Middle school born to ro.., p.6
Middle School--Born to Rock, page 6
“That was an accident,” Rafe said.
“Or the time you—”
“Okay, okay, I’ve got it,” he said.
I probably should have just erased the whole thing from my laptop, but the rest of that video was pure gold.
Besides, I wasn’t going to go to the trouble of facing down the Hills Village “PD” and nearly go to Parks Department jail, only to wind up with nothing. No way.
This World Tour business was turning out to be more dangerous than I thought.
Dream On
This is the part where I’m supposed to have an awesome dream, all about how famous We Stink is going to get.
It would include talk shows and stadium dates, magazine covers, endorsements for environmentally friendly laundry detergent, and, of course, an animated We Stink movie where we save the world from evil princesses, one hit song at a time.
And the dream would just go on and on like that, until I get swallowed up by fluffy pink cotton-candy clouds of joy…
Except that’s not the dream I had that night. Not even close.
Instead, I dreamed that I was on a big ship, and Rafe was holding me by my feet while I hung off the deck over the freezing ocean. If he let go, I was going to fall straight down to a watery grave.
Plus, he kept eating handfuls of buttery popcorn from a giant bucket, and his hands were getting greasier and more slippery while he tried to hold on.
There were also a few rainbow-colored llamas and talking seagulls in there. I probably ought to lay off the Skittles before bed next time.
I’m no dream expert, but it didn’t take a genius to figure out what that one meant. Some part of me was scared to death about putting my fate in Rafe’s hands.
So I couldn’t help looking at him a little suspiciously at breakfast. Especially because he kept grinning at me like a crazy person.
“What?” I said.
“You didn’t see?”
“See what?” I was still kind of mad about the dream, even if that part wasn’t technically his fault.
“You should take a look at the contest website,” he said. “Because someone just went from forty-eighth place to—”
I didn’t even hear the rest. I was already running back to my room. I threw open my laptop, clicked onto the site, and—
Forty-one.
FORTY-ONE.
FORTY-ONE!
We were in forty-first place! Overnight! I’ve never been so excited about such a boring number in my life.
I couldn’t believe it. This was actually happening. It was all like some kind of… well…
Just like a dream.
Minus the llamas.
Overnight Sensation
It kept going once I got to school, too. At least eight people said something nice to me on the way to my locker.
Usually, the only time I get noticed is when I take too long at the water fountain, or dork out at volleyball in gym and accidentally help the other team get a point.
“Georgia! I saw you on the news! Very cool.”
“You’re famous-ish!”
This was a whole new feeling. Like a bubbly, tiny-bit-famous, who’s-that-oh-wait-that’s-ME kind of feeling.
And I loved it.
“Hey, Georgia!” Jeanne Galletta said when she spotted me in the hall. “I heard you were on the news last night.”
Not only is Jeanne really cool, she’s also the editor of the online school paper, Fine Print. In other words, I was talking to another reporter now.
So I told her all about the band, and the contest, and our chance to warm up for Lulu and the Handbags.
“This is huge,” Jeanne said.
“It is?”
“Sure. You guys are the biggest thing to happen at HVMS since… well, since your brother got arrested in the parking lot in the sixth grade.” (Which is a whole other story, but we’re talking about me right now.)
“Anyway, we totally have to do an interview with the band,” Jeanne said.
“We do?” I said. “I mean, sure!”
She had already pulled out a little voice recorder and everything. “We’re going to put you guys over the top,” she said. “I’m going to make it my own personal mission.”
It was still kind of sinking in. We Stink was actually maybe going to make it into the top twelve! That was a giant step up from definitely not going to make it, which is what I’d been thinking but just hadn’t wanted to say out loud.
“So, Georgia, what’s next for We Stink?” Jeanne asked, holding out the recorder.
And I gave her the only answer I knew.
“Everything!”
Greatest Hits
Okay, everyone—turn up your speakers and cue the music!
This is the part where you see a bunch of quick movie scenes, one after the other, showing how We Stink really was bubbling to the top.
All of a sudden, we were everywhere. We played in the Duper Market parking lot that Saturday morning. Then we swung by the public access TV studios and went on Hills Village This Week with Marty Gruber.
We played at a pep rally at HVMS. We also played at the elementary school, and the high school, and the senior center. That’s like every age there is!
Mom made us some awesome T-shirts, too. And Grandma Dotty made meatballs, lots and lots of meatballs, to get us through those long practice sessions in the garage—I mean, in We Stink Studios. And Rafe filmed the WHOLE thing. It was all one giant team effort.
In fact, other than those tutoring sessions with Missy, it was just about the best week of my life.
We just needed a couple more events now, or even one really big one, to put us over the top. Because by the end of the week, we’d gotten all the way up to seventeenth place.
Only five more places to go, and we were headed to Lulu-Land!
Plus… I haven’t even told you one of the best parts yet.
