Stealing Popular Page 8

  “Why do you like to do that?”

  “Do what?”

  “Pretend to be worse than you are.”

  That startled me. And it bothered me. Why would I like to do that? Why would anybody deliberately want to be less than what they were? Renata Zickelfoos wasn’t one of my friends. She didn’t know me. She didn’t know anything about me. “Maybe I should go,” I said, my voice frosty.

  “I’m sorry. I always say the wrong thing. Stay, Coco. Please stay.”

  I could hear the desperation in her voice. She was one syllable away from crying. “Okay,” I said.

  Renata’s fingers curled. “Every time I get the chance to do something where I can prove myself, I screw it up. Every time. Why do I do that?”

  How do you answer a question like that?

  “I don’t know,” I said. “If you think you’re going to fail, though, you probably will.”

  Renata sighed. “I don’t fit in here. It’s like this place is a big jigsaw puzzle of . . . of . . . the desert or something, and I’m the one piece that goes to a totally different puzzle, you know? Like I belong to the forest puzzle or some completely different picture. Someone like you probably has no clue what I’m talking about.”

  “Oh, really? I’ve felt that way at pretty much every school I’ve ever been to. And I’ve been to a lot of schools.”

  “You have?”

  “Five in seven years. I never had any friends, either. I used to sit on the playground or in the cafeteria alone and draw. It wasn’t until I came here that things were different.”

  “So what changed?”

  “Adair and Fawn. They talked to me on my first day here.” But even as I said it, I knew it was more than that. I knew I had something to do with it too. “And I guess I got tired of hiding. I know I was tired of being alone. I was ready to look up from my sketchbook.”

  “You make it sound simple.”

  I sighed. “Nothing about friendship is simple.”

  Renata took a piece of paper out of the back pocket of her jeans. She slowly unfolded it and held it out to me. “Mrs. Rivkin gave this to me this morning.”

  In the dim light I couldn’t read it. I looked to her for help.

  “It’s a letter from the ASB. It says I’ve been nominated for fall court.”

  I tried to act casual, but inside I was leaping for joy. “That’s incredible.”

  “It’s impossible. It’s a joke, Coco. It has to be.”

  It had never occurred to me she would take the nomination as a prank. But what other way could she possibly take it? Teasing was all Renata knew.

  “It doesn’t have to be,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What difference does it make how it was intended? Now it’s yours. You can make it whatever you want. We could help you—Fawn, Adair, Liezel, and me.”

  “You’re saying I should do it?” She snorted. “Me, Renata Piñata, should run for fall court?”

  “Yeah, you’re probably right. Why bother to change now? We’ve only got almost five more years until graduation. You can hold on that long.”

  Renata didn’t say anything, and that worried me. She was probably talking herself right back into that pink-and-white-striped turtle shell of hers. I was starting to feel confident we could manage to whip up a little magic on the outside. But she had to do the real work. Renata had to want to be free.

  “Come on, Ren,” I said softly. “Take a chance. Look up.”

  Renata hit middle C with her index finger. The note rang out strongly, then faded away. She waited until the room was silent again to say, “Okay.”

  “Good. I’ll text Fawn and Adair—”

  “Oh, God, Adair!” She covered her mouth. “She probably hates my guts. What happened after I ran away? Did we get an F in leadership?”

  “I don’t think so. But if we did, we did.”

  For the first time since I’d entered the practice room, Renata looked at me. As she did, a beam of light from the little round window passed between us. The sun made her rectangular glasses glow lava red, turning lifeless brown eyes into honey-colored marbles. I could almost see through them. Or maybe they were seeing through me.

  “Coco, just so you know,” she said, placing her fingers on the keys again, “if you ever had to run, I’d come after you.”

  I didn’t tell her that was one of the sweetest things anyone had ever said to me.

  But I think she knew.

  Fifteen

  Fawn’s eyes were growing by the second. “So did you guys fail?”

  “Not yet,” said Adair, ripping open the Velcro flap of her purple nylon lunch bag with more force than was necessary. She took out a sandwich bag filled with split carrots and celery. “Mr. Tanori is giving us a do-over on Friday. I hope Renata doesn’t choke again. We’re not going to get a third chance.”

