Nice and Mean (13 page)

When I glanced up, a gasp escaped my lips. I didn't want to think so, but—Marina looked beautiful. Her dress clung in a way that gave her just a little bit of shape. Her shoulders emerged from the top of the dress as smooth and round as scoops of ice cream, and the hanging wisps of hair that had looked so strange before now framed her face like it was a portrait in a museum. I suddenly became aware of my baggy gray sweatpants and Priyanka's YMCA T-shirt and pulled my top closer around me, desperate to look like anything other than a child in her pajamas.

She tugged her dress downward. “What?” she asked. “Do I look okay?”

That did it. I crushed my palm against my knuckles in a
great loud crunch. How dare she ask me that? She knew she looked beautiful. She had swept into my house and blown my secret and gotten my little sister in trouble, and now she was trying to get me to tell her how artful her makeup was, how perfect her hair? I wouldn't. I refused.

“You look fine,” I told her stiffly.

Her gaze fell to the carpet, and she returned to her duffel bag. “I should get going.”

I turned back to Priyanka's bed and stood Ganesha up on four feet. So what if Marina knew Priyanka slept with a stuffed animal? There were things in this world that she knew nothing about.

The walk down the hallway felt like a march to my doom. Part of me was shouting,
Go! Go! Go!
The other part pleaded,
Don't leave me alone with my parents.

As it turned out, the leaving was delayed, because my mother bustled in from the kitchen and insisted that she ride in Marina's taxi to the party.

“She's allowed to take taxis on her own,” I protested. I couldn't imagine what Marina's friends would think if they saw her getting out of a cab with my mother.

“It's no trouble,” said my mother, heading for the closet. “I'll take her.”

I was trying to come up with a response when Marina said, “It's fine. I don't mind.”

Thank goodness for that. Although she would probably tell all her makeup-wearing friends how my parents treated me like a baby.

My mother opened the door, then paused with her hand on the knob. I knew what she was expecting me to say. “Thank you for coming to dinner,” I told Marina. I wanted to add,
And for ruining my life
.

“Thanks for having me,” Marina replied.

“Tanish,” called my mother, “I'll be back in a moment. Sachi, will you finish up in the kitchen?”

I nodded.

The door swung shut, sending Marina and my mother out into the night. Except for the rumble of the dishwasher, the apartment was silent.

Behind me my father said, “Go clean up. We will talk when your mother returns.”

“Yes, Papa,” I said, and headed into the kitchen to face the grime.

* Thrower of Biggest Pity Party That Gets Everyone on Her Side, Even Though She Totally Doesn't Deserve It: Rachel Winter

People are BLIND if they can't see that she brought this on herself!

* Biggest Dupe: Elizabeth Ellis

Dupe: n. One who is easily tricked or fooled by others. (I looked it up.)

* Coolest New Friends: Olivia and Annalise

Who's applying to private school next year? Marina Glass. See ya, suckers!

Monday morning, I hopped off the Madison Avenue bus, pumped by the music from the Bar Mitzvah CD.
The party had been raging. I'd made these awesome new friends from Marlowe, this hot, hot, hot private school, and was already planning to apply next year.

Rachel, Elizabeth, and Addie were drooling with jealousy, and they deserved to be, after acting like monster drama queens all night. Pulling plebes into the corners and whispering, then turning around to give me mean looks? Please. Like I actually cared what Madison and Chelsea thought of me. I would so ditch them for Marlowe kids, ASAP.

I crossed Seventy-Ninth and headed for the bus shelter, and oh, great: There was Elizabeth. With the collar of her pale blue trench turned up to her chin and her earbuds tucked in tight, she looked like her mind was far, far away. I had hoped I could avoid her by being late, but I guessed she was running late too.

Well, no big woo. We'd have to make up sometime, and I could be the bigger person today.

I scooched past a woman in ugly sneakers to stand next to Elizabeth. At first she didn't look up. I waited. Then I started getting impatient and leaned into her. “Hey,” I said. “Anybody home?”

Her eyes widened, like I was the last person she thought she'd see. “Oh,” she said. “I didn't see you.”

