Promises, Promises Page 7

  “I don’t want to give away my game plan.”

  “I think Katani has plans of her own…”

  Avery stopped and considered this. “Do you know what they are?” she asked, as Katani and Maeve sat at a table two tables away.

  “Well, sorta…”

  “Are they better than mine?”

  “Avery, they’re…different,” said Charlotte, feeling weird that the BSG were at separate tables.

  “Like what kind of different? Good different? Bad different?”

  “Just different. Look, I don’t feel comfortable talking about this with you.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying we don’t have much time, and we need to get some slogans for you and not talk about Katani’s ideas.”

  Avery considered this and decided Charlotte was probably right. She flipped over the papers, scooted her chair closer to Charlotte, and hunched over the papers on the table. She continued to talk to Charlotte about her campaign ideas in low, hushed tones. It was like they were huddling up in the final seconds of a basketball game, whispering so that the other team didn’t hear their game plan.

  Avery looked up and saw Katani looking at her. Katani forced a smile. But Avery didn’t smile back. She just couldn’t.

  Minutes later, Katani got up, and without saying good-bye to everyone, left. Charlotte thought Katani had tears in her eyes.

  “Where’s she going?” Avery asked.

  “School, Avery. We need to get going, too.”

  Avery looked at her watch and yelped. “I gotta go! I was supposed to meet Ms. R before homeroom.” Avery jumped up so fast that she bumped the table. The dishes rattled. She scooped the papers from the table, stuffed them in her backpack, and zipped out the door.

  Charlotte breathed a small sigh of relief as soon as Avery disappeared out the door. She looked over at Maeve, who looked equally relieved.

  “Wanna walk to school together?” Charlotte asked.

  Maeve nodded. “Helping Avery with her campaign?” she asked as they slipped out the door and headed toward school.

  Charlotte nodded. “We were trying to come up with campaign slogans. Were you helping Katani?”

  “She asked,” Maeve said. “My schedule’s so full! I felt bad because Katani helped bail me out with the blanket project. I promised I’d try to help her if I could.”

  “Did she ask you to help her with posters tonight?”

  “No, she wants to run another poll, and she wants me to man one side of the lunchroom door while she does the other.”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “Well, I would if I could,” Maeve answered, “but I have to babysit Sam after school.”

  Charlotte glanced sympathetically over at Maeve. Maeve’s little brother could be a handful sometimes with his obsession about all things military. Once when Charlotte had spent the night at Maeve’s, Sam had conducted a “raid” and pelted the girls with water balloons while they slept. Maeve got so mad at him she screamed that she was going to turn him into a Popsicle and put him into the freezer.

  “I can’t wait until this election is over…I feel so torn,” Charlotte said.

  “You don’t know the half of it! Dillon called last night. He asked me to help write a song for him.”

  “Write a song?!”

  “Well, technically he asked me to rewrite lyrics to an existing song.”

  “What?”

  “Let me start over. Dillon called to ask if he could borrow my portable karaoke machine. He wanted to know what CDs I had. After I read him the list, he really liked the song ‘If I Had a Million Dollars.’ He thought it was perfect for his campaign and wanted me to help him come up with new lyrics for the song…well, kind of a spoof. You know, using some of the lyrics, but changing them for his campaign. ‘If I had a million votes, I’d be class president!’”

  Charlotte smiled. “That’s kinda cute.”

  “Oh! There’s more!” Maeve said with a dazzling smile. “He’s printing off a bunch of fake million-dollar bills with his face in the middle and wanted to know if I would help pass them out during lunch while he sings the song.”

  “Are you going to help him?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, even if Dillon isn’t my romantic destiny, I still like him.”

  Charlotte smiled to herself. Maeve was so dramatic, and such a romantic.

  “I mean,” continued Maeve, “Dillon is a fun guy, and I could see him being a good president.”

  “Did you tell Katani that?”

  “Are you kidding? I mean, she would think I was a traitor or something. Promise you won’t tell Avery either.”

