Fabulous Five 003 - The Popularity Trap (4 page)

After dinner Christie moped around her room and tried to get
ready for the next day at school. She placed the stickers for the lockers in
her backpack along with her books and Melanie's notes for her interview with
Curtis. She didn't feel like studying while she waited for Jon to come for the
first tutoring session, so she opened a magazine and there, facing up at her
like some kind of magic, was an advertisement for a Hawaiian vacation. Wouldn't
it be great to go to an island in the South Pacific and do nothing?

The thought brought a smile to her face. What if she were
stranded on a South Sea island with Jon Smith? Wouldn't that be great? They
could lie in the sun and swim and do exactly what they wanted to. It made her
feel dreamy. It would be nice if there was a Bumpers on the island so they
could eat hamburgers instead of yucky fish. She giggled, but then her smile
faded. Fat chance, she thought. Right now Jon doesn't even like me.

"Christie, there's someone here to see you," her
father called.

She hadn't heard the door chimes, and she jumped up and
quickly ran a brush through her hair. She grabbed her math book, drew in a deep
breath, then walked into the living room. There, with her mother hovering
around him and her father grinning at him, stood Jon Smith, books under his arm
and looking totally miserable.

"We watch your mother on TV all the time," Mrs.
Winchell was saying.

"Since your father is a sports director, I was wondering
if he plays tennis?" asked her dad. "I'd like to talk to him about
Christie's game sometime."

Christie cringed. "Hi," she said, forcing a big
smile. This was definitely not the way to make friends with him. She guessed her
chances of their ever dating had just dropped to minus ten.

"Hello," he answered. He looked as if he would
rather be someplace else. Anyplace else. That South Sea island maybe, or even
the North Pole. But certainly not with her.

She led him into the kitchen. "I guess we'd better
study in here."

"It's up to you," he said coldly.

Christie shivered. This could turn out to be the worst
evening of her life.

Opening her book, she asked, "What chapter are you on?"

"The class is on chapter five. I'm on chapter one,"
he muttered without opening his own book.

"Well, why don't we look at your assignments. Maybe I
can tell where you need help."

He pulled out a rumpled sheaf of papers and shoved them
across the table toward her. They were filled with scrawled numbers, a lot of
which had been crossed out, and the margins were all marked up with doodles and
scribbles. He certainly had not had his mind on math when he did them.

Biting her lower lip, Christie sorted the papers in what
seemed to be the correct order. She didn't know what to say. She had always
been taught that you should preface criticism by saying something good, but she
couldn't see anything good about his homework. He hadn't even tried. Stalling
for time, Christie faked interest in some problems on one page, but it was no
use.

"I guess, maybe, we should start at the beginning,"
she said, drawing up her courage and trying to be businesslike.

"Whatever you say," he snapped.

Christie bristled. How dare he act as if she were the cause
of his troubles? She was tired and had people all over her wanting her to do
this and do that, and now he was acting as if she were helping him because she
had nothing else to do.

"Hey, look! I didn't ask for this job," she said
hotly. "I've got enough things to do without tutoring someone who doesn't
want to be helped." That should do it, she thought. He not only won't ask
me out, he'll be my enemy for life. He'll probably get up and walk right out of
here.

"Well, you don't have to look as if you're enjoying it
so much. How much money are my dad and mom paying you, anyway?"

Christie was stunned. "Paying me? I'm doing it because
Mr. Bell asked me to."

He looked at her with raised eyebrows. "Come on. Who
are you trying to kid? You're just like everybody else. You're doing it because
you want to be able to say you know Chip Smith and Marge Whitworth."

"Think whatever you want to," Christie huffed. "But
you heard Mr. Bell call me to his office. Believe it or not, I didn't know
anything about it before then."

He scowled at her again, and she could read his thoughts as
surely as if he were writing them down on paper. He still doesn't believe me,
and on top of that, he doesn't like me one bit. Well, so what! she thought as
anger and embarrassment flushed her face. He's so conceited that I don't like
him either.

"We'd better get to work," she said, struggling to
keep her composure. "The first thing you need to understand about
equations is that the sum of the items on both sides of the equal sign have to
be the same."

For the next hour Christie kept her eyes lowered, looking
only at the math book and not at Jon. She went through the examples in lesson
one and explained the principles behind them, trying as hard as she could to
keep her mind strictly on math and refusing to think about Jon's mistaken
opinion of her or how she'd blown any chance of his ever liking her. A couple
of times she asked if he understood what she was talking about, and he mumbled
something that she took as yes.

Finally the hour was over and Jon left without so much as a thank-you.
The instant he was gone she raced upstairs to her room, not turning on the
light but going to the window instead. In the glow of the streetlight she
watched Jon mount his bicycle and ride away down the quiet street. When he was
out of sight, she sighed and turned away. She couldn't remember when she had
felt so mixed up. Part of her was angry. How dare he accuse her of taking money
from his parents? Or them of bribing someone to help him, for that matter. But
another part of her felt sad. Jon was mad at the world, and he seemed
determined to take some of it out on her. She had hoped that they could at
least be friends, but now she could see that it would never happen.