  “She won’t,” I said, popping the top off my salad.

  “She’ll feel a lot more confident after her makeover tomorrow,” said Fawn. She pointed a soft pretzel stick at us. “Don’t forget. My house. Four o’clock.”

  “I’m there,” I said. I opened the little packet of Italian dressing that came with my salad and squeezed some of the oil onto my lettuce.

  “Me too,” said Liezel.

  “Adair?”

  “Huh?” Adair was staring at Her Fabulousness and the Royal Court. She was making a T out of two carrot sticks. I did a double-take. Was she signaling to them? “Are you coming to my house after school tomorrow to do Renata’s hair?”

  “Uh-huh,” Adair said.

  “I’ll let her go through my closet and see what fits,” said Fawn. “She’s taller than me. I might have to do some sewing. She likes scarves, so I was thinking maybe my light blue pashmina with the sparkly stars and my black harem pants. They’re pretty long. What do you think, Adair?”

  “It’s fine,” she said flatly. “None of it matters, you know. She isn’t going to win.”

  “Nobody expects her to,” I said, spearing a couple of pieces of limp lettuce.

  “Then what’s the point?”

  Unbelievable!

  After all that she had endured to reach her goal, Adair, more than anyone, should have understood what we were trying to achieve.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I said, throwing my hands into the air. “The point is growing. The point is dreaming. The point is becoming! Haven’t you ever gone after something you wanted, even when you knew the odds were against you?”

  We all knew what I was talking about, and if Adair would have simply said that one little word we were all expecting to hear, the whole thing would have ended there. But she didn’t and so, unfortunately, it didn’t.

  “Oh, Coco, you’re being overdramatic.”

  “I’d rather be overdramatic than cruel.”

  “Cruel!” Adair gasped. “I’m trying to save Renata from embarrassing herself in front of the whole school the way she did today in leadership—”

  “She didn’t embarrass herself,” I interrupted.

  “What do you call a meltdown in front of the entire class?”

  “You’d have freaked out too if somebody had swiped your idea.”

  “What?”

  I hadn’t meant to say it—not yet, anyway—but a thought had been simmering in my head since my talk with Renata. A lot of little things were beginning to add up to one very big thing.

  “I know you’re going to think I’m nuts,” I said, “but I’m pretty sure Dijon’s group stole our project idea.”

  “Why would you think something like that?”

  “Exhibit A: When has Dijon ever volunteered for anything? She’s all about playing the game and making people wait on her. But this time, she was practically stabbing Venice with her fingernails to get their group up first. Why? Because they knew that in order for them to look like geniuses and for us to look like idiots, they’d have to give their presentation before we did. Exhibit B: When it was our turn, Her Fabulousness made fun of
Renata, then she pretended to apologize and said, ‘Go ahead with your totally original idea.’ ‘Totally original idea’? Come on! That was a deliberate taunt. It was as if she knew what we were going to say before we said it.” I sat back. My work here was done.

  “You’re absolutely right, Coco,” said Adair, giving me a thin strand of hope.

  “I am?”

  “I think you’re nuts.”

  The strand broke.

  “Okay,” said Adair, nibbling on a stick of celery. “For the sake of argument, how did they steal our idea?”

  “Uh . . . well, that’s the part I haven’t quite figured out yet.”

  “You shouldn’t go around accusing people unless you’re sure.”

  My head started to tighten. “What does it matter how they did it? Maybe Her Fabulousness overheard us practicing in the library. Maybe one of the Royal Court saw my sketchbook. Maybe someone ac—” I froze.

  Did I dare say it?

  “What did someone ax?” asked Liezel.

  I was glad she misinterpreted. “Never mind.”

  “Is that all you’re going to eat for lunch, Adair?” asked Fawn, staring at Adair’s bag of veggies. “You want some of my sauerkraut?” She opened a plastic bowl, and the smell—a cross between vinegar and dirty diapers—hit us like teargas. My eyes started watering.

  “Yow,” said Liezel, pulling back.

