For some reason Mrs. O’Donnahee wasn’t in school the next day. When I mentioned it to Tina at lunch, she just said, “Great,” and let me have one of her Jolly Ranchers.
Leah, however, was not so calm. “Jendra, something is definitely wrong,” she told me, picking the cheese off her pizza.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “I thought you only picked the pepperoni off your pizza, now it’s the cheese, too?”
“Cheese is so fattening,” Leah said, “and it makes the pizza taste so gross.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but without the pepperoni and without the cheese your pizza is just warm sauce and bread. Does that really taste good to you?”
“Taste has nothing to do with it,” Leah insisted. “It’s all about nutrition. And, besides, I can feed the cheese to Matt.”
“No, thanks,” groaned Matt, looking kind of green.
“Hey,” I said, “what’s wrong with you? Practice too hard last night?”
“I don’t know,” Matt wailed, throwing his head down on the table with a loud thump. “I just feel sort of queasy or something.”
“See, I told you,” Leah said wisely. “This cheese is poison. It’s clogging his arteries right now here at lunch!”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Leah,” I groaned. “It isn’t the pizza. There’s something really wrong with him. Anybody can see that.” Actually, I was kind of worried about Matt. His face was all sweaty and his skin felt clammy and cold.
“Maybe you should go to the nurse’s office,” I suggested.
“Nah,” said Matt, looking really puky. “Then I’ll miss Ms. Long’s class, and I have to give a report on the Karankawa Indians today.”
“Matt, you look like you just got attacked by the Karankawa Indians,” I told him, feeling his forehead. “Aren’t they the ones who greased themselves down with alligator fat so they wouldn’t get bitten by mosquitoes? ’Cause, Matt, that’s exactly what you smell like.”
“Hi, Mattie sweetie, something wrong?” A breeze of Chanel No. 5 mixed with Salon Selectives shampoo blew by our table, and I looked up and saw Tina. She looked concerned. “Mattie,” she said, “you’re all sweaty and gross. That can’t be good.” She gently shoved Leah’s chair over to one side, and crouched next to Matt with a sorrowful expression. “What have I told you about cafeteria food?” she said with an exaggerated sigh. “Dear boy, will you ever learn? Here.” She pulled something in a glass jar out of her purse and set it on the table in front of him.
Matt cocked an eyebrow. “Baby applesauce?” he groaned.
“That’s right,” she said. “Now eat it all up good for Mommy and you’ll feel all better in no time.” She stood up, tossed her hair, and told me, “Jendra, I need to talk to you. Could you come over to my table for a minute, please?”
“Sure,” I said. I followed her back to her usual seat while Leah looked after us, indignantly scooting her chair back into place.
“Now, Jendra,” said Tina, once we had gotten back to her table, “I don’t mean to sound like a snob, or anything, but I really don’t think it’s such a good idea for you to eat lunch with those two anymore.”
“Why not?” I asked. “I mean, Leah is my best friend, and Matt is your own cousin.”
“I know,” said Tina regretfully, gray eyes wide. “I know, I know, I know. And it isn’t that there’s anything wrong with them, believe me. It’s just that I think you should eat over here with the rest of the cheerleaders. That’s only right. Don’t you think so, girls?”
She let her eyes slide slyly first to one side and then the other, and before long all of her friends were nodding enthusiastically and offering me sips of diet soda and pieces of fat-free pretzels. Not exactly gourmet, but, I have to tell you, the pretzels were just a bit more appetizing than Leah’s cheeseless pizza.
“I’m glad you came to eat with us,” said Lien Hua, grinning at me as the lunch bell rang. “We really missed you.”
“Yeah, “I said, returning her smile. “Well, I’ll see you this afternoon at practice, okay?”
“Before that, I hope,” said Lien Hua with a grin. I started off to class.
Just outside Ms. Long’s room, Tina glided by me in the hall.
“Here,” she said, tossing me a stick of gum. “Have a piece. It will keep your breath fresh for up to three hours.”
“Thanks,” I said shakily, popping it into my mouth as I shoved through the classroom door.
I expected Matt’s oral report on the Karankawa Indians to be a total flop, but he completely fooled me. Somehow, he was like one hundred percent totally better by the time class started, and he gave his report like a pro. It was almost as good as mine, and just as made up, I assure you.
“Excellent work, Matt,” I told him as he slid back into his seat.
“Yeah?” he said with a grin. “Well, I have an excellent role model!”
I smiled and was about to say something back, when Ms. Long sneaked up behind me and started screaming her head off. She really scared me. (Well, okay, maybe “screaming her head off” is a bit of an exaggeration. I just like to use hyperbole! You know, that goes with the territory when your mom’s an English teacher. But, anyway, Ms. Long sure wasn’t being very nice to me.)
“Miss MacKenzie,” she shrieked. “Are you chewing gum?”
“No,” I quipped instantly, rolling my eyes reflexively. “It just so happens that I . . .”—then I remembered the stick of gum Tina had popped into my mouth and finished lamely—“am.” I smiled weakly.
Now, I’ll admit, as your average, everyday suburban Texas teen, I’ve never looked the devil in the eye, but at that moment Ms. Long looked distinctly evil. Her lips twisted into this sinister smile, and she said almost gleefully, “Miss MacKenzie, go to the office immediately.” She added menacingly, “And never come back.”
“Never?” squeaked Matt. “Gosh, that’s harsh for one piece of gum. Not even tomorrow?”
He shouldn’t have said that. You don’t crack jokes with the devil.
“For that smart remark, my funny man,” Ms. Long informed him crisply, “you may go to the office with her.”
“Do I have to come back?” he had the guts to ask.
That broke Ms. Long. Wrinkling her nose in rage, she screamed, “Get out of my classroom!”
Matt and I ran through the door and down the hall, giggling all the way.
Things didn’t seem so funny once we got to the office, though.
Mr. Talbert was standing in the doorway of his office, talking in a real low voice to one of the school secretaries. We couldn’t hear what they were saying, but, just from the looks on their faces, Matt and I figured that something was very wrong.
“It’s Chrystal,” said Tina, who was suddenly standing behind us.
“Where did you come from?” Matt asked, sounding as shocked as I felt.
“Home ec,” she replied, smacking her Cinnaburst. “We were microwaving S’mores, but, of course, I dropped my marshmallows to rush right down here as soon as I heard the news.”
“What news?” I asked. “Is something wrong?”
“Well, there’s definitely something wrong with Chrystal,” she said. “She’s dead.”