Absolutely Alfie and the Worst Best Sleepover Page 4

  “Stop it,” Alfie said, surprising even herself.

  She glanced behind her to see who had just spoken.

  “What?” Lulu said, snapping her head around so fast that her perfect straight bangs swayed like a short, dark curtain above her angry eyes. “What did you just say to me, Alfie Jakes?”

  “I said stop it,” Alfie told her. Her heart thudded as the other girls began melting away from the log circle, eager to escape. They would be heading back to class early, for once. “I have to talk to you now, Lulu,” Alfie added. “In private,” she added to show how serious she was.

  Lulu looked at her wrist as if checking the time.

  “You’re not wearing a watch,” Alfie said. “And we have time. It’s important,” she added, trying for a smile. “Come on, Upside-Down Head,” she added, hoping Lulu would remember their silly old game.

  “Hmmph,” Lulu snorted. “I guess I have time. So, okay.”

  “Okay, then,” Alfie echoed, waiting for the last straggler to leave.

  8

  Uh-Oh

  “So, what do you want?” Lulu asked Alfie after an awkward moment or two. “You know the buzzer is about to go off. I have a perfect record so far for being prompt, and I am not gonna let you mess that up.”

  Alfie had a perfect record, too, or almost. But she didn’t waste time pointing that out. She was trying to think of what to say. And then inspiration struck. “I think you should invite every girl in our class to your sleepover, that’s what,” she said, stealing EllRay’s idea from the the night before. “Because everything was so perfect for the first four weeks of school, Lulu! But ever since Monday, things have been terrible around here. And you made Bella cry,” she added.

  “Liar,” Lulu snapped. “You’d better not tell anyone about that, either. And things haven’t been terrible for me,” she added, thinking about it. “Also, I know five other girls who will be happy on Friday when they get their invitations. By the way, Alfie, you were gonna be one of them,” she said, shaking her head in pity. “But too bad, because you just made me look dumb in front of everyone.”

  Lulu was doing that all by herself, Alfie thought, pressing her lips together so that more words wouldn’t spill out and make things worse.

  Because—uh-oh! Lulu was really mad at her.

  “I only said I wanted to talk to you,” Alfie tried to explain. “Why did that make you look dumb?”

  “Anyway,” Lulu said, ignoring the question, “I already told you. Mama said I could invite five other girls. Not eleven or twelve. That’s almost twice as many as five.”

  Okay, Alfie thought—she wasn’t gonna touch that arithmetic mistake. “But I’m sure some girls wouldn’t be able to come,” she told Lulu, trying to back up her suggestion. “And everyone could bring her own sleeping bag and sleep on the floor. You could squeeze them all in, Lulu! Your house is huge. They could bring their own food, too, so your mom wouldn’t have to—”

  “It’s not ‘everyone’s’ sleepover, Alfie,” Lulu interrupted in a pretend-patient voice. “It’s mine. And Mama made the rules about how many girls I could invite.”

  Oof. Lulu was making some pretty good points, Alfie admitted to herself.

  Bad idea, EllRay! This was all his fault, Alfie told herself, scowling.

  “And you can’t tell other people how to throw a party,” Lulu continued. “Or who to invite, no matter how wonderful and cute you think you are. You’re not so great, Alfie Jakes.”

  “I absolutely do not think I’m so great,” Alfie objected, her heart thudding. “But if you’re talking about rules, you forgot a big one, Lulu. At our school, you’re not supposed to tell kids about parties if you’re not inviting everyone.”

  “Oh. So now I have to invite the boys, too?” Lulu scoffed, as if that’s what Alfie was saying. “You want me to ask twenty-six kids to my sleepover? That’s just silly!”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Alfie told her.

  “You are definitely not coming to the best sleepover ever on Saturday, Alfie,” Lulu said, getting to her feet. “But I guess this means that now you’re going to tell on me for just barely mentioning the sleepover at school? And for supposedly making Bella cry?”

