The (Totally Not) Guaranteed Guide to Friends, Foes & Faux Friends Read online

  Manda stopped.

  “Sorry, sweetie!” she said, not sounding at all apologetic. “But that’s payback for telling Hope not to make the invitations.”

  “Omigod!” Sara said. “That was so not cool of you.”

  “Whatever!” Manda said, all chipper-like. “I’m over it now! Come on, Sara! Let’s spread spirit to the hotties on the lacrosse team!”

  And then they took off, swinging their Spirit Squad Squeaky Sticks above their heads like they were heading into battle.

  Hope and I stood on the sidewalk for a few seconds in silence.

  “Be afraid,” I said. “Be very, very afraid. The CHEER TEAM!!! and the Spirit Squad are armed and dangerous.”

  “Don’t worry,” Hope said. “They’ll take it out on each other.”

  See, there’s a limited amount of PJHS pride to go around. The girls on the CHEER TEAM!!! (i.e., Bridget and Dori) dis the girls on the Spirit Squad (i.e., Manda and Sara) by saying things like, “Oh, the only reason girls join the Spirit Squad is because they aren’t good enough to be one of us.” And the girls on the Spirit Squad (i.e., Manda and Sara) dis the girls on the CHEER TEAM!!! (i.e., Bridget and Dori) by saying things like, “Oh, the only reason they’re on the CHEER TEAM!!! is because they know they’d never get voted into the Spirit Squad or pass our supersecret initiation process.”

  Hope was right. Once armed, neither side would waste time putting their weapons to use. Sure enough, we were blocked by a scrum of students at the front entrance. Everyone was scrambling around one another to get a better look at whatever was going on right inside the doorway. It was obviously something major, too, because everyone was all like, “ooh” and “ahh” and “daaaaag” and “oh man” and, you know, the excited noises we make when we’re watching the craziest stuff go down.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  Then, over the noise of the crowd, I heard:

  BONK! SHRIEK! SQUEAK! BONK! SHRIEK! SQUEAK!

  Hope and I looked at each other like, “OMIGOD,” because even though we didn’t know what was happening, we knew for sure who was making it happen.

  “Who’s winning? Dori and Bridget or Manda and Sara?” I shouted, pointlessly hopping up and down to try to see over the heads of all the curious onlookers in my way. “Tell me!”

  Hope is the tallest girl in the whole school—seventh and eighth grade combined. She had a better view of the action than just about everyone else.

  “It’s, like, the weirdest thing,” Hope said. “They’re hitting each other with their inflatables”—BONK! SHRIEK! SQUEAK!—“but they’re all smiley like it’s great fun among besties but…”

  BONK! SHRIEK! SQUEAK! SHRIEK!

  “But it’s obvious they’re out for blood,” I said.

  Hope looked down and smiled wryly. “See? At this rate, they’ll be disarmed before our first class. You won’t have to worry about having to check their weapons at the door tomorrow night.”

  Hope was right yet again. The weapons were confiscated before homeroom.

  “Omigod! It’s so unfair!” ranted Sara when she stormed into Mr. Armbruster’s classroom, her Spirit Squad Squeaky Stick noticeably absent from her grip. “So it was totally fine for the CHEER TEAM!!! to hit people with their stupid wands, but as soon as the Spirit Squad gets our own inflatables, it’s suddenly a problem? It’s discrimination! I should get Daddy’s lawyer on this!”

  “Why not just let the CHEER TEAM!!! do its thing and the Spirit Squad do your thing?” I asked. “Why did you have to go after Bridget and Dori anyway?”

  “Omigod. About that,” she said. “It’s all your fault.”

  “My fault?”

  “Why didn’t you tell us that you’d invited Dori to your sleepover?”

  “The more the merrier!” I said, channeling Gladdie and the IT List spirit of infinite BFFs.

  “Well,” Sara said, “she was getting all braggy about being invited, and Manda was like, ‘Sorry, sweetie, it’s VIP only,’ and Dori was like, ‘I know; how did you find out about it?’ and she bonked Manda on the head with her wand and had this huge fake smile on her face, like she was playing around but really meant it, you know?”

  Oh boy, did I know.

