it fun?” another kid asks.
“Well, it was actually, really fun.”
“What was Maria like?” one of the girls asks.
“She was really pretty, much prettier in real life, and really cool. She actually told me I was a natural.” I do a little curtsy, kind of feeling like I’m back on the red carpet again. That’s when I see Rachel from the corner of my eye, standing against the wall, watching me. Instantly, I feel the shame rising up in my chest, knowing I don’t deserve all this attention. Rachel really figured out our business plan, and without that, we wouldn’t even have a business. Why didn’t I remember to say that last night? It all happened so fast. It was over so quickly. Why didn’t I remember?
By lunch, the shame has risen from my chest to my throat, where it forms a huge lump that makes it hard to breathe. It won’t go away, even with all the attention that has been non-stop ever since I walked into the school this morning. I know the only way I will feel better is to somehow get Rachel to forgive me. But what am I going to say to her now? She hasn’t spoken to me since the interview. I don’t even know if I deserve her forgiveness. What I do know is I feel like crap.
* * *
It’s been three days and Rachel and I still haven’t spoken. With every minute that goes by, I get more and more miserable. Now that my fifteen minutes of fame are over and my superstar status has died down, all I’m left with is the misery of knowing that I may have lost my very best friend in the world. We should both be so excited and planning for the concert right now. The tickets go on sale in two days and we haven’t even sorted out the money from our Wishbandz. I wonder if Rachel is even still wearing hers.
“Hannah,” Mrs. Harris calls out and motions to me to come into her office.
“Hi,” I say solemnly, following her inside.
“I saw you on the news,” she says, smiling. “You did very well.”
“Oh yeah, thanks,” I say, trying to manage a smile in return.
“You know, sometimes people are looking for the most interesting story, and sometimes, the real story is not the most interesting one. It’s called editing.”
I nod. “Editing …”
“Well, Hannah, you really are a natural in front of the camera, and it’s not your fault that the story was edited to include only the most interesting parts.”
“Yeah,” I say hoping she’s right, that it’s not completely my fault.
“I’m sure Rachel realizes this too.” Mrs. Harris smiles.
“Yeah, but …”
“Just talk to her, Hannah,” she says as her eyes soften. “It will all work out. Trust me.”
Trust her. Well, what have I got to lose? I’m miserable worrying over this. I need to fix things.
I run my fingers over the beads in the bracelet that Rachel made me. “She’s my best friend,” I whisper to myself, walking out of the office.
“Who, Rachel?” I hear from behind me.
I spin around to see Scarlett admiring herself in her little compact mirror. Of course, Anika and Missy have positioned themselves on either side of her, as usual.
“She’s not your best friend anymore.” She smiles smugly, snapping her compact shut.
“How would you know?” I bark.
“Oh, she’s not stupid, Hannah. Look at what you did,” she says sneering. “Number one, you took over that whole interview. You didn’t even give her a chance to speak! And then you totally bladed your little fibbing friend, exposing her lie. You know, that little story about ‘her aunt’ who works at the ‘radio station.’” Scarlett makes finger quotes in the air and adds, “And her ‘V.I.P tickets.’”
“Scarlett!” I suddenly hear Rachel yell from behind me. “Hannah did not ‘blade’ me!” She uses finger quotes, mimicking Scarlett. “You knew I was lying the whole time! Let’s face it, I know it and you know it.”
“Whatever,” Scarlett says, waving her hand dismissively.
“And for your information Scarlett, Hannah did not take over that interview! She answered the questions Maria asked her and that’s all!”
“If that’s how you remember it,” Scarlett snaps, rolling her eyes.
“It’s not how I remember it — it’s how it happened!” Rachel shouts.
“I was just looking out for you Rachel, I mean Hannah’s obviously not that loyal of a friend.”
“Obviously!” Anika squawks, clearly happy to be getting a word in.
“Yeah,” Missy adds, sneering.
“She is loyal, Scarlett!” Rachel grabs my wrist just below my bracelet and pulls it up in front of Scarlett’s face. “And so am I!” she barks, holding up her own.
So, right now I’m standing here, speechless, with my wrist in the air, trying to figure out what just happened. Did we just make up? Scarlett, for once, is speechless, too.
With our Wishbandz in her face, Scarlett slowly raises her narrowed eyes and locks them on mine. Her hands plant themselves firmly on her hips as she continues her stare-down. After a few moments of silent glaring, she does her signature hair flick, turns, and storms off down the hall, motioning for the bookends to follow.
12
When in Doubt, Trust Your Gut
I’m so relieved! Rachel and I are back to normal and we have a new mission: get tickets for the Josh Taylor concert, but not just any tickets. We want front-row tickets … not an easy task, but I’m sure we can do it. After all, we are successful businesswomen. We can handle anything!
This plan is our most exciting yet! We’re going to camp overnight outside the box office. This way we will be first in line when it opens in the morning — I know that buying tickets online would technically be easier, but Rachel and I just can’t chance it. For one, thousands of people will be trying to buy their tickets online AT THE EXACT SAME TIME! — what if the website freezes up? It’s totally possible … right? Plus, sometimes our Internet goes
down for no reason. If that happened when we were trying to buy tickets, I would die! I mean, can you just imagine? Plus, buying tickets from the stadium just makes sense. I mean, wouldn’t the place that’s actually having the concert have the very best tickets? I’m thinking yes! Last but not least, campouts are fun, even in the winter. Anyway, I think it’s a brilliant plan! In your face, Scarlett Hastings! V.I.P tickets here we come!
It took a little convincing,
