Everything in Malia’s world was so depressing. School, which had never been anything but meh, certainly wasn’t getting better. Connor Kelly had shown no further signs of being aware of her existence. And then there was Chelsea, the human equivalent of Styrofoam. No matter how much you tried to get rid of her, she wouldn’t sink, she wouldn’t crumble, and she would never, ever go away.
“Who needs some babysitting club when you can have an internship with Ramona Abernathy?” she said, breezing right by Malia on her way to her new, impressive job. Apparently, Ramona was no stranger to the tactics of jealous competitors, and the Seaside takedown had only served to endear Chelsea to her even more. And Chelsea was more insufferable than ever. She had actually started carrying a briefcase. Still, Malia didn’t even feel the urge to trip her. She guessed this is what they called surrender.
As for her friends, Malia had never felt more betrayed. If she stopped to think about them for even a moment, she felt so angry and sad that she had to immediately think of something happy, like the way Connor Kelly’s bangs flopped ever-so-perfectly over his left eye in his yearbook photo.
To make matters worse, it was Bree’s birthday and Malia didn’t know what to do. She picked up her phone approximately one million times. She should say something, shouldn’t she? But that felt like giving in. What if Bree didn’t respond? Or was hanging out with someone else? Or . . . Malia didn’t know. Nothing felt right.
She decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood, “to rejuvenate the senses,” as her mother would say. But everything she encountered made her feel even worse. She walked past the houses of all the families they’d tried to babysit for. She walked past the smelly old library, where she’d found that copy of Kristy’s Great Idea. She walked all the way to the school sports field, where a pack of boys were loitering near the bleachers. She guessed she should have turned around before anyone saw her wandering around by herself like some kind of weirdo. But then one of them waved at her, and Malia knew it was too late.
She would recognize that wave anywhere. It was Connor Kelly. He galloped over to Malia like some sort of antelope, but, like, a really attractive one.
“Oh, hey, Malia,” Connor said. He acted kind of surprised to see her, except he had just walked toward her on purpose, so of course that couldn’t be true.
Malia stood there, stunned, like a tiny mammal in one of those nature videos when it sees a hawk approaching. This wasn’t fair! Why did Connor decide to talk to her when she wasn’t in her right mind? She’d been moping for days—she couldn’t be expected to make words. Without a doubt, this was one of the most important moments in her social life thus far and she wasn’t even prepared to deal with it.
“Too bad your party never happened,” Connor continued with a shrug. “But Violet Van Gooch is having that huge party on Friday. So I guess everything turned out okay.”
“Hmm?” Malia said. Violet Van Gooch was an eighth-grader. A very popular eighth-grader. And this was the first she had heard of the party.
“Were you invited?” he asked.
“Umm . . . I don’t seem to have gotten my invite yet,” Malia said.
SAY THAT I SHOULD GO ANYWAY, Malia silently willed him. SAY I CAN BE YOUR DATE, AND YOU WILL COMPLIMENT MY SHIRT AND SHARE A MOZZARELLA STICK WITH ME.
But instead he said, “Hmm. Okay.” And just like that, he turned and sauntered off with his pack of boys. Huh? It was like the hawk in this nature video didn’t even want to eat the tiny mammal. It was barely important enough to register.
Malia stood there, stunned. She most certainly was not invited to Violet’s huge and impressive party. And now Connor Kelly knew that for sure.
Under normal circumstances, this was her worst nightmare coming true. On a normal day, she would have cried. Then she would have done everything in her power to snag an invite to that party. But today, it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Malia felt like she had nothing left.