of them marched in perfect time down the hallway. Dijon did not stop to wave to a Sortabody or even say hello to Mrs. Gisborne and Waffles, who were coming our way.

  “Look!” said Liezel. “I think she’s going to the principal’s office.”

  When they approached the intersection in the hall, Her Fabulousness and the Royal Court charged straight through the double doors and into the main office.

  “I knew it,” said Liezel.

  “She sure is upset,” said Fawn.

  I ran a hand through my hair. “And over some fake crown. It’s ridiculous. Dijon has too much control here.”

  “Not anymore,” said Liezel with a grin. “Thanks to you, Coco. When word gets out about what you did to her beauty board—”

  “People will hate me,” I finished.

  “No, they won’t,” said Fawn, reaching into our locker for her math book. “Well, at first they might. But then they’ll realize just how silly they’ve been, following her orders. You’ll be a hero.”

  “Nah,” I said shyly. Opening my backpack, I tossed in my leadership notebook. “Hey, everybody, don’t forget, voting for fall court starts today at lunch. We need to get as many people as we can to vote for Renata, okay?”

  “I’m on it,” said Liezel.

  “Practically our whole PE class is voting for her,” said Fawn, shutting our locker. She spun the dial. “And I’ve told everyone in orchestra, too.”

  For the first time in days, I started to relax. Dijon’s power was draining away. I could feel it.

  “Coco?” Adair’s hand was on my arm. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone. I swore I wouldn’t, but I think I’d better now.”

  “Better what? What are you talking about?”

  “Dijon’s tiara.” Her eyes were filling with tears. She had a streak of Firefly lip gloss on her chin. “It’s . . . it’s . . .”

  “What?”

  “It’s not hers.”

  Liezel’s face was between us. “Well, whose is it?”

  “Her mother’s.”

  “Her mother’s?” echoed Fawn.

  Adair yanked all of her hair over one shoulder and began twisting it. “Yeah, it’s the one she wore at her third wedding—her really, really expensive third wedding.”

  I think I understood. “You mean Dijon’s fake tiara is . . . is . . .?” My throat was collapsing.

  Nodding rapidly, Adair said what I could not. “It’s real. The diamonds are real.”

  Twenty-One

  I could not stop my hands and legs from fidgeting. A human earthquake, I kept knocking stuff off my desk.

  The first-period tardy bell had already rung, and Dijon was not in her chair. Venice had swung around and was forehead to forehead with Truffle.

  “Here.” Adair had picked my pen up off the floor and was trying to give it back. “Will you stop twitching? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Then you believe me?”

  Two dimples appeared. “Always.”

  Her tone, that familiar warmth, wrapped itself around me. It gave me comfort. And hope. Maybe I hadn’t lost her to them after all.

  “Guess what?” she asked, not wanting or waiting for me to guess. “Our cheerleading uniforms came in. Coach Notting is handing them out at practice today after school. I’m so excited! I’m officially going to be a cheerleader. Did you ever think it would actually happen?”

  “Yes,” I said. “It’s your destiny.”

  Mr. Tanori took roll, then called for our attention. “Just a reminder, class, tonight Adair, Coco, and Renata will be presenting their mural idea to the PTA for final approval. The meeting starts at seven p.m. I’ll be there to introduce them, and if you can make it, please come. I’m sure they’d welcome your support.”

  That got a “Yow!” from Parker and Breck in the back of the room.

  Ten minutes into the period, Dijon showed up. Her face a mask, she handed Mr. Tanori a hall pass and went to her seat. I was relieved. Maybe Dijon had only pretended to have a diamond tiara so she could show off to her Royal Court and impress Adair. Or maybe Adair had misunderstood. Whatever it was, it was over now.

  I got down to work, giving my full attention to the assignment sheet Mr. Tanori had given us on cooperation. A few minutes later I was filling in the blanks when my teacher knelt by my desk. “Coco,” he whispered. “Mr. Falkner wants to see you in his office.” He put a hall pass on my desk. “Immediately.”

  My eyes went straight for Adair.

  She had her hands over her nose and mouth.

  “Take all of your things with you to the vice principal’s office, in case you aren’t finished by the end of the period,” instructed my teacher. “You can finish your assignment sheet at home and turn it in tomorrow. And if you don’t make it back before the period ends, I’ll see you a
t the meeting tonight.”

  “O-okay.” I started to gather my books. When I stood up, my legs felt like dry twigs. So did my mouth.

  The last thing Adair said to me before I went to the office was “Don’t worry. It’ll be all right.”

  Mr. Falkner didn’t keep me waiting long. “Dijon Randle says a valuable tiara that she had in her locker was—is—missing,” he said, sitting in the maroon leather chair behind his desk. “Do you know anything about it?”

  “No,” I said, clutching my backpack to my chest. I couldn’t seem to stop rocking back and forth, and licking my lips. I’m sure it must have made me look totally guilty.

  “She says you’ve been leaving, uh”—he glanced down at a piece of paper—“sauerkraut and other disgusting things in her locker? Is this true?”

  “Well, sort of. Not in her locker, exactly. More like, under it. It’s a long story.”

  “She says you have her locker combination.”

  “See, technically, she’s supposed to be locker partners with my friend Fawn. You know Fawn Ralston, right? But Dijon kicked Fawn out of the locker on the first day of school, so Fawn had to move in with Liezel and me—”

  “Coco.” He put up a hand. “Do you know her combination or not?”

  I licked my lips for the billionth and first time. “I do.”

  “Dijon says she put the tiara in her locker last week. She says she has reason to believe you may have taken it.”

  “I didn’t.” I shook my head as hard as I could, which probably made me look even more guilty. “I didn’t take it.”

  Mr. Falkner rubbed his chin. “I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to get to the truth. Although she definitely made a mistake leaving it at school, I’m under a bit of pressure here. It’s a pricey item.”

  “Pricey? How pricey?”

  He took a moment. “Three thousand dollars.”

  “Three. Thousand?” If I hadn’t grabbed his desk, I would have fallen out of the chair.

  “It’s made of white gold and diamonds, according to her mother, who is, by the way, the owner of the crown. And given that Mrs. Randle is a key figure in our school community . . .” Mr. Falkner did not finish. He didn’t have to. The vice principal wiped his brow. “To be sure we’ve covered our bases, I’m going to need to look in your backpack, your locker, and your PE locker. You may come along, if you want, while I do this.”