Everything I Know About You Read online

  “Oh, don’t worry, I did! A bunch of times!”

  “Good. I have to say, it made me so happy to see that display of class unity.”

  I didn’t argue. I just watched her wipe some sweat from her brow with a crumpled tissue from her pocket. I could tell she was exhausted.

  “All right, Tally, so here’s the thing,” she said. “I’m not going to ask about the hair dye. I’m going to assume you brought it with you from home.”

  “Thanks,” I said, exhaling.

  “But I have to tell you I’m not happy you did this on my watch. If your mom is upset—”

  “She won’t be!”

  “Don’t be so sure. Moms usually like their kids returned in the same condition as when they left. Dads, too, I’m guessing. Also, the principal is going to question my supervision.”

  “He is? But that’s not fair!” I felt my face heating up. “I’ll tell Mr. Barkley you had nothing to do with it! You were watching a movie!”

  “That’s the point. I probably shouldn’t have let you stay in your room last night while the rest of us were downstairs.”

  “But I’m not a baby! I don’t need a babysitter!” Or a rescue dolphin. “Ava was around! And Mrs. Seeley was right here on the floor too!”

  “Well, yes. But clearly she wasn’t paying attention every minute. And anyhow, Tally, you’re my responsibility, not hers.”

  Oh, curses. Ms. Jordan was saying it wasn’t just my problem; it was hers, too—and she could get in trouble for it. I remembered Mom saying that Ms. Jordan was a new teacher on probation, how any complaint could be a big deal for her.

  The weird thing was how awful this made me feel. Somehow, during this trip, I’d changed my mind about my teacher. About a lot of things.

  Maybe including Ava, too. Although that was complicated.

  “So what are you going to do?” Ms. Jordan asked, sighing.

  “About my hair?” I touched my head lightly. “I’m not sure. Mrs. Seeley said she knows someone who can fix it.”

  “I’m sure she does. But maybe your mom will want to weigh in with her own ideas. You should ask her.”

  I sighed. I was pretty positive that Mom’s haircut place didn’t do Sour Apple Green. “Maybe I’ll just shave it off and start all over.”

  “Don’t.” Ms. Jordan smiled tiredly. “There are better ways to express yourself, Tally. Try words, for example. If this town should teach you anything, it’s that words are powerful tools.”

  Words.

  Okay, I told myself. So this is your cue to tell her about Ava.

  I took a deep breath. “Ms. Jordan? Can I talk to you about something? Not about hair.”

  “Sure. About what?”

  I swallowed. “About Ava.”

  “What about her?” Ms. Jordan’s ears perked up, like Spike’s.

  I knew I had to be careful here. I could just come right out and tell Ms. Jordan that Ava wasn’t eating—but if that information got back to Mrs. Seeley, it could make everything more tense between them, and how would that help Ava? Knowing my track record lately, saying the wrong thing was a real possibility, and I couldn’t take any chances.

  Somehow, I knew, I had to communicate without blabbing. Not because I was afraid Ava would send the photo, but because I didn’t want to betray her. That was it, crazy as it sounded. Despite everything I’d been through with Ava in the past few days, it felt as if we had a kind of connection. Not a friendship, whatever Ms. Jordan thought. And yes, it was complicated. But there was definitely some sort of crazy, random energy between us, almost like lightning.

  I took an extra breath. “Ava went to the gym before, even though she wasn’t feeling well. I tried to stop her, but she refused to listen.”

  “What do you mean by ‘not feeling well’?” Ms. Jordan asked.

  “Just . . . not feeling well.”

  She frowned. “Where’s her mom?”

  “Napping. Ava said not to wake her. She practically begged me not to.”

  My heart was pounding. Should I keep talking, or had I said enough? How much had Ms. Jordan noticed on her own? By now I had no idea how much the teachers knew about us—but it was definitely more than I’d realized.

  I looked up. Ms. Jordan was staring at me. Wondering what I was thinking, maybe. Waiting for more words.

  Footsteps, a click, and the door opened.

  Ava walked into the room, pale and sweaty, holding a bottle of water. “Hey,” she said softly, her eyes darting first at Ms. Jordan, then at me.