  “And Manda was like, ‘Oh, ha ha ha,’ but what she was really thinking was ‘I’ll smack that fake smile right off your face,’ so she whacked Dori on the side of the head with the Squeaky Stick, and the next thing I knew…”

  BATTLE ROYAL.

  “Omigod! They’re jealous,” Sara continued. “They’re jealous because they’re both so clueless, and if they weren’t on the CHEER TEAM!!!, they’d still be the clueless girls who sit at the square tables in the cafeteria with all the other clueless seventh graders.”

  “They’re just jealous,” Manda told me in Language Arts. “They’re jealous because we’re Hot and they’re Not and that’s that.”

  “They’re jealous,” Dori told me on the way to buy French fries during lunch. “They’re jealous because I’m dating Scotty and they’re not and I see the way they look at him and they better not get any ideas.…”

  “They’re jealous,” Bridget told me on the way back from buying French fries during lunch. “They’re jealous because they’ll never have a friendship like ours.”

  “I’m jealous,” Hope said when I returned to the table. “Those French fries look deeeeeeelicious.”

  I happily shared my plate with her. This was the easiest—and only—problem I solved all day.

  The worst part about the nastiness Manda and Sara and Dori and Bridget were spreading about each other? Well, besides the fact that I was at the center of it? Some of the smack talk—just a teensy little bit—was possibly true. I could see how Dori and Bridget might envy Manda’s persuasive personality or Sara’s all-knowingness. I understood why Manda and Sara might wish they had boyfriends like Dori and Bridget or a friendship that went all the way back to the crib.

  I just wish they didn’t have to be so mean about it.

  And that I wasn’t in the middle.

  Mostly, I wish they’d gone to war after the Awesomest Sleepover Ever.

  I was so happy to head to Woodshop, where I assumed I wouldn’t hear anything about the PARTY!!!

  I was wrong.

  “So what time should I get there tomorrow night?” Aleck asked.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked.

  “You’re having a party, right?” he said.

  I almost asked him how he knew about my social life. But I didn’t because I could predict his reply: Word gets around.

  Does it ever.

  “It’s a sleepover,” I corrected. “A by-invite-only sleepover.”

  “Oh,” he said, slightly deflated. “So.” Pause. “Am I invited or what?”

  I rolled my eyes. “No, you are not invited.”

  “But we’re friends, aren’t we?”

  Were Aleck and I friends? We talked every day. We joked around. We helped each other with our work. Did that make us friends?

  “That’s irrelevant,” I said. “You’re a boy. You’re not invited.”

  Aleck looked wounded. “That’s gender discrimination.”

  “Get Daddy’s lawyer,” I joked, remembering Sara’s rant in homeroom.

  “Nah, too complicated,” Aleck said, as if I were making a serious suggestion. “It’ll be way easier if I just crash the party instead.”

  “Har dee har har,” I said. “You wouldn’t dare.”

  “Uh-oh!” Mouth chimed in over Aleck’s shoulder. “You dared him!”

  “I didn’t,” I said. “And he won’t.”

  “You did,” Aleck said. “And I will.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and stood my ground.

  “You won’t.”

  Aleck grinned from ear to ear.

  “You really don’t know anything about me, do you?”

  I didn’t. But maybe that’s why I found Aleck so interesting.

  Maybe that’s why I wanted
to know more.

  Chapter Twelve

  Let’s look on the positive side. There weren’t any fatalities at the Awesomest Sleepover Ever.

  But we came close.

  Too close.

  Waaaaaaay too close.

  I guess I should go back to the beginning.

  I planned the perfect party. With help, of course. Gladdie outdid herself on the food front by setting up a buffet representing the whole sweet-salty-savory-spicy junk-food spectrum. Mom bought out the local drugstore’s hair, skin, and nail care departments so we’d have enough assorted beauty products to supply a whole season of TV makeovers. Dad even let me stock up on all the trashiest gossip magazines he usually won’t let me read because he claims they’ll rot my brain. And when my guests and I got bored with stuffing our mouths, makeupping our faces, and rotting our brains, we had Bethany’s collection of classic teen comedies all queued up and ready to roll. Best of all? We’d be pretty much left to ourselves because Gladdie persuaded my parents to enjoy a “date night.”

