Hannah Smart, Operation Josh Taylor (6 page)

As Scarlett blabbers away, I look over at Rachel. Her nostrils are flaring and her hands are clenched into tight fists. If I didn't know better, I'd think she was about to punch Scarlett Hastings right in her high-and-mighty face. For just a second, I let my mind drift.…
What if she actually did haul off and slug her one right in those glossy, pale-pink M.A.C. lips?
The image is happily floating around in my head when a sudden hoot of laughter brings me back to reality. It came from Rachel.

“Well actually, you misunderstand, Scarlett.” Rachel says, still chuckling.

What?
I look from Rachel to Scarlett, from Scarlett to Rachel.
What is she talking about?

“Okay, this should be interesting,” Scarlett says. “Go ahead, Rachel. Tell me, what did I misunderstand?”

“Well, you probably don't know that I have an aunt!” she blurts out.

“Okay … whatever …” Scarlett plucks a nail file from her bag and starts sharpening her claws.

“Well my aunt works at 98.6 The Hitz, and you know they're promoting the concert. Right?”

“Of course I do.” Scarlett furrows her brow.

“Of course she does,” Anika adds defensively.

“Yeah,” Missy joins in.

“Well, she's hooking us up with tickets, and you know what?” Rachel glares at her. “She told me our seats are the best in the stadium! So, if there really is a V.I.P. section, then I guess we'll see you there!”

Scarlett lets out a little gasp as a look of shock registers on her face, but then slowly, an evil grin creeps across her lips. “Oh, there's a V.I.P. section, but I seriously doubt I'll see either one of you there. You see,” Scarlett hisses, as she turns to walk away, “I don't believe your aunt is getting you tickets, and even if she did, I think you should know they don't let poor, boring losers with disgusting clothes from Walmart in the V.I.P. section.”

“Walmart!” Rachel huffs as soon as Scarlett and her “yes-girls” turn the corner.

“Who cares? You can get some nice stuff at Walmart,” I say, looking down at my cute yellow Tweety Bird T-shirt. “So, what was that all about anyway?”

“I lied,” she says, shrugging.

“Yes, Einstein, I know you lied. But you never lie! Do you even have an aunt?”

“Yeah, Aunt Becky, but she doesn't work for the radio station. She works at the hospital with my dad. She's an allergy specialist,” Rachel says, chuckling. “I just couldn't help myself. That girl is evil.”

I nod. “Yup, she's evil all right. And she is going to torture us if we don't get those tickets.”

Show Me the Money

D
o
you ever wonder what people did before Google? I mean, how did they find out anything about anything? Now, if you want to find out the population of mountain gorillas in Africa, it's just a click away; if you want to know how to make a triple-layer chocolate fudge cake, that's a click away, too, and if you want to find easy ways to make money, just type it in. And that's exactly what I did, a little over an hour ago in the computer lab.

“I have it, Rachel,” I say, closing up my locker for the day. “I have the perfect answer to our problem.”

“The answer to our problem is money,” she says, rubbing her fingers against her thumb.

“True,” I say, grinning, “and I know how we're gonna to get it.”

“How?”

“Jewellery.”

“Jewellery?”

“Yup,” I answer, as we walk out of the school. “We're going to start a jewellery business!”

“Seriously?”

“Not just any jewellery, Rachel.” I stop and look at her. “We're going to sell … friendship bracelets.”

“Friendship bracelets?” She raises an eyebrow.

“People love bracelets.”

“Yeah, that's true.”

“Plus, they're cheap and easy to make.”

“Okay, so what makes you think people will buy our bracelets?” Rachel asks.

“People will buy our bracelets because we have a gimmick,” I say, crossing my arms confidently.

“A gimmick?”

“Yup, something that'll make every kid in our school desperate to have one.”

“Okay, I'm listening,” she says.

“So, like, hundreds of years ago, people used to make these really cool bracelets, and then they would give them to their friends as a symbol of their undying friendship and loyalty. If you accepted a bracelet, you had to promise to keep it on forever.”

“Forever?” Rachel squishes up her face. “Like, never take it off? That's actually kind of gross. I mean, wouldn't it get kind of nasty after a while?”

“Well, probably, but here's the best part!” I beam. “With your promise you also got to make a wish! If you kept your bracelet on till it fell off on its own, then your wish would magically come true. Awesome, right?”

“Yeah, that's actually kind of a cool idea,” she answers.

“So, I thought we might call them Wishbandz … with a
z
at the end.”

“Hmmm … Wishbandz,” Rachel says, smiling. “I like it!”

W
ith that, we head to Rachel's, and get to work right away, researching patterns and figuring out what supplies we'll need. Within minutes, we meet our first obstacle —
money
— which, unfortunately, has been our problem from the start. In order to buy supplies, we need cash.

So, it's back to Google. We key in “how to find money for your business.” Every site we look at points us in the same direction:
a business plan
. A business plan is really just a detailed outline of your business that you put together in order to persuade someone else to invest in your idea. In other words, we need to come up with a plan so super-professional that it will totally convince our parents to give us the cash we need to get started.

Who knew it was going to be this complicated to get tickets to a concert! Oh well, getting to see Josh Taylor will make it all worth it.

1. Mission Statement/Goal:
   To make bracelets that are
   so awesome
   every kid in school will be begging for one.
   
2. Target Market:
   Every kid in our school.
   
3. Supply List:
   Due to my recent history of going slightly overboard in this department, Rachel is handling supplies.
   
4. Expenses:
   Due to issues with my recent overspending, Rachel is looking after this part, too.
   
5. Schedule:
   This is where we create a timeline for buying supplies, and making and selling our Wishbandz.
   

So, this is our business plan. Isn't it awesome? Feel free to use it as a guide if you need to get money from your parents to start your own business. They'll be super impressed for sure!

