Glitter Girl (2 page)

“Did you even
know
what that geometry homework was about?” laughed eighth grader Kat Connors as she headed into Wendell Willkie Junior High. “I mean, really? Who was Pythagoras? And why is he bothering us with his silly theorem?”

“It has to do with triangles,” said Jules Finch, Kat's BFF and neighbor since they were two years old. Jules was busy wrangling her clunky math textbook out of her backpack.

Kat, whose math textbook was nowhere to be seen, was dressed head to toe in the trendiest outfit ever and looking quite fabulous, thank you very much, as she found her way to her locker right outside Mr. Adams's science lab.

“Hey, girl!” she yelled to Candace Mack, a pint-sized seventh grader moving in the other direction. “Rockin' the high pony today! Looking totally therocious!”

“Therocious” was Kat's word. She made it up last year and it meant thoroughly ferocious—in other words, the coolest thing possible.

“Thanks, Kat!” replied the beaming Candace as she scampered to catch up to her admiring friends, who were impressed she'd been spoken to by “the” Kat Connors.

Jules looked at Kat. “You sure made her day. That was really nice of you.”

“Well, I remember when we were that age. The upper-grade kids were so nasty to us. I hated it.”

“Nice to see you're using your ‘immense influence' in positive ways,” laughed Jules.

“Well, like all those who wield power, I must always use it for good and never for evil. I'm kinda like Spider-Man or the Justice League or something.”

“Oh yeah, right. You're
exactly
like Spider-Man,” said Jules, closing her locker door. “I was just thinking that myself.”

“Shut up,” laughed Kat. “You know what I mean.”

Even though the first bell had already rung, Kat was clearly not in a hurry to get to class. Instead, she lingered by the lockers. It was here she could always be found between classes and before and after school, surrounded by admiring girls and the occasional boy who was brave enough to approach Kat and make an attempt at small talk or being clever.

“Anyway, back to that triangle thingy,” said Kat as she deftly maneuvered her own hair into a fishtail braid. “Jules, we totally have to have a study party on this one after school. You bring the brains and I'll supply the popcorn.”

“It's actually pretty simple. I'll explain it to you after you're finished holding court,” said the more studious Jules.

That's what Jules called this daily routine anyway—“holding court.” Jules, who was way into the Renaissance and was vice president of the school's Shakespeare Club, had told Kat that was what royalty used to do. They'd have people come to court and pay homage to them.

Kat wasn't sure if it was a compliment or if Jules was being sarcastic. It was hard to tell with Jules lately. She sure didn't seem too keen on Kat's newfound popularity since they'd hit junior high last year. But Kat couldn't help it if the other girls gravitated toward her and looked to her for what was “in” and “cool.” It wasn't like she set out to do it. Her mom, Trudy, said it was “in her blood.” The Connors women, they of honey blond hair, fair skin, and striking blue eyes, were always ahead of the curve on just about everything. They just
knew
what was what.

• • •

“Kat! Kat! Check it out! I got it!” the girls heard over the morning buzz in the hallways. It was Zoe Palmer, one of Kat's new “junior high” BFFs. Her long, black, perfectly straightened hair sailed behind her as she pushed her way through the crowded hallway. Tagging along behind her, struggling to keep up, was Darcy Riddle, Zoe's redheaded constant companion.

The two girls dodged the hordes and arrived breathless at Kat's side. In Zoe's expertly manicured hand was something white and sleek. “My parents finally caved and got me the new iPhone!”

“That's great, Zoe,” said Kat genuinely. “Make sure you watch your data usage, though. The first time my dad saw
my
phone bill, he totally freaked out.”

Zoe held the phone as if it were a precious gem. “I love it. It's just so cool! And it's just like yours, Kat. I'm so glad I finally ‘convinced' my parents to buy it.” She made little air quotes with her fingers on the word “convinced.”

“Wow. I guess whining
is
an effective negotiating tool,” snarked Jules. She had finished wrestling the books out of her backpack and was now leaning against a windowsill reading a tattered paperback copy of Shakespeare's poems.

