Читать книгу The Good, the Bad and the Bossy (Best Babysitters Ever) - Caroline Cala - Страница 9

Dot stared into her beaker with the same intensity her mother (a practising clairvoyant) used to gaze into her crystal ball. Most likely, it was growing up in a home surrounded by crystals and candles and charts about meridians and chakras that had pushed Dot toward her love of hard data and irrefutable facts. While she excelled in all subjects, from literature to algebra to Latin, science was her thing. Dot preferred the school’s science lab to all other places. To her, there was nothing more satisfying than being surrounded by test tubes and chemicals and scales, conducting experiments that would ultimately lead to only one right answer.

Today, her chemistry class was working on a very simple assignment, the distillation of wood. Dot already knew the outcome: after the wood was heated, it would decompose, forming charcoal and vapours. Still, she completed every step, charting her progress along the way.

Dot was glad that today’s assignment was such a simple one because she was tired. She had spent the previous night babysitting for the Gomez family, new clients they had taken on to help drum up money for Veronica concert tickets. Dot didn’t like to take jobs on school nights, especially two nights in a row like she had this week, but she supposed it was worth it until the concert.

To be very clear, Dot did not care about Veronica. She hardly ever listened to her music, except sometimes ironically. Okay, fine, Dot could admit that some of the songs were catchy, and even that they had the ability to put her in a sort of infectiously good mood. There was a time and place for Veronica music, like when attempting to exercise or perform a mindless task. But Dot was most excited about the concert itself, because the venue had excellent junk food – popcorn, funnel cakes, and the best chicken fingers you could imagine. Her mom hadn’t made any progress on her rules against allowing gluten or animal products or processed sugar into the house, so Dot needed to seize every opportunity she had.

“Looking good,” said Mr Frang, nodding as he passed Dot’s lab table. The head of the science department, Mr Frang was a tall man with a grey beard that reminded Dot of an elf. It was obvious that Dot was his favourite student, though she knew he tried to act impartial.

Dot squinted her eyes, concentrating with laser focus, but her mind wasn’t on today’s experiment. In truth, it was somewhere else entirely: thinking about the upcoming science fair.

The middle-school science fair was a very big deal, as it was the gateway to everything important in the science community. The winner of the school fair would go on to compete at the regional level, followed by the state level and, eventually, against the entire nation. Students who competed at the national level were scouted for special programs and awards, and were often the ones who were awarded scholarships when the time came to apply for college.

Dot knew she was only in middle school, but still, she liked to plan ahead. Despite her mom’s psychic abilities, it would be hard for her to afford college tuition, and Dot was determined to work it out on her own. This was just one of many factors that made it particularly troubling that she hadn’t yet come up with a winning idea.

Luckily, the other students at Playa del Mar weren’t particularly competitive. She could already predict what everyone else would do. All the usual suspects would be covered: a homemade radio, a chart of the various types of fingerprints, an exploration of how a blindfold changes the relationship to taste and smell. That was all fine and good. But she needed to innovate. She needed something that would trump them all.

This was game time. Crunch time. Go time. All of the times. This was it.

Just as Dot was getting lost in a daydream in which she won the national science fair and was receiving a medal of honour at the White House, the door to the science lab creaked open.

Principal Davies set one foot inside the room.

“Everyone, I’d like you to meet a new student here at Playa del Mar.” She stepped aside to allow said student to enter. “This is Pigeon de Palma.”

Dot looked up to see a very pretty girl. She had super-long, wavy brown hair, almost like a darker version of Dot’s hair. She wore a black T-shirt emblazoned with a faded golden lightning bolt, black skinny jeans, and the coolest ankle boots Dot had ever seen. They were black leather, with teeny tiny gold studs snaking all around them, in complicated designs. Around the ankles, they had three thin straps, each ending with a delicate gold buckle. Dot had seen shoes like that in magazines but never in person.

“Hi, everyone,” Pigeon said, offering the classroom a little wave. Her voice was sort of low and gravely, but very cute. “I’m so excited to be here.”

“Welcome, Pigeon!” said Mr Frang.

Dot wasn’t sure what to make of this Pigeon person. It was very rare for Playa del Mar to welcome new students after the start of the school year. It was even weirder for them to look . . . cool.

“Pigeon just moved here from New York City,” added Principal Davies, which was pretty much the only thing she could have said to push Dot over the edge. It was Dot’s dream to live in NYC someday – heck, at this point it was her dream even just to visit – and Pigeon had spent her formative years there? This was so unfair. No wonder she seemed so sophisticated. No wonder her boots were so cool. “I’m sure you’ll all do your best to make her feel welcome,” the principal concluded, leaving Pigeon to fend for herself.

