How to Outrun a Crocodile When Your Shoes Are Untied Page 3

  I wiped my eyes and looked longingly at the back of the room where Bella was partnered with Rachel, a girl who played field hockey. They looked like they were having fun.

  Just get through today, I told myself again. After your wish today, you and Liv will be partners for every project again. I glanced at the clock on the wall. Only a couple hours left!

  “Okay, what other essay questions do you think we should be worried about here?” I ignored Brooke’s comment and flipped to a fresh page in my notebook, skimming past my version of Mrs. Roca being chased by a walrus in the margins. She glared at me for a moment, popped a giant bubble of bright pink gum, and returned to look at her nails.

  Clearly asking her what she thought was the wrong way to approach this.

  “I’m thinking we should probably make sure we know about To Kill a Mockingbird,” I said, shaking my head at the fact that I was even trying. “Mrs. Roca spent a lot of time on that one, and with it being a classic and all…” I looked up to her for her reaction.

  Pop!

  “Whatever you say.” Her heavily mascaraed lashes dropped back down to her notebook, which was covered in notes from her and Ashley. I could also make out a bunch of cartoon flowers, with their wilted petals falling toward the bottom of the page. They were pretty good, actually.

  Guess I wasn’t the only doodler in the room.

  “I’m not happy about this either,” I said. “I know you’d much rather be working with Ashley.” I lowered my voice, so I didn’t catch her attention. “But we really need to do this. The exam is in less than two weeks. You want to pass, don’t you?”

  She raised one eyebrow into a cold arch, but the rest of her face stayed the same. I’d have to practice that move in the mirror, because it gave me chills. Her brown eyes slid behind me toward Ashley, who was too busy adjusting her boobs for maximum cleavageness to notice.

  “I think Mockingbird will definitely be on the exam,” she said softly, but kept the hard look in her eyes.

  I tried to hide my shock by clearing my throat. Was there a glitch in the matrix or something? Or had Brooke actually spoken to me without hurling an insult?

  Weird.

  I blinked, then flipped back in my notebook to our study notes from the start of the year. “She asked us to write about why the author would choose a young narrator…but she didn’t have that on the last test…” I looked up.

  “Is that supposed to be Ashley?” she piped up, grabbing my notebook before I could stop her. She flipped it over and inspected a sketch from my last class, her eyes narrowed.

  I was so dead meat. Why had I drawn Ashley as a dragon?! This was actual evidence that could be used against me. Mayday!

  “Ah,” I said, clearing my throat. “No, of course not.” I tried to keep the fear from my eyes. Sneerers can smell fear a mile away, like a shark smelling a drop of blood in the water.

  I winced as she tilted the notebook on its side, getting a closer look. “You’ve got her eyes right,” she said, biting her lip. “The tail is too long, I think. Maybe give her claws too,” she added, handing it back to me with a sly smile.

  Uhh…

  Brooke began scribbling notes with her lime-green pen. “Anyway, yeah. Mockingbird. That sounds about right.” She paused for a minute, underlining some words on her page. “I really need to pass this exam,” she breathed quietly, more to herself than me. Her shoulders slumped over her desk.

  I looked up from my page. “Not doing so hot?” It felt oddly nice to think that one of the Sneerers was failing something in life, even if it was only English. I tried not to show relief on my face as I flipped my incriminating sketch behind some pages.

  She grimaced, scrunching up her dainty nose. “Yeah, I didn’t pass the last test.” She reached down into her bag and pulled out a small pocket nail file in the shape of a sunflower. “Too many books on our list. And Ashley wanted us to fund-raise for the swim team, so I haven’t had time,” she mumbled. “Posters and stuff,” she said when I gave her a quizzical look. She began filing her nails, with her mouth pulled into a tight thin line.

  “Oh. That…sucks. Yeah, I think Mrs. Roca must think we’re all speed-reading robots,” I said absently, watching the quick, deliberate movements of the sunflower as she filed.

