How to Outrun a Crocodile When Your Shoes Are Untied Page 2

  PHYLUM: Tennis Gods; Dimpled Carnivora (LOOK AT HIS DIMPLES!)—targeted crush of Sneerer Clan Apex: Ashley

  WEIGHT: Just. Right.

  NATURAL HABITAT: Unclear; species has never been seen outside of school habitat. Always has tennis ball in hand, so can probably be found at tennis courts.

  FEEDS ON: Sports, video games, and Thursday ravioli at the caf.

  LIFE SPAN: Not long enough.

  HANDLING TECHNIQUE: I wish.

  *NOTE* ZACKARDIA PERFECTICUS IS KNOWN TO APPEAR OUT OF NOWHERE. ENSURE PROPER HYGIENE AND HAIR CARE TO MINIMIZE EMBARRASSMENT FROM RANDOM ENCOUNTERS. ALSO, LIP GLOSS.

  “Hey!” I cleared my throat. Did I just yell that? “Hey, Zack. Nice weather we’re having, hmm?”

  I actually said that. I wanted to tear out my vocal chords with a pen. I stepped aside so he could get into his locker, which was serendipitously placed beside mine.

  I couldn’t decide whether it was good or bad luck yet.

  Given the last thirty seconds, bad.

  Zack was the type of guy that should come with a warning label: Do not look at if you are operating heavy machinery, walking, or trying not to make a complete fool of yourself. Once, Liv caught me doodling a cartoon of Zack looking up at me on a balcony, Romeo and Juliet style. I even drew him holding flowers. That’s how pathetically sad and insane it makes me having Zack pop up at a moment’s notice.

  Not only was he seriously the cutest guy in school, Zack was also a tennis star. Girls who couldn’t even spell tennis showed up to his games. He also had the ability to make me stutter, a development I’ve noticed since the summer sun had given his hair a decidedly beachy look.

  Mmm.

  He slid a textbook into his locker with a thud, jerking me from my little daydream. Apparently if Zack is around, I have the attention span of a gnat. I stood there gaping at him, digging around in my head for the perfect, witty thing to say.

  “Uh…” was all I came up with.

  That’s when I heard a high-pitched voice coming from down the hall. I wished for the hundredth time that I was invisible as I peeked past Zack.

  The Sneerers.

  Three girls swayed their hips as they walked in their usual line formation. They each had on black skirts with a loose tank top clinging at their hips, each in a different color. I don’t know how they managed it, but they always seemed to walk like there was a soundtrack playing for them—only they were the only ones who could hear it.

  “Hey, Zack.” Ashley gave a flirty wave as she approached us. I ducked my head behind my locker door, hoping they wouldn’t notice me.

  Ashley, Brooke, and Rayna were the worst part of my day. Every day. You know how some girls you’re friends with earlier in school, say, first grade, but then something happens and they start hating on you for no reason?

  Yeah. Ashley is nothing like that. We’ve never been friends. She’s always hated me, and she loves to feel like she’s super mature. She even wears a matching set of earrings and a necklace, which (as she told us a bazillion times) her mother got her when she got her first bra. Because of this (the attitude, the pearl earrings, and the solid B cup), I’ve always avoided her like a school-borne plague. Tweedledee and Tweedledum stick with her like those little scavenger fish around a shark, eager to get a bite of popularity from her. Actually, Ashley would make a pretty good shark because she’s even on the swim team with Rayna. I can’t imagine anyone that would voluntarily put on a Speedo under those nasty lights, but they seem to have some sort of supergene that makes their blond hair not turn green with all that chlorine. Brooke moved here a year or so ago, so she’s currently the lowest rank on Team Sneerer.

  CREATURE FILE

  SPECIES NAME: Ashleydae Reignus

  KINGDOM: Junior High

  PHYLUM: Carnivora; Swim Team Goddesses

  WEIGHT: I don’t know, but they get full after two bites of sushi.

  NATURAL HABITAT: The mall, but only the parts that are backlit with pink lighting.

  FEEDS ON: The souls and pain of the weak, waterproof mascara, organic food, and Teen Vogue; also, my misfortune.

  LIFE SPAN: Most witches and monsters in fairytales seek immortality, so…

  HANDLING TECHNIQUE: AVOID AT ALL COSTS.

