Mission (Un)Popular (29 page)

“George-man,” Ken said. “I got another idea for the Auto Fart-O. It came to me in a dream. Instead of honking, the car horn should fart.”

Em looked at me and pinched her lips into a tight smile. I rolled my eyes. It wasn't exactly a big warm hug or even a handshake, but we both got the meaning. Despite what had happened—as impossible as it seemed—we were going to stay friends.

Or, that was what I believed all through gym class as I sat in the office filing invoices and watching the girls play volleyball through the window. Sarah J. was wearing this really tight T-shirt and what must have been a padded bra (unless her boobs had magically grown two sizes overnight), and Em kept trying to make me laugh by sticking her chest way out and imitating the girly way Sarah was running. I also believed it all through French as Em passed me notes with drawings of Ken's fart car on them. It got a little harder to believe, though, when George started holding Em's hand at the lockers after school.

“You guys,” Maggie whispered urgently, stepping in front of them so I wouldn't see.

“It's all right,” Em said. “She knows. She saw us at lunch.” I stood there feeling like the world's biggest loser.

“She found out?” Sarah J., who had obviously been eavesdropping again, came up behind us. Even Sarah J. knew?

“You told everyone except me?” I turned on Em. “Even her?”

“Not on purpose. Trust me,” she said. “She was following us around after school, and she found out.” That, at least, made me feel a fraction of a bit better. “I told her I'd kill her if she told you.” She shot Sarah a look that suggested she might still kill her. Any second now. “I wanted to tell you myself.”

“Well, I didn't,” Sarah J. said to Em, sounding exasperated. “Tell her, I mean. So relax. Do you want some water so you can take a chill pill?” It was the kind of thing that used to make Maggie and Joyce nearly die laughing, but now they didn't even smile.

“Nobody wants you here.” I was having a bad enough day without having to deal with her stupid comments. Or I
thought
I was having a bad enough day. What I didn't know was that it was about five seconds away from getting much worse.

A bunch of eighth grade guys were standing across the hall from us, jostling each other around, and it wasn't until they started for the doors that I noticed Andrew was on the other side of the hall too, near the water fountain. He was crouched down tying his shoelace. Sarah J. just so happened to notice him too.

“I mean, look on the bright side, Margot,” she said. “George doesn't want you, but at least now you can be with your true love, Andrew. You two losers were made for each other.”

Andrew looked up at the sound of his name. “I'm
not
a loser,” I said, staring Sarah J. down. Andrew's mouth dropped open a little, and so did mine as I realized what I'd accidentally just said and, more important,
not
said. Then he stood up, looked straight at me, shook his head sadly, and walked away. He hadn't even taken the time to finish with his shoes. And as I watched him disappear around the corner with the ends of his laces dragging along the ground, I suddenly couldn't stand it anymore. I started crying—full-out, face-turning-red, snoteverywhere, on-the-verge-of-hyperventilating crying.

“Margot?” Em said.

“Oh my God, Margot, are you okay?” Joyce asked.

“What's wrong?” Maggie echoed. As if it wasn't obvious: everything was wrong.

E
VERYONE SPENT THE REST
of the day tiptoeing around me like I was some kind of scary, emotional time bomb waiting to go off.

“I think Margot should play the part of Pretty Girl,” Em said, as we studied our Nose Clothes scripts in her living room.

“Definitely,” Joyce agreed. “Margot, you've got the nicest nose of us all.”

It was a lie. My nose was second worst, right after Sarah's.

Still, I appreciated the thought. “I should probably be the announcer,” I said, “because of my leg.”

“Oh, right,” Em said. “Maggie can be Pretty Girl, then.

Sarah, you're Ugly Girl.” She ignored the look Sarah gave her.

“Joyce, you're Sleazy Fireman. And I'm the camera person. Did you guys make the Nose Clothes last night?”

