Extra Credit #22 Page 4
“I won’t tip it over or anything?” Natalie asked, her fingers poised on the controls.
“I built her and you’re asking if she’ll tip?” Eli asked, mock-insulted.
“Never mind, then.” Natalie slid the lever on the remote forward, and the boat moved out into the pond. “So you made the boat from a kit?”
“No way. She’s scratch built. I drew up the plans. I didn’t let anybody else touch her. Just sanding the hull took forever. I used finer and finer grit down eight hundred wet sanding. Then I had to hose it off, use Turkish toweling rags, and then acetone . . . and this would probably be a good time for a forehead flick.”
Natalie laughed. “I would, but my hands are full.” She pressed the remote’s lever to the left.
This was kinda fun. Eli was kinda fun. He was also kinda boring. All that tech talk about sideways pull and acetone . . .
But he liked hanging out with her. That was obvious. And it’s not like she was going to have guys lining up to see her grotesque metallic smile.
“You want to exchange e-mails?” Natalie asked. She didn’t like giving out her cell number right away.
Eli grinned so widely, the sun glinting off his braces was almost blinding. “Absolutely.”
Presents next, Avery thought on Sunday night as she spotted a waiter heading toward their table carrying a chocolate cake loaded with candles—enough for her and Peter.
Yeah, yeah, she thought as her father, the stepmother, the waiter, and most of the people in the restaurant sang “Happy Birthday” to Avery and her twin. She was ready for her presents already!
She blew out all the candles without any help from Peter. Lately it was like he was always watching some private DVD in his head. Just completely zoned out.
“Shall we order you something else?” Avery’s dad asked the stepmother. Avery wasn’t the biggest fan of her stepmother, and most of the time didn’t even call her by name. She assumed—or hoped—that the stepmother wouldn’t be around long enough to actually need a name. Although she’d been around for almost a year now. “You know chocolate can trigger your migraines, Elise.”
The stepmother smiled at him. “I know, but I love it. So I’ll risk a little piece.” She smiled at Avery. “Chocolate is worth it, am I right?”
Whatever. Avery didn’t bother answering. She took a bite of her cake and hoped everybody would hurry up and finish eating. She wanted to know all the deets about her room renovation and see whatever else she was getting. There was a stack of wrapped gifts on the extra chair. How did you wrap an extreme room makeover, anyway?
Her dad laughed. “Avery is in the present zone, honey,” he told the stepmother. “You’ll get to the point where you recognize it. The eyes darting to the packages, the lack of patience for anything that gets in the way of opening presents, the hands making involuntary paper ripping motions.”
“They do not,” Avery muttered, suddenly feeling like a five-year-old.
“I love presents, too,” the stepmother said.
She was always doing that—pointing out things she and Avery had in common. It was kind of sad how she kept trying to be Avery’s BFF. Although, join the club. Most of the girls at Avery’s school acted the same way. It looked kind of pathetic on them, too.
They all needed to grow some self-esteem and not try so hard.
Avery took another bite of cake. The frosting was almost as dense as fudge. Now that she thought about it, she would be willing to take some risks for chocolate, at least chocolate this good. And it wasn’t like she was never going to be able to open her gifts.
In fact, about twelve minutes later, she had the first one in her hands. She ripped it open. She couldn’t help it. She’d always been a ripper. “This is so cool! Thanks!” She ran her fingers over a belt buckle with her initials on it. There was also a buckle in the shape of a Celtic knot and one in the shape of a snowflake, and three straps the buckles could go with. A bronze one, a pink one, and a black one.
“Elise picked those out,” her dad told her.
“Thanks,” she said again, glancing briefly at Elise. The stepmother. She was actually better at picking out fashion-type presents than Avery’s own mother was. And her father—he wasn’t allowed to pick out anything Avery (or anyone else, for that matter) would be wearing. Not after the jumpsuit incident three years ago. Yellow. Cotton. Baggy.
Avery pretended to be interested when Peter went all ecstatic over a bunch of movies she’d never heard of. “This is exactly what I need. Early Brando, Nicholson, Newman. It’s perfect!” he exclaimed.
Then it was Avery’s turn again. Some bath bombs. Nice. She could always use some bath bombs. But it was that last box she really needed to open. She had to wait while Peter unwrapped another gift. Some book.
It was finally her turn again. The last box was pretty big. Maybe it had all the paint chips and carpet samples she’d seen in her dad’s briefcase inside? It seemed too big for that. And when her father handed it too her, it felt too heavy. Maybe it was some kind of trick. Like there was a decorating magazine and a brick inside. Her dad had that kind of cornball sense of humor sometimes.
Avery tore open the paper and jerked off the lid of the box, then whipped off the layer of tissue paper blocking her view. There was a pair of tall, black riding boots nestled inside. Riding boots?!
“Those come with riding lessons,” her father told her.
Avery nodded and forced a smile. “I’ve been wanting lessons,” she said.
“I know. That’s why Elise and I got them for you,” he answered. “We decided it would be better than getting you something you didn’t want.”