  “They’ll both go crazy when they find out.”

  “Could be worse,” Maeve said as they went through the seventh-grade entrance of Abigail Adams Junior High.

  “How?” Charlotte asked.

  Maeve nodded in the direction of Laura and Sammy, who were listening intently as Betsy gave them directions for the day. “We could be one of Betsy’s clones.”

  “Never!” Charlotte said. Maeve always knew how to make her laugh.

  “Have you given any more thought to how Isabel can have a space in the Tower?” Maeve asked.

  “No. Do you have any ideas?”

  “I thought maybe she could share the corner between the two of us,” Maeve said as they approached their lockers. “You know, half of your wall and half of my wall.”

  “Huh? Well…maybe,” Charlotte said. She didn’t know how to tell Maeve she didn’t like that idea at all! That wall and window were so special to her. She had moved a lot in her life and it was nice to be able to call one special spot her own. Besides, Charlotte didn’t think it was fair that she and Maeve should be the only ones to sacrifice. What about Katani and Avery? If they each gave up half a wall, Isabel ended up with two halves, or a whole wall, and she and Maeve would end up with only a half a wall each. How was that fair? Things were getting really confusing.

  Before she could figure out how to say any of this, the bell rang, and they rushed inside Ms. Rodriguez’s class for homeroom.

  Feathers and Sequins

  “I can’t wait to show you what I brought for the posters,” Isabel said as she and Katani made their way to the art room at the end of the school day. “I went through my scrap basket and found all sorts of interesting trinkets.”

  “I can’t wait to see them!” Katani had her campaign file box in one hand and was pulling her wheelie bag behind her with the other. “I bought the foam board yesterday and cut it last night, so it’s all ready to go.”

  Isabel had spent lots of time in the art room, and once inside, she headed for the table next to the windows. It was her favorite spot. She loved the soft light of New England in the fall. She watched expectantly as Katani unzipped her wheelie bag.

  “I thought bright jewel tones would be the most eye catching,” Katani said as she unpacked stacks of foam board. “I have three tones: emerald green, golden yellow, and royal purple.”

  “I love these colors,” Isabel said, reaching over and pulling a golden yellow foam board from the stack. “But, these are an odd size. Did you cut them down to fit into your wheelie?”

  “Actually, no. It just worked out that way. The only places that didn’t have many posters were the bathrooms—eeyew, don’t want to put any posters in THERE!—and above the lockers. Not exactly eye level.”

  “Good point,” Isabel agreed.

  “Then I noticed that the spaces between the lockers and the classroom doors are usually empty and right at eye-level. It’s a tall, narrow space—eighteen inches by six inches. We’ll have to make more, but they’ll have more impact.”

  “You are unbelievable, Katani; you went and measured everything,” Isabel said, pulling the plastic grocery bag of goodies from her backpack.

  “I just can’t help myself,” Katani laughed.

  “Well, I think you’ll be happy. What I brought matches well with your colors,” Isabel said as
she pulled little ziploc bags filled with feathers and sequins from the bag. “I thought if we used fabric, sequins, and feathers, it would be more eye-catching.”

  “Ohh—like collage! Isabel, that’s such a cool idea!”

  “I thought it would make your posters stand out from the others.”

  “Awesome.”

  “But with the small size and the addition of feathers and sequins, we’re going to have to keep it simple and short. I was thinking each would say ‘Katani for President,’ of course, and then we’ll add one little tagline to each like—‘Feather our budget’ and ‘Earn more to do more’—you know, stuff that’ll emphasize how you’ll get us more money.” She grinned.

  “Great!” Katani shook her head happily. “I brought black paint pens. Do you want to letter or glue?”

  “Glue,” Isabel said, fishing a small hot glue gun from her bag and plugging it in. “I love my glue gun,” she added gleefully.

  “You are definitely an oddball artist type,” Katani said affectionately. And then she added, “But a prepared one.”

  “I know,” Isabel answered proudly.

