Stacey's Secret Friend Read online

  “I’ll give it a try,” she answered, setting her tray down on the end of our table.

  “Good. I’ll see you then.”

  “Okay. See you.”

  “Why didn’t you invite her to sit down?” Kristy asked when Tess was out of earshot.

  “I don’t know,” I replied. “There’s no room.”

  “We could have pulled over a chair,” Kristy insisted.

  “I don’t really know her that well,” I said defensively. Now that I thought about it, I should have invited her to sit with us. I looked around the cafeteria. Oh, good, I thought. She’d found a seat with Barbara.

  “I thought her outfit was sort of cute,” Mary Anne commented.

  Kristy rolled her eyes. “Are you serious? Well, I suppose there’s nothing wrong with being unique.”

  “Of course not,” I said, “but Tess’s uniqueness is making her the target of mean jokes.”

  Abby nodded. “In homeroom this morning, a girl called her Swine-heart right to her face.”

  “Oh, no!” Mary Anne gasped. “What did she do?”

  “She just corrected her. ‘It’s Swinhart,’ she said, calm as anything. I don’t think she understood that it was an insult.”

  “She never gets the insults,” I put in, shaking my head in bewilderment. How could she be so unaware of what was going on?

  “That’s good. Maybe she never will catch on,” Mary Anne said hopefully.

  “I don’t know,” said Kristy. “Eventually she’s going to realize what’s happening.”

  “That’s what I’ve been trying to say!” I told them. “When she does realize, her feelings are going to be hurt. I just want to help her before that happens.”

  “Then why didn’t you ask her to sit down?” Kristy asked again.

  “I didn’t because I didn’t,” I snapped, suddenly irritated. “Let’s talk about something else.”

  After school that day, I was sitting in the classroom where the Pep Squad meets when Tess came to the door. That idiot Clarence King was talking to her again. She stood in the open doorway listening to him, an interested expression on her face. He wore a rudely smirking smile.

  Why didn’t he just leave her alone? I really can’t understand people who go out of their way to be cruel. I absolutely don’t get it.

  Barbara slid through the doorway and slipped into the desk behind me. “Is Clarence being nice to Tess?” she asked me.

  I shook my head. “He’s making fun of her. He keeps calling her Babe.”

  Barbara cringed. “I’ve been hearing those pig jokes all over school. Someone showed me a Swine-heart the Destroyer comic book today. I think Alan Gray put it together, but now lots of kids are adding strips of their own, like it’s an ongoing story.”

  “Those kids should get a life,” I grumbled.

  “Definitely.”

  Tess came in and sat near Barbara and me. She looked happy. I began to feel worried. “Hi, Tess. What’s up?” I asked.

  “I just had the nicest conversation,” she said.

  I moaned. “With Clarence?”

  “He hates being called that. He said to call him King.”

  “He would. That guy is in love with himself. It’s like that expression — he’s a legend in his own mind.”

  A look of annoyance came over Tess’s face. “He doesn’t seem so awful. In fact, he seems pretty friendly.”

  “Clarence? Are you sure?” Barbara asked gently.

  “Yes.”

  “How can you stand being called Babe?” I cried. I was bursting to explain the reference to her, to tell her that it was even more insulting than it seemed. But how could I? To explain about Babe being a movie pig would mean telling her about all the pig jokes. I simply couldn’t do it.

  “I asked him not to call me that anymore,” Tess said. “He promised not to.”

  “Well … good,” I said skeptically. I hoped it was good. On the other hand, if Clarence didn’t call her Babe anymore, he might come up with something even worse.

  The meeting began. We discussed our first big football game, which was in a couple of days. It was an away game, but buses would be provided.

  “I want to make a suggestion,” said a boy named Jeff Cummings. “I think we should change the SMS mascot.”

  “No way!” I cried. “We’re almost finished making the jaguar. We’ve worked really hard on it.”

  “Change it for next year, then,” Jeff replied. “I don’t think a jaguar is much fun. We need something better.”

  “Like what?” asked Erica Blumberg.

  “I was thinking of an aardvark,” Jeff said.

  “Oh, that’s tons of fun,” said Cokie Mason.