A… Plus
On top of everything else, Sam and I got an A on our Rube Goldberg machine that Friday!
The golf ball rolled down the train track and knocked the marble, and the marble went down the funnel and dropped right onto the Return button on my laptop.
It was like the cherry on top of the sundae. And in fact, I was about to get a cherry on top of the cherry, if you can believe that.
It happened when Sam and I were walking to lunch after science. I guess I was feeling extra sunshine-y good about everything. Maybe that’s how I got the nerve to just go for it, once and for all.
“Can I ask you a question?” I said.
“Sure,” he said.
“Don’t think I’m weird, but… do you like me? And I don’t just mean as a friend.”
Sam looked at me like I wasn’t making any sense.
“What are you talking about?” he said.
“Well, I said I liked you that day when you asked to be science partners. And then you didn’t say anything back,” I told him.
“Yes, I did,” he said.
“Uh, no,” I said. “You really didn’t.”
Sam looked at me again, but in a different way this time. He was turning red. Like, apple-red. Then he looked at the floor.
“I really stink at this,” he said. “Now I feel stupid.”
Which made me feel bad.
“It’s okay if you don’t like me, too,” I said.
“No,” he said, “it’s not that. It’s more like… well… I kind of thought you were already my girlfriend.”
Believe me, that was not what I expected him to say. I would have been less surprised if he’d said, “I’m the reincarnation of your goldfish Squashy who you ate when you were three. Thanks for nothing.”
“Wait. What?” I said.
“I’m so embarrassed,” he said, even though now I was the one turning red.
“So, are you… are we… boyfriend and girlfriend?” I asked, still not sure about, well, anything.
Sam shrugged. “Do you not want to be?”
“No!” I said. “I mean—YES! I do. Want to. Be… you know.”
And then some even crazier part of me took over. I can’t even explain it, but I leaned in, and I kissed Sam right there on the stairs.
If I had thought about it, I probably would have remembered that we were… oh, I don’t know… AT SCHOOL. Also that Mrs. Stricker has a habit of showing up out of nowhere.
Like, for instance, at that very moment.
You would have thought we were running around naked from the way she started yelling about it, too.
“EXCUSE ME! WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?” she hollered.
Which is basically like Mrs. Stricker’s favorite song, if she had one.
“No public displays of affection are allowed in school!” she said. “Let’s go, you two—march!”
And just like that, I was in trouble again. Except this time, I didn’t even care. Not one little bit. And I don’t think Sam did, either.
SAMSAMSAM
I barely had any time to freak out about how crazy it was that I, Georgia Khatchadorian, had a boyfriend. My boyfriend. That was always something other people could say, not me.
Except now—YES, ME. It was SO STRANGE. I had NO WORDS.
Actually, that’s not true. I had a lot of words going through my head, but most of them were “Sam,” “Sam,” and “Sam.”
Did I know what to do next, or how the whole girlfriend-boyfriend thing was supposed to work? Well, no. Not exactly. But then again, neither did Sam. Also known as MY BOYFRIEND.
SAM.
SAM.
SAM!
(Sigh. I was really happy. Can you tell?)
But like I said, I didn’t get to enjoy all that for very long before a major case of trouble reared its head again.
Or maybe I should say her head.
You notice how short this chapter is? Well that’s about how long it took for Missy Trillin to make her next move. And this one was going to be a doozy.
Turning Tables
It happened in the middle of our next tutoring session, just after I tried to show Missy how to calculate the area of a right triangle.
“So,” I said, “you need to divide ab by…?”
“Eighty-four?” Missy said.
I tried not to smack my forehead.
“Two,” I said.
“Whatever,” she said.
I knew Missy was smarter than this. I mean, she knew all seventy-five flavors of Lip Bomb Lip Balm by heart. And we only had to know eight formulas for the quiz.
She just wasn’t trying. And I wasn’t sure why.
“I need a bathroom break,” I said.
“Not in my bathroom,” she said, and pointed at the door. Which was fine with me. Really, I just needed a Missy break.
So I hiked all the way down to the powder room on the first floor and took my time.
When I got back, Missy was pointing and laughing at something on her desktop computer. Then she looked at me and laughed even harder.
I looked over at the window seat, and my laptop wasn’t where I’d left it. It was sitting open on the floor. And that’s when I started getting scared.
“What is that?” I asked.
“I think you know,” she said.
I looked closer. Right there on her screen, plain as day, I could see Flip pouring laundry detergent into Millennium Fountain all over again.
I immediately panicked.
She had evidence! She had the proof! “That’s stealing!” I said, picking up my laptop.
“And that’s vandalism,” Missy said, pointing at the screen again.
“How’d you—” I said, but I was pretty sure I knew.
“Every time you go to the bathroom, I check your laptop. And guess what? I just found a gold mine,” Missy said. “Ha! Ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”
“You’re not even laughing. You’re just saying ‘ha.’”