  “Hello, Ava,” Ms. Jordan said cheerily. “Tally was just filling me in on the lovely time you had today. I’ve never been to the National Zoo before. Was it fun?”

  Ava pushed some hair out of her eyes. “Yeah, it was.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Uh-huh. Why wouldn’t it be?”

  “Tally said you weren’t feeling well before.”

  Ava glanced at me. “She did? Well, yeah, I was hot and thirsty. But I’m good now.”

  “Great! And I’m glad you had a nice day, even though we all missed you both.” Ms. Jordan stood. “Well, what I really need right now is a shower. See you downstairs for dinner in an hour?”

  “Sure,” Ava said.

  “Sure,” I echoed.

  We watched our teacher leave the room.

  Then Ava spun around. Her eyes glittered at me.

  “Thanks, Tally,” she spat out, stamped into the bathroom, and slammed the bathroom door behind her.

  Sorry

  AVA TOOK THE LONGEST SHOWER on record: thirty-five minutes. After that she probably used every bottle of conditioner on the sink, unzipped every pocket of her cosmetics bag, applied zit cream and sunscreen and every possible time-wasting product. Then she probably watched YouTube videos of baby hedgehogs as she blow-dried her hair. Finally, an hour after she’d walked in, she left the bathroom.

  So I pounced. “Ava, I didn’t tell Ms. Jordan anything,” I said.

  “Oh, I’m sure,” she muttered.

  “I didn’t! I could have—I wanted to—but I didn’t.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “No, Tally. I don’t believe you.”

  “Ava, really, why would I lie?”

  She smirked. “Because you’re scared of that photo. You don’t care about me at all; you’re scared people will see you.”

  “That’s just wrong!” I sputtered. “I do care about you! And I’m really worried about you, okay? But I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it!”

  “You’re not supposed to ‘do’ anything. Can’t you understand that, Tally? I don’t need your good deeds. You don’t have to adopt me, the way you adopted Caleb.”

  As soon as she said that, all the oxygen drained out of the room.

  We stared at each other.

  “Sorry,” Ava murmured. Her face was red. “I didn’t mean to say ‘adopted.’ It just came out.”

  “Well, don’t apologize for it! It’s not a dirty word! I told you—I’m happy I’m adopted. And that’s not all I am, anyway. There’s a lot more to me than being this Adopted Person!”

  “Yeah, I know that, Tally. And there’s a lot more to me than ‘clonegirl.’ ”

  “What?” My insides froze.

  “Sonnet told Haley you called me that. Called us all that. It’s a really mean word for someone, you know? Because we’re not all one thing. Or all the same thing.”

  Oh, bleep, she’s right. Because I don’t know who Ava Seeley is, anyway. After the past three days, it’s like she’s a complete mystery.

  And how could Sonnet have told Haley about that word? Even if it was unfair. And untrue.

  “Sorry,” I managed to say.

  Ava shrugged, as if my apology didn’t matter to her very much. “And when I said ‘adopted,’ all I meant was you’re always acting like this big ‘mom friend’ to people. You treat Spider like such a baby. Like he’s your baby.”

  I swallowed hard. Did
everybody think I babied Spider? Poor Spider.

  And really, what right did I have to take care of anybody? I was having enough trouble taking care of myself.

  Ava tossed her suitcase on her bed. “And you’re supposed to keep private stuff private.”

  “Which I did, I swear!” I protested. “Not because of that stupid photo, which I don’t even care about! Because why should I? I can just cover up my hair until it’s fixed.”

  I watched as she yanked clothes off hangers, throwing them randomly into her suitcase.

  “Oh, but the photo, which I just now sent to certain people, isn’t just about your hair, is it? It’s about you in my clothes. You secretly wanting to look like me. All this time!”

  She waved her phone at me so I could see the photo again. Of course I didn’t look.

  “You know what, Ava?” I thundered. “Let me tell you something: I love how I look! I think I’m beautiful and unique, and I’m really proud I’m so big and strong. I also think there’s a lot more to me than how I look. And you know what else? I’m sorry I was ever nice to you!”

  Her eyes filled with tears as she slammed her suitcase shut. “No, Tally, that’s completely wrong. I’m sorry I was nice to you!”

