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Authors: Julie Anne Peters
Tags: JUV019000
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I getting thinner? Don’t I wish. Max’s eyes bounced off mine. Lydia said, “We think one of the Cyborgs stole my notebook.”
“Not Hugh,” Prairie said. Her eyes narrowed.
“No, not Hugh,” I quickly agreed. “We think it was probably Ashley, but we can’t find it in her desk, so we figured she’s probably passing it around.”
“Right.” Lydia pushed her glasses up her nose.
“It’s not here,” Max mumbled as she shoved Hugh’s books back inside his desk. “Let’s try Rooney’s.”
“Now, wait a minute,” I said.
Everyone looked at me. “He doesn’t have it,” I said.
“How do you know?” Lydia asked.
My cheeks flared. “I just know. Even if it was offered to him, he wouldn’t take it.”
“S-same with Hugh,” Prairie said.
“So, Jenny.” Lydia smirked. “Are you in love with Kevin Rooney?”
I clucked. “Get real.” To remove her bloodsucking eyes from my face, I added, “Go ahead. Look. You won’t find it.”
All the time they searched Kevin’s desk, Prairie and I stood back, arms folded. “It’s not here,” Lydia said.
“No duh,” I said back. “Look, if Ashley took it, she still has it. She probably stashed it somewhere, like in her bra.”
“I’m not looking there,” Max said.
Prairie giggled.
“In fact,” I continued, “she’s probably reading it to everyone in the cafeteria at this very moment.”
Lydia gasped. “You may be right, Jenny. Why don’t I go buy a hot lunch and check it out. You guys keep searching around the room. It’s a pink spiral. With the name of our science project in purple puffy paint on the front. You can’t miss it.”
As Lydia yanked open the door, Max called across to her, “Bring me back some chocolate milk.”
I called, “And an extra hunk of spice cake.”
They all looked at me. “For Harley,” I whimpered.
Chapter 13
L ydia’s mom was not what I expected. I expected someone tall, like a dancer, with rock-solid thighs. Instead, she was short, like a shrimp, with flabby thighs. I could tell because she wore shorts. The only thing tall was her hair. Teased to Tennessee. Even more surprising, she had this soft voice. And she seemed nice. Obviously Lydia had inherited her father’s genes. Not that Lydia wasn’t nice; she just had a terminal case of megaphone mouth.
After Dr. Marianne Beals greeted us in her sweet, soft way, Lydia hustled us back to her bedroom. “My mom said we could use any of these costumes we want, as long as we don’t ruin them.” Lydia lifted the lid on a large metal trunk beside her bed. Max tromped around the bed and threw herself lengthwise across the frilly bedspread. No springs squeaked. “Hey,” Max said. “Is this a water bed?”
“Yes,” Lydia replied. “And my mom’ll kill you if she sees you on it with your boots.”
“Let her try,” Max muttered.
“Ooh, I want this!” Prairie pulled out a pink feather boa and draped it around her neck.
“Yeah, and I’ll take this.” I removed a leopard-spotted bodysuit, size one. Lydia opened her mouth to say it, but I saved her the embarrassment. “Just kidding. Unless I wear it on my head.” It snapped into place, and I flung the legs and arms back like long dreadlocks. Prairie and Lydia hyena-howled.
Prairie said, “Ooh, Max, this is d-definitely you.” She unfolded a red silk cape with matching mask. Two little devil’s horns stuck up from the top of the mask. Max’s eyebrows arched.
“I have dibs on this,” Lydia said. She grabbed a long, skinny rod from the bottom of the trunk. With a flick of the wrist, she unleashed it. A Japanese fan arced across her face.
“Gorgeous,” Prairie breathed.
There were enough sequins in that trunk to spark a fireworks display. After we pawed through all the costumes, Lydia said, “Okay, Prairie. You’re first.
Pick out an outfit. Then come sit at my vanity table and I’ll do your hair and makeup.”
While Lydia brushed out Prairie’s braids, I loaded up on flashy
“Not Hugh,” Prairie said. Her eyes narrowed.
“No, not Hugh,” I quickly agreed. “We think it was probably Ashley, but we can’t find it in her desk, so we figured she’s probably passing it around.”
“Right.” Lydia pushed her glasses up her nose.
“It’s not here,” Max mumbled as she shoved Hugh’s books back inside his desk. “Let’s try Rooney’s.”
“Now, wait a minute,” I said.
Everyone looked at me. “He doesn’t have it,” I said.
“How do you know?” Lydia asked.
My cheeks flared. “I just know. Even if it was offered to him, he wouldn’t take it.”
“S-same with Hugh,” Prairie said.
“So, Jenny.” Lydia smirked. “Are you in love with Kevin Rooney?”
I clucked. “Get real.” To remove her bloodsucking eyes from my face, I added, “Go ahead. Look. You won’t find it.”
All the time they searched Kevin’s desk, Prairie and I stood back, arms folded. “It’s not here,” Lydia said.
“No duh,” I said back. “Look, if Ashley took it, she still has it. She probably stashed it somewhere, like in her bra.”
“I’m not looking there,” Max said.
Prairie giggled.
“In fact,” I continued, “she’s probably reading it to everyone in the cafeteria at this very moment.”
Lydia gasped. “You may be right, Jenny. Why don’t I go buy a hot lunch and check it out. You guys keep searching around the room. It’s a pink spiral. With the name of our science project in purple puffy paint on the front. You can’t miss it.”
As Lydia yanked open the door, Max called across to her, “Bring me back some chocolate milk.”
I called, “And an extra hunk of spice cake.”
They all looked at me. “For Harley,” I whimpered.
Chapter 13
L ydia’s mom was not what I expected. I expected someone tall, like a dancer, with rock-solid thighs. Instead, she was short, like a shrimp, with flabby thighs. I could tell because she wore shorts. The only thing tall was her hair. Teased to Tennessee. Even more surprising, she had this soft voice. And she seemed nice. Obviously Lydia had inherited her father’s genes. Not that Lydia wasn’t nice; she just had a terminal case of megaphone mouth.
After Dr. Marianne Beals greeted us in her sweet, soft way, Lydia hustled us back to her bedroom. “My mom said we could use any of these costumes we want, as long as we don’t ruin them.” Lydia lifted the lid on a large metal trunk beside her bed. Max tromped around the bed and threw herself lengthwise across the frilly bedspread. No springs squeaked. “Hey,” Max said. “Is this a water bed?”
“Yes,” Lydia replied. “And my mom’ll kill you if she sees you on it with your boots.”
“Let her try,” Max muttered.
“Ooh, I want this!” Prairie pulled out a pink feather boa and draped it around her neck.
“Yeah, and I’ll take this.” I removed a leopard-spotted bodysuit, size one. Lydia opened her mouth to say it, but I saved her the embarrassment. “Just kidding. Unless I wear it on my head.” It snapped into place, and I flung the legs and arms back like long dreadlocks. Prairie and Lydia hyena-howled.
Prairie said, “Ooh, Max, this is d-definitely you.” She unfolded a red silk cape with matching mask. Two little devil’s horns stuck up from the top of the mask. Max’s eyebrows arched.
“I have dibs on this,” Lydia said. She grabbed a long, skinny rod from the bottom of the trunk. With a flick of the wrist, she unleashed it. A Japanese fan arced across her face.
“Gorgeous,” Prairie breathed.
There were enough sequins in that trunk to spark a fireworks display. After we pawed through all the costumes, Lydia said, “Okay, Prairie. You’re first.
Pick out an outfit. Then come sit at my vanity table and I’ll do your hair and makeup.”
While Lydia brushed out Prairie’s braids, I loaded up on flashy
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