Kat cringed.
Uh-oh. Here we go again
, she thought.

Kat watched as Zoe shot Jules a hostile look. Zoe clearly didn't like Jules who, with her shaggy brown hair, “Save the Whales” T-shirt, camouflage pants, and black Converse (who wears
those
anymore?) clearly
did
not
fit in with Kat's new besties.

“For your information, I didn't whine. I looked around on the Internet for articles on missing children and left them up on my laptop screen where I knew my mom would see them,” Zoe shot back proudly.

“You
scared
your mom into getting you a new phone? Wow. What a proud moment,” said Jules, more than a little disgusted.

“Yeah. I wish I had thought of it. The plan was an absolute perspiration!” offered Darcy, her red curls bouncing in excitement.

“I think you mean ‘inspiration,' Darce,” said Kat, trying to be helpful.

“I do?” asked Darcy, not quite sure what she had said that was wrong.

Before Jules could open her mouth to say something that would undoubtedly create more tension in the group, Kat jumped in. “Well, I think it's great you got the phone, Zoe, and I think we can
all
agree that it's important to stay in contact with our parents.”

Before they could or couldn't agree, the second bell rang.

“Gotta go, peeps,” said Zoe. “Mrs. Jolly wants me to come by her room and explain why I'm dropping out of choir this year.”

“Why
are
you? I thought your dream was to be a pop star,” Kat asked.

“Exactly. Stars aren't part of a choir,” sniffed Zoe. “They're
backed
by a choir. If I want to be a star, gotta start thinking like one. Later, ladies!”

Zoe sashayed down the corridor, deliberately causing her lustrous hair to swish from side to side.

“See you guys tomorrow.” Darcy smiled, heading toward the exit.

“Uh, Darce. It's first period,” said Kat.

“Oh yeah, right. Silly me,” giggled Darcy. She looked around puzzled for a moment, trying to get her bearings. Finally, the lightbulb went on, her face lit up, and she headed down the hall to her class.

Kat shook her head and then looked accusingly over at Jules. “How can someone who is so committed to humanity and saving the world—and peace, love, and understanding—be so judgmental?”

“Sorry. It's the smell of all those hair products. Makes me a little nuts,” replied Jules, faking a spastic attack.

Kat laughed. Even though Jules didn't quite fit in with her new friends, or even junior high school in general, she was still the smartest, funniest person Kat knew and could always make her laugh.

As they headed into science class, they were stopped by Ms. Donovan, the frumpy, bespectacled teacher who ran the school's Shakespeare Club. Though she was barely thirty, she dressed more like someone's grandma than the young woman she supposedly was.

“Lady Jules. Pray thee. Hast thou come up with any ideas for thy sonnet?” asked Ms. Donovan in a fake English accent that was more fake than it was English.

“Not yet, Mistress Donovan. Sure 'tis a burden to choose just the right poem. But I'm working on it,” answered Jules in an actually quite spot-on English accent.

“Well, let me know if you need any help. I am quite the expert, you know,” continued Ms. Donovan sounding less British as she went.

“Have you ever considered getting contacts, Ms. Donovan?” asked Kat. She had been scrutinizing the nerdish teacher's appearance like the host of one of those extreme makeover shows you see all over cable.

Ms. Donovan looked over to Kat as if noticing her for the first time but in reality was deliberately ignoring her.

“Because, you know, they would really help show off your face,” continued Kat.

Ms. Donovan was not particularly fond of Kat or her type (meaning popular girls, not ever having been one herself). “True beauty comes from within, Ms. Connors. Not from superficial trappings,” she sniffed as she self-consciously straightened her glasses and walked away.

Kat shook her head. “Too bad. If Ms. Donovan externalized some of that inner beauty and added a superficial trapping or two, she might score a date with the hot new basketball coach over there. I hear he's single.”

Jules looked over at the tall, buffed-out and impossibly handsome Coach Scofield, who at first glance appeared to be looking at trophies in a glass display case. But as he smoothed back his hair, Jules realized he was actually checking out his own reflection.

“Uh-uh. No way Ms. Donovan would go for a steroid case like that,” said Jules.