Joyce dumped a ziplock bag full of colored triangles onto the sofa. There was a striped one, one with flowers, one with a leopard print that had rhinestones glued to it, and another that was kind of plaid. “They don't stay on that well,” Maggie explained. “We'll have to use tape.”

Em picked up one with orange polka dots and held it over her nose. “How do I look, Margot?” she asked.

“Good,” I said.

“Just good? How about this one?” She put on the leopard-print one.

“You look like a moron,” Sarah offered.

“Didn't ask you,” Em said, without blinking. “Margot?” She batted her eyelashes.

I couldn't just say “good” again. She was wearing a nose cone for me. She was trying so hard to make me laugh, or smile, or at least talk. “Way better.” I tried to sound enthusiastic, but it came out forced. “That one's really hot.”

“I know.” Em smiled.
“C'est super sexy, non?”
Everyone laughed. Well, everyone except for me (because I wasn't in a laughing mood) and Sarah J. So, really, what I mean by
everyone
is Maggie and Joyce.

Em got up and rifled through a drawer. “I can't find any tape,” she said after a while. “Just use this.” She threw a pack of grape bubble gum into Sarah's lap.

Sarah looked at the package like it was crawling with maggots. “I'm
not
putting gum on my nose.”

“Yes you are.” Em opened the camera case and started unwrapping cables.

“You guys,” Sarah whined. No one reacted. “Well, do you at least have sugar-free? I'm on a diet.”

“You want me to chew it for you?” I offered. Everybody (and this time I mean everybody except Sarah) laughed.

“Hold still,” Maggie scolded, turning Sarah's head back toward her. She had appointed herself head makeup artist, and she was busy “enhancing” Sarah's nose.

I let myself sink back into the cushy white couch as I looked around Em's lavish living room. Everything, as usual, was polished and in its place. Nearly too perfect to be true.

“Your house is amazing,” Maggie said suddenly. “Is your dad's place in New York like this?” Maggie and Joyce had been pretty awestruck ever since the car with the black-tinted windows had pulled up in front of the school to get us. They couldn't get over the plush seats and the driver wearing a suit with a pin that said
DARLING CAR SERVICE
. I had to admit, even
I
thought it was pretty cool.

Em just shrugged at Maggie's question. She fiddled with the lens cover, probably so she wouldn't have to look me in the eye while she stretched the truth again. “His penthouse is a little smaller than this. But then, everyone lives in apartments in New York.” Em held the camera up. “Are we ready?”

Maggie leaned back to get a better look at Sarah's enhanced nose. “Perfect,” she proclaimed. I almost snorted. Maggie had used a ton of my deep olive foundation, plus half a thing of brown eye shadow. Sarah's entire nose looked like it had a huge bruise. The funniest part was that Sarah had no idea how bad it was.

“Places, please. Scene one. Take one.” Em directed as if she'd done this a hundred times. But then, she did everything with confidence, right down to the way she kidnapped dogs and seduced her best friend's crush.

Maggie and Sarah sat on the comfy sofa and pretended to be reading magazines.

“ACTION,” Em said.

Maggie flipped a page of her magazine then uncrossed and recrossed her legs. She sniffed the air. “Oh no. Do you smell that?” She said in a sweet, surprised voice, only, obviously, in incredibly bad French.

“I think it's a fire,” Sarah said, sounding like she could have fallen asleep from boredom.

“CUT.” Em stopped the camera. “Your house is on fire. Say it like you're actually worried.” She started the camera again.

“I think it's a fire,” Sarah said, with a bit more effort.

Maggie ran to the door, pretending to try the handle. “It's locked!” she shouted. “We're trapped!”

“What will we do?” Sarah said, again with the bored voice. Em shot her a look of death from behind the camera.

Suddenly, Joyce burst through the door. She was wearing a plastic fire helmet and carrying a garden hose. “I'll save you!” she shouted. She looked Maggie up and down, made kissy lips at her, and winked at the camera. “She's foxy.” Then she pointed at Sarah's nose and made a gagging noise. “She's ugly.”