  By now, Alfie was so mad that she felt like her way-too-hot head was about to pop. “I never said I was gonna tell on you,” she said, trying to sound calm.

  “It’s not my fault if I’m the fun one around here,” Lulu said, straightening her outfit before stalking up the slope so she could hurry to class.

  “But what happened to us being friends?” Alfie called after her, trying to catch up. “Don’t you even remember, Lulu? Our dolls? The cartoons?”

  “I could never be friends with a tattletale!” Lulu shouted over her shoulder.

  And just like that, Alfie thought, she was the bad guy.

  Huh?

  As they entered the nearly empty main hall, Alfie tried to imagine using her own strong fingers to turn back the metal hands of the big, tick-y clock that hung above the school office. If she could turn back time, she could change her mind about talking to Lulu.

  Would she?

  Maybe I would, and maybe I wouldn’t, Alfie admitted to herself.

  She honestly didn’t know for sure.

  “You were trying to boss my mama around, that’s what you were doing,” Lulu said, lowering her voice as they hurried down the echoing hall toward class. “And I’m telling everyone.”

  “Telling them what?” Alfie whisper-shouted. “That I wanted to keep you from hurting other girls’ feelings?”

  “Not everyone’s feelings,” Lulu argued again, pausing at Mr. Havens’s closed classroom door. “And I am telling the other girls about how you tried to ruin my sleepover.”

  “And then who’s gonna be the tattletale around here?” Alfie cried just as Mr. Havens opened the door.

  “Ladies?” he said, looming over them.

  He sounded calm—but scary.

  9

  “Meet Your Neighbors!”

  “Ooh! Trouble,” Bryan Martinez said with glee as Mr. Havens marched the two girls to their tables. Scooter high-fived his hand in the air across the room toward Bryan.

  Scooter sat right next to Alfie, so she saw the whole thing.

  And she liked Bryan. He was okay, usually.

  “No more noise from you, Mr. Martinez,” Mr. Havens said as he waited for Alfie to take her seat. Then he led Lulu to the table behind Alfie’s.

  “Okay, Coach,” Bryan said, cheerful in spite of the scolding.

  “We didn’t mean to be late, Mr. Havens,” Alfie told her teacher, deciding to take the blame. “But I had to talk to Lulu about something really important. Personal and important. So it was my fault we—”

  “Social Studies is important too,” Mr. Havens interrupted. “And so is my time.”

  “Is this going on my permanent record?” Lulu asked as Mr. Havens sat her down. “Because Alfie’s not even my friend anymore.”

  A zing! of excitement went through every girl in class.

  Especially Alfie.

  “I’ll decide later about your permanent record,” Mr. Havens said. “Bella?” he asked. “Give Alfie and Lulu their ‘Meet Your Neighbors!’ worksheets, please. They can catch up with the rest of us the best they can.”

  Bella had been standing near Mr. Havens’s desk, a few drooping papers in her hand. Her nose was still pink from crying in the bathroom. Bella handed Alfie what looked like a map of the United States and whispered, “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay,” Alfie murmured back, examining the piece of paper.

  She didn’t know all the states yet. Was she supposed to know them?

  And—“Meet Your Neighbors!” What did that mean?

  A week ago, her class had done a worksheet called “I’m on the Map!” that was about their local streets and t
he town of Oak Glen. Not about all the states in the country.

  Mr. Havens was thinking big this week.

  “Now, Alan,” he said to the new boy at Alfie’s table. “Before we were interrupted, we were learning where California is on the map. So, what states are our neighbors? That is, what states touch the California border?”

  Alan’s face turned pale. He did not like being called on in class.

  “I know you know one of the states, Phoebe,” Mr. Havens said, switching victims. “You used to live there,” he added, giving her a hint.

  “Arizona,” Phoebe said, beaming.

  “And how many North American neighbors does California have other than Arizona?” Mr. Havens asked. “Think fast,” he added, making an impatient circle-movement with his gigantic hand.