  “Why do you do it?” I blurted. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “I mean, you’re not even on the swim team. So why do you get stuck making posters?” I don’t know why I asked. I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

  Her glance darted to Ashley. “She’s dead set on raising the most money this year,” she said, shrugging. She stared down at her hands. “Her sister is, like, hard-core competitive.” She leaned closer to me. “Rebecca wins the fund-raiser prize every year.” She nodded secretively to me, like this should explain everything.

  “Huh,” I said. I’d never met this Brooke before. She seemed a lot smaller than usual. Deep inside, it made me sort of happy that Ashley didn’t feel good enough compared to her sister. But really, her sister was so much nicer, it seemed almost fair. Having a sister had to be better than a brother, I bet. Even if she was mean or competitive.

  “Hey,” I said, peering over at her fingers. Tiny flowers were painted on near her cuticles. “I really like your nail polish. You’re good at that.” My throat felt tight giving her a compliment.

  She smiled broadly, then looked back through her dark bangs to see if Ashley was watching. “Thanks. Whenever I get nervous, I file them. Or paint them. It sort of helps me”—she considered for a moment—“focus.”

  She flicked the file across her nail once more and held her hand out to inspect it. “Probably doesn’t help much.” She shrugged, straightening up. “So. What else do you think we should study?”

  The next forty-five minutes with Brooke belonged in some fantasy novel, because they sure as heck didn’t seem real. Although she never once really looked at me—or heaven forbid, cracked another smile—she actually helped make real study notes. She even said that I could get rid of the bags under my eyes with some cotton balls soaked in coffee. True, that’s sort of an insult wrapped in a snarky instructional, but it’s something.

  Strange Things about Girls That I Will Never Understand, Despite Being One

  1.How come some girls seem to intuitively know how to do their hair perfectly? Like Brooke, for example. She’s the only brunette in the Sneerers (which I think Ashley holds against her), but she always knows how to do her hair in those messy-but-perfect updos. If I tried that, I’d look like a microwaved scarecrow. Where do they learn this stuff? I barely have the ability to brush my teeth without stabbing myself in the face. Is there an online forum that can help me? YouTube?

  2.Likewise, the muffin top. Why can’t all girls have it, so we can level out the playing field? Not that I would wear thong underwear and have bright pink straps hanging out from my jeans like Ashley does, but a definitive lack-of-muffin-top would make things a lot easier. There must be a compromise here.

  3.Personalities. Sometimes I think that girls have two (or more) of them. Brooke around Ashley is worse than a moody hyena, but without Ashley she becomes almost…nice. Interesting even. But Ashley always seems the same: nasty as a badger. And from what I can tell, the only thing worse than being enemies with her is being friends with her. How do girls keep track of all this? And how can I make sure that Evil Brooke does not randomly show up while we’re knee-deep in study notes in English?

  The bell at the end of the day couldn’t ring soon enough. When it finally did, I made a mad dash for my locker, gathered my things, and powerwalked home before the buses were even pulling out of the parking lot. I didn’t care that you look like a dweeb when you powerwalk, with your elbows stuck out like you’re wearing swim floaties. I didn’t care that I was probably forgetting some homework under the robot mess in the bottom of my locker. And I really didn’t care that I almost slipped in a pile of dog
you-know-what on the sidewalk in my race home.

  All that mattered was that it was wish time.

  Having Liv home again would make all that stuff not matter.

  I bolted into the kitchen and rummaged around in the cabinet, searching for the package of chocolate cupcakes that I’d hidden from Daz, tucked behind the microwave. I clutched the package in my hand as I ran upstairs to my bedroom, sighing with relief when I saw the clock.

  Perfect timing.

  I unwrapped the crinkly foil and set the cupcake in front of me, ready to go. Already the relief was making me giddy.

  “This is going to work, Darwin!” I giggled at the shiny yellow eyes staring up at me and poked my finger through the metal bars of his cage. Charles Darwin is my African gray parrot, but I only call him his full name when he poops on my head and he’s in trouble. This happens more than I’d like to admit. We even have a teeny picture of the real Charles Darwin, all bearded and serious looking, stuck to his cage in case bird-Darwin is ever curious about his namesake.