Did she really think I'd fall for that? Oh, Elizabeth.

“How
are
you?” I pulled out my own earbuds and pasted on a fake smile. I thought it would be good to let her know I was still a little mad.

She didn't answer because the bus pulled up just then, and she got busy winding up her earphones. The door opened, and I saw that it was the nice driver with the beard—a good sign. He smiled as he saw us.

“Hi, ladies,” he said. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Elizabeth said politely, “and you?”

Good, she wasn't in a bad mood.

I looked up from dunking my MetroCard, and whoa! The bus was packed. Usually we liked to stand in the back half but today we had to push and crush just to find standing places away from the door.

The bus lurched away from the curb, and we grabbed handles. “Holy bejeezies!” I cried, expecting she would laugh. Elizabeth stared straight ahead as if I hadn't said anything. Ugh! Was she going to do this to me the whole ride? Okay, so we'd had a fight, but come on. Whose best friend was she?

“Hey, did you do the social studies?” I asked. Usually I hated when people talked about homework on the bus, but I knew it would put her in a good mood.

She pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Yeah.”

“What did you put for why Caesar crossed the Rubicon? I don't think it was even in the book.”

She shook her head. “I don't remember.”

“Oh.” The bus zoomed across Park Avenue—my favorite part of the ride, because it was like two blocks in one, and you felt like you were actually moving.

“Can you believe Caleb's low-rent party favors?” I asked. “I liked the CD, but the rest of the stuff was so junky.”

Elizabeth's eyes flicked toward me. “I thought they were okay.”

“Temporary tattoos? Hello, third-grade swag.”

She shrugged.

As my mother had said to Angelica this morning, “No more grouching.” Could I not say one thing that Elizabeth would talk about? I'd had enough.

“Okay,” I said, “what's wrong? Did you not get enough sleep or something? You know we had that talk about going to bed on time.”

“Marina.” She bit her lip. “You were really mean to us on Saturday.”

“What? Omigod, like you didn't say anything mean?”

“You called me a goody-goody,” Elizabeth said. “That's not, like . . . I don't know. Nice,” she whispered, looking at her feet.

Oh. Right. I
had
said that.

Okay, then.

“Look, Bird,” I said, “I was freaked out. I was surprised. I didn't mean everything I said. You know that, right? So, I'm sorry. Okay?”

She looked down, then shrugged. “I just . . . you know.”

“What?”

“I mean, thank you for apologizing, but . . .” She fiddled with the belt of her trench coat. “That video thing. That was, like, a big deal.”

First of all, it was not a “thing.” And second: “My video has nothing to do with you.”

“Yes, it does.”

I squinted. “Why?”

“Because of Rachel.”

I rolled my eyes. Yes, let's not forget about Rachel, who was so devastated on Saturday night that she didn't stop her little hand-jive dance at the DJ station until he gave in and handed her a prize.

“I'm sure she's thrilled to invite everyone to her pity party,” I said, “but there's more than one side to this story. Did anyone even say, ‘Wow, you went on Addie's computer and looked around in her files?' That's, like, breaking and entering. I think you can get sued for that.”

“Well . . .” Elizabeth opened the top button on her trench
coat. “I still saw it, and I don't know . . . you and Rachel are friends.”

The bus pulled over by the flower shop on Lex.

“Friends don't sneak onto friends' computers and watch videos that aren't finished,” I told her. “I was going to tone it down before I showed it to people. It's like—when Ms. Avery says you have to get all your ideas out in the first draft. That's what you guys saw. A first draft.” Oh, so cool that I could compare Video to English, which Elizabeth loooved. Hot.

“I know, but still.” Elizabeth tugged on her collar. “She saw it. She was really upset, and you didn't exactly apologize. And, I mean, if you would do something like that about her, and plan to show it to the whole school, what are you saying about the rest of us?”

“But I would never say anything about you.” Why was that not obvious? “It's just Rachel. Do you not see how she's become a total attention hog and fashion 911 case?” Not to mention the way she'd tried to steal Crystal, Natasha, and Julian. And also—“She's not just rude to me. You were the one telling Addie to say something after Rachel uninvited her to the Hamptons. This is just a way to settle the score. For me
and
for Addie.”