Thankfully, our parents are pretty pumped about us “getting organized,” so they happily agree to meet at Rachel's house after supper to hear our pitch.

“Ahem …” I clear my throat and take a sip of water. “First, I would like to thank you all for coming tonight.”

“Okay,” Mom says, raising an eyebrow as she glances over at Rachel's mother.

“So, as you know, Rachel and I have been working really hard to earn money so we can buy tickets for the Josh Taylor concert.”

Everyone nods.

“Yes, we've put a lot of effort in,” Rachel adds, “but our yard sale wasn't quite as profitable as we'd hoped.” She glances over at me, furrowing her brow. “So now we're exploring some new and exciting ways to earn money.”

Wow, Rachel sounds so professional. Even though she's a total genius, you'd never know it by the way she
usually
freezes up when she's speaking in front of people. But not today, today she seems … comfortable. Maybe it's because it's only our parents, or maybe she's just getting better at the whole public-speaking thing. Either way, she's doing great!

“We have developed a business plan.” She picks up a pile of folders off the coffee table. “Hannah, could you please present everyone a copy?” She nods and flashes me a quick smile of what I think is relief.

I jump in. “As you can see, we've worked really hard at making our plan super detailed so you will know that your money won't be wasted. We even have a gimmick!” I smile proudly.

Rachel winks at me. “That's right, we've put a considerable amount of thought into our future Wishbandz business. If everyone would please turn to page one in your folders, Hannah will present our mission statement.”

We keep taking turns presenting the business plan, explaining that Wishbandz will practically sell themselves. We end our presentation asking for our parents' trust and then their cash.

It takes a bit of negotiating and begging, but finally our parents agree to give us the money. We get to work right away buying supplies and making our Wishbandz, attaching a little tag on each one, explaining the
Legend of the Wish
.

After a couple of days of hard work, we arrive at school extra early with about twenty-five Wishbandz tacked to a corkboard
.
I have to say, our display rocks! Right away, people start coming over to find out what is going on. By the time the bell rings, everyone is talking about our Wishbandz, but no one is buying. At lunch, we set up our display again. We're getting lots of compliments, but apparently, no one has money.

“Oh well,” I say to Rachel. “It's only day one.”

Just then, Eden Payton-Patterson appears with an entourage of girls surrounding her.

If you've ever heard of someone being
strikingly beautiful
, that would be Eden. She kind of looks like a Barbie that's come to life. Her hair is blond, almost white, and straight as a whip, and her eyes are like this weird, pale-grey colour with flecks of blue; her skin is perfect, and even in sweatpants, without a speck of makeup, she's gorgeous.

“Cool bracelets,” she says, inspecting our display. Her girls eagerly nod in agreement. “I'll take ten,” she adds curtly, taking out her cellphone to answer a text.

“Wow,” Rachel exclaims. “You want ten?”

Eden raises a perfect eyebrow. “That's what I said.”

“Um, okay. Do you want us to tie them on?” I ask.

“Duh …” She rolls her eyes, continuing to text.

One by one, each of the girls stretches out her arm, anxiously awaiting proof of her membership in the Eden Payton-Patterson Club. Each time a bracelet is tied on, Eden nods, knowing she's just secured the endless devotion of that girl. Not that she needs our Wishbandz to get their loyalty; they follow her around like adoring little puppies anyway.

As Rachel secures the last bracelet on puppy number nine, I see Scarlett, Anika, and Missy barrelling toward us.

“OMG, as if that yard sale of yours wasn't pathetic enough, now you're trying to sell your junk at school?” Scarlett laughs as she plucks a bracelet off our corkboard. “Okay, that's just hideous!” She holds it up, turning it back and forth, and then tosses it. It lands on the ground at my feet.

“Oops …” she says, chuckling.

Eden glances down at the bracelet in the dirt and then raises her eyes to Scarlett, who is grinning like a satisfied cat that's just finished off a helpless mouse. I'm waiting for her to start licking her lips.

“Can you believe these disgusting bracelets, Eden?” Scarlett smirks, pointing her thumb at our display. “I mean, who in their right mind would spend a dime on these cheap, loser things?”

If scowls were daggers, then Scarlett would be dead, because she just got nine
very
sharp daggers from nine
very
disgusted girls, each one holding out her arm, showing off her “disgusting” gift from Eden Payton-Patterson.

“I would, Scarlett,” Eden says.

“Wait …” Scarlett stammers, “I don't understand. You mean you bought a bracelet?”

“No, I didn't buy one,” Eden replies.

Scarlett looks immediately relieved. “I knew you wouldn't buy one, of course you wouldn't. I mean …”

“Scarlett,” Eden cuts her off, “I didn't buy
just
one … I bought ten.” She points to her nine puppies' outstretched arms, and then holds up her own.

“But … but they're ugly,” Scarlett stammers.

“There is only one thing ugly here, Scarlett,” Eden says calmly, “and it's not the bracelets.”

The puppies all giggle. Missy gasps, and Anika bites her lip, staring at her feet, not daring to look at Scarlett.

Scarlett, suddenly realizing that she's the butt of the joke, narrows her eyes and turns toward us, glaring. Suddenly, her eyes shift toward our Wishbandz and a smile crosses her face.