“Like that’s the point,” she said. “Now listen to me very carefully. You’re going to sit next to me in that math quiz. And you’re going to make sure I can see every last one of your answers. Otherwise, this little home movie of yours is going straight to the police.”
“I can’t do that!” I said. “That’s cheating!”
“Oh, right, because you’re so above cheating,” she said, and pointed at the screen again. “I don’t think so.”
Missy was like a supervillain. No, not even. She was like the person who trains all the supervillains and makes them cry and beg for mercy before she builds them back up again. Like a criminal mastermind. She was that evil.
Or that good, depending on how you looked at it.
I knew I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t knowingly let Missy cheat off me, because that would make me as bad as her. But I also couldn’t imagine throwing away everything we’d worked so hard for. And the test was only three days away.
That gave me seventy-two hours to do something about this.
But what?
Band Aid
I couldn’t concentrate at band practice. My head was everywhere but in the studio, and it felt like I was trying to play my guitar with two big mittens on my hands.
I had Missy on the brain.
“Let’s try that again,” Nanci said. “And Georgia, pay attention. We need to get this right.”
“Oh, and by the way,” Mari said, “we still need to come up with a couple more events to get votes. We’re so close, you guys! We can’t blow it now.”
“Actually,” I said, “I need to tell you all something.”
I couldn’t stand it anymore. This was going to explode in my face, and they’d never forgive me if it did.
So I put my guitar down and took a deep breath.
Then I told them all about what had happened. We’d never talked about who put the bubbles in the fountain, so I started at the beginning, and explained how it was Rafe’s idea and how Flip had been the one with the soap.
Then I told them about Missy—every last detail.
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “I was trying to keep you all out of it, but I guess I can’t.”
“Um… duh?” Patti said. “Of course Flip did it.”
“You all knew?” I asked.
They all nodded.
“Well, I’m still really sorry,” I said.
“It’s not your fault,” Nanci said.
“It kind of is,” I said. “I should have just erased the video. And I should have been more careful with Missy.”
“It’s impossible to be careful with witches,” Patti said.
“And you know what else?” Mari said. “You need to stop trying to do everything. No offense, Georgia, but you’re not in charge. We’re in this together.”
“I know,” I said. I was blushing, and my eyes were getting kind of stingy and wet. These girls were the best.
“Thanks, you guys,” I said. “But what can I… I mean, what can we do about this?”
“Well, Rafe was the big idea guy in the park,” Patti said. “What would he do now?”
“I don’t want to get Rafe involved,” I said. “That’s like bringing a lit match to the dynamite party. He’d just mess it all up, all over—”
But then… oh. My. Brainstorm. A giant lightbulb went on in my head.
Thanks to Patti’s question (and Rafe’s trouble-making), I was getting an idea.
I didn’t have to get Rafe involved. I just had to think like him. Which, to be honest, was starting to feel more and more like thinking like me.
“Georgia?” Nanci said, and waved a drumstick in front of my face. “Are you still there?”
“I’ve got it!” I said. “I mean, I don’t want you to think I’m taking charge or anything, but I know what we have to do now. And I need all of your help to get it done.”
Infiltration Station
BUZZZZZZZ!
I stepped back from the buzzer at the Trillins’ gate, shushed the girls, and waited for someone to answer.
“Alloo?” a voice said. It was Nicole, the Trillins’ French cook. I knew Mrs. Trillin had aquarobic yoga at her gym on Tuesday afternoons, so the timing was perfect.
“Hi, it’s Georgia Khatchadorian,” I said.
“Oui-oui,” she said, “Come een, Georgia! You are here for the tutoring?”
“I’m here, all right,” I said.
And the gate swung open.
Then the girls and I swung into action. We headed up the driveway but cut around the big oak tree, under the arbor on the side of the house, around the long way, and back toward the pool, where we had a perfect view of Missy’s bedroom window up above.
I waved at the gardener. He was used to seeing me around, too. But still, we had to work fast. So the second we were all set up with our instruments, Nanci counted us off.
“One, two, one-two-three-four!”
We started with “Green M&M’s.” It didn’t really matter which song we started with, as long as it was loud.
Pretty soon, Nicole came out from the kitchen.
“What ees zis?” she yelled.
“It’s okay!” I shouted back to her. “Missy asked for it!”
Which technically, again, was true. She did ask for it!
We didn’t even get to the second verse before Missy’s window slammed open up above.
“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” she screamed at us.
“CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Patti yelled.
“I SAID… WHAT… ARE… YOU… DOING?” We just ignored her and kept right on playing.
And setting the trap.
Turning Tables, Part 2
If there’s one thing Missy Trillin hates, it’s being ignored. I knew she’d want to come down and personally kick us out. I was counting on it, anyway.
I also knew the house well enough to know that she’d use the back stairs and come out through the family room.
So as soon as she closed her window, I left the girls to keep playing and went in through the kitchen.