Joyce grabbed Pretty-Girl-Maggie's hand, pulled her through the door to safety and shut it behind her, leaving Ugly-Girl-Sarah behind in the burning room. Sarah pounded on the door. “Okay, cut,” Em yelled. “Cue the announcer.”

I cleared my throat and started in a deep announcer tone, my voice cracking partway through, “Don't let this happen to you! If your nose is huge and ugly, get Nose Clothes right away.”

Em stopped the camera. “Okay, put on the first one.” Sarah made a face as she pulled the purple gum out of her mouth and stuck it on her nose.

“ACTION,” Em said again. She zoomed in on Sarah's nose in profile.

“Nose Clothes come in eight attractive designs to match any outfit choice,” I read. “For a fraction of the cost of a nose job, you can cover up that ugly nose and be fashionable at the same time.” Sarah switched nose cones as I read on. “Nose Clothes are made of one hundred percent recycled materials and smell like popcorn. Now, let's see that scene again.”

Maggie and Sarah took their places on the sofa, this time with Sarah wearing Nose Clothes. Maggie crossed and uncrossed her legs exactly as she'd done before, then sniffed the air. “Oh no, do you smell that?”

When Joyce the fireman came through the door this time, she looked at Maggie, made the kissy lips, winked at the camera and said, “She's foxy,” then she looked Sarah up and down, too. “Va-va-va-voom!” she said in a deep voice, tapping her own nose to show it was the nose cone that made Sarah look hot. She grabbed them both by the hand and pulled them out the door.

“Portez les Nose Clothes,”
I said, then held up a sign in front of the camera. It was in English (even though we knew we'd lose points). “Because who ‘nose' what might happen today!”

Em panned over to the door, which opened to show Sarah and Maggie pushing Joyce the Sleazy Fireman back into the burning room.

“And, CUT,” Em said. “That's a wrap.” We all sank down onto the supersoft sofas while Em started fiddling with the cord to plug the camera into the TV.

“Hello, girls.” Em's mom came into the living room. She was wearing a hot pink dress, these crazy high-heeled shoes, and tons of makeup. Her hair was swept back, too, making her look exactly like a soap-opera star. I was half expecting her to faint suddenly, hit her head on the coffee table, develop a case of amnesia, and accidentally get pregnant with her ex-husband's baby. She snapped open her sparkly evening bag and looked through it while she talked to Em. “Emily, I'm leaving for the benefit now. Are you almost done with whatever you're doing?”

“We just finished.” It was the first time I'd seen Em's mom since we got there.

“I left my gold card in the kitchen. Order some pizza for your friends.”

“Sure,” Em mumbled.

“And don't stay up too late,” her mom added. “It's a school day tomorrow.” She gave us all a quick smile, then glanced at herself in the mirror over the fireplace.

“Your mom lets you use her Visa card?” Maggie said once she'd left. “That's so cool.”

“I'm starving. Can we get a large?” Joyce asked.

“We can get five larges. She won't care.” Em put the camera down on the mantel. We all followed her into the kitchen. “Write down what you want.” She threw a pad of paper onto the table.

“No anchovies,” Maggie started.

“Seriously,” Joyce added. “Who eats anchovies?”

“Double cheese,” Maggie went on.

“Pepperoni,” Joyce said.

“Double pepperoni,” Maggie corrected.

“Okay. Sick.” Sarah J. came back from the bathroom, where she'd gone to wash the makeup and gum residue off her nose. “Do you know how much fat is in pepperoni?” She looked at Maggie. “And oil.” She looked at me.

I glared at her. I had exactly one zit, and I'd totally smothered it in concealer that morning. It was barely noticeable. Or at least I'd thought it was.

“Triple pepperoni,” I said, staring her straight in the eyes, daring her to say another word about my zit.

“Quadruple,” Maggie put in, backing me up.

“Margot's skin is gorgeous. She always has a tan, and you can hardly even see her blemish. And, Sarah? Maggie's
not
fat. Just order an entire box of pepperoni with no pizza crust attached,” Joyce said.