"How did tutoring Jon go last night?" asked Jana
as she caught up with Christie at the gate to the school ground.

Christie made a face. "It started out terrible and went
downhill from there. He thought I had volunteered to tutor him just to meet his
famous parents and get my kicks telling the world he's stupid.
Which
—
by
the way—he isn't. I told him Mr. Bell talked me into it. But did he believe me?
Of course not!"

"It doesn't sound as if he asked you out."

"Are you kidding? He isn't even speaking to me.
Grunting now and then when I asked him if he understands a problem, but speaking
to me? Definitely not."

Jana looked at Christie sympathetically. "Gee. That's
too bad. When do you tutor him again?"

"Tonight, after supper, but
boy,
do I dread it.
I'm not sure I want to face him after last night."

"Listen, Christie. He's the one with the problem, not
you. You don't have anything to be embarrassed about."

Christie smiled gratefully at Jana. She was right, of
course, Christie told herself. She had daydreamed that he would be as much fun
to be with as he was cute, but that dream had been blown away for good last
night. But that wasn't going to make it any easier to tutor him again, just the
same.

"Did you bring your stickers?" asked Jana as they
hurried toward Melanie, Beth, and Katie, who were waiting for them at their
spot by the fence.

"Got 'em right here," Christie said, patting her
notebook.

"What took you guys so long?" asked Melanie. She
and the others had their arms full of the big orange posters. Melanie had on an
orange T-shirt; Beth, a pullover with orange stripes; Katie, orange ankle
warmers; Jana, an orange shirt; and Christie had found an orange scarf to wear
around her neck. They all wore stickers that said: VOTE FOR CHRISTIE WINCHELL—7TH-GRADE
CLASS PRESIDENT.

"So how was tutoring Jon Smith last night?" asked
Beth as they hurried toward the building.

Christie sighed and told her story all over again,
emphasizing how rude he had been.

"Wow. That's too bad," said Melanie. "Maybe
running for class president will help take your mind off of him."

Christie chuckled. Leave it to Melanie to think of my campaign
that way, she thought. And by the time the friends were scurrying through the
halls laughing and taping up the posters, her unhappy mood was gone.

Even though the walls were becoming cluttered with signs for
candidates from all the classes, Christie had to admit that hers were
attention-getters. The bright orange stood out against the soft beige walls and
contrasted with the other posters.

Next, each of them put stickers on all the locker doors they
had missed the day before and slapped new ones all over the doors of Laura
McCall's, Funny Hawthorne's, Tammy Lucero's, and Melissa McConnell's lockers
until they were nearly covered. Melanie put another sticker on Shane's and
Garrett Boldt's lockers, "for good measure," she explained. Then they
stuck them on drinking fountains, and Jana took a handful to put on the mirrors
in the girls' bathrooms.

"I wish I could see Laura's and her friends' faces when
they see their lockers," Beth said with a laugh when they were finished.

"She'll blow her stack," said Jana.

"I wonder if she'll make the others scrape them off,"
mused Katie. "You know she's supposed to make them do things to stay
friends with her."

"I'll bet she's got a whip that she uses on them,"
Beth added, pretending to snap a big whip like an animal trainer. They all
laughed and cowered in front of her as if she were using it on them.

"You know," said Christie. "I haven't seen
any posters for Melissa yet." It bothered her. She had expected The
Fantastic Foursome to be putting them up everywhere.

"You're right," answered Jana. "They've got
to be planning something. I wonder what?"

She looked quizzically at her friends, but they all shook
their heads.

Christie noticed Curtis Trowbridge sitting with Whitney
Larkin at a table near the door as she went into study hall. Christie frowned.
Whitney had gone to Copper Beach Elementary, but she didn't have very many
friends. Nobody liked her because she was an absolute genius, and she made
everybody uncomfortable by knowing the answers all the time. Not only that,
Whitney had skipped sixth grade this year and had gone straight from fifth to
junior high. Everybody said she was a baby.

"Hi, Curtis," said Christie, sitting down next to
him.

"Hi," he said, looking up and smiling. "Have
you met Whitney?"

They exchanged hellos, and Christie started to talk about
her platform, but Curtis broke in.

"You know, Whitney is a superb student. She's made all
A's every class she has ever been in, haven't you, Whitney?"

Whitney gave a little smile and nodded.

"That's nice. Curtis, I—"

"And she knows a great deal about computers, I might
add. As a matter of fact, she and I have started networking together."

That sounds really romantic, thought Christie, as she tried
to continue. "Curtis—"

"You wouldn't believe the software she and some of the
kids from Copper Beach have. Why, it's mind expanding."

