“Kathy Kelley always walks around with her nose in the air like she’s better than everyone else,” Mom mutters as she’s typing. “Pretending she’s the perfect mom. Ha!”
She turns to me and smiles.
“We know better than that, don’t we, Bree?”
“Um … yeah. We do. If she’s such a perfect mom, then why is Lara such a screwup?”
I’ve heard Mom say those exact words so many times I just repeat what she expects me to say.
“I’m so sick of seeing her fake smile on those campaign posters,” Mom says. “You should have made the cheerleading team, not that crazy daughter of hers. I bet it was all about politics. Kathy probably pulled strings with the coach. I knew I should have called Coach Carlucci.”
I started this whole Christian thing because I was mad that Lara laughed at me when she made the team and I got cut. But listening to Mom, I try to remember why I was so mad. It wasn’t me who was that into cheerleading to begin with. It was my mom. I’ve kept it going because I was bored, and to be honest, I’m curious how far I can take this. How long it takes before Lara realizes that she’s been tricked into baring her heart to a fake guy.
But now that Mom’s involved, I almost wish I’d never started.
“Chill, Mom, she didn’t,” I say. “I just didn’t make the team, okay?”
“Oh, look, Lara has to get off the computer, but she sent us xoxo. How cute,” Mom says. She types, Love you.
“What?!” I shriek. “What did you do that for? I’m not ready for the L word!”
“It’s not you saying it,” Mom says. “It’s Christian.”
Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!!!
Now I really wish she’d grounded me instead. It’s always like this with Mom. I can’t have anything for myself without her ruining it. I’m glad I didn’t make the stupid cheerleading team. It’s worth it just to spite her.
“It’s about time someone took those Kelleys down a peg or two. I’m proud of you, Bree.”
I’ve tried so hard and for so long to get my mom to say those words. But now that she does, they leave me feeling hollow.
SYDNEY KELLEY and I haven’t sat on the bus together for a long time, but after she climbed up and hung out with me in the tree fort last week, something’s shifted. Today she gets on the bus before me, then slides over and smiles when I get on, inviting me to sit next to her.
I hesitate for a second or two, wondering about what Spencer and the rest of the guys are going to say. But then I remember how good it felt to chill with Syd again, and I sit down next to her, our shoulders touching as the bus lurches forward onto the next stop.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
“Okay,” she says. “Lara’s still being annoying, but that’s not exactly breaking news.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Bree is, too,” I tell her. “But let’s not talk about our stupid sisters, okay?”
“Good thinking,” Syd says. She pulls some papers out of her backpack. “Hey, can you run some lines with me? Beauty and the Beast auditions are on Friday after school, and I’m trying out for Belle.”
“Sure,” I say, hoping I don’t get carsick. I mean, we’re on a bus, so maybe it’ll be different.
“Don’t worry, I won’t embarrass you by singing anything,” Syd says.
“I don’t care if you sing, as long as you don’t expect me to,” I tell her.
She laughs and seems to shift a little closer to me. Our knees touch, and she doesn’t move hers away.
“You read the Beast. Start here,” Syd says, pointing with her finger.
“Okay. Here goes,” I say, clearing the morning frogginess out of my throat.
“Belle? Are you happy here with me?”
“Yes,” Syd answers tentatively.
“What is it?” I read.
Syd looks at me with wide, sad eyes. I feel queasy. I think it’s just because I’m reading on the bus.
“If only I could see my father again, just for a moment. I miss him so much.”
“There is a way,” I read. I pretend to hand her a magic mirror. “This mirror will show you anything, anything you wish to see.”
“I’d like to see my father, please,” Syd says.
According to the script, this magic mirror shows Belle’s dad stumbling around in the woods, lost, sick, and in pretty bad shape.
“Papa. Oh no. He’s sick, he may be dying. And he’s all alone.”
Syd’s good at this acting thing. I turn to look at her, because she sounds like she’s starting to cry. But she smiles at me, so I carry on reading.
“Then … then you must go to him,” I say.
I feel sorry for the Beast dude. He obviously likes this Belle chick, but he’s going to have to let her go.
“What did you say?”
“I release you. You are no longer my prisoner.”
I wonder — if I had a girl I liked as my prisoner and I thought maybe she was starting to like me back, would I let her go? I mean, I know it would be the right thing to do, but if I were some Beast guy living all alone in the middle of the woods, would I still care about doing the right thing? Who would be there to know if I did the wrong thing except for me?
“You mean … I’m free?”
Syd sounds so amazed that you’d think I was really keeping her prisoner.
“Yes.”
“Oh, thank you,” she says. And then she tells the pretend magic mirror, “Hold on, Papa. I’m on my way.”
“Take it with you so you’ll always have a way to look back and remember me,” I read. I’m really feeling this dude’s pain now. I don’t want her to go.
“Thank you for understanding how much he needs me,” Syd says, and the warmth and gratitude in her eyes is so genuine I almost feel like she’s going to lean forward and kiss me.
“Did I get all the lines right?” she asks.
“What? Oh yeah,” I say, half disappointed that she doesn’t, even though I’d really catch crap for that. But it would be worth it.
“You make a pretty good Beast,” Syd says. “If you could carry a tune, I’d tell you to try out.”
“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. No way, no how,” I assure her. “The only place I sing is in the shower.”
“Coward,” she says. “I’ve heard you sing before — when we were younger. You weren’t that bad.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, my voice has changed since then.”
“Yeah, it’s not as high and squeaky,” Syd says, but she’s grinning, so I know she’s teasing me.
“My voice was never squeaky,” I tell her.
She starts making squeaky mouse noises, and so I tickle her side, in the place I remember from when we were little that she’s really ticklish, and then she’s laughing and gasping. “Stop! Truce!”
So I do.
“Seriously, do you think I’ve got a chance?” she asks. “I want the part of Belle so badly. I’ve been practicing for over a month.”
“I’m no expert, but I think you’re great,” I tell her, and I mean it.
“It’s hard, because Maddie and Cara are trying out, too, and they’re my best friends. I want the part, but I’ll feel bad if they’re upset that they don’t get it.”