Me, My Elf & I Read online

  I guess I’m going to have act like an erdler. I look out at the swarm of kids passing by me. First of all, most of them frown instead of smile. I wipe the goofy grin off my face and replace it with a scowl. Also, a lot of them stomp around, full of attitude, instead of bouncing along happily like I do. I start walking again, but this time I drag my feet. Most of them look down at their feet or up over everyone’s heads, instead of into the faces of the people they pass. I drop my eyes to ground. I also notice that instead of saying “Hi! ” like a chirpy little bird when they see someone they know, these kids just nod and toss out a quick, deep “Hey” or “What up.” That’s what I’ll do when I see Timber.

  I round the corner toward my classroom, trudging along, glowering like a grouchy ogre. I’m working so hard on my erdler act that I don’t see who’s coming down the hall from the other direction until we both reach the doorway of our class at the same exact time. “Hey, Zeph!” Timber says brightly.

  The minute I look up into his gorgeous eyes and hear his happy voice, my mouth blossoms into a huge, silly grin and I nearly sing, “Oh hi, Timber!” like the biggest possible goob in the universe. What happened to the nod? The grunting “hey” noise I was going to make? The frown?

  “You okay? You looked like you were sick or something the way you were walking.”

  “No,” I say with an embarrassed laugh as we enter the room. “I’m fine.”

  I scan the seats. There are only two empty chairs and of course who’s sitting between them? Bella’s mangy lap dog who called me MooMoo. But Timber nods to her. “Hey, Chelsea,” he says.

  “What up,” she says back, then looks at me and raises one eyebrow but doesn’t speak.

  I look down at the ground and my cheeks grow warm. Does she know that something’s going on between Timber and me? Is it obvious by the way he said hello to me? Or what if nothing is actually going on between us and there’s nothing for her to know? Timber takes the seat on Chelsea’s left side. I have no choice but to slip into the other chair on her right.

  “How was your weekend?” Chelsea asks him.

  I stare hard at the top of my desk, straining to hear his answer over the other kids chatting.

  “Boring. Bella was upstate with her dad, so I just hung out.” Timber says nonchalantly. “So you know, nothing special.”

  When I hear him say this, I feel like someone punched me in the stomach. Then threw me off a bridge. Then ran over me with a truck. I want to die. Shrivel up and blow away like a little dried leaf. Nothing special? My eyes sting and my nose suddenly runs. He said his weekend was nothing special. I turn away and press my face into the sleeve of my tunic. My beautiful, stupid tunic. The one I wore for no reason except to look like a fool.

  I drag myself through the next three classes (looking like an erdler now without even trying) just marking time until lunch, when I can fall into Ari’s and Mercedes’s laps and fully lose it. I walk slowly, head down, trying not to cry when once again, I hear my name. Only this time when I look up, it’s Bella. I swear to the high heavens, I’m so surprised that my heart actually stops and I can feel my entire body go numb.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” she says.

  I’m sure there is terror in my eyes. Why is she looking for me? To kick the crap out of me for kissing her boyfriend, who thinks kissing me was nothing special? Wow, this day is not turning out how I’d hoped.

  “So listen.” Bella stands close to me. “You want to run lines today? I totally didn’t rehearse at all over the weekend.” She reaches out and lifts the hawk’s feather from my chest. “Cool. Is it real?”

  I’m flabbergasted! I don’t know what to do so I stammer, “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I’m serious.” She drops the feather. “I thought we were going to work on the audition together.”

  “But you said . . . I mean on the . . . you don’t even . . . ” That’s when I get it, finally. I can’t say anything about the blog or the fact that Bella doesn’t actually like me. It’s a secret and if I let her know that I know then she’ll change the password and everybody will hate me because everyone loves to read it.

  “What?” She lifts her chin and flips her hair over her shoulder.

  “Nothing,” I mutter.

  “So when’s your study hall? Who teaches it?” she asks.

  “Last period,” I tell her, still entirely bewildered. “Ms. Crane.”

  “No problem,” she says. “I’ll bail on my calc class and come find you. We can probably use one of the studios upstairs.”