  The two friends got down to work in earnest. Isabel and Katani were sorting out all the materials and setting up an assembly line to efficiently piece together the posters, when Avery crashed through the art studio door. She was kicking a big box of supplies in front of her and dragging a bag of supplies behind her.

  No Drips, No Runs, No Errors

  Avery was used to carting around sports equipment. Art supplies were a little out of her league. Soccer balls, field hockey sticks, and skateboards were a little heavier, but poster boards were a different challenge. When the wind had caught the broad side of the poster boards, she’d practically gone airborne! The short trip between her mom’s SUV and the front door of the school took twice as long as it should have with the wind that morning. Every step was a struggle. Her mom had wanted to help her, but Avery told her that was too uncool. So Avery had struggled on her own.

  Her mother had taken her shopping the night before, and Avery had bought poster boards, paintbrushes, and paint. If the Yurtmeister hadn’t attached himself to neon green, the choice would have been easy. Avery was running on environmental issues. Green would have been the perfect color. Instead, she had picked up a huge container of orange poster paint. She didn’t want to be confused with Henry Yurt, and besides, the orange was on sale.

  Orange? Green? It really wasn’t that important. Color, Avery told herself, wasn’t going to win or lose the election for her. Kids wouldn’t be that stupid, she thought matter of factly.

  Avery couldn’t help glancing over to the table by the window. What were Isabel and Katani doing? Were those feathers? What was that sparkly stuff? Was Katani running for president or putting on a fashion show?

  Avery unscrewed the lid from the paint jar and pulled the sheet of paper from her pocket. She read the slogan she had written:

  Vote for Avery

  For the Best Junior High Ever!

  Avery had also decided to make a few that said “Avery the Green Candidate,” even though she was using orange paint. Avery stuck her brush in the paint.

  “Whoa! This stuff is awfully watery,” Avery said as she dripped paint across the poster board. She did her best to wipe it off with a paper towel and try again. She painted on the letters of the first line, but the paint was so thin and drippy that if it had been red, it would have looked like the title to a horror movie. Avery noticed that the letters were a little crooked and running downhill. She would be more careful on the next poster. She’d started the second line too close to the center and had to crowd the letters on to fit.

  Avery thought she’d better push up the sleeves of her sweatshirt before she continued. She laid her paintbrush on the paint jar so she wouldn’t get paint on the poster board. Even though she was extra careful, the paintbrush flipped out of the lid and fell onto the blank poster board.

  “Is it supposed to be this watery?” Avery mumbled to herself. She tried to prop the wet paintbrush on the jar lid, but it kept flipping out. Each time, it made a new splotch mark on the poster board. Exasperated, Avery gave up and laid the paintbrush directly on the poster board.

  When she moved the paint jar off the poster board and onto the table, the lid slid from her hand and hit the floor. Orange paint splattered out in a halo around where the lid had landed face down on the tile floor.

  As she bent down to pick up the lid, Avery’s bunched up sleeve caught the corner of the poster board. The poster board flipped up, launching the fully loaded paintbrush across the room. It landed in the middle of the table where Katani and Isabel were working. Droplets of orange paint flew everywhere.

  “Whoa!” Avery gasped.

  “Ahh!” Katani screamed. “Avery! What are you doing?”

  “Sorry,” Avery muttered.

  “You almost ruined my posters!”

  “I said I was sorry!” Avery shouted back. She didn’t know what the big deal was—ruined and almost ruined were two very different things.

  Isabel picked up the paintbrush and brought it back to Avery’s table.

  “It’s so runny,” Avery said.

  “Did you shake up the jar before you started?” Isabel asked.

  “Oops,” Avery said.

  Isabel snorted with laughter. Avery could be so funny sometimes, and she really was the absolute worst artist she had ever seen. Marty could do a better job than Avery.

  She looked over at Avery’s first poster. “Avery, you better use a pencil and a ruler to draw a light guideline so the letters don’t run downhill and…”

  “Hey…”

  Avery and Isabel turned to see Katani standing with her hands on her hips. “Isabel, who are you here to help? We have a schedule. I’m never going to get these posters put up if you spend all your time over there!”

