There is a school bus stop right in front of Ivy Cafe. It's one of the reasons I stop by every morning. I look at the crowd at my bus stop. This is the most popular bus stop by far. It's probably because teens like a caffeine pick-me-up from Ivy cafe. My mom says EMS teens are the largest portion of customers they have at Ivy Cafe.
Among those teens are popular drama queen Ariana DeFlasta (rhymes with DePasta), and her sidekick Charlotte Whimple (rhymes with pimple). They always look better than me. They don't have a pimple mountain range on their foreheads as I do.
What am I wearing? A long sleeve tee shirt with little rainbows on it, and baggy pink sweatpants. My light blue velcro sneakers scream “BABY.” I'm starting to second guess those sparkly pink braids. There is even a little bit of flab on my belly. At least they can't see my Hello Kitty underwear.
What are they wearing? Ariana is dressed to kill. She has a cropped dark gray tank top with ruffles, a pair of jean shorts, and black ankle-length boots. Her silver stud earrings complement her little black handbag with the silver A (My mom won't even let me get my ears pierced!). She is applying black lipstick in her silver compact mirror that I never see her without. There is no sign of flab.
Charlotte always dresses like she's going to a fancy party. She is wearing a fluffy, tulle, ruffled dress. It goes down to her knees. It has a sparkly gold waistband. The white tights make up for the dress is short. Her sparkly gold pumps with the white straps shine in the light. Again, no flab. This is why I think our school should have a dress code, or a uniform.
I'm green with envy. It's not my fault that my family is poor, but they're rich, and they have to flaunt it in any way possible. Why can't my family be rich? There is one more person at this bus stop worth mentioning: Lisa DeFlasta.
Lisa DeFlasta is my best friend. She is also Ariana's sister. I can't blame her for that because the two are complete opposites. While Ariana is older by eleven months, she acts like she's older by eleven years. Lisa is creative, funny, crafty, witty, a teacher's pet, and other things. Just like me. We agreed to wear the same clothes, so since she's cool, maybe my clothes will look a tad cooler.
We hop on the bus. I greet the friendly bus driver, Nathaniel Pontero, and our bus teacher, Isobel Rook. He insists we call him Nate. He individually greets us: “Hi Alice, hi Mark, hi Tony, hi Charlotte, hi Kayla, hi Jess, hi Lisa, hi Ariana, hi Lulu, hi Pete, hi Robert, hi Gerald, hi Katie, hi Maria, hi Janine, hello Ron!” he says with a smile on his face. And then we're off.
Lisa and I hold hands and skip to the very back, a seat that Nate always saves for us. We whisper about boys and clothes, both of which Lisa is obsessed with, but I would rather be talking about the best kind of pencil, or our favorite TV show, The Babysitters Club. Babysitters club books are my favorite books. By the time Lisa is done talking about her new Elton John sweatshirt, we have arrived at school.
I love the EMS courtyard. The concrete fountain greets us with the Elwood Private Schools logo. The Elwood logo is a dove with its wings spread, a globe surrounding it, an E in front of it. It reminds me of my dad. He used to want to start school.
When he was alive, he used to talk about it all of the time. When he died, my Aunt Shirley took his dream and made it come true. I wish he was around to see what a success it is. Aunt Shirley is dad's older brother. She was dad's best friend, too. It's a sore subject for both of us.
I skip down the concrete path, Lisa at my heels. We follow the steady flow of students through the big wooden doors. I stop by the principal's office. Aunt Shirley always brings an extra lunch for me. Every morning I have to stop by her office to pick it up. I can even invite a couple of friends and eat lunch in her office.
My whole day is made up of electives. That's what happens on Fridays. Aunt Shirley says it's our treat. Apparently, you have to work 20% harder at EMS than any other middle school in our neighborhood. I don't mind, though. I still get top marks in all of my classes. They're pretty easy for me.
Mom says I remind her of dad. I asked her how. She said I had the same almond-shaped eyes, button nose, golden skin, sticking out ears, and really pink lips. Then I asked how I looked like her. She said I didn't look like her at all. And then she said the way I reminded her most of dad, was how good I was at smarting. I then corrected her, telling her that the correct grammar is “how smart you are.” Not “how good you are at smarting.” She said that was exactly her point.