  After that, we didn’t say another word to each other. A minute later, she took her suitcase and moved into her mom’s room.

  Optical Illusion

  ALMOST AS SOON AS AVA had gone, someone was knocking.

  “Tally?” Sonnet’s voice called from out in the hall. “Are you okay?”

  “Yup,” I called through the door. Even though you told Haley about the word “clonegirl.”

  “Are you sure? Because I just got a weird photo. On my phone.” Pause. “Can I come in?”

  “Not now, okay?”

  Pause.

  “You sure you’re all right, Tally?”

  No. “Yeah, I’m fine. See you at dinner, Sonnet, okay?”

  “Okay. I’ll save you a seat.”

  “Thanks.”

  Pause.

  “Tally, you’re sure—”

  “Positive! I’ll be downstairs soon.”

  Except I couldn’t bring myself to go to dinner. I just couldn’t face everyone, not knowing who’d seen that photo of me on their phone. I mean, yes, I was used to people pointing at my outfits and laughing, but that sort of reaction was my choice. It was in my control. And the thing about that photo: Ava had taken away my choice. She’d captured me against my will; I was like her prisoner of war.

  Plus, now people knew I called them clonegirls. That felt like another way I’d lost control. Not that I’d ever had control in the first place—but that word had made me feel as if I did, kind of.

  I stayed in the room and watched TV. I don’t even know what I watched, just happy people cracking jokes. And infomercials. Any minute I expected Ms. Jordan to knock on the door, asking to come in and sit on the edge of my bed for a sympathetic chat. But she never did, which was kind of disappointing, but also a relief.

  I didn’t sleep at all that night, even though I tried to imagine Spike again. By breakfast time I was starving. And the thought of sitting for six hours on the bus ride home, with none of Dad’s Baked Goodies left to munch on, was unbearable. I needed to eat something, anything, to fortify myself for the trip.

  But I still couldn’t deal with the Thomas Jefferson. So I put on the purple newsboy cap, slipped into Ye Olde Apothecary Shoppe, and bought myself a couple of cardboardy granola bars. (When Mikel greeted me with “Hair she is, Miss Greenland, har har,” I muttered “Screaming Hairy Armadillo” under my breath.)

  We were supposed to board the bus at seven thirty, but I got on at seven fifteen, so I’d have my choice of seats. I took one way in the back, by a window, definitely giving off strong don’t sit with me vibes.

  A few minutes later, Derrick and Jamal took the seat in front of me. They were smirking and laughing, of course.

  “Hey, Tally,” Jamal said. “Can we ask you a question? How come you’re wearing that—”

  “I’m not,” I growled. “It’s an optical illusion.” I tugged the cap lower to cover my ears.

  A nanosecond later I realized I wasn’t sure what he’d asked. Was it: How come you are wearing that hat? Or was it: How come you were wearing Ava’s outfit in that photo? Because the thing was, I had no idea who’d seen the photo. Sonnet had, obviously, but who else? Maybe everyone. Maybe even the grown-ups, too. And people back home.

  The bus was filling with kids, so I pretended to scratch some gum off the sole of my sneaker. Even with my head down, though, I could tell kids were peeking at me as they took their seats. Although Mia Gilroy didn’t even try to act sneaky; she just stared at me and giggled behind her hand. Then she said something to Sydney, who announced, “I know, it’s just so fanny; I rally don’t know what to thank.”

  It was weird. I never used to care one hoot about Sad-nay’s dumb opinion. So how come my insides turned to ice when she said that just now? What was going on with me, anyway?

  A minute later Sonnet headed straight for the back of the bus. “Tally,” she said, “why are you sitting back here, all by yourself? You should sit with me—”

  And all your new friends—who know I called them clonegirls? Because you told them? Maybe not.

  “I’m actually great back here,” I informed her. “I just want to sleep. But thanks, Sonnet.”

  I pulled the cap over my eyes to show Sonnet that I meant it about sleeping. When she finally gave up and walked away, I stuck in the earplugs, not caring that they made me feel like I was underwater.

  Even so, Spider took the adjoining seat. “You okay?” he asked quietly.

  “Uh-huh.” Because it was Spider, I took out the earplugs.

  “I texted you a million times last night,” he said. “You didn’t answer.”