  “Not counting the Pacific Ocean?” Scooter asked when Mr. Havens called on him.

  “That’s right,” Mr. Havens said. “State neighbors. Hup, hup, All-Stars.”

  “Two,” Hanni said when Mr. Havens called on her. “Nevada and Oregon.”

  “Correct,” Mr. Havens said with a brisk nod. But he was smiling.

  On and on the Social Studies lesson went, with Mr. Havens hopping all over the map as he asked his questions.

  What states had the kids visited?

  What states did they want to visit?

  What states had he and Mrs. Havens visited?

  In what states did the kids’ grandparents live?

  And, always, what were all those states’ neighbors?

  But Alfie had trouble paying attention. Has Mr. Havens forgotten that Lulu and I came in late? she kept asking herself, hoping it was true. Maybe our trouble is all in the past! And maybe Lulu will forgive me. Maybe both our permanent records are still perfect, she added silently, crossing her fingers under the table for luck.

  Lulu Marino might even change her mind about them not being friends anymore—and invite her to the sleepover!

  Arletty leaned over and gave Alfie’s shoulder a gentle poke.

  “Listen up, Miss Jakes,” Mr. Havens was saying again, his unblinking eyes fixed on Alfie’s. “It’s almost time for lunch, but I want you to stay behind and help me out with a little something.”

  Oh no, Alfie thought, alarmed. He was going to yell at her! And everyone knew it.

  “You’re not gonna be out on the basketball court today, Coach?” Bryan almost wailed. “But you said we would work on our layups! You said!”

  “Thanks a lot, Alfie,” Scooter whispered, giving her the stink-eye.

  “Sometimes plans change,” Mr. Havens told them, squelching all further comments with a single look from his great height.

  Alfie gulped, but she tried to catch her breath at the same time, leading to some major coughing.

  Could a girl choke on nothing in class? Would Mr. Havens have to call 9-1-1?

  She gripped her “Meet Your Neighbors!” worksheet as if it were the life raft that might save her. But it didn’t.

  “Stay behind,” Mr. Havens said again.

  10

  A Pickle

  “Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long,” Mr. Havens began, perching on the edge of Alfie’s table.

  It was like Mr. Havens was a giant in a fairy-tale, Alfie thought, her heart pounding, and she was a tiny villager. She tried to sit up straighter, make herself taller.

  “You gotta look him right in the eye,” she could almost hear EllRay saying.

  “So, I want to you tell me, Alfie,” Mr. Havens said. “What’s going on around here? With the All-Star girls, I mean. I’m counting on you to communicate with me.”

  Huh? “But why?” Alfie asked. “I don’t know anything.”

  “You are one of the leaders in class,” Mr. Havens said, as if pointing out something obvious.

  “How come you think that?” Alfie asked, amazed. “Nobody listens to me—ever!”

  “Of course they do,” Mr. Havens said, laughing. “Alfie, you talk to other girls when something important comes up, don’t you? As it did this morning, it seems. And what about the time you got the kids to help pick up trash on the playground that windy day? I saw that. And didn’t you go to the trouble of showing Bella Babcock around school when she enrolled late? She was feeling shy back then.”

  “I guess,” Alfie admitted. “But I was just—”

  “You were just being a leader,” Mr. Havens said, finishing her sentence.

  “But I’m not really the boss of the girls,” Alfie pointed out after a long, silent moment. “Hanni’s more of the leader-type, Mr. Havens. Really. Or Suzette or Lulu, if you’re talking about girls who like to tell other kids what to do.”

  “Leaders aren’t always bossy,” Mr. Havens said, smiling. “And I think you’re more of a leader than you realize, Alfie. You are like a bridge between the old Oak Glen girls, who tend to stick together, and all the other girls—the new ones, the shy ones.”

  She was?

  And was that supposed to be a compliment, being called a bridge? Although the Golden Gate Bridge was pretty cool. Alfie’s family had visited San Francisco just last summer. She wanted to live there when she grew up.