  “I don’t know. Does anyone else have an idea?” Jeff asked.

  “Why don’t we take suggestions?” Barbara said. “Everyone write down an idea and pass the papers forward. We’ll see how they look.” Kids scrambled for paper and began writing immediately.

  Personally, I liked the jaguar. If I could be any animal it would be a lion or a panther — and a jaguar was pretty close.

  I wrote panther on my paper. I didn’t want to be stubborn about the jaguar. Besides, that way, all we’d have to do next year would be to paint the jaguar black.

  I handed my paper to Barbara. “What did you write?” I asked Tess.

  “Nothing,” Tess said in a disinterested voice.

  “Why not?”

  “What for? Who cares what the mascot is?” she answered. “Do you care?”

  “Well …” I considered the question. “Not a lot. It’s just part of the fun of the whole thing.”

  “Different people find different things fun, I suppose,” she said.

  Barbara sat at her desk and flipped through the suggested responses. Curious, I leaned over her shoulder. The first four were: unicorn, dragon, moose, and raccoon. Someone suggested a Martian. Then Barbara flipped to a paper on which someone had written “Tess.”

  How mean!

  Barbara met my gaze and her eyes flashed angrily.

  The next paper said “Swine-heart the Destroyer.” Barbara quickly flipped past it. Among the other suggestions, Tess’s name came up three more times. My eyes darted around the classroom as I tried to figure out who had done this.

  Cokie, for sure. And possibly her best friend, Grace Blume. Todd Long and Brent Jensen were also possibilities. They were pals with Clarence King.

  “Read them,” Erica Blumberg said.

  Barbara read a few, leaving out the ones that said “Tess,” of course. She did read “pig,” though, and a wave of snickering laughter rippled through the group.

  “Well?” Barbara said to the group.

  “We should vote on it,” Jeff suggested.

  “I have an idea,” Barbara said. “Why don’t we see if everyone in school can vote on it? We could do it during halftime at the game.”

  There was a general murmur of consent. Everyone seemed to think this was a good idea.

  “Speaking of the game, let’s go through the fight song we’re going to lead,” Jeff suggested.

  Tess slumped in her desk seat as if this were the most torturous thing she’d ever heard of.

  “Come on, it’s fun,” I said.

  Tess just buried her face in her hands. “I thought we were going to work on the jaguar,” she mumbled.

  “We can do that tomorrow.”

  Tess groaned loudly.

  How was she ever going to make friends if this was her attitude? I couldn’t help her if she didn’t do anything to help herself.

  Jeff turned to me. “Stacey, did you photocopy the words?” I’d volunteered to make the copies at the last meeting.

  “They’re in my pack,” I told him. I took the stack of lyrics from my pack and handed them out, saving the last three sheets for Barbara, Tess, and me. I walked back to them in time to hear Tess telling Barbara about her old school. “I liked it much better than SMS,” she said. “The kids were more … I don’t know how to say it …
more sophisticated, perhaps. Not so uptight.”

  Barbara nodded.

  I rolled my eyes. Tess didn’t seem to have a clue about how to be likable.

  Tess didn’t even try to sing the fight song. Her bored expression told the world that she wanted no part of what was going on.

  At the end of the meeting, Claudia came by. She’d finished with Art Club, and we were going to walk home together. I resolved to try one last time to give Tess a helpful hint, to make her look better and fit in better.

  I introduced Claudia to Tess, who smiled quickly.

  “What a smile! Tess has the best smile,” I said to Claudia. “You really do, Tess. Only no one ever gets to see it. You should smile more. You look so attractive when you smile. Doesn’t she, Claudia?”

  “Sure, yeah,” Claudia agreed, looking uncomfortable.

  “Thanks,” Tess muttered.

  “Well, ’bye,” I said to Tess. “See you tomorrow.”

  Claudia and I began walking toward the doors. “Should we have asked her to walk with us?” Claudia asked.

  “No,” I said. “She lives in the other direction.”

  “Uh … Stacey … don’t take offense, but I think you went overboard with that smile business. Why don’t you just let her be herself?”