  “You need your freedom,” Gladdie said. “I’ll make myself scarce.”

  I’d thought of everything. I was determined to be the hostess with the mostest. And yet, despite all my careful preparations, I was still nervous about throwing the Awesomest Sleepover Ever. Gladdie sensed it, too. Five minutes before the girls were scheduled to arrive, she offered a bit of advice.

  “Stick together as a group and keep the private conversations to a minimum. Divide and you will be conquered.”

  Then she headed to the guest bedroom with her knitting, promising to be neither seen nor heard unless there was an emergency. I’d barely had time to contemplate Gladdie’s advice when the doorbell rang. I was really, really hoping (ha!) Hope would be the first to show up. So I was a little disappointed and a lot surprised to open the door to find that Manda and Sara and Bridget and Dori had all arrived at the same time—though it was obvious that they hadn’t all arrived together.

  Manda and Sara shouldered their floral quilted overnight bags and pushed their way past Bridget and Dori and their floral quilted overnight bags to get through the door first.

  “Can we talk to you alone?” Manda asked, but it wasn’t really a question.

  “In private,” Sara said, eyeing Bridget and Dori. “No offense!”

  Two seconds into the sleepover and I was already being lured into the kind of dangerous private conversation Gladdie had warned me about.

  “Uh, now?”

  “Now,” said Manda and Sara simultaneously.

  They didn’t high-five or “Bee-Eff-Effs!” which indicated that the topic of this private conversation was very serious indeed.

  I shot Bridget and Dori an apologetic look.

  “You know your way around! Say hi to Gladdie! She’s so excited to see you! We’ll be right back! Help yourselves to snacks!”

  Ugh. I was being such a try-hard.

  Manda and Sara followed me to the guest bathroom, and Sara closed the door behind us.

  “Omigod! I can’t believe she showed! After everything with you and Scotty.”

  “There is no ‘everything’ with me and Scotty,” I snapped. “Stop saying that.”

  “I can’t believe you invited her,” Manda replied tartly. “I don’t remember putting her on the guest list.”

  “I don’t remember this being your house or your party,” I shot back.

  Whoops. Manda doesn’t like when anyone questions her authority. Normally I know better than to mouth off, but I was under too much party pressure to consider the consequences. I honestly didn’t know how she’d respond to such back talk, so I can’t say that I was surprised or unsurprised when she silently turned toward the sink, flipped on the tap, squirted soap into her hands, and lathered up.

  Sara and I just looked at each other like, “What the heck?”

  Manda rinsed carefully, reached for a towel, and dried off.

  “You’re right,” she said when she was finally finished. “I’m going to take the high road here. And do you know why?”

  I didn’t know why. And I don’t think Sara did, either.

  “Because I can.”

  Then she walked out the door without another word, as if she had literally and figuratively washed her hands of the whole Dori situation.

  I wasn’t the only one who was confused.

  “Omigod! What was that about?” Sara asked.

  “I have no idea!” I replied. “I was going to ask you!”

  “She can be so weird sometimes,” Sara said, rolling her eyes. “Right?”

  Sara had practically backed me into the toilet at this point, and she just stood there with her hands on her hips waiting for me to agree with her.

  “Uh, right?” I said tentatively. “I guess?”

  A huge smile spread across her face, like this was exactly what she had wanted me to say, and I immediately got all paranoid that she would somehow use this agreement against me, so I was quick to add something like, “But we’re all weird sometimes, right?” but I know she didn’t hear me because she was already heading back down the hall toward the party in progress.

  When I returned to the living room, Dori and Bridget were whispering to each other over by the junk-food buffet. Sara had already joined Manda on the opposite side of the room. They were messing around with the music. Apparently my retro soundtrack wasn’t what they had in mind.

  “Wow!” Manda marveled. “Your taste in music is as interesting as your fashion sense.”

  I had dressed for battle in a U2 War T-shirt. I didn’t need to check myself out in a mirror to know that Manda wasn’t paying me a compliment. Interesting was synonymous with icky. This was Manda’s definition of taking the high road? At that point I was already seriously contemplating taking any road that would lead me away from my own sleepover when I belatedly noticed all the guests were in attendance.