Christie couldn't believe what she was hearing. Curtis
Trowbridge was raving over someone besides Jana Morgan. Curtis had had a crush
on Jana since third grade, and he used to follow her around like a little lost
puppy.

Christie looked at Whitney closer. While she wasn't in Taffy
Sinclair's or Laura McCall's league, she wasn't bad looking. Christie had to
admit that she looked just right for Curtis.

"Curtis!" Christie said firmly. "You asked me
about my platform for the election to put in the article you're writing for the
Sig,
and I want to give it to you."

"Oh, uh . . . yes. The platform. Do you have it written
out?"

"Here it is," she said, taking it from her notebook.

"Hmmm. Better food in the cafeteria. That would get you
votes except Melissa McConnell has that one, too. Stop running in the halls. I'll
bet Katie Shannon came up with that one. You'll lose Clarence Marshall's vote,
if you care. Hmmm. More dances, something for the populace. Probably Melanie's
idea, and more plays is Beth's. Hey, this is a good one. A costume for a school
mascot. Melissa doesn't have that one. Hers are mostly prissy things, like
getting rid of the gum tree. But don't forget, she's supposed to be a
perfectionist."

"Getting rid of the gum tree?" Christie said so
loudly that the study hall monitor frowned at her. "She can't do that. It's
a Wacko tradition."

Curtis shrugged. "She says it's messy, it's unsanitary,
and it's harmful to the tree. She wants a trash can with a plastic liner put by
the front door."

Christie made a face, thinking about how Mr. Bell objected
to chewing gum in the classroom and how the students had dubbed the tree beside
the front door to the school "the gum tree" and stuck their gum on
its bark every morning when the bell rang. "Leave it to Melissa," she
grumbled.

"You know there's not much difference in your
platforms," Curtis mused, looking down the list. "You'll get the Mark
Twain vote and Melissa will get the Riverfield vote, and that makes you just
about even. But why should someone like Whitney from Copper Beach vote for you?"

His question stopped Christie cold. She didn't know why
someone from Copper Beach should vote for her instead of Melissa, and she said
so.

"You've got to have something special to attract their
attention," he said. "I'll vote for you, but Whitney has introduced
me to a lot of kids who went to Copper Beach, and they don't care which one of
you is elected."

Christie darted a quick glance at Whitney, who raised her
head briefly from some problems she was working, gave Christie a vacant look,
and went back to what she was doing. Curtis is absolutely right, thought
Christie. Whoever gets the Copper Beach vote will win the election.

Christie was already at their table when the others came
into the cafeteria.

"Hey, why so glum?" asked Jana. "I've seen a
lot of kids looking at your posters."

"Yeah. But did you see the ones Melissa and her friends
put up? They're good, too." Christie had seen them all over the school.
The Fantastic Foursome must have put them up between classes. They were painted
the colors of the rainbow and stood out brightly.

"Well, I think ours are better," pouted Beth.

"Maybe so," said Christie. "But I was talking
to Curtis, and he said my platform isn't much different from Melissa's. He said
we'd both get the votes of the kids from our own elementary schools, but then
he asked why someone from Copper Beach would vote for me. He's been hanging
around Whitney Larkin and knows a lot of them. I didn't know what to say to
him. He's right, you know."

Gloom settled over The Fabulous Five as they thought about
what Christie had said.

"What are
they
doing now?" Jana asked,
looking toward the table where The Fantastic Foursome sat.

Laura and her friends had gotten up and were smiling their
biggest smiles as everyone in the cafeteria watched them head for the open
space near the serving line. The chatter of kids' talking faded as Laura,
Tammy, and Funny positioned themselves behind Melissa and stood quietly for a
moment. Then they burst into song.

"Melissa McConnell is the one for you.
She'll make things happen we tell you true.
If you want a president who'll be true blue
,
Vote for Melissa
, that's what you should do.

Vote for Melissa
, put her to the test.
Don't take a chance and please don't guess.
Vote for Melissa over all the rest.
Vote for Melissa if you care to
ELECT THE VERY BEST!"

They ended their performance down on one knee with their
arms open wide and big grins on their faces. The kids in the cafeteria went
wild and started cheering and applauding. Christie could hear Clarence Marshall
veiling, "RIGHT ON!" The noise went on for ten minutes before the
teachers could get them to quiet down.

Melissa smiled broadly at everyone in the room and waved as
if she were running for president of the United States.

Laura McCall was looking at The Fabulous Five, wearing a
knowing smile, as Curtis Trowbridge leaned over from the next table where he
was sitting with Whitney and some Copper Beach kids.

"Now that's different," he said, not even
bothering to conceal his enthusiasm. "It got everybody's attention."

"Be at my house after school," Jana said to her
friends with a look of grim determination on her face.