  I stopped and faced Claudia. “Because herself is a disaster!” I cried. “Kids suggested her as the school mascot! Clarence King is acting as if he’s interested in her, but really he’s just making fun of her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course. Kids are making insulting comic books about her. When she finds out what’s going on, it’ll be horrible. Claudia, the girl needs help. She needs to work on her image if she wants to make friends.”

  “I suppose, but are you sure you’re helping her?” Claudia said.

  “Positive,” I insisted.

  On Thursday, while I was being frustrated by Tess’s lack of pep, Mallory and Jessi sat for the Pike kids. Since there were four kids to watch, we arranged for two sitters. (The triplets, her ten-year-old brothers, weren’t there that day.)

  Mal’s and Jessi’s jaws fell open when Nicky strutted down the stairs. His hair was slicked back, and he was wearing sunglasses … and sporting enormous biceps muscles under a football jersey. His expression was completely serious — so serious, Mal told me later, that it was funny.

  “What happened to you?” Mallory sputtered, trying not to laugh.

  He turned to her but didn’t answer. Instead, he smoothed back his hair, which shattered Mallory’s self-control. She collapsed onto the couch with laughter. “Are you trying to look tough?” she asked when she’d caught her breath.

  “I don’t look tough, I am tough,” he growled.

  “Oh, come on, Nicky,” said Jessi. “What’s going on? Are you in a play or something?”

  “I never play,” he replied. “I always mean business.”

  “Oh, give me a break!” Mallory cried. She tweaked his muscles and heard the sound of paper rustling. “You’re not fooling anyone with those.”

  Nicky made a face at Mallory just as the phone rang. He lunged across the room for it. “Hello?” He listened and nodded. “Are you on the cellular phone? What is your location at the present time?” More nodding. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “You’ll meet who where?” Mallory demanded as Nicky hung up the phone.

  “Jackie,” he replied, grumpily pulling wads of paper towels from the neck of his shirt. “We’re going to play a game of football on the playground with a bunch of kids.”

  Vanessa Pike, Mallory’s nine-year-old sister, came into the room. “Football is fun if you like to run,” she sang out. Vanessa wants to be a poet and tries to rhyme everything she says.

  “Football!” cried Margo Pike (who’s seven) as she came down the stairs. “Who’s playing football? I want to play.”

  “No girls,” Nicky told her, scowling. “It’s a touch football game.”

  “No girls? That’s silly. Why don’t we all go together?” Mallory suggested. “I’ll get Claire ready.” Claire, who’s five, is the youngest Pike.

  “Ah, come on,” Nicky groaned. “Claire isn’t going to play, is she?”

  “She can watch with Mallory and me,” Jessi told him firmly.

  Vanessa studied Nicky for a moment. “What’s with the shades?” she asked, laughter in her voice. “And the hairdo?”

  “Nothing!” Nicky snapped as he stormed out the front door.

  “Don’t leave without us!” Mallory called after him. She found Claire in the rec room and helped her get ready to go. Together, Jessi and the Pikes hiked over to Stoneybrook Elementary School. Nicky walked ahead of them, trying to pretend he wasn’t part of the group. “What is his problem?” Mallory said to Jessi.

  “Beats me,” Jessi replied.

  A block from school, Mallory saw a kid’s hand dart out from behind a tree and grab Nicky, yanking him back behind the thick trunk. Alarmed, Mallory sprinted ahead.

  “All three of them are there,” she heard a familiar voice say excitedly. Looking around the tree, she saw Jackie.

  “Hi, guys,” she said. “What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” both boys answered at once.

  She eyed them skeptically. “All right. Let’s go to the game.” Jackie and Nicky continued walking ahead of the group. When they reached the school, the game was just starting. Nicky and Jackie ran onto the field, joining the same side.

  The rest of the Pike kids, except for Claire and Mallory, joined the game. As Mal and Jessi watched, they slowly became aware of something odd. Nicky never left Jackie’s side. Wherever Jackie ran, Nicky ran too.

  “What’s he doing?” Jessi asked.

  Mallory shrugged. She realized that Nicky was being too rough with anyone who came near Jackie, even when Jackie didn’t have the ball.

