When I get to school the next day, it becomes evident that something out of the ordinary is going on. Maria and Perry are both wearing dresses, and they NEVER wear dresses. Teddy’s hair is actually combed and Matt is wearing a BLAZER. And there’s only ONE day a year that Matt gets dressed up.
Class picture day.
Matt gestures to my striped shorts and T-shirt. “What’s with the outfit? Did you forget again?”
“You know I forget half the stuff McCoddle tells us in class.” My mother’s going to KILL me. Just like last year.
Umberto slides up in his wheelchair, looking as dapper as Matt. “Maybe everyone will think you’re just one of the cool kids who doesn’t care how they look in the yearbook.” He and Matt exchange glances, then burst out laughing. “Nah.”
The only person who looks unhappier than I am is Carly. She’s got on a plaid skirt with leggings and a black T-shirt and looks kind of cute. But the expression on her face is pure anxiety.
Then I realize why. Her braces.
“I could have postponed getting these a few weeks until after picture day! Why didn’t I look at my calendar?” she complains.
Carly stops ranting as soon as she sees what I’m wearing. “Oh no—did you forget again?”
“Kind of.”
A slow smile creeps across Carly’s face. “That makes me feel the tiniest bit better.”
Matt pulls the collar of his shirt. “Let’s get it over with so I can take this stupid jacket off.”
The lady from the photography studio is set up in the gym. She looks pretty old, hunched over and with thick glasses. She must be trying to disguise the fact that she’s ancient, because her hair is dyed jet-black with an inch of gray roots showing where her hair is parted. She’s barking instructions to an assistant as she points with an arthritic finger to each kid in line. The bent fingers remind me of Grammy, who has arthritis too, but I’ve never seen a scowl like this on her.
Matt couldn’t look more uncomfortable if he tried.
“At least I’ll be relaxed in MY picture,” I say. “Not pulling at my clothes like you.”
He looks like he’s about to smack me then suddenly starts laughing. He points to my surfing T-shirt with the migrating birds. “Your shirt is green.”
“So?”
He points to the large green screen set up underneath the basketball net. “You can’t wear anything green in front of a green screen!”
He’s laughing so hard, Tyler and Umberto stop talking to listen in. I get it; Matt’s just trying to take the focus off himself. But does he have to make fun of me to do it?
“I guess you didn’t read the e-mail,” Umberto says. “There are six different backgrounds to choose from. They insert them after they shoot us in front of the green screen. Don’t you remember from last year?”
“Like that’s the kind of information I remember!” I’m starting to really get annoyed with my friends.
“Hey!” Tyler yells. “Derek’s wearing a green shirt!”
The news spreads down the line faster than if we were all playing telephone. Suddenly I’m glad I’m wearing green—it’ll hide how sick I’m starting to feel.
Carly moves up the line until she’s beside me. “It’s okay,” she says. “No one cares about these stupid pictures anyway.”
Sure, Carly’s trying to make me feel better but all this attention is making me think I’m REALLY going to get sick—with my luck, just as this cranky lady snaps the photo.
Carly, unfortunately, is now the target of my pent-up irritation. “Thanks for the update,” I respond. “I hope the photographer’s lights don’t bounce off your braces. It might look like you’ve got lasers shooting out of your mouth.”
Matt’s talking to Maria but runs over when he hears me. “Does this mean we can finally make fun of Carly’s braces? I’ve been saving up a million insults!”
Before I can answer, Umberto does. “No, we are NOT making fun of Carly’s braces.”
Carly whips around to face me. “Are you sure? Because it certainly sounds that way to me.”
I feel bad that I’m the one who started this whole thing and just want this line to finally move so I can get out of here.
“I’m sorry,” I tell Carly. “You look great for your photo—really cute.”
“Ohhhhhhhh,” Tyler chants behind me. “Derek likes Carly! Derek likes Carly!”
He stops when Carly glares at him, crosses her arms, and faces down Matt and me.
“If you think you’re going to send me running to the bathroom to cry again, you’re wrong, inaccurate, erroneous, mistaken, misguided—you want me to keep going?”
Matt and I stare at the parquet floor and shake our heads. It stinks having a friend who’s a billion times smarter than you are—especially when she’s angry.
Even though I ask her to stay, Carly goes back to her place in line with Natalie.
Umberto lets out a low whistle. “That girl is a thesaurus! She thrashed you—and for good reason, too.”
If I had a dollar for every moronic thing I’ve ever said to Carly, I’d be able to buy a plane ticket TO FLY ME ANYWHERE BUT HERE. I’m actually relieved she stood up for herself; I’d feel horrible if her picture came out bad because of me.
It doesn’t take long before I’m first in line. I comb my hair with my hand and hope for the best.
“YOU!” the woman yells. “Stand on the X. Now!”
I do as I’m told and hurry to the spot on the floor marked with two pieces of duct tape. Behind me is a large screen of green fabric, pulled tight. Three large studio lamps have been lighting up this spot for hours;
