“And the manicurist at the spa wouldn’t stop calling me ‘Wanda!’ Can you believe it? I’m like, lady, the name’s I-va-na!” The Ivana-Bees, flanking their leader, shrieked with laughter. Emma didn’t think Ivana’s story sounded that funny, but maybe “you had to be there,” as they said about practically every one of their experiences.
The three ’Bees paused as Ivana reached out to link her elbow with Holly’s. “Holls, you coming with?” Ivana asked.
Emma cringed. Ivana had taken her nickname for Holly. Emma had been calling Holly that since the second grade, when they saw a movie about four best friends who made up nicknames for each other. It had sounded like a very mature and cool thing to do back then.
“Totally!” Holly slammed her locker door shut and slid into formation with the ’Bees. “Ivana, I love-love your sweater. It’s awesome.”
“I know, isn’t it?” Ivana answered.
Emma eyed the sleeveless sweater—an obviously expensive cashmere with a small ruffle along the deep V-neckline. The color was just the right shade of lavender to set off Ivana’s red, perfectly flat-ironed hair. Emma had seen the sweater in the window of Shape, the pricey SoHo boutique near school that provided Ivana with most of her wardrobe. Ivana wore it with the same ivory lacy camisole displayed on the mannequin. There are so many other fun ways she could’ve worn that, Emma thought, layering it in her mind with patterned sweaters and tops.
“Shaye,” Holly continued, “did you do something different with your hair—part it on a different side, maybe? I like it. You should totally wear it that way all the time.”
Shannon, who was the most tomboyish of the group, probably because she was growing taller without getting curvier, reached up to touch her brown chin-length hair with a confused but pleased look on her face. “I don’t think so, but thanks!”
Holly turned to Kayla. “That lip gloss is killer, Kay. New?”
Kayla was like a walking advertisement for Beautylicious, the beauty company her mother had started five years earlier. She bragged about her mother all the time, as if she were the Secretary of State bringing about world peace instead of a makeup artist turned businesswoman.
Unlike Shannon, Kayla had no problem in the natural curves department. Plus she had been wearing a full face of makeup religiously since the age of twelve, which Emma thought made Kayla look, at times, like she was spending too much time with the clowns at the circus.
Now Kayla puffed out her lips so everyone could see. “Yeah, my mom just brought it home yesterday. It’s not even in the stores yet. It’s called ‘Fire Starter.’”
Holly turned back toward Emma. “Hurry up, Emma! We’re going to be late.”
“Trying!” Emma yanked on her bag. The strap was stuck on something inside her locker. By the time she freed it and closed the door, the group was already halfway down the hall.
Emma sighed and walked at a normal pace. She couldn’t bring herself to chase after them. Besides, now that Ivana and the ’Bees had swallowed up Holly, Emma knew that she wouldn’t be able to finish their conversation. Or tell Holly about Allegra Biscotti. I’ll grab her at lunchtime to eat with me in the student lounge, Emma decided. She knew Holly would celebrate with her once she found out the big news.
Emma scooted into the classroom just as Mr. Whitmore was closing the door.
The crescendo from the lunchroom hit Emma long before she even walked in the door. The cafeteria, which was in the basement next to the gym, was the worst room in the school. The ceiling was low, and the cement floor was painted the ugliest green color Emma had ever seen.
Since there were no windows, the only light was from the industrial fluorescent bulbs overhead, which Emma thought made everyone look like they had the flu. On top of all that, the lunchroom perpetually smelled like grease, even though the PTA had voted fried food off the menu two years earlier.
Emma stood in the doorway and scanned the buzzing room until she spotted Holly paying the cashier. I need to grab her, Emma thought.
Holly smiled when she saw Emma coming toward her. “There you are. You brought your lunch today, right?”
Emma always packed a yogurt and chips. The mysterious ingredients and origins of the school lunches were too baffling to a girl who never got higher than a B in chemistry. She liked being able to identify her food. “Do you want to go to the loun—”
Holly cut her off, lifting her tray with one hand and grabbing Emma’s elbow with the other.
Emma’s heart sank as soon as she realized where they were headed. “Remind me again why we have to sit with Ivana and the ’Bees?” she asked.
“Because everything’s different now that we’re in eighth grade,” Holly explained. “Plus it’s more fun to hang out with Ivana and the girls than those random people we used to sit with. You have to admit, Em, those kids are kind of weird.”
“Charlie isn’t weird,” Emma protested, yanking back on Holly’s arm to stop her before they reached the table. “We always had fun with him. He’s our friend.”
Holly snapped her gum. “Charlie barely eats in the cafeteria anymore. He’s always off in the student lounge listening to his iPod or looking at those weird Japanese comic books. Trust me. He hasn’t even noticed that we’re gone.”
That was sort of true, actually. Charlie liked being a bit of a shadow, fading in and out without anyone noticing. Plus, he hated crowds. And the color green. But Emma suspected that this new lunch-table situation had more to do with Holly being flattered that Ivana had invited her—and probably not both of them—to sit at her table. For the past few weeks, Emma had been going along with Holly’s new seating arrangement. She figured as long as she got to sit with Holly, maybe it would be all right.
But so far, it hadn’t been that great.
“Come on, Em! I’m starving.” Holly gave Emma’s elbow another tug, coaxing her toward the table.
Reluctantly, Emma gave in. They barely had twenty minutes left to eat lunch and would have even less by the time they got upstairs to the student lounge anyway. As Holly slid into the empty chair next to Ivana, Emma settled down in a seat at the end of table. The Ivana-Bees were in the middle of a heated discussion about their ideas for this year’s first fund-raiser.
“Last year, the eighth-grade class held a bake sale, and they raised a ton of money,” Shannon said, nibbling on a carrot stick. The way she wrinkled her nose and scrunched up her face reminded Emma of a rabbit.
Ivana laughed loudly, tossing her long red hair over her shoulder as if she were in a shampoo commercial. “Shaye, you can’t be serious. Remember the last time you tried to bake something? Di-SAS-ter!” Ivana turned to Holly. “She almost burned down her kitchen because she put the oven on broil instead of bake.”
“The doorman had to come turn off the fire alarm because Shannon didn’t know how to do it!” Kayla added—again just to Holly.
Holly giggled. “That’s hilarious,” she said. “I so wish I’d been there!”
Emma snuck a sideways glance at Holly to see if she was faking her enthusiasm. But Holly was totally serious.
“It was pretty embarrassing,” Shannon admitted, though she seemed more flattered than embarrassed that she was the focus of attention. “But I still think a bake sale is a good idea.”
“How about something that doesn’t require using the oven—or any fire, for that matter?” Ivana suggested.
“I know! We could have a car wash!” Kayla leaned forward.