Pride and Popularity

“Besides, there must’ve been a reason he was totally singling you out in the art room. I think he needs to ask you something but doesn’t know how.”

“What does he have to be scared of?” I wondered out loud. “No, I think he’s just being a player. He saw an opportunity to make me uneasy and went for it. Of course, this time I stood my ground.”

“Yeah, too bad you didn’t stand your ground in art.” Madison laughed, and Alyssa joined in.

“Hey, now, no fair. I was wiping my shirt.” I giggled. “It was funny. Embarrassing, but so funny.”

“Aren’t you sorry you laughed at my episode with Zack now?”

“Yes,” I answered Alyssa as she pulled up next to my house. “Well, it’s Wednesday, so I won’t be home tonight. I’ll see you girls in the morning, okay? Thanks for the lift.”

“Bye!” they said at the same time.

I shut the door and ran up the steps of my house. I turned to wave as the girls drove home, which was really only five or six houses down on the left side of the street. Alyssa and Madison lived right next door to each other. On the other side of the road was a huge neighborhood park. The chance to live across the street from the park was one of the reasons my parents bought our house.

“Hi, Mom,” I called out as I dropped my backpack on the dining room table.

“Chloe? Is that you?” she called from the back of the house.

“Yep. Where are you?” I followed the smells and wandered into the kitchen, where I saw loads of cookies on cooling racks on the counter. Shortbread cookies, my favorite. “Hey, can I have a cookie?” I hollered.

“Sure,” she answered.

Yes! I grabbed three extra-big ones.

“But only one. They’re for my meeting tonight.”

Aw, darn. Reluctantly, I put the two smallest cookies back. As I munched, I went in search of my mom.

“Here you are.” I found her in my fifteen-year-old sister’s room, holding a big, black trash bag. I watched, dumbfounded, as Mom tossed anything and everything she could find into it.

“What are you doing?” I gasped. There went Cassidy’s favorite CD and iPod.

“I’ve told Cassidy over and over to clean her room or I was going to clean it for her.” She groaned as she bent over to chuck my sister’s winning soccer cleat into the bag. “For three weeks I’ve been patient.” In went the other cleat. “So I figure now is the time to teach that girl a lesson.”

Wow. Cassidy is gonna be mad. I stifled a giggle. “So what are you going to do with the bag?”

“Put it out by the trash bins and tell her I’ve thrown it away.”

Holy cow! “You’re serious?” I wonder what my room looks like. I hope it’s clean.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” Mom said, pushing back her blond curls as she stood up. “This room is disgusting, and she’s going to start taking care of it or suffer the consequences.” I’m pretty sure my room was clean when I left this morning. Maybe a towel on the bed or something? Mental note: Check room ASAP and remove backpack from table. Mom’s gone batty again.

I’d have to be blind to not see how determined my mom was on this, so I let it go and changed the subject. No reason to get her upset at me, too.

“Well, today’s Wednesday, so I’ll be out four-wheeling later,” I reminded her. Then, deciding to stay on her good side, I asked, “Do you need me to do anything before I go?”

“You mean other than your homework and chores?” Mom grinned as she tossed Cassidy’s curling iron in the bag.

“Uh, yeah.” I wondered how much all Cassidy’s stuff was worth.

“I am not really going to throw this stuff away. I’m just putting it out by the trash to make her see how serious I am. So stop looking at me like that.” In went Cassidy’s favorite shirt and jeans.

Well, that’s a relief.

“Actually, there is something you can do for me. I need you to go and pick your sister up from her ballet class in about fifteen minutes, so I can finish this up.”

“Oh, okay.” If I started now I could get farther into that book I was reading for English. “I’m gonna do some homework before I head out.” I turned to leave.

“I almost forgot. There was a call for you right before you came home.”

“A call?” I turned back. “Who from?”

“I don’t know. It was one of your friends. I think he said—”

He? It was a he?

“You guys were in the same club or something. His name was like Tyler or Tanner or—”

“Taylor,” I interrupted. “Did he say what he wanted?” What is with this guy?

“No. He did ask for you to call him back, though. His cell number is on the kitchen counter by the phone. He sounded like it was kind of urgent.”

“Oh, it’s probably just a question about something in art class today.” I shrugged. “Thanks.” I made my escape.

He hasn’t even been home a full day, and already he has caused so much havoc to my well-being that I don’t think I’m going to be able to last an entire year. It’s ridiculous.

I wandered into the kitchen and glanced at Taylor Anderson’s phone number. This is Taylor’s number. I have his personal phone number. How many girls would kill to have this number? Briefly I thought of selling it on eBay or something. I bet I’d make a mint. Ugh. How much weirder can this day get?

Reaching over, I plucked the cordless phone out of the charger and started to press the buttons with trembling fingers.

Why does he want me to call? Does he really have something important to ask like Alyssa thinks, or is he just trying to unnerve me again? You know what, I can’t handle this. Before I could push the last digit, I hung up the phone. If he wanted to talk to me that bad, he could call again.

I collected my backpack and crammed the offending number in my pocket. Then walked in my room and attempted to breathe normally again. Looking at my watch, I saw I only had twelve minutes left. So I picked up the assigned book, crashed on my bed, and tried to lose myself and my crazy thoughts in Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility. 

Four You Rang?

Five minutes into the book, I still couldn’t concentrate. I knew it had nothing to do with Miss Austen’s writing ability and everything to do with a certain “urgent” phone call I needed to make. I pulled Taylor’s phone number from my pocket and stared at it.

“Ugh. Please go away, Taylor Anderson,” I said out loud. “I don’t know why you find it so hilarious to pick on me, but do me a huge favor and leave me alone. Seriously, you can have any girl you want. Why drive me nuts? It makes no sense.”

Great, Chloe. Just awesome. You’re having a conversation with a crumbled piece of paper, which won’t answer back no matter how long you stare at it. The only way to truly get answers is to call. So call already!

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Taylor?”

“Yes.”

“This is Chloe Hart. My mom said you called?”

“Uh, sh–she did?”