  “But, but . . . ,” I say. I didn’t actually mean to agree to anything.

  “Don’t worry. Ms. Crane will totally let you out if I ask her.” A funny little electronic song plays and Bella snaps open her phone. “Gotta go,” she whispers to me, then says, “What up,” into the phone as she turns and saunters away.

  I hurry off to the cafeteria. I need Ari and Mercedes. I don’t understand a single thing that has happened to me today. I always thought the erdler world would be so much simpler than the elf world. I mean, it’s not as if mushrooms can talk here and people can make themselves disappear. It’s not as if anyone uses magic. Life inside the walls of this tiny erdler school is so much more complex than in the whole of Alverland. But I guess that’s the thing. If you don’t have special powers you have to find other ways to get what you want. And for erdlers, that means confusing your enemies, then stabbing them in the back when they least expect it.

  I’m almost running by the time I get to the cafeteria and I nearly knock over the three fairy girls as they come out the doors.

  “Zephyr! Oh my God.” Jilly, the fairy queen, pulls me into their tight little circle. I notice they’re all wearing long silk shirts with flowing sleeves, sort of like tunics. Jilly’s is bright blue, Rienna’s is white, and Darby’s is salmon-colored. Of course, they have their wings on, too.

  “We totally read what they wrote,” Jilly says in a low, serious voice.

  “Who?” I ask, distracted by looking over their heads for Ari and Mercedes.

  “You know who,” Rienna says, staring hard at me. “On the blog,” she whispers.

  A pang of fear goes through me. “About what?” I ask. “This weekend?”

  “Huh?” asks Darby. “What happened over the weekend?”

  “I heard Bella got arrested at a rave in Redhook,” Rienna says.

  “No, no. I’m talking about what they said about Zephyr’s clothes and the audition,” Jilly says, then turns to me. “Tell me you’ve read it.”

  “Oh just that,” I say, relieved.

  Rienna’s eyes open wide. “Wow,” she says, turning first to Jilly then Darby. “She doesn’t even care. How’s that possible?” Then she looks at me suspiciously. “Why don’t you care?”

  “No it’s not that . . .”

  “You’re absolutely right,” says Jilly. “I wouldn’t care either.”

  Darby laughs. “Get a grip, Jilly. Last year when Bella called you a goth lesbo vampire slut, you totally stopped wearing black and we all got wings.”

  “First of all, that doesn’t even make sense,” says Jilly. “How can you be a lesbo and a slut?”

  “A lesbian can be slutty,” Darby argues.

  “Whatever,” says Jilly. “But second, I didn’t stop being goth because of Bella.”

  “Yeah right,” says Rienna.

  “She just happened to say that right after we read A Midsummer Night’s Dream and I was ready for a change. The whole goth look is so over anyway,” Jilly insists.

  “It’s not over,” says Darby.

  “Then why aren’t you all gothed out anymore?” Jilly asks.

  I don’t want to get involved in their weird argument about when they became fairies, so I wave to them and slip out of the circle into the cafeteria. I quickly spot Mercedes and Ari hunched over Ari’s BlackBerry. I jog over to them and drop down on the floor. “You guys will never guess what happened now!” I moan.

  “This is so
cool, Zephyr. Check it out,” Ari says without even looking up at me.

  Mercedes is wiggling all around, smacking me on the arm, she’s so excited. I peer over her shoulder, certain that whatever’s on that itty-bitty screen is something terrible about me. “Ari’s band posted their song ‘Not Like You’ on YouTube like a month ago and then it started getting hits and today it got a featured video spot! Isn’t that slamming?” Mercy says.

  “What?” I’m really confused now.

  “His song is a featured video!” she repeats.

  “Oh,” I say, because obviously this is important. But actually I had no idea a regular person could even make a video or why you’d hang it on a tube so other people can hit it or why any of that is so exciting and how all of this relates to the BlackBerry. I squint at the screen anyway and can just make out Ari playing the piano. “That’s you,” I say, amazed.

  “Of course it’s me,” he says. “It’s my song.”

  “I can’t really hear it,” I say over the noise in the cafeteria. “But I’m sure it’s good.”

