I was trying to focus on school. It felt like a Monday, but it was really a Tuesday, and the teachers were pushing a little harder for us to make up work we had missed from the snow day. But I couldn’t stop thinking about Miko. She must be on her way to the conservatory right now for the performance portion of her audition. She had specifically told me she had to leave school before lunch, and I was headed to the cafeteria now. Was she nervous? Or was she feeling confident now that yesterday’s dreaded music theory was behind her?

I stopped at my locker to pick up the lunch my mother had packed for me and half skipped, half jogged to the cafeteria. I shot a look toward the big table near the milk dispenser where Benny usually sat—he was not there, nor were any of his friends. That meant they had a team meeting. Oh well. I’d see him later. Ivy was already at our usual table, her face buried in a book, sandwich in hand. She looked up, saw me, and smiled.

“Hey!” she said. “So did she go?”

“I didn’t see her before,” I said. “But she said her father was picking her up right before lunch. And you know his position on being late—so I’m sure they’re on their way.”

“Tell me again what she said last night,” Ivy instructed.

I opened my brown bag and pulled out a sandwich.

“Oh no,” I said.

“What?”

“This is Kevin’s lunch. We must have gotten them mixed up. Darn it—and I’m really hungry!”

“Well, you have a lunch,” Ivy said. “Just eat that.”

I tossed the sandwich, wrapped in foil and tucked inside a baggie, onto the table, where it landed with a thud.

“Do you have any idea what that is?” I asked.

Ivy shook her head.

“Salami and peanut butter,” I told her.

“Oh, barf,” Ivy said, breaking off half of her sandwich. “How did he talk your mother into that? Here, you better eat part of this.”

“I’m not late!” Tally announced, bearing down on us like a charging rhinoceros.

“No, you are not,” Ivy declared. “Today is a day that will live in the history books—the day Tally Janeway was on time.”

“Did she go? Did I miss her?” Tally asked, sitting down heavily and pulling off her hat. The motion charged her hair with static electricity, and her curls seemed to be alive and trying to escape, floating in all different directions.

“Yep, we all missed her,” Ivy said. “It’s probably just as well. She looked so nervous this morning. A big good-bye-and-good-luck scene was probably the last thing she needed.”

I sighed. “I just hope it goes well,” I said. “Ugh. I don’t want to think about it. So, Ivy, have you heard back from all our winners?”

Ivy grinned. “I have,” she said. “Well, you guys know about Daisy, I told you that already. Our competition winner is very surprised and very happy. And I heard from the last runner-up last night—everyone has agreed to having their artwork reproduced in the magazine. The file is done. Ms. Delacroix made good on her promise to format and design the issue herself on her big superfancy computer, and the file is at the printer even as we speak.”

“Wow!” Tally exclaimed. “I had no idea we got so much done so fast!”

“Amazing how that happens, isn’t it?” Ivy said with a grin. “Oh, so I got an e-mail back from the first runner-up, and I printed it out.”

Ivy made a big production of pulling a piece of paper out of her bag and unfolding it meticulously.

“What?” I said, looking from Ivy to Tally. “What’s going on?”

“I have no idea,” Tally said. “But I usually don’t.”

“I present to you the e-mail from our first runner-up,” Ivy said, “previously known only as number two hundred and eleven.”

I took the e-mail from Ivy and looked at it.

To: IvyNYC
From: Submitter 211
Subject: Cover Artwork

 

Wow, I’m totally surprised. I’m glad you guys liked it, thanks!

“The name is at the bottom,” Ivy pointed out.

“You are not serious,” I said. “This is a joke, right? You made this, right, Ivy?”

“What?” Tally said.

“No joke!” Ivy said, beaming.

“What?” Tally asked again.

“The rowboat painting,” I said, shaking my head incredulously. “It’s Benny’s! Benny Novak!”

“Oh my gosh!” Tally squealed. “Your boyfriend is an artist!”

“Is that not amazing?” Ivy asked.

“I had no idea,” I said. “No clue—I didn’t even know he liked art. How could I not know that?”

“A lot of good artists came out of nowhere in this competition,” Ivy said. “Look at Daisy. Who knew anything about her? The more I think about it, the more I think this competition was really a great thing—not just for 4 Girls. For everybody.”

“Benny Novak,” I murmured, still shaking my head. “Wow. But that painting was so good!”

“Do yourself a favor,” Ivy suggested, grinning. “When you talk to Benny, try not to sound so surprised when you say that!”