“I beggeth to differ,” said Kat, putting on her own fairly decent British accent as she nodded across the hall.

Jules looked over and saw Ms. Donovan walking slowly down the hall, pretending to thumb through some papers on her clipboard, when in reality she was secretly stealing glances at the coach. As a result, she walked right into a student in a big hurry to get somewhere. Her papers scattered everywhere.

Kat gave Jules a knowing glance. Jules shook her head in disbelief as she and Kat rushed over to help Ms. Donovan save her papers from being trampled by the horde of passing students.

“Here you go, Ms. Donovan,” said Jules as she handed over a pile of crumpled documents.

“Thanks, ladies. I guess I better pay attention to where I'm going,” replied Ms. Donovan.

“Tooooootally understandable,” said Kat, handing over papers with a sweet smile and a knowing nod in the direction of Coach Scofield.

Embarrassed, Ms. Donovan stuffed the papers on her clipboard. “I will, uh, see you in Shakespeare Club,” she said to Jules and quickly scurried away.

“Me thinketh Mistress Donovan doth crush-eth on the coach big-time,” said Kat.

Despite herself, Jules joined Kat in her giggling fit.

• • •

The display on Kat's cell phone said 1:37 p.m. as she pushed open the front door and scanned the school parking lot for her ride. It was an early dismissal day, and she was eager to get home, but it had taken her a few minutes to pry herself away from Mr. Deevers's lecture on the importance of the isosceles triangle in everyday life.

Tonight, her dad was finally returning from his business trip. For weeks he had been in Tokyo, where his software company was setting up a system for some really big worldwide corporation. It was particularly special to have him back because it was her parents' fifteenth anniversary as well. She thought about the family dinner, their first together in a long time. She couldn't wait to see him and witness his reaction to Kat's special anniversary gift that she'd been working on all summer.

As she bounded down the steps to the curb, she hopped into the backseat of a waiting Prius. Jules was already inside.

“There you are. I was beginning to wonder if I should send out a search party,” said Jules.

“Sorry I'm late, Mr. Finch,” said Kat to Jules's dad in the front seat.

“Not a problem, Kat. We're in no rush. Right, Jule Box?” said Jules's father, Dale, putting the car into drive and pulling away from the curb. He was wearing his usual plaid cotton shirt, jeans, and work boots, the “official uniform” of the president of a construction company. He was so unlike Kat's dad in every way. In fact, Kat couldn't remember the last time she saw her dad in anything other than a business suit and tie. When she saw him at all, that is.

Kat liked Jules's dad, who always smelled of freshly sawed wood and called his daughter little pet names like Jule Box and Jule O'Mine. Somehow, he always, always found time to get away from work to pick her up from school. That's another thing Kat couldn't remember about her dad—the last time he'd driven her home from school. Or
to
school, for that matter.

Kat suddenly caught herself feeling jealous, so she quickly stared out the window to avoid making eye contact with Jules, who always managed to read her mind—a downside to someone knowing you almost as long as you've known yourself.

Just then a ticket appeared in front of Kat's face. She had to cross her eyes to read it. It said:

Admit One—Renaissance Pleasure Faire

October 15

She took the ticket from Jules. “What's this?” she asked.

“This is what we're doing for my fourteenth birthday!” squealed Jules. “Dad got them for us. Isn't it the best idea ever? We can all dress up like medieval characters! The Froggy Boggards will be performing, and Pilch the Storyteller is going to be there too! Oh, and Ms. Donovan says the Shakespeare Club will get to perform their sonnets on the small stage and maybe even sing a song to warm up the crowd before one of the jousts! Isn't that great? You'll be there, right?”

Kat didn't have to answer. They had been at each other's birthday parties since the Finches had invited the newly moved-in Connors family to attend Jules's Sleeping Beauty–themed second birthday party. Although that party was now a sworn secret between Kat and Jules because Jules didn't want anyone to know she had ever bought into that whole princess thing, even if she was only two at the time. Because in addition to being totally green and a vegan, Jules considered herself a feminist, and feminists didn't need guys to save them.