What about all the hints? Avery thought as Peter started tearing into his last present. She’d dropped so many hints. If hints were rocks, her father would be dead by now. It was like he hadn’t listened to a word she’d said since she came back from camp. Riding was something she’d been talking about in the spring. Was that the last time he’d actually been paying any attention to her?
“Happy birthday again, you two!” her father exclaimed.
“Yes, happy birthday!” Elise chimed in.
Peter had already finished unwrapping his gift and Avery hadn’t even noticed what it was. Not that she cared. She just wanted to get home to her un-extreme-makeovered bedroom where she wouldn’t have to pretend that her birthday had been perfect.
But Avery’s father interrupted her gloomy thoughts. “Before we go, Elise and I have some great news, and we thought this would be the perfect time to tell you,” he said. “Because it’s news about a birthday . . .” He looked over at Elise and smiled, and in the candlelight it looked like his eyes were damp. “In about six months, our family is going to have another birthday to celebrate.”
Avery’s stomach tightened into a fist. Suddenly everything started to make perfect sense. The paint chips, the swatches, Elise’s weight . . . Don’t say it, she thought. Please don’t say it.
“Peter, Avery, you’re going to have a new baby brother or sister. Elise is pregnant!” Her dad took the stepmother’s hand and gave it a squeeze.
So that was it. That was why her dad hadn’t picked up on any of her hints. That’s why he hadn’t been paying any attention to her. For the last three months, all he’d been able to think about was his precious new baby. Forget about his old kids.
She looked over at Peter, expecting to see some of her horror reflected in his eyes. But he just said “congratulations” and started reading the back of one of his new DVDs.
“Congratulations,” Avery forced herself to echo. “That’s great news.”
For you two, she silently added. I may as well run away and join the circus. It’s not like any of you—she shot a disgusted look at her brother, who should be sharing the tragedy with her—would notice.
chapter SIX
After social studies, Natalie headed directly to the closest girl’s room. She moved as quickly as possible without breaking into a run or doing some kind of dorky speed walk.
It was Wednesday, her third day of school as a person of the orthodontured persuasion, and she’d already developed a system.
Social studies was her last class before lunch. That’s why she went directly to the bathroom. She locked herself in the stall closest to the door, because she’d noticed that people always went for the stalls farthest from the door first. After locking herself in, she waited until she figured that pretty much everyone with her lunch period had made it to the cafeteria. That’s when she made her move to the library—when no one would stop her and ask why she wasn’t heading to the caf.
Once she was inside the library, she grabbed The History of Western Art—the largest book she’d been able to find—propped it open in front of herself at the back table farthest from the windows, and covertly ate her lunch behind it. There were rules against eating in the library, so Natalie had started to bring noncrunchy food. Not that she could eat yummy crunchy food with those horrible metal bars on her teeth, anyway.
Yeah, I’ve got this down, Natalie thought as she slipped into the first stall before anyone else had reached the bathroom. She refused to let herself think about how many months she’d have to quarantine herself during lunch. If she went there, she might sink down on the floor and curl up in a ball and cry. They’d have to call the janitor to come and get her out.
Natalie heard footsteps come into the bathroom and stop in front of the sinks. She estimated that approximately three-fifths of the girls at her school did some kind of makeup and/or hair repair before hitting the lunchroom.
“Do you really believe that Ms. Grandin isn’t going to read our journal entries?” Natalie heard a familiar voice ask. It was Hannah, her best noncamp friend. “I know she said she wouldn’t. But when she’s flipping through to see if we wrote our pages, don’t you think she might read some, even kind of accidentally?”
“What did you write? It sounds juicy!” another voice teased. Natalie thought it was Jayne Coben, but she wasn’t positive. She was definitely sure about the Hannah ID, though. She’d logged way too many hours of phone time with Hannah not to know her voice.
Hannah giggled. “A little juicy.” She sounded a little embarrassed, and Natalie could so picture the expression on her friend’s face. What was this juiciness? And why hadn’t she told Nat?
Oh, right. Because Hannah had treated her the same way Colette had. She’d acted all uncomfortable and awkward with the new, braces on, freaky Natalie.
“Tell me,” Probably Jayne urged.
“No way. And as long as Ms. Grandin keeps her promise, no one’s ever going to know,” Hannah answered.
“Natalie could get it out of you,” Probably Jayne said.
True. Natalie smiled. But the smile faded almost right away. Was it still true? she wondered. Getting Hannah’s secrets out was a friend thing. It didn’t feel like they were even friends anymore.
“Or is that even true now?” Probably Jayne asked. “Natalie’s so weird lately.”
She’s going to defend me, Natalie told herself. Maybe they weren’t exactly friends anymore. They didn’t even eat lunch together. But they had been friends practically forever. Hannah would come up with something nice to say about her.
“I know,” Hannah finally said. “She’s a completely different person than she was last week. It’s . . . I can’t even describe it.”