  “Oh my God,” cried Adair.

  “I know it smells pretty wonky,” said Fawn, “but it tastes good. It’s just pickled cabbage—”

  Adair spun to face me. “You!”

  “Me? I hate sauerkraut—”

  “You think I told Dijon about our idea, don’t you?”

  My mouth said no, but my head bobbed yes. Stupid head. “I’m not saying you did it on purpose. Maybe you were talking to Her Fabulousness and the Royal Court at cheer practice, and it slipped out—”

  “Maybe you’re delusional. And you really need to stop calling them that.”

  “What?”

  “Her Fabulousness and the Royal Court. It’s pretty rude.”

  “You never thought it was rude before. Last year you thought it was funny.” Crunching a crouton, I muttered, “Two weeks on cheer staff, and you’re morphing into one of them.”

  “Ah!” She flung a celery stick at me. It hit my neck. For such a bland vegetable, celery sure could sting. “If you only knew how many times I’ve defended you to them.”

  “You defended me?” I clutched my heart. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Adair. I don’t know what I’d do if Dijon and Venice didn’t like me.”

  “That’s right, I forgot. You don’t need anybody, do you?”

  Fawn threw her hands up. “Stop, you guys, before someone says—”

  “Coco, I’ve got a news flash for you,” growled Adair. “You’re not nearly as tough as you think you are.”

  “And you’re not nearly as popular as you think you are.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I opened my mouth, but Fawn got there first. Thank goodness, she got there first. “Nothing,” snapped Fawn. “She didn’t mean anything.”

  “No, she meant something, all right. If there’s one thing about Coco, it’s that she always means something.” Adair turned to me. “You think all I want is to be popular, is that it? If that were true, I’d be over there eating lunch with Dijon and her friends right now, because they invited me, you know—”

  “I wouldn’t want to hold you back. Feel free to go any time you want.” I stabbed a plump cherry tomato with my spork. The tomato burst, squirting juice all over the front of my T-shirt and the sleeve of Adair’s white, crocheted cardigan.

  “Eeek!” she screamed.

  “Oops,” I said with a snicker.

  Adair was not amused. “You did that on purpose!”

  “I didn’t. Honestly, Adair. It was an acci—”

  “This isn’t even my sweater,” said Adair, untangling herself from the bench we shared. “It’s Truffle’s.”

  Fawn’s eyebrows went up. “Truffle’s?”

  “She wanted to wear my denim jacket, so we swapped. If you’ve ruined this, Coco, I’m going to have to pay for it.”

  “You won’t. It’s not ruined.” I reached for a couple of napkins. “It’s only a little tomato juice. It’ll wash out. I’m sorry, Adair, really, I am.” I held the napkins out to her, but she refused to take them.

  Adair quickly gathered her stuff. “I’ll be back,” she said as she stomped away, but I knew she wouldn’t. She had taken everything with her.

  “It really wasn’t on purpose,” I pleaded with Fawn and Liezel.

  “We know,” said Liezel.

  “It’ll be okay,” said Fawn, but the look on her face said otherwise.

  Adair crossed the cafeteria, her blond hair streaming out in determined waves behind her. She was almost to the door when she stopped, or something stopped her. I couldn’t tell. A bunch of boys were blocking my view, so it took me a few minutes to see she was talking to . . . to . . .

  Truffle and Stocklifter.

  Über-ew.

  Adair pointed to the tomato juice spots dotting the sweater, then over to me. Truffle shook her head. It was weird seeing Truffle in Adair’s jacket, and not just because the arms were too long. I knew that faded jacket as well as I knew its owner. The tip of the left collar never stayed down. The right cuff was missing a rivet. There was a tiny black swish near the left hip that had happened last summer when Adair had laughed so hard at my imitation of a frog, she’d dropped her Sharpie pen. Adair’s beloved jacket didn’t belong on Truffle.

  Stocklifter stole a napkin from Dover and gave it to Adair so she could dab the spots on her sweater. A few minutes later Adair left the cafeteria with Truffle and Stock.