  Darwin’s super smart and has been my friend for years, ever since Mom brought him home from a veterinarian she works with at the zoo. He can’t fly because of a wonky wing, but he sure can talk. I like to think he’s pretty happy here with us because I spoil him rotten with fruit and veggie treats. I also bring him up to my room every night so he doesn’t have to sleep in the empty living room by himself. It’s fun, even though sometimes it’s like having a feathery toddler over for a sleepover. Ooh! Liv and I could have summer sleepovers soon too!

  Clicking my laptop, I found Liv’s name and waited for her to answer. The smell of chocolate wafted to my nose, making my stomach growl.

  Riiiinnnnnngggg!

  I edged closer to my screen. I wonder what kind of cupcake Liv would have? Cupcakes must be easy to find there, right? Maybe they had weird New Zealandy flavors? I uncapped my lip gloss and slicked some on.

  Riiinnnnnnngggg!

  Grinning to myself, I imagined what life would be like once she was back home. We would have a whole summer to hang out. The last summer before eighth grade. It would be epic. Now where was she?

  Riiinnnnnnngggg!

  A white bubble popped up on my screen.

  We’re sorry. This user is not answering. Try again later?

  My jaw dropped. There had to be some sort of mistake. I clicked exit and started the program again. Glitches happen all the time. I ignored the menacing feeling in my gut. So long as we made our wish at the same time together, it would still be okay. There was plenty of my half-birthday left.

  But Liv didn’t answer the time after that.

  Or the time after that.

  Tears began to fill my eyes as I stared at my cupcake.

  “Hello?” I said to no one. The walls around me felt like they were squishing in closer and closer.

  “Talking to yourself, weirdo?” Daz popped into my room.

  I wiped my eyes hastily. “Get out of here! I’m talking to Liv!” I lowered my laptop screen, but kept it open just in case she showed up. It had been twenty minutes now. This didn’t make any sense. Liv is one of those people who shows up early to everything.

  Daz nodded. “Liv looks a lot different than I remember her. Much hairier.” He gestured to my desktop background, with one of Mom’s photos of her lions staring back at us. “Ooh, cupcakes,” he said, snatching the one in the wrapper. He offered a piece to the snake around his neck before wolfing it down.

  “Who said that was for you?” I exclaimed. “Why are you even here?” I looked sadly at the screen again. Still no Liv.

  Daz opened his eyes wide and did his best to look innocent. Which, given that he is my brother, is totally unbelievable and phony. Daz could be comatose and he still wouldn’t be innocent.

  He held up his hands. “Hey, I just got home and heard you babbling to yourself,” he said. “I figured I’d make sure you hadn’t lost your marbles.” He licked his lips, sending crumbs dropping to his shirt and bouncing off the snake’s pink-striped body.

  “It’s my half-birthday,” I said halfheartedly. The tears were coming back again, but I did my best to not blink them out. “We were…we were supposed to wish.” I pointed feebly to the screen. Why had she not shown up? It was becoming too real now. The disappointment felt like a heavy, smothering blanket over me.

  He perked up. “It’s your half-birthday? If it’s your half-birthday, that means it’s also my half-birthday. Happy half-birthday to us!” He grabbed the other cupcake in front of me and gulped it down in one disgusting bite. “Hey, don’t forget Mom said it’s our turn to do dishes tonight. Not it!” He bounded out into the hall before I could respond.

  I glared at my laptop. You’d think that being twins, we’d have something in common. But Daz is such an alien. What do you expect from someone named Daz? If he were at Hogwarts, he’d totally be a Slytherin, while I’d be stuck in Hufflepuff or the other one that nobody remembers.

  “Whatever,” I huffed. I opened up a new tab to start an e-mail.

  Dear Liv.

  No. That didn’t sound nearly serious enough. Why wasn’t she here right now so we could wish her home already?! I deleted the line and started again.

  HEY. It’s after school and I’m wondering where you are. I thought we had our cupcake wish planned? Are you okay? If you get this in time, find me tonight and we can still make our wish!