“Okay,” Em said. “But ask for melted cheese on the box. I love cheese.” We all laughed, except Sarah, who was looking horrified at the thought of how many calories would be in a cheese-covered cardboard box of pepperoni.

“Okay, seriously,” I said, “how about just triple?”

We ended up ordering five of the weirdest pizzas ever invented, including one with double cheese, triple pepperoni, quadruple pineapple, and one-eighth olives. We made Sarah call and place the order because nobody else could do it without laughing.

“They said forty-five minutes.” Sarah hung up the phone. She'd made sure to order herself a Diet Coke and a Caesar salad, which she made a big deal of saying was the only thing she'd be eating.

“Why do you have a stick up your butt, Sarah?” Em asked. Obviously, Sarah didn't answer.

“I'm hungry,” Joyce whined. “Forty-five minutes is forever. Do you have any chips?”

“Sorry,” Em answered. “My mom only eats seaweed and rice.”

And then I had an idea. It seemed brilliant at the time, but now I'd give anything to go back and change the words that came out of my mouth. “Let's play mystery on a spoon!”

“Oh my God,” Em trilled. “I'll get the blindfold.”

While she was gone, I explained the rules to the others, emphasizing that the blindfolded person has to swallow what's on the spoon, no matter how bad it tastes.

“I'm not playing,” Sarah J. said.

“Yes you are,” I answered.

“Either play or we'll have to punish you,” Em added, coming into the room behind me.

“We'll give you some time to think about your decision. I'll go first,” I offered. It was a strategic move. I'd only had to play mystery on a spoon once to figure out that the stuff got more disgusting each turn.

Em put the blindfold over my eyes. I heard the fridge opening and closing, a cupboard slamming, then a shaking noise like popcorn kernels in a jar, but softer.

“Open wide,” Em said. At first, the taste was salty and sort of peppery, then it got sweet. The texture was creamy and crunchy at the same time. I ripped off the blindfold and reached for the glass of water. “Easy,” I said. “Soy sauce, mustard, and crushed Smarties.”

“Oh my God.” Em clapped her hands. “You're amazing.”

Maggie was next. She turned out to be hopeless. “Tomato juice, crackers, and jam?” she guessed. It was actually pineapple juice, crushed Cheerios, and salt.

Joyce was even worse. “Yogurt, lemon juice, and pepper?” To be fair, though, Em had tricked her by only putting one thing on the spoon: Dijon mustard.

Sarah sat watching, rolling her eyes. “You guys make me want to puke.” Nobody paid her any attention. We were all waiting to see what Maggie would feed Em. It didn't end up being worth the wait.

“A little effort, please,” Em said as she took off her blindfold. “Ketchup.”

“And?” Maggie prompted, trying to trip her up.

“And just ketchup,” Em said with complete certainty. Maggie tipped her head back and sighed in defeat while Em held the blindfold out to Sarah J. “Your turn.”

Sarah shook her head. “Not a chance.”

“Stop acting like a bitch, Sarah,” Joyce said, shocking us all.

“Put it on,” I added. “Or else.”

“Or else what?” She turned to me. “Or else you'll cry some more?”

“You don't want to push me any more today,” I warned. It didn't escape me that I sounded exactly like my mom when she was dealing with a carload of screaming triplets.

“You know,” Sarah went on, “you don't really have a right to be all pissed off with me. Did you really think you had a chance with George? I mean, look at yourself.”

Maggie and Joyce stared her down. “That's
so
mean,” Joyce said.

“Not to mention rude,” Maggie put in. “And untrue.”

I stood up from my chair and was about to tackle her to the ground, broken leg or not, when Em stepped between us. “Okay, enough. Guys, violence isn't the answer.”

“Yeah, tell
her
that,” I spat. “She's the one who pushed me down the stairs.”

“I wouldn't have done it if you guys hadn't been trying to ruin my life
and
burn my face off. Just so you know, you deserved it.”