“ ‘Settle the score'? ” Elizabeth grimaced. “I'm sorry,
Marina, but that's kind of scary.”

“It's just an expression,” I said.

She didn't say anything.

“Wow.” My mouth tasted like Sour Patch Kids. “I can't believe you're on her side.”

Elizabeth inched back to avoid a seeing-eye dog. “I'm not exactly on her side,” she said, her eyes following the dog, “But—look, Marina . . . I was going to say, when I first saw you . . . I think I just need a break.”

The dog's tail thunked against my leg. “A break from what?”

“From . . . you.”

I stared at her. “What? I make a video about Rachel, and
you
can't be friends with me? What is that? She is so evil! I swear, Bird, you have to listen—”

“Marina, I'm sorry, I've thought a lot about it, and I need more time to think. I'm not saying I'm on anybody's side, and I'm not saying I like her and not you or anything like that. I just need a break.”

“Omigod.” I shook my head. “You watch way too many
Friends
reruns. Just—”

The door opened with a burst and a hiss, and I realized,
Crud, we're already at school.
As I pushed our way to the front door, people gave us nasty looks, but it was too crowded to
fight our way to the back.

Once we were on the pavement, Elizabeth said, “I don't think you should show that video. Not just because of Rachel. I heard about something like this at another school, and the person got into major trouble.”

My head swirled with comebacks about the video, about how she was in it herself, about how wrong she was. “Look, you don't—wait. Just let me explain—”

Elizabeth looked down at the sidewalk. “I'll see you later, Marina.”

The bus roared away, blasting my leg with hot exhaust. I watched Elizabeth walk down the block, dodging the squeegees and their wheelie backpacks, her straight blond hair angling toward the ground.

“Thanks for the advice, counselor!” I called.

That was it. I was transferring to Marlowe faster than Rachel could choose another victim outfit. Maybe they even accepted you in the middle of the year.

SACHI'S VIDEO NIGHTMARE #12.0


INTERIOR. MR. PHILLIPS'S CLASSROOM—DAY


Mr. Phillips sits at his desk, reading. Sachi trudges in and hands him a sealed letter. He opens it and reads.


MR. PHILLIPS


You lied to your parents to get into this class? You're pretty desperate, aren't you?


Sachi's face contorts in pain.


MR. PHILLIPS


And I've heard something else about you today too. What was it? Oh yeah: Your older sister is a nerd, and your parents are way overprotective. Letting you into this class was obviously a big mistake. Let me write myself a note so I don't let you in next year.


“Second Avenue! Everybody off for Seeecond Avenue!”

It was the crosstown bus driver who thinks he's a radio announcer. Sometimes it cheered me up, but today it didn't. I mumbled “Excuse me” to the orange-haired woman next to me and slogged off the bus, my parents' letter burning a hole in my book bag.

My father had handed it to me as I'd left for school. One more humiliation to end the worst weekend of my life. I walked down the block, my head swirling with all the events that had followed Marina's departure.

With every grain of rice I swept, every counter stain I scrubbed, nightmares flooded my head. Would my parents accept my apology? Could I possibly, possibly stay in Video? I hadn't exactly gotten the answers I wanted from my interviews, and after tonight the thought of being Marina's partner worked me into a speechless rage. I liked Mr. Phillips, though, and I liked what we were learning. I knew it was crazy, but I didn't want to give it up.

Finally, when the dishwasher ground to a stop, the surfaces gleamed with Soft Scrub, and the floor shone spotless, I knew I couldn't put it off any longer. I ran a rag around the rim of the sink and dried my hands on a dishcloth. The time had come.

My parents sat at either end of the dinner table, sipping tea. They did not suggest I pour myself a cup.

“Sachi.” My father's cheeks hung heavily from his face. “We are very disappointed in you. Your mother gave up her legal practice back home so we could move here! You know how late I work at the store so we can stay in Manhattan. Do you think we do all this so you can make videos and lie
to us?”