  “Sorry. I turned off my phone.”

  “Well, I was worried about you.”

  Spider was worried about me? That was strange to hear.

  “So was Marco,” he added.

  I stared. “Really?”

  “Of course.” Spider rolled his eyes. “Come on, Tally. You know he has a crush on you, so don’t be stupid.”

  I don’t know what surprised me more: that Spider was acknowledging the crush situation with Marco, or that he’d called me stupid. The funny thing was, I felt happy about both. Although if Marco had seen that hideous photo, which he probably had, no way would the crush continue. For all I knew, it was over already.

  I watched as Spider started reading a book he’d probably bought at the Museum of Natural History. It was about geodes, and it must have been fascinating, because in about two minutes he completely zoned out.

  I poked his elbow. “You know what? I don’t think you need the name Spider anymore.”

  “Yeah, Tally,” he said calmly. “I’m not sure I ever did.”

  I stuck in the earplugs and napped for most of the way home.

  Heads-Up

  WHEN WE FINALLY PULLED INTO Eastview, Mom, Fiona, and Spike were all there in front of the school, waiting. As soon as I stepped off the bus, they practically crushed me in a sweaty family hug. Spike started licking my face and Fiona was laughing, but I caught Mom blinking really fast.

  “What’s wrong?” I demanded.

  “Nothing.” She was smiling. “You just look older somehow.”

  “It’s the hair,” Fiona said, sticking a finger under my cap.

  My heart thumped. She couldn’t see anything under my cap, could she? I thought I’d tucked it all in, but maybe not. Although if any of my slime hair was poking out, why wasn’t my whole family screaming in horror?

  We piled into the car. Spike sat in my lap, nearly squishing me with doggy weight, shedding her smelly fur into my face. I felt my face relax into a smile, the first one I’d had in what felt like weeks.

  At home there was a WELCOME HOME banner and a big chocolate-caramel cake Dad was still frosting in the kitchen. As soon as I sat at the table,
I took off my cap.

  And waited for a reaction.

  None.

  Dad brought the cake to the table and began slicing, while Mom passed out forks and plates. Spike was still in my lap, trying to snatch crumbs as we all began eating the cake, and nobody was saying a single word about my Swamp Thing hair. Which was definitely strange. No, worse than strange: unbearable.

  Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer. “So aren’t you guys furious at me?” I blurted. “About the hair?”

  Fiona licked her fork. “We’re not allowed to be. Ms. Jordan won’t let us.”

  “What?”

  “Your teacher called us last night,” Dad said. “She wanted to give us the heads-up. Sorry,” he added, when he realized that under the circumstances, he should have used a different expression.

  Mom reached across the table to stroke my arm. “Honestly, Tally, it’s not as bad as I imagined.”

  “It’s worse than I thought,” Fiona said.

  “Fiona,” Dad scolded. “How is that helpful?”

  “Anyway,” Mom continued, throwing Fiona a look, “Ms. Jordan asked us not to make too big a fuss about it. She said you were dealing with a lot on the trip, and that she saw a whole new side of you. A side that made her proud.”

  “Proud?” I repeated. “You sure you heard that right?”

  Mom smiled. “Yes, as a matter of fact. You have no idea what she’s talking about?”

  I thought. Seriously, the trip had been a disaster. Caleb and I would be okay, but Sonnet had obviously made new best friends who all hated me. I’d wrecked my hair. I might have gotten Ms. Jordan in serious trouble. A nightmarish photo of me was on people’s phones. I didn’t know whose, but probably everyone’s by now.

  And Ava Seeley was officially my enemy. We’d always disliked each other before, but what had happened with Ms. Jordan—no, what Ava thought had happened—meant we’d be battling each other forever, probably.

  The worst part was that Ava had a really bad problem, and I’d done nothing to help her. Actually, I’d done the opposite of helping.

  “No idea at all,” I said.

  Purple Streak

  THE NEXT DAY WAS A staff development day, which meant teachers had meetings and kids had the day off from school. For me it meant going to Mom’s hairdresser, Faustina, to get the KAPOW! stuff reversed. (This was Mom’s idea, by the way; I didn’t even mention Mrs. Seeley’s hair person.)