Pigeon circled the lab tables, looking for a place to sit. Dot turned her attention back to the distillation of wood. There would be plenty of time to analyze the new girl, but for now, there was work to do.

“Do you mind if I join you?” said a gravelly voice.

Dot looked up. Pigeon was speaking to her.

“Um, I don’t really do group assignments,” Dot said. She wasn’t trying to be rude; it was true. Unless the experiment absolutely called for lab partners, Dot always preferred to work alone.

“It’s all right, we already did this experiment at my old school,” Pigeon said, casually tossing her long, wavy hair. A spicy fragrance wafted through the air. Dot immediately recognized it as a designer perfume her own hippie mother wouldn’t let her buy.

“Well, the experiment is basically completed, so there’d be nothing left for you to do anyway,” Dot said.

“I can just observe,” Pigeon said as she pulled up a chair.

Dot inhaled, trying not to let her newfound audience faze her.

“At my old school, distillation of wood was actually a sixth-grade experiment,” Pigeon said. Her condescending tone was not lost on Dot. “I wonder if I’ll be repeating a lot of the old curriculum here. Especially because science has always been kind of my thing.”

“Science has always been my thing,” said Dot. “Which is why, outside of the school’s curriculum, I’ve been conducting research on my own for years now.”

Pigeon impatiently tapped her fingernails on the lab table, breaking Dot’s concentration. Dot noticed they were painted a sort of green metallic oil-slick colour that Dot had never seen before. Even Pigeon’s nail polish was fancy.

“So, where in New York did you live?” Dot asked.

“We lived on the Upper West Side,” Pigeon said, “but my school was on the Upper East.”

“Wow. That must have been amazing,” said Dot, while her head kept singing unfair, unfair, unfair.

“This town seems . . .” Pigeon trailed off, as though searching for the right word. “Cute.”

The way she said the word “cute” made it clear it wasn’t a compliment.

Dot wanted to leave this town more than anyone, but she didn’t appreciate this stranger rolling up and trash-talking it on her very first day. Who did this person think she was?

Dot’s hands flew across the equipment, attempting to complete the assignment as quickly as possible so she could be free of this situation.

“I’m going to start handing back the quizzes from yesterday,” said Mr Frang. “Please don’t let them distract you from your experiments. If you have any questions, of course I’m available after class.”

Dot didn’t even bother to look when the paper landed on her table. She never got anything less than an A, especially in science.

“Hm. B-plus,” said Pigeon, staring at the quiz.

“What?” Dot snapped to attention. “There must be some kind of mistake.” Dot did not get Bs, ever. She hardly ever got A-minuses. Bs were for the hoi polloi. The fact that Dot even knew what “hoi polloi” meant only further cemented her status as an A student.

But sure enough, there it was: her quiz, with a big red B-plus on top of it.

How had this happened? She knew she’d been kind of exhausted this week, with babysitting eating into her homework time, but still. This was unprecedented.

Once again, Principal Davies appeared at the door.

“Pigeon, I’m sorry. As it turns out, I need you to come with me. I forgot I have another part of the orientation packet to go through together.”

“You know, I actually interned for Elon Musk last summer,” said Pigeon as she stood and pushed her chair in. “You know, the guy who started SpaceX? And Tesla? And who is, like, an investor and businessperson –”

“I know who Elon Musk is,” Dot interrupted, annoyed.

“If you ever need somebody to tutor you, I’m sure we could work something out.”

Dot was flabbergasted. Pigeon smiled. “It’s been awfully nice chatting with you. I’m sure I’ll see you around.” And with that, she turned and walked away.

“Yeah, likewise,” murmured Dot.

Dot kept her eyes on her beaker, fighting the urge to watch Pigeon as she walked away.

Dot knew one thing for sure: she did not like this Pigeon person. It wasn’t just her ridiculous first name, although that probably didn’t help. It was – Dot couldn’t believe what she was thinking, was she turning into her mother? – her aura.

Pigeon had very bad energy.

You’re being ridiculous, Dot thought. You don’t even know her. It’s her first day at a new school and she’s just trying to be impressive to make friends.

Still, this felt like that moment in a movie, where the main character meets her nemesis. Dot wanted to remain open and kind. She wanted to know her story. But she was, Dot hated to admit, experiencing a feeling she had never felt before. She was intrigued. She was jealous. She was conflicted. For perhaps the first time ever, she was seriously intimidated.