  “You don’t know what it is, do you?” Ari asks.

  “Honestly, no,” I admit.

  “Your dad’s on YouTube, Zephyr,” Ari says by way of explanation.

  “He’s on there?” I ask, pointing.

  “Everybody’s on here, Zephyr!” Ari snaps.

  “Am I?” I ask.

  Ari and Mercedes both stare at me, then look at each other. “This isn’t about you!” Mercedes tells me with no patience left in her voice.

  I feel terrible. I don’t want Ari to think I’m not excited for him, even if I don’t get it. “That’s great, Ari!” I say. “Can I see it?”

  He looks up and smiles. “Sure,” he says. “I’ll start it over.”

  Before he can hand the BlackBerry to me, the pixie stomps by. “Put it away, son,” she barks. “Or it’s mine.”

  “No problem.” Ari quickly stashes the BlackBerry in his bag.

  “What was that all about?” I ask, watching the pixie bumping through a crowd of kids, throwing elbows and ignoring any protests.

  “Not allowed,” Ari says. “Because God forbid any of us use technology that the teachers don’t understand.”

  Actually, I’m glad he had to put it away. “So you guys . . . ,” I say, hoping to turn the attention to me.

  “Featured spot!” Mercedes says to Ari. “That’s cold. GGJB’s gonna get like a million hits.”

  “Not a million,” Ari says, but I can tell by his little grin that he hopes it’s true.

  “Simon, Randy, and Paula are gonna call you. They’ll be begging you, ‘Ari Mendelbaum, please come on American Idol.’”

  Ari shakes his head. “I don’t know, though,” he says. “Maybe I should’ve posted something else. Did you see some of those comments? People were saying, ‘You suck,’ and ‘Give me a razor so I can slit my wrist.’”

  “People said that?” I ask.

  “Like two a-holes said that,” Mercedes says. “And they’re probably just jealous because they posted something that didn’t get featured. Anyway, everyone else was saying it’s great and they loved it. Plus, who cares. You’ve got a featured video, which means it’s definitely good.”

  The bell rings, sending everyone in a frenzy to gather their garbage and pick up their bags. I stand and follow Ari and Mercedes out the doors. My stomach gnaws at me since I didn’t eat, but then again, I don’t know if I could eat, I’m so upside down today. “What are you guys doing after school?” I ask.

  “I have to get together with my band,” Ari says, without looking at us. “We have to strategize how to make this whole YouTube thing work for us.”

  “And I have to babysit,” says Mercedes. “Can you believe that dookie? My abuela is going to the botanica for a coral shell reading, then she’ll come home with more of her crazy Santeria stuff and start burning a hundred candles to all the saints, praying for my poor lost soul. She always tries to get me to go with her, but I say no way! Then I get stuck taking care of Nellie and Marisol, the spawns of el Diablo himself. I’m just handing them a big bag of Cheetos, turning on Noggin, and telling them not to bother me unless one of them is bleeding!”

  “Okay, but I sort of have something to tell you.”

  “Call me later!” Mercedes says as she bops down the hall, waving good-bye.

  I don’t wave back. My whole body feels heavy and slow. I turn and drag myself down the hall for the second half of this very long day.

  Finally it’s the last class of the day. At first, I’m so relieved that my day is almost over that I fall into my study hall seat and sigh. I open my copy of The Age of Innocence for English class, but then I remember that Bella said she was going to come get me and I can’t concentrate. Why on earth does she want to practice with me? And why didn’t I say no? I know why . . . because I’m an elf. And elves are nice. We just are. It’s in our blood. When everyone is equally nice, you don’t have to worry about it. With erdlers though, everything is different. Maybe Bella didn’t mean what she wrote on her blog about me. Or maybe if you’re an erdler you can say mean things about other people and still be friends. Look at how Ari and Mercedes talk to each other sometimes, and they’re best friends.

  Before I can puzzle through all of this confusing stuff, the door opens and Bella comes in. Ms. Crane’s eyes widen and she smiles as if a celebrity just walked into the room. She leans forward, expectantly, as Bella whispers to her. When Bella points toward me, Ms. Crane slumps back in her chair. She nods, but all the enthusiasm has drained from her body. Bella seems to have that effect on people. Then just like that, I’m walking down an empty hall with Bella.