  *NOTE* SPECIES RAYNAA PONTIFICUS AND BROOKENZI SNEEROFIDUS HAVE BEEN FOUND TO BE GENETIC CLONES OF SPECIES NOTED ABOVE.

  “Hey, Scales.” Ashley’s voice dripped with sweetness. You could tell she was aware that Zack was listening by the way her eyes flitted to him every four seconds—such a shark. She swept a lock of blond hair from her eyes. The silver on her earrings twinkled in the light. “I hope there aren’t any bugs in your pants today. Must be hard without Liv around to do your hair for you, huh?” She twirled her hair around her fingertip and eyed my ponytail with fake sympathy.

  Seriously, ever since my idiot brother let slip that I was named after a snake—an anaconda to be precise—I hadn’t heard the end of it. And the whole bug thing—so I accidentally left the house with a pocket full of crickets after feeding some of Daz’s snakes. One time. Four years ago. If it hadn’t been so mortifying, it would have been funny; they started chirping during Mr. Dixon’s grammar lecture, and it sounded exactly like a movie where everybody gets bored. Usually the Sneerers had to face Liv whenever they made fun of me, but now? I am basically target practice.

  “Hey, Ashley, did you know that some perfumes are made with whale vomit? Maybe you want to go a little easy on the spritzing tomorrow?”

  I so wish I’d said that, but the voice belonged to someone else.

  I swiveled around wide-eyed to see who had the guts to talk back to Ashley. A tall girl in red warm-up pants was half jogging toward us.

  Rebecca!

  I gulped and kept my eyes forward, not wanting to make eye contact. Rebecca was Ashley’s older sister, and being in eighth grade, she was even more popular (and therefore scarier) than anyone our age in seventh. But she did it without being a kraken. Although it was sort of cool to see someone take a dig at Ashley. How could a nice girl like Rebecca be sisters with Ashley?

  “Why don’t you shut up, Becca?” Ashley spat at her sister.

  Rebecca ignored her and smirked at me. My cheeks burned at the attention. “Ignore her. She’s just miffed I beat her time at practice this morning, again. Aren’t you, kiddo?” Rebecca reached out and punched Ashley playfully on the arm before sauntering away to her friends.

  See? Some people seem to ooze confidence all over the place. Whereas the only thing I oozed was a bit of prickly sweat under my arms when I was nervous. Which was almost all the time.

  I bit my tongue, unable to hide my smile. I guess sometimes the best way to deal with mean ones was to be mean right back? Of course, the thought of saying anything like that to Ashley made me want to lose my breakfast.

  Ashley’s perfectly stained lips pressed thin, and her face shifted to a grim mask of anger. She makes that face a lot, and it always makes me think her skin is going to melt off and reveal a metal robot skull and a flickering, short-circuited eyeball. I could see it.

  She glared at me. “Whatever, geek. Smile all you want, but we’ll see how happy you are in English class,” she said, puffing up her chest. “I just talked to Mrs. Roca, and she said I could switch my talk with yours. So you’ll be talking today, instead of the end of the week,” she cooed. “She mentioned something about you putting it off long enough? You’re welcome.” Ashley’s eyes were wide with phony innocence.

  My stomach plummeted to the floor. I swear, the devil must take lessons from Ashley. Now what was I going to do?! Two minutes, two minutes…how could I avoid stage fright puking with such short notice?!

  She turned on her heels and stomped away. Her two minions followed but not before Rayna gave me the Look. The Look is the Sneerers’ specialty, where they raise one eyebrow and make you (the target) feel
as dumb/ugly/worthless as possible. They’re really good at it. Sometimes it comes with a patented lip curl too.

  As the Sneerers stormed off, Brooke nearly bulldozed straight into Bella, a tiny girl in our grade who always darted to class like a field mouse with her head stuck in a book. Her short, pixieish hair popped above the pages as Ashley yelled, “Walk much, Brooke?” Shoving her friend, she glared at Bella. “Look out, freak.” She waved her hand dismissively, like she was swatting away flies instead of the awkward girl in front of her. Poor Bella.

  I peeked up trying to give her a smile, but she bowed her head back into her book and flitted around the corner, away from the Sneerers.

  “Woo! She’s looking rather hot today, don’t you think, Kev? How come you don’t get yourself some nice clothes like that, Ana? Maybe you should spend more time primping and less time doodling in that notebook of yours,” Daz said from behind me, poking at my shoulder.