  “Um, thanks, I guess,” Alfie said, trying to keep her legs from running out of the room—along with the rest of her, of course.

  “You’re welcome,” Mr. Havens said.

  “I can’t tell you our private business, though,” Alfie said before she could chicken out. “It’s nothing dangerous, but it’s girl stuff. So that would be like tattling on myself and my friends.”

  “I don’t mean tattling on anyone,” Mr. Havens said, holding up one big hand like a stop sign. “I’m not asking that. But look, I know something has been going on with you girls for the past couple of days. I can’t quite tune it in, but I can sense that trouble is brewing. And it concerns me.”

  He was right, Alfie thought. But if she blabbed now, she told herself, nothing good would come of it. She would never get invited to the sleepover.

  She imagined herself friendless and alone before school.

  And during morning recess.

  At lunch.

  And all through afternoon recess.

  And after school.

  During all the really important times of a school day.

  It was such a very sad thought that Alfie almost started to cry, pitying her poor, lonely, imaginary self.

  She sometimes got carried away like that, her mom claimed.

  “Look, Alfie,” Mr. Havens said again. “I didn’t mean to put you in such a difficult spot. I just want to know about any special concerns or problems you girls might be having, and I thought of asking you. I’m the teacher. Maybe I can help.”

  That sounded “reasonable,” as Alfie’s dad might put it. But how could she tell Mr. Havens about the problems the girls were having without saying something about the sleepover? And how could she tell Mr. Havens about Lulu’s sleepover without letting him know that Lulu had already broken a school rule?

  It was “a pickle,” as her mom would say.

  And talking to Mr. Havens was only going to make things worse. For her, at least.

  In a way, Alfie realized suddenly, that was why she wasn’t going to be able to ask her friends for advice, either—despite what she had told her brother last night. She couldn’t! Because if her friends helped Alfie get invited to Lulu’s sleepover, it would probably mean they had just crossed themselves off the guest list.

  Asking a person—herself included—to goof themself up like that was never a very “reasonable” request.

  “I want all my All-Stars to be happy,” Mr. Havens was saying, “and to have an excellent second grade experience.”

  “Me too,” Alfie said. And she remembered that only two days ago, all she had wanted in the world was for the girls in her class to keep on having fun and to st
ay friends.

  Freeze!

  Those were the good old days—before Lulu’s sleepover ruined everything.

  “Just think about what I said, that’s all,” Mr. Havens said, standing up. “Because right now, half of my class is pretty unhappy, Miss Jakes. And that makes me unhappy.”

  “Okay,” Alfie said, not looking at her teacher. “I’ll think about what you said.”

  But—maybe she would, and maybe she wouldn’t, Alfie told herself, trying not to frown.

  Wasn’t her life complicated enough without having to worry about him?

  11

  The Yips

  “Watch out, everyone,” EllRay said as the Jakes family sat down for dinner that night. “Alfie’s got the yips. We should put some of those orange traffic cones around her so nobody gets hurt.”

  “I don’t have the yips,” Alfie said, trying to kick him under the table.

  In the Jakes family, “the yips” meant that someone was really, really nervous. It was one of several expressions they used with each other to describe different moods.

  One of the Jakes might have “the sads” for some reason, for example.

  Or “the mads.”

  Or they might be “happy as a bean,” when things were going great.

  And Alfie did have the yips, she admitted silently. But anyone would, if they were in the same pickle that she was in.

  She had definitely decided not to talk to any of the girls in her class about the sleepover guest list—or about Mr. Havens’s talk with her that afternoon. It was as if there were little cartoon skulls-and-crossbones warning signs around the very idea.

  At the dinner table, Alfie’s father raised an eyebrow. This was his silent way of asking a question.

  Dr. Warren Jakes was tall, thin, and sometimes absent-minded. That was because he was a geology professor, Alfie guessed. He was a real brain. And that brain was often busy thinking about all the things that made up the planet Earth. Especially rocks.