  “Why did Ms. Crane let me out?” I ask.

  Bella flicks her hand. “Whatever. She owes me big-time. I passed her lame CD to my agent because he reps a couple of singers she likes. I only did it because I totally screwed up a midterm in her Government class. Can you imagine?” She looks at me and pretends to gag. “A high school history teacher making a CD of her sad sack songs? She’s like thirty years old.”

  “My dad is forty-two and he’s a singer.”

  “Whatever, every teacher here is a wannabe.”

  “A wannabe?” I ask as we pass each classroom filled with students. “Sounds like a furry little marsupial.”

  Bella laughs. “Are you joking? That’s funny. Tell me you’re joking.”

  “I guess so,” I lie.

  “‘Marsupial,’” she says, chuckling to herself. “That’s a great word.” She turns down the main hall and heads for the big green doors.

  “I thought we were going to rehearse,” I say, suddenly wary of where she’s taking me.

  Bella takes her big white sunglasses from the top of her head and covers her eyes. “I need a frappuccino.”

  “But are we allowed to leave?” I ask.

  When Bella looks at me I see my reflection in the dark lenses of her glasses. I look like a scared little elf. One that was too afraid to go to Ironweed, one that cried on the first day of erdler school, one that didn’t want to make up a résumé so I’d have a shot at winning the ELPH part. But that’s not me. I’m a Brooklyn girl—well, a Brooklyn elf—now and I won’t let Bella intimidate me. If she wants to play this little two-faced game, I’ll play along. What was it that Ari said? Know thine enemy. Well, Bella, let’s get to know each other.

  “You don’t have to come,” she says, but her voice drips with scorn.

  My stomach growls. “I did skip lunch.”

  “Lunch is for fatties,” Bella tells me.

  We’re at the doors. She’s pushing them open. I have to decide. Stay or go. “Just one question,” I say. “What’s a frappuccino?”

  A frappuccino, it turns out, is the best thing ever invented by erdlers! “This is so yummy! ” I tell Bella for the hundredth time as we walk back from Starbucks, sucking up that half-frozen, sweet, creamy goodness. “I could drink ten of these!”

  “God, you’re already hyper enough. I
f you drank ten of those somebody would have to peel you off the ceiling.”

  “I’m hyper?”

  “Oh my God! You’re like so perky all the time!” Bella bounces her head and says in a high squeaky voice.

  My mouth goes from moist and sweet to dry and sticky. “I don’t mean to be,” I say. “I didn’t know it was a bad thing.”

  “Why would it be a bad thing?” she asks, but I think I detect a little smirk playing at the corners of her mouth.

  “Just the way you said it,” I mumble.

  “You can be that way.” She steps into the intersection, ignoring the flashing red DON’T WALK sign. A white delivery truck blares its horn and swerves around us, but Bella doesn’t seem to notice, or care. “As long as you don’t act that way at the audition.”

  “Why not?” I ask, determined to get as much out of her as possible.

  “Oh.” Bella shakes her head sadly as we reach the other side of the street. “I keep forgetting, you’ve never done this before. Seriously, Zephyr. If you act like a spaz, Mr. O’Donnell will totally think you’re an amateur.”

  I poke my straw down into the slush at the bottom of my cup and try not to grin. All I have to do is keep walking and talking and I’ll get her to tell me everything about an audition. “Thanks for letting me know.”

  “I thought your friends, what are their names, that girl and that guy, were supposed to help you.”

  “Ari helped me with my résumé, but his band got hit by a u-tube or something exciting like that so he’s busy,” I tell her.

  Bella scrunches up her face. “Got hit by a u-tube?”

  “Yeah, isn’t that what it’s called?” I try to remember. “U-tube or something? His band made a video and got a feature.”

  Bella slows her walk and squeezes my forearm. “You mean he got a featured video on YouTube?”

  “Yeah! That’s what I said.” I smile, triumphant. She lets go of me.