  A tremor rocketed up my spine. It hadn’t taken Adair long to ditch her Nobody friends for the Somebodies, had it? If that’s what she wanted, then she deserved every spiteful thing Her Fabulousness and the Royal Court were about to heap on her.

  No, she didn’t. Not really.

  I was mad. She was mad. We would both calm down and make up.

  Wouldn’t we?

  Fawn was gathering up her trash. I watched her place the lid back on the plastic bowl. “Could I have that?” I asked.

  “My sauerkraut? Uh, yeah, sure.” Slightly confused, Fawn slid the bowl toward me. “Enjoy.”

  When Fawn went to dump her stuff in the garbage, I turned to Liezel. We were in a public place, so I couldn’t say anything. Instead, I held up two fingers and wiggled them. It took Liezel a few seconds to catch on.

  When she did, her lips slid up the right side of her face. “Perfect.”

  Sixteen

  “Above the eyes or below?” I asked.

  “Just above,” said Fawn on my right side.

  “Agreed,” said Liezel on my left. “But don’t go above the eyebrows. She’ll look like we stuck a bowl on her head and cut around it.”

  “Straight across or angled?”

  “Slightly angled,” said Fawn after a moment of thought.

  “Agreed,” said Liezel. “But don’t overdo it. She’ll look like she’s got a lopsided head.”

  “Thick or wispy?”

  “Somebody cut!” came the cry from behind a reddish-brown curtain of bangs.

  “Okay,” I said meekly.

  I’d stalled as long as I could. Adair was almost an hour late. She probably wasn’t coming. We had barely spoken since our fight yesterday, and today she had eaten lunch with them. I had tried to pretend it didn’t bother me. But, of course, it had.

  I picked up the scissors from Fawn’s dresser. Sliding a section of hair between my fingers, I made the first diagonal cut a few inches beneath the bridge of her nose. The room fell silent and stayed that way as I continued across the width of her bangs. We all let out a sigh of relief when I clipped the last section. Using the very tips of the scissors, I cut a fraction of an inch up into the line of b
angs to fringe the edges the way I’d watched stylists do hundreds of times only a few inches in front of my own face.

  “Look, Renata, you have eyes!” said Liezel.

  “We should trim the ends, too,” said Fawn.

  “Agreed,” said Liezel.

  I liked how everyone kept using the word “we,” even though I was the one taking all the risks. Sure, I snipped my bangs all the time, but I’d never cut someone else’s. If you do something to your own hair, oh well, you cover it with a hairband or something, but do something awful to someone else’s hair, and you’ve made an enemy for life.

  Was it getting hot in here or was it just the color of Fawn’s room? I’d never been inside a sunset before, but I bet it would be like Fawn’s bedroom. Every wall was painted a different vibrant shade of the horizon. Orange to the north. Red to the east. Pink to the west. Purple to the south. I loved it! Fawn’s sewing machine and bookshelf, crammed with rolls of fabric, took up the orange wall. The pink wall was papered with dozens of fashion spreads she’d ripped out of Teen Vogue, Seventeen, and other magazines. She had plenty of her own sketches tacked to the wall too. Some had little squares of fabrics pinned next to them. When Dad and I got our house, I was going to paint murals on my walls and decorate them with sketches too.

  I swiveled Renata’s chair so she faced the mirror above Fawn’s dresser. Brushed out, Renata’s hair fell about five inches past her shoulders. The layered ends were dry and split. “Shoulders or collarbone?” I asked.

  “Collarbone,” said Fawn.

  “Agreed,” said Liezel.

  Renata made a mousy squeak, but didn’t protest. I cut a little at a time so I wouldn’t freak her out. Or myself.

  Fawn flopped on her bed with her phone. “I just got a text from Adair.”

  “Where is she?” asked Liezel. “When is she coming?”

  “Let’s see . . . it says, ‘Stuck at cheer practice.’” Fawn sighed. “She’s not coming.”

  Cheer this. Cheer that. I was getting a little tired of hearing the “ch” word.

  “Ever since she joined ch—the squad”—I caught myself—“she’s not the same person.”

  “How could she be?” asked Renata. “Everything’s different for her now.”