  “Hey, Hope!” I called out enthusiastically.

  “Hey, Jess,” she responded less enthusiastically.

  Hope had arrived while we were in the bathroom. That was good. She was curled on the couch with a pillow clutched to her abdomen. That was bad. Had her stomach thing come back?

  “I’m glad you made it.”

  Hope nodded feebly, tried to smile, then stuffed a chocolate-covered pretzel into her mouth.

  Manda pushed a button, and a bubbly pop song came bursting out of the speakers. The effect was immediate.

  “We love this song!” shouted Bridget and Dori.

  “Omigod! Who doesn’t?” shouted back Sara.

  Uh, me? I was obviously the only person in the room who hadn’t heard it before. But I didn’t care about being left out, because I was so grateful to Manda for giving everyone a reason to get along. My friends all bopped around like they were possessed by aliens from the planet Shakeyerbootie. Well, all but Hope, who didn’t get off the couch but showed her appreciation for the song by dipping her head up and down to the beat. Even Gladdie poked her head into the room long enough to say, “Catchy!” before returning to the guest room with her knitting.

  And then, just as quickly as the dance party started, Manda shut it down.

  “Awwwwwww! Put it back on!” Sara, Bridget, and Dori whined.

  Manda set herself up in the center of the room and clapped to get everyone’s attention.

  “So! Now that we’re all here,” Manda said. “You can thank me.”

  “Thank you,” Sara replied without thinking.

  “Why are we thanking you?” I asked.

  “Only because I’ve come up with the perfect group Halloween costume for us!”

  Us? As in all of us? Wow. Maybe Manda meant what she’d said in the bathroom about taking the high road. Maybe it wasn’t so impossible for all six of us to get along!

  “You did?” Sara asked in a snippy voice. “When were you going to tell me?”

  “Um?” Manda replied. “I’m telling you right now. Duh.”

  “I thought we were gonna, like, discuss it
first.”

  “Puh-leeze. There’s no need for discussion,” Manda said pointedly. “Because it’s brilliant.”

  “What is it?” Bridget asked, bouncing up and down. “What is it? WHAT IS IT?”

  Have I mentioned how much Bridget loves dressing up for Halloween?

  Manda stood quietly in the middle of the room, expertly building up the tension before making her announcement.

  “We will be…” She paused once more, at her own peril, I might add, because Bridget looked like she was about to pounce on her. “The Chibi Girls!”

  Everyone let out little squeals of joy. Even Hope.

  “Who are the Chibi Girls?” I asked.

  This was such a totally dumb question that they all ignored me.

  “I’m brilliant,” Manda bragged. “Right?”

  Everyone agreed Manda was brilliant. Except Sara.

  “When it was my idea to be the Chibi Girls, it was dumb,” Sara whined. “But now that it’s your idea, it’s brilliant?”

  I tried again. “Who are the Chibi Girls?”

  “Who gets to be who?” Dori wanted to know.

  “Can I be Bouncy Chibi?” Bridget asked.

  I stood on top of the ottoman to get their attention.

  “FOR THE LAST TIME,” I shouted, “WHO ARE THE CHIBI GIRLS?”

  “Omigod! We were just listening to the Chibi Girls!”

  “We were?”

  Manda turned the music back on, and all the girls went back to bopping. Then she abruptly shut it off again.

  “The Chibi Girls,” Manda explained, “are the of-the-moment Japanese pop group—”

  “That you hadn’t even heard of until I showed you their video last week,” Sara interrupted.

  “There’s Bouncy Chibi…” Dori began.

  “I want to be Bouncy!” Bridget reminded us.

  “You’re Beauty,” Sara said. “Duh.”

  Bridget looked disappointed by this, the obvious truth. I didn’t even know the Chibi Girls, and it was clear to me that Bridget should be the one called Beauty because, as Sara explained, duh.

  “And there’s Baby and Brainy and Bashy,” Dori said, wrapping up.

  “Bashy?” I asked. “Like, she goes around beating people up?”

  I immediately thought of an inflatables battle royal.