“What are you doing?” Marco asks.
“Cleansing my chakras.” She hums a little.
Marco and I look at each other. He shrugs. I have no clue, either. Meghan’s kind of . . . unique.
Her eyes snap open and she looks at me. “Okay, come on.” Meghan holds out a hand.
“Where are we going?” I ask as she drags me up.
“To the gym.”
“To work out?” Marco asks. “Lunch is almost over.”
“To work out? Are you nuts?” Meghan asks. “No — I’ve got some spare clothes in my locker.”
“You do?” I ask. “Why?”
Meghan looks at me, a little half smile on her face. “Because you never know when you’ll get attacked by a lasagna, Hayley.”
Marco stands, and his warm, dark eyes meet mine. He punches me on the arm gently, and then turns and heads back into the cafeteria.
“Come on,” Meghan says. She’s already walking toward the gym, so I follow her.
But I can’t help wishing it was Artie leading the way.
When I was in fourth grade, Apple Laytner decided that she hated my guts. I don’t really know why. I told her that I really liked her dad’s vegetarian restaurant even though I didn’t like vegetables much, and she punched me in the stomach.
For days after that, she was rude to me. She slammed me extra hard on the head with a dodgeball. She tripped me when no one was looking. She had it in for me. I tried to apologize, but she wouldn’t stop.
After the dodgeball incident, Artie, Marco, and I walked home together, just like we always did. I told my friends that I didn’t know what to do, and I asked them for ideas. Marco said that I should’ve punched Apple back in the first place, but I’m not really a punching kind of person. Artie just thought it over.
The next day, Artie got all of the girls in our class to ignore Apple completely. After two days, Apple’s parents came down to the school and officially complained, but what could our teacher do? You can’t make people talk to someone.
It only took one more day for Apple to apologize to me, and after that she left me alone for the rest of the year. The next fall, her parents decided to homeschool her.
Artie was always like a sister to me. She was smart. She cared about me. And I thought she was loyal. I wanted to be like her — just like her.
Now I wonder how much I ever really knew her.
I don’t want to get on the bus that afternoon. Artie’s on my bus. Here I am, in flowered leggings and a long black top — Meghan’s spare clothes — and I can’t take facing my Ex-Best in a borrowed outfit.
It just feels like too much.
So I don’t. Instead, I walk home with Meghan. It takes longer, but it’s not bad — just a half-hour walk — and it winds past one of the last small farms still in town.
“Oh, thank goodness!” Meghan says as she steps into a pumpkin patch.
I giggle — half because Meghan is such a nut, half because she’s making me ner vous. “Meghan, you can’t just take a pumpkin out of a field without paying for it,” I say as she reaches for one.
“Oh, it’s no big deal,” she says. “It’s Halloween — they aren’t going to sell these. They’re just leaving the pumpkins here to rot because it’s good for the soil. But the soil won’t miss one.”
“That’s not the point. The point is that it’s not your pumpkin. It’s theft.”
“Look, I would happily pay for it. I tried to buy one at the farm stand yesterday, but it was closed. The co-op was sold out, and so was State Street Fruit. What am I supposed to do — it’s Halloween, and I don’t have a pumpkin!” She tries to heft the pumpkin. “Ugh. It’s heavy.”
“Well, you picked the fattest one.”
“My mother always says, ‘If you’re going to go — go big!’”
“Is she usually referring to criminal activity when she says that?”
“No, she’s usually referring to ice cream. But the idea is the same. Help me with this.”
“No way.”
“Look, just help me get this home, and then I’ll go put some money in the frog.” There’s a frog sculpture in front of First Churches in the middle of downtown Northampton. It has a slot for donations, and any money you put in the frog goes to feed the hungry.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.” Meghan stands back and surveys the pumpkin. “What would this cost — about eight dollars?”
“Probably.”
“Okay, I’ll put ten dollars in the frog.”
Meghan reaches for the pumpkin. It’s so heavy that she totters backward, then stumbles onto her rear. She lands in the mud with a splat. The pumpkin rolls onto its side and cracks open.
Meghan bursts into laughter. “Karma! Ugh! I’m covered in pumpkin guts!”
And then — get this — she reaches for another!
“Are you serious?” I demand.
“I’ve come this far.” She grunts as she heaves the pumpkin into the air.
“You are totally insane.” She stumbles again, and I rush forward to help her. And just like that, now I’m an accomplice.
“Thanks, Hayley. I don’t want to be the only person in town without a jack-o’-lantern.”
I sigh. “Fine, but you have to feed the frog.”
“I will!” Her dimples deepen as she grins. Here is the thing about Meghan Markerson: She can pretty much get anybody to do anything. She even managed to get our school mascot changed. Most of the kids in our class think she’s kind of weird, but they usually do whatever she says, anyway
“Just don’t ask for my help robbing any banks,” I tell her.
“Please. Look at the lecture I got just for trying to take a pumpkin!”
Between us, it isn’t so heavy, but it is a little awkward to carry. Plus, the pumpkin patch is muddy. I trip over halfrotted squash as we squish our way — slowly, carefully — to the edge of the field.
“Let’s take a little break,” Meghan says. “Put it down on three. One, two —”
And that’s when the police car pulls up.
Excerpt copyright © 2012 by Lisa Papademetriou.
LISA PAPADEMETRIOU is the author of numerous books for young readers, including Sixth-Grade Glommers, Norks, and Me; How to Be a Girly Girl in Just Ten Days; and the Accidentally Fabulous series. She was diagnosed with celiac disease in 2010, and is also allergic to soy, dairy, egg, yeast, and shellfish. Luckily, her sister, Zoë, is a talented baker. For gluten-free, allergy-friendly versions of all of the recipes in this book, please visit Lisa’s website, www.lisapapa.com.
All activities in this book should be performed with adult supervision. The publisher and author disclaim all liability for any accidents or injuries or loss that may occur as a result of the use or misuse of the information and guidance given in this book.
Copyright © 2012 by Lisa Papademetriou
Recipes copyright © 2012 by Zoë Papademetriou
All rights reserved. Published by Scholastic Inc. scholastic and associated logos are trademarks and/or registered trademarks of Scholastic Inc.
First printing, May 2012
Cover photo by Michael Frost
Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll
e-ISBN 978-0-545-39226-6
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher. For information regarding permission, write to Scholastic Inc., Attention: Permissions Department, 557 Broadway, New York, NY 10012.
Lisa Papademetriou, Confectionately Yours #1: Save the Cupcake!
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