  I hit the send button hard.

  “BRAACK! WHATEVER!” Darwin squawked. His feathers bristled as he shook his wings out.

  Hello, my name is Ana, and I am completely, totally, and most definitely alone.

  chapter 4

  “Cheetahs are the only cats that can’t retract their claws.”

  —Animal Wisdom

  I wish I had claws. And not the fake kind from the drugstore either. But real ones. Then I could threaten Daz and anyone else who tries to ruin my day.

  When it was finally time for dinner that night, I felt like a flea on a grizzly. Completely small and overwhelmed. I still hadn’t heard from Liv, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t figure out what could be so important to keep her from our wish. Didn’t she want to come home?

  “Look, Ana! Look!”

  I stopped doodling a picture of a moldy cupcake and looked at Daz across the table. He had a pair of ancient iPod earbuds up his nose.

  “Now watch!” He hit play on the device and opened his mouth wide. Music began to play, the loud riffs of some angry punk band pumping out of his mouth like it was a radio.

  “Your mouth becomes a speaker! How cool is that?” His eyes shone with excitement as I glared at his open mouth. Sometimes, it was like he was four years younger instead of four minutes. There should be an exchange policy on brothers.

  “Hello, you two.” Mom sauntered in and sat at the table. She looked quizzically at Daz, who had stuck the buds back into his nose and was opening and closing his mouth like a guppy. She blinked and shook her head. She should—she made him.

  As usual, Mom was decked out in her safari gear. Don’t get me wrong, she’s actually seriously pretty with dirty blond hair and gray eyes. And even though she’s old, like forty, she only looks about thirty-five or so. At least she does when her hair is washed and not covered in some ridiculous safari hat. But, because of their work, both she and Dad look sort of weird. Picture an African safari guide, only with a zoo badge and handheld radios. My dad even has to carry a gun some days! So what if it’s a tranquilizer gun? Nobody has to know that.

  “What were your highs and lows today?” She looked at each of us with bright eyes.

  Daz spoke first. “My high was finding the lost treasure of Atlantis.” He grinned, ignoring Mom’s skeptical eyebrow. “And my low was losing it down a sewer. Now the world will never know, Mother. It will never know…” He shook his head mournfully.

  What a clown.

  �
��And you?” She turned to me.

  I swallowed thickly. “My low was having a special video chat with Liv, and…” I could barely say the words. “And she missed it.”

  Mom’s face softened. “That’s too bad, hun. I’m sure she didn’t mean it, and she’s got to be busy with the move. She’ll probably call you tomorrow,” she said, getting up to stir the bubbling pot of pasta sauce.

  Yeah. Too bad tomorrow would be too late for our awesome wish. I swear, if there were a place called Bright Side, my mother would be queen. Complete with a little crown of stars and glitter and happy unicorns of opportunity.

  “Hey, gang,” Dad said, shuffling into the kitchen. He threw his hat on the back of his chair and doled out our plates, followed by a handful of mismatched cutlery. That’s when the blast of a musical car horn made me practically jump out of my skin.

  “What the heck?” Daz said, scurrying from his chair to look out the front window. “Mom! Mom, come look!” he yelled, yanking back the curtains. Electric blue and red lights flashed through the window, sending streams of color along the wall.

  “Is that the police? Henry, go see what’s going on,” Mom said, looking stricken. Dad shoved his chair out from the table and headed for the front door.

  “No!” Daz yelled from the living room. “I think it’s…”

  I pushed him out of the way, trying to get a better look. A giant, Caribbean-blue RV trailer was parked outside our house, with steel drum music pumping through the speakers mounted on top. The words “Shep Foster’s Wild Across America Tour” were plastered to the side of the RV in hot pink lettering.

  “It can’t be,” I whispered. Fear choked my throat, and I had to clutch the curtain to stay upright. No, no, no, no, please, a million times no to this.

  Just then, the smoke alarm in the kitchen went off.

  “Jane!” Dad yelled from the door. “It’s Shep! It’s your father! And some woman!”