  CREATURE FILE

  SPECIES NAME: Daz Ridiculosis

  KINGDOM: Our house; third door on the left, with the skull and crossbones sign

  PHYLUM: Idiot (large phylum, mainly comprised of spikey-haired reptile lovers)

  WEIGHT: 120 pounds of sarcasm.

  NATURAL HABITAT: Behind closed doors doing God-knows-what; at the pet shop terrorizing crickets; with Kevin, his male equivalent of a BFF.

  FEEDS ON: Pizza, Kraft macaroni and cheese with ketchup (disgusting), music that is screamed rather than sung, anything with scales, scutes, or shells.

  LIFE SPAN: Much too long.

  HANDLING TECHNIQUE: Proceed with caution; Daz Ridiculosis can change temperament faster than a ticked-off Komodo.

  I narrowed my eyes and spun to face him, gripping my notebook tight. So typical of Daz to be a turd and kick me when I’m down. I know I’m no Picasso, but I don’t make fun of him for all the geeko things he does.

  Oh wait, I do.

  “Nobody asked you!” I hissed. There ought to be a law against brothers attending the same school as their sisters.

  Daz waggled an eyebrow with a crooked grin on his face. His best friend, Kevin, stood beside him, sketching something on a pad of yellow drafting paper. They were both wearing T-shirts and khaki shorts. Really, sometimes life seemed so much easier for guys. You didn’t see anybody mocking their clothes, did you? And their hair? Don’t even get me started—it’s like they get extra points for having bedhead.

  “What’s with them?” Kevin asked, looking up to watch Ashley sway down the hall. Even though he was best friends with Daz, Kevin was totally different from Daz. Mainly in that I can tolerate him. And unlike my brother, who clearly had a look of appreciation in his eyes at Ashley’s backside, Kevin seemed to watch her like she was some kind of science experiment.

  CREATURE FILE

  SPECIES NAME: Kevinidae Mechanogenius

  KINGDOM: Any place Daz is; the robot club; computer lab

  PHYLUM: Guys Who for Some Reason Think Daz Is Enjoyable Company and who Have Somewhat Nice Hair

  WEIGHT: Undetermined.

  NATURAL HABITAT: my kitchen (scarfing down Pizza Pops), the CERN lab (he wishes).

  FEEDS ON: Pizza Pops (see above), an inordinate amount of citrus, his thumbnail.

  LIFE SPAN: Despite über-nerd tendencies, he’s managed to survive quite well this far. (Why is that? What’s his secret?)

  HANDLING TECHNIQUE: Will do anything for a gift certificate to the GameStop.

  I shut my locker door and shook my head. “Welcome to the wonderful world of girls, Kev,” I said, forcing my tight frown away. Liv would never let Ashley get away with being a jerk to me. She always had the best comebacks and never seemed to even care when the Sneerers snarked at us. Honestly, sometimes she even laughed. Without her, I felt like I was alone on a dinghy in a great big ocean of piranhas.

  The anticipation of our wish buzzed inside me again. All I had to do was get through today.

  “Oh,” I said, yanking open my locker again. “You forgot your robot parts in my locker last week. Did you need them?” I pointed to the disembodied arms that littered the floor. Being a supersmart guy and all, Kevin was big into robots. They filled up his locker and even Daz’s, so sometimes when he needed extra space, I let him use mine. I liked to think it would buy me karma points if the robots ever became self-aware and went after us all.

  He frowned. “Sorry. I can pick them up tomorrow, once I clean mine up. Is that okay?” He gave me a sheepish look.

  I shrugged. “No problem. Not like they can do much harm when they don’t have bodies, right?” I snorted at my own joke and mentally cursed myself for being such a dweeb. But Kevin didn’t seem to notice.

  “Hey, Ana,” he said, his eyes lighting up. “I can make it up to you! Daz said you’re not doing so hot in math?”

  I shot a glare at Daz, who simply shrugged.

  “Ugh, yes,” I muttered. “I mean, ‘not so hot’ is an understatement. I’m failing.” The word tasted bitter in my mouth. “I don’t know what an integer is and don’t even get me started on common denominators.”

  I cringed as another wave of heat crawled over the back of my neck. I hated feeling stupid around Kevin.

  “You want some help? I’m pretty good at math,” Kevin said, chewing his thumbnail.

