frustrated, “you got an A, now sit down!”
I got an A? Wow … I got an A! Well, of course I got an A! Public speaking is my strength; it’s the one thing I’m good at! Not that Mrs. Walker heard one tenth of what I had to say. Oh well, I still got an A. I can’t wait to tell Rachel!
After one more presentation about cheese or something, the bell rings. I am out of my seat like a flash and out the door, obviously not paying attention because suddenly I realize I’m like a millisecond away from smashing straight into Scarlett Hastings’s stuck-up face. I slam on the brakes and kind of wobble in front of her, trying to keep balanced. She narrows her eyes, stares me up and down, and then applies a thin, shiny coat of pale pink M.A.C. lipgloss.
“Interesting presentation.” She presses her lips together and pops her gloss back in her Coach bag. Anika and Missy, who have suddenly appeared on either side of her, nod in agreement. How would they know? They weren’t even there.
“Oh … thanks,” I take a step back, relieved to see Rachel’s head bobbing through the crowd of kids in the hallway.
“So, how did it go?” Rachel demands, rushing toward us.
Before I can open my mouth, Scarlett starts, “Well Rachel,” she says, her eyes twinkling with delight, “I’d really love to tell you that Hannah did an awesome job, and that her presentation wasn’t a complete snore-fest, but I’d be lying, and that’s something I just don’t do.”
“That’s right,” Anika interjects, “she never lies.”
“It’s true,” Missy says, wide-eyed and nodding, “she doesn’t … like, never ever.”
“Oh, and I guess since we’re on the subject of honesty,” Scarlett continues, “I should probably tell you that your little yard sale was … um … actually kind of pathetic.”
“Pathetic?” I rub my head, trying to absorb everything Scarlett just said.
“Yeah, Hannah, it sucked. Just like your presentation.”
“Our yard sale did not suck, and I’m sure Hannah’s presentation was awesome!” Rachel frowns.
“I can promise you, Rachel, it did, and Hannah’s presentation was just … sad. Oh, and by the way, I’ve been meaning to ask you, how’s your little ticket fund coming along?”
“What?” Rachel looks horrified.
“Well, I heard a rumour that you two can’t afford to go to the concert, so you’re trying to raise some cash.” She reaches over and pats my hand. “I hadn’t realized your parents were having money problems.”
I feel the red rising in my cheeks.
“Oh, that’s right,” she says, mockingly, “you don’t even have a cellphone, do you?”
That girl knows exactly where to stick the knife in. She is pure evil.
“Oh, but don’t worry, it’s no big deal if you can’t go to the concert. I’ll take lots of pictures for you.”
Rachel clenches her jaw. “Pictures?”
“Oh, I totally don’t mind. You see, my father, he’s pretty important, and well … how can I put this so you’ll understand … let’s just say … he has connections …” Scarlett pats her designer bag. “So, I’ll be sitting in the V.I.P. section — that’s the Very-Important-Person section, in case you didn’t know, which is of course right next to the stage.”
I roll my eyes. Rachel’s face has turned crimson.
“Anyway, I’ll get lots and lots of close-up shots. So now you can see the concert without actually being there, because of me. Isn’t that great?”
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.”
8
Show Me the Money
Do you ever wonder what people did before Google? I mean, how did they find out anything about anything? Now, if you want to