  “Chill, Katani,” Avery said. Katani crossed her arms and stared at her, looking at this moment very much like her Grandma Ruby, principal of Abigail Adams Junior High.

  “It’s okay, Isabel. I’ll be just fine,” Avery said haughtily. “Go back to your cutting and gluing. I’m running for class president, not entering an art contest.”

  Katani pursed her lips together and gave Avery the famous Kgirl look. Avery thought Katani might want to reconsider her career plans—only teachers and policemen gave that kind of look.

  “I was only trying to help,” Avery heard Isabel say when she returned to the table by the window.

  “But you said you would help me! I’m depending on you. Look at this! She got orange paint on my purple foam board,” Katani complained.

  “She didn’t do it on purpose. Besides, we can just shift this over and glue this on top of that. It’ll be okay. You won’t be able to tell.”

  Katani let out a pained sigh. Avery didn’t think she sounded too convinced. Katani was so picky, picky about stuff that didn’t really matter, Avery thought.

  Avery found a yardstick and a pencil and started drawing lines on the blank poster boards. She was almost finished when Betsy Fitzgerald stormed into the room.

  “Okay,” Betsy shouted. Avery jumped and spun around, nearly knocking over the open jar of orange poster paint with the end of the yardstick.

  “Who did it? Which one of you stole my posters?” Betsy demanded.

  “What?” Avery asked. She could tell that Betsy was close to tears. This was a first. Avery’d never seen Betsy Fitzgerald upset before.

  “You heard me! Who took down my posters? I hung three at the entrance of the seventh-grade hall—one on each side and one on the overhead beam. All three are gone!”

  “Why are you asking us?” Katani asked defensively.

  “SOMEONE took them down. They were there at the end of school, and then I went to the library to do a little research, and when I came back down the hall, they were…” The words caught in her throat. “GONE!”

  “I’m so sorry, Betsy,” Isabel said. “That’s really horrible. How m
any did you make?”

  “Twelve all together.”

  “Twelve,” Avery said in disbelief. How could anyone make twelve posters? In spite of herself, Avery was impressed.

  “Do you have any left?” Isabel asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Betsy said, quieter and calmer now.

  “Do you want me to help you check?” Isabel offered.

  “No. Thanks, Isabel. I can do it on my own. Sorry if I made it sound like you’d taken them, it’s just that…” Betsy stopped, tears coming to her eyes.

  “That’s okay,” Isabel said, walking over to Betsy and putting her hand on her arm.

  “Don’t worry about it, Betsy,” Avery yelled over to her. “Everybody’s seen your posters already.”

  Katani looked down and mumbled that she was sorry Betsy’s posters were gone. Avery kept right on painting. Personally, she wasn’t sure if she would ever understand Betsy Fitzgerald. She was so intense about everything.

  CHAPTER 8

  True Colors

  So, Katani, how’s the election going?” Katani’s dad asked as the two of them pulled out of the driveway in his truck.

  Katani squirmed. She did not want to get into a discussion about the election with her father. How could she explain to him all the trouble she and Avery were having? He would never understand. Maybe if she stared out the window he would think she hadn’t heard him.

  No such luck.

  “Katani?” her dad raised his voice. “Are you off in another world? I wanted to know how the election campaign was going?”

  “It’s fine, Dad,” she answered, hoping a short answer would satisfy him, but knowing that it probably wouldn’t.

  “How is it going with Avery running too?”

  Katani could feel her face flush. If Candice told her dad about Avery, she would never forgive her sister.

  “Did Candice tell you Avery was running?” Katani asked her dad sharply.

  “Nooo, Candice did not tell me,” he chuckled as he turned the corner into the school. “I was at the school fixing some wiring in the science lab and I saw the posters.”

  “Well, don’t tell Mom about it, ‘cause I don’t want to have a big, long discussion about competition and staying true to your values and friendship and all that,” Katani blurted out to her father.