Last week. As in when she didn’t have braces. Hot tears stung Natalie’s eyes. She blinked hard until they disappeared.
Hannah and Probably Jayne moved on to the subject of Kenyon Smith, and about thirty seconds later they were gone. It took about ten minutes for the whole bathroom to clear out, then Natalie proceeded to the library. She had a routine, and she was going to stick to it. It was working for her.
Barely. But working.
Natalie closed the door of the apartment she shared with her mother behind her, then let out a long breath. Muscles in her shoulders that she hadn’t realized were tight relaxed. She was home. She didn’t need a routine here. She didn’t have to remember to try to talk with her mouth mostly closed. She didn’t have to remember not to smile.
She was alone a lot—like now. And when her mom was home, well, she treated Natalie like Natalie. Braces or no braces.
Not like Hannah.
Natalie didn’t want to think about her. She’d do her homework later, but that was the only thought she wanted to put into anything school-related. She got out her ruby red laptop, curled up on the sofa, and checked out the camp blog. She hadn’t read it since she got her braces, and it always gave her an almost-back-at-camp feeling.
Bring me the happy, she thought as she started to read.
Posted by: Jenna
Subject: McMoldy??
Confess, Sarah. Did you see Sam Quinn before he got his makeup on? How much work has he had done? He wears a toupee, doesn’t he? Aren’t you now totally embarrassed you found him crushable?
Posted by: Brynn
Subject: I’m in love
I know you all thought I was in love with acting before. I thought I was in love with acting before. But being a professional actor—because being an extra is a professional gig—it’s phenomenal. To be part of a group of people all working together on one project, it’s like being a bee in this really groovy hive. (Sorry, I’ve been a ’70s girl named Dawn all weekend.) It’s amazing how many people it takes to make a movie. I’m never walking out before the credits are done again. Usually, I leave after the actors go by, but not now.
Thanks for being the Hollywood connection, Nat. You in for next weekend? They’re shooting a sock hop scene. Fun, no? And they’ll need a ton of extras. Come! Please! I’ll be your best friend! And I need one since Sarah can’t stop looking at a certain guy. It’s not Sam Quinn, but that’s all I’m sayin’. You’ll have to ask her for the scoopage.
I’m off to practice my bop.
There were a lot more posts, but Natalie suddenly didn’t feel like reading them. Brynn’s had sent her thoughts spiraling to a bad place. Like would Brynn really be her friend if Natalie showed up on set with her booby-trapped face? Or would she be like Hannah and start bad-mouthing Natalie behind her back?
Plus there was Sarah and this mystery guy, who Brynn had called cute when she and Natalie talked on the phone on Saturday. Natalie was happy that Sarah seemed to be falling in like with a cute boy. She was. But she didn’t really want to witness it up close. Not when there was no potential that she was going have anybody in like with her for a long time.
Well, except for Eli, who had been really happy when she’d gone over and talked to him in the park. He didn’t care about her braces, because he had braces himself. Wait a second. Hadn’t Natalie read something about two teens kissing and getting their braces locked together and having to go to the emergency room?
Didn’t matter. She and Eli weren’t anywhere near the kissing stage, and she didn’t see them getting there. He was just someone to hang with—a boy to hang with—who didn’t have a pre-braces Natalie in his head to compare the current Natalie with. True, he was a scooch boring. But you couldn’t have everything. Especially not when even one of your best friends thought you were weird.
Natalie pulled the scrap of paper with Eli’s e-mail on it out of her backpack. A little e-chat with him might cheer her up. She added him to her buddy list and—voila!—he was online.
Eli shot her a smiling, green head holding a sign that said “LOL.”
“And you like to talk about it a lot,” she murmured to herself. Eli answered with one of those blushing face emoticons.
He added a head-scratching emoticon. Natalie was getting the feeling that anything Eli liked,
he liked a lot.
An emoticon of a smiling, chin-scratching face appeared. Natalie rolled her eyes and smiled, but didn’t send Eli an eye-rolling emoticon. Or a smiley one. She didn’t want to encourage him.
She thought for a moment. What was she supposed to tell him about what she’d been doing, anyway? That she’d been spending a lot of time in the first stall of the second floor girl’s bathroom?
Natalie restlessly flicked her fingers across the keyboard, then answered Eli’s question.
She had spent days behind The History of Western Art.
He sent her a winking dog. Cute. But . . . why? Natalie guessed cuteness was enough of a reason.
Before she could decide on what to say next, another message from Eli popped up.
Natalie waited for the emoticon. She got a sound instead. A long train whistle.
Hmm. A model train convention.That didn’t exactly spell F.U.N. But by the weekend, Nat knew she’d be in the extreme lonely zone, and she already knew she didn’t want to be an extra at the sock hop. Well, she did. But only if they turned the film into a horror movie and needed all the extras to wear masks.
Avery heard the blender purring. She and Peter were the only ones home that afternoon. Perfect. She’d been wanting to talk to him for days, ever since The Announcement on Sunday.