I laughed. “No, I know! I just . . . wow. This is so cool!”

“What’s so cool?”

I turned around and gave a guilty jump, folding the paper in half. I hadn’t noticed Shelby coming up behind me.

“Nothing,” I said. “We’re just . . . this is our wrap-up meeting for the issue.”

“So who’s the big winner? Who are the runners-up?” Shelby asked.

“Like it says on the blog,” Ivy said, with exaggerated patience, “that stays a secret until the issue is printed and handed out. You’ll just have to wait until Friday, like everyone else.”

“But what about the artists? Have you contacted them, or is that part a surprise, too?” Shelby pushed.

That part of the process wasn’t necessarily a secret. But what Shelby wanted to know was if she’d made it into the top four. She wanted to push us into telling her on the spot.

This is our celebratory moment, I thought. She doesn’t get to ruin that.

“You’ll just have to wait until Friday,” I said.

“That’s moronic,” Shelby said, scowling at me.

“Did you even talk to Miko this morning?” I asked. I felt a little bad that she’d baited me into being competitive with her, but this time I couldn’t help it. “You know she’s at her audition right now.”

Shelby rolled her eyes. “Please. If I never hear one more word about that stupid audition or her stupid violin . . . Whatever—have fun with your little surprise. Enjoy your little moment of power. People are, like, so over it already.”

She turned on her heel and marched off.

“Man,” Ivy said. “Is it me or is she just getting meaner?”

I sighed. “It’s getting pretty bad,” I said. “She and Miko are pretty much not speaking.”

“Good,” Ivy said. “I’m sorry if that sounds harsh, but Miko’s way better than that. I don’t think Shelby’s a good friend for her.”

“I have to agree with that,” I said. “But that doesn’t mean ending the friendship doesn’t hurt.”

“Paulina, there he is!” squealed Tally as Benny Novak poked his head through the cafeteria doorway.

About twenty people were looking around to see who Tally was pointing at, but I didn’t care.

Benny Novak was my boyfriend, and his painting had made it into 4 Girls! At the moment, I didn’t care if the entire world knew it!

“Hey, guys, do you mind if—”

Ivy made a grand gesture, shooing me away. “Go,” she said. “Congratulate him for all of us. And leave my sandwich here.”

I laughed. “Thanks. Catch you guys later!”

He smiled when he saw me coming and ducked back into the hall.

“Hey,” I said. “I just this second found out. I can’t believe you—that painting was unbelievable!”

“I figured when I got Ivy’s e-mail you didn’t know yet,” he said, grinning.

“No, she just told me just now,” I said. “Let’s walk to our lockers—it’s too noisy in the cafeteria.”

“Okay, so you have to, like, tell me the brutal, honest truth about it,” Benny said, giving me an intent look.

Those eyes!

Get ahold of yourself, Paulina, I thought sternly.

“Benny, we picked you. Completely anonymously. Yours was absolutely and positively one of the best.”

“Okay, I get that,” he said, grabbing my arm. “But . . . oh man, I feel really stupid for even asking, but . . . I mean, were there a lot of submissions? Or did you get, like, seven, and you picked the best four, and the other three were all, like, crayon drawings of kittens and stuff?”

I laughed and shook my head.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all,” I said. “We got over twenty submissions. It took us over an hour—we went through each one. There’s probably a bunch of stuff I’m not supposed to tell you, but I will say this—as soon as we saw yours, everyone agreed it was one of the best—we thought that even before we’d seen the rest of them. Seriously. Benny, it’s a really great painting!”

Benny looked relieved. “Okay—don’t tell me anything else,” he said. “That’s all I wanted to know. I mean, I’ve never tried to do anything like that before. And I thought it might be good. And then I thought, Nah—it couldn’t be that easy!”

It was funny. Benny always seemed so confident to me. And I thought I knew every little thing about him. But it turned out he had worried just as much about our relationship as I had. And he worried that this incredible painting he’d done might not be that good—when it was just so amazingly obvious that it was great!

I guess everybody has doubts about themselves, I thought. The next time my Anxiety Blob took over, I had to remember that.

“But it was that easy,” I said to him.

He gave me a planet-tilting smile and slipped his arm through mine. “I guess sometimes things just are what they are,” he said. “Nice necklace, by the way.”

I gave him a planet-tilting smile right back.

“Well, thank you,” I said. “My boyfriend gave it to me.”