  “Hey!” yelled a boy with buzz-cut blond hair. Nicky had pushed him back hard as he ran alongside Jackie.

  Now Nicky spread his legs wide and balled his hands into fists. The other boy did the same.

  “Hold it!” Mallory shouted. “Time-out!”

  The entire game stopped. All the players looked at her as she marched across the grass and grabbed Nicky’s arm. “He’s sorry,” she told the blond boy. Then she steered Nicky off the playing field. “That’s not like you,” she said. “Why did you push that kid?”

  Nicky folded his arms stubbornly. “Because … he bugged me.” He glanced back at the field, but the blond boy had returned to the game and was no longer paying attention to him.

  Mallory knew Nicky wasn’t telling the truth, but she tried to remain patient with him. “Tell me what’s going on,” she said firmly.

  “I did,” Nicky insisted.

  Jackie joined them. He stood there, panting. “That was a close one,” he said to Nicky.

  “What was a close one?” Mallory asked, completely exasperated now. “I didn’t see any close one!”

  Nicky and Jackie simply gazed at her with maddening silence. “All right, Nicky. You’re sidelined. You’re not playing until you tell me what’s going on.”

  Glowering at Mallory, Nicky dropped to the ground and sat there, cross-legged. Jackie did the same.

  “You can play, Jackie,” Mallory told him. “I can’t ground you.”

  “It’s okay,” Jackie replied. “I don’t want to play without Nicky.”

  The boys sat out the rest of the game, until Mrs. Rodowsky arrived to pick up Jackie. “See you tomorrow,” he told Nicky as he brushed grass from his jeans. “I’ll meet you on Slate Street.”

  “Check,” Nicky said.

  Mallory watched Jackie run to the Rodowskys’ car. She didn’t like the feel of whatever was going on. Someone was going to get hurt, and she had the troubling sense it would be Nicky or Jackie.

  Hurray, I thought that Friday when I saw Tess coming down the hall. She wasn’t in pink, or pink plaid, or pink daisies, or any form of pink whatsoever. She was actually in blue!


  Her outfit wasn’t too bad either — nice jeans and a dusty-blue sweatshirt. At least her clothing didn’t lend itself to more pig jokes. As she came closer to my locker, I saw that she’d spiked her hair and even had on pale, icy pink lipstick.

  “Hi! You look great today,” I greeted her sincerely.

  “I decided to try some of your suggestions,” she said, looking slightly embarrassed. “I look okay?”

  “Excellent.”

  She leaned against the locker beside mine, looking as if she wanted to talk about something but didn’t know how to start.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “Yesterday, as I was leaving the meeting,” she began slowly. She hesitated again.

  “What?” I said softly.

  “Someone oinked at me as I walked by.” She spoke quickly now. “At first I thought he just burped or something, but then he did it a second time and it was a definite oink.”

  I drew in a sharp breath. This was just what I’d been afraid of. “Who was it?”

  “A boy. I didn’t know his name. Does oinking mean something at this school?”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I had no idea what to say.

  “I thought maybe it was because I was wearing pink. Could that be it?” she asked. “Is there some unwritten law about what colors are cool? There are so many strange ideas around here about what’s cool and what’s not.”

  Once again, she hadn’t quite gotten the insult.

  “Who knows, with a weirdo like that,” I replied. “But maybe pink isn’t your best color.”

  “I love pink,” Tess said. She seemed alarmed at the idea that she might not look good in it. “I have so much pink stuff. I like the way I look in pink.”

  No kidding, I thought. “The blue really brings out the blue in your eyes, though,” I said, which was true.

  “Oh, no, that’s probably because I have mascara on,” she said. “I hate the way it feels.”

  “You can’t feel mascara.”

  “I can. My eyes itch and my eyelashes feel sticky.”

  “How can you feel your eyelashes?” Tess looked so much better with the mascara that I wanted to encourage her to keep wearing it.

  She shrugged. “I feel them.” Suddenly she pulled herself up straight and paid attention to something down the hall. Following her gaze, I saw Clarence King coming toward us. I glanced back at Tess. She didn’t look exactly in love, but she was definitely interested in Clarence.