  I scoffed. I was surprised “pretty good” was even in Kevin’s vocabulary. “Nah, I’ll be okay,” I said. “I’ll figure it out. Somehow. Thanks though.” I gave him a smile, but it was hard to hide the panic that was lurking behind it. My life was crazy enough without inviting genius-boy Kevin in to inspect it.

  Growing List of Things I Will Never Understand about Boys

  1.How come none of them seem to ever worry about how they look? And yet, they all manage to look okay. Even Daz, a guy who spends exactly four minutes in the bathroom each morning and half of that is drawing on a fake mustache with Dad’s shaving cream and chasing me around the hallway. But girls still look at him when he walks into a room, and some girls even think he’s cute. Gross.

  2.Kevin. Pretty much everything about him. The weird thing is, I used to think I understood everything about Kevin. He likes robots, and he’s way too smart; he never drinks milk from the carton, and he always checks with my mom before opening a new box of cereal or crackers. But lately? Something seems different about him. You know those kooky Magic Eye things that reveal a secret picture when you stare at them in just the right way? Kevin seems like that, only I have no idea what the secret picture is. And there’s no way I’m going to stare at him to find out.

  3.Groups of boys. When groups of girls get together, we mostly talk about school or boys or books, or pretty much anything else on the planet. But when BOYS get together, it seems like things get grosser and grosser. I heard Daz talking with a group of guys at school once and it was all boogers, farts, and scabs. If girls only saw guys in groups, nobody would have a crush on any of them, ever.

  chapter 3

  “Chameleons have special cells in their skin that can change color, depending on light, temperature, and their emotional mood.”

  —Animal Wisdom

  If only I had special cells that could turn me invisible in English class, because I am SO not in the mood for this.

  “And finally,” I said, sneaking one last look at the sweaty notes on my palm, “Harry Houdini died when he was fifty-two, from a ruptured, um, appendix,” I said. I stared at the back of the room, doing my best to ignore Ashley’s snarky giggles from the sidelines.

  Is there any better way to start an English class than by feeling like you’re going to lose your Froot Loops all over the first row? After the longest two minutes of my life, I scrambled back to my desk as Mrs. Roca, our English teacher, nodded. “Thank you, Ana. Next time, when you find yourself wanting to say ‘um,’ take a breath instead.” She smiled at me.

  Please. If I knew I was going to say “um” ahead of tim
e, doesn’t she think I would just, oh, I don’t know, NOT say it? I was just happy it was over. I could still hear my heart banging away in my eardrums. There was nothing worse than being on display at the front of the room. What I didn’t know was that Mrs. Roca’s plan for the rest of class included the two worst words a student can hear: assigned partners.

  She looked up over her glasses. “For the rest of the period, I’m going to partner you up so you can make your study list for your final exam. You can take today to catch up on any material you’ve missed, but starting tomorrow, your partner is your best friend here.” She toyed with the thick African beads around her neck. Mrs. Roca is such a weirdo. She eats blue Jell-O every day at exactly 9:43 and always pronounces my name like “Ah-na,” instead of plain old Ana, even though I’ve told her a bazillion times how to say it the right way.

  My stomach began to knot. Liv was always my partner, but she wasn’t here. This was going to be terrible. For once, I wished Daz was in this class so I could at least partner with him. I searched the back of the room for Bella. Maybe we could partner? Mrs. Roca read off the partners, and we waited, ready for the executioner’s ax.

  “Ms. Wright,” she finally said. “You will partner with Ms. Evans.” She pointed to the stone-cold face that was eyeing me from the side of the room.

  Brooke. Ashley’s third in command. Also known as Orange-You-Glad-I-Self-Tanned Evans. She glared at me warily, and then very slowly began to shake her head back and forth. I felt a thousand imaginary spiders crawling all over me. I was toast.

  Ashley made a disgusted sound behind her but clammed up fast when Mrs. Roca paired her with Mark, one of Zack’s best friends.

  Honestly, sometimes I think teachers are mean for the sake of being mean.

  “What crawled into your cave and died, Scales? You look more disheveled than normal.” Brooke settled in across from my desk a few minutes later, with her arms crossed over her chest. I knew she didn’t mean it as anything but an insult, but the fact that Brooke noticed how terrible I looked stung pretty hard. Normally she doesn’t notice anybody that isn’t…her.