Free Sealed with a Diss by Lisi Harrison Page A

words.
    “Anyone?”
    “Bad sushi,” they answered.
    He folded his muscular arms across his chest and squinted in disbelief.
    “I know it sounds
fishy
.” Massie smirked. “But it’s true.”
    “Well, you missed out on a lot this afternoon,” he responded sternly, in a way that was meant to fill them with regret.
    “My gardener can always fill me in,” Alicia said, with the wide-eyed faux sincerity that teachers and parents always bought.
    “Joke all you want, Miss Rivera, but if you continue to take Mother Nature for granted she—”
    “Um, s’cuse me, but we so do nawt take her for granted,” Dylan interrupted. “If we did, why would we pay extra for Sonya Dakar’s
plant
-based moisturizers and toners?”
    “Great.” He rubbed his palms together like someone who was rarin’ to go. “Then you won’t mind spending the next two hours
feeding
the earth, as a thank-you for all those expensive moisturizers and toners.”
    The girls stared at him blankly.
    “Follow me.” Mr. Myner stood.
    “Kumbaya,” Alicia sneezed as they followed him into the sterile kitchen.
    The instant they entered the stainless-steel jungle, Massie reached for her purple-lensed Chloé sunglasses. “This place needs a shot of color, ay-sap.”
    “Point.” Alicia lowered her bamboo-framed Calvin Klein glasses from the top of her head. “It’s all white and metal-y. I feel like I’m trapped in a giant iPod.”
    Kristen, Dylan, and Claire snickered.
    “Enough!” snapped Mr. Myner, the hum of the gigantic dishwashers forcing him to raise his voice above its usual groovy late-night-DJ purr. “Remove your sunglasses and feast your eyes on
this
.”
    He stopped in front of a long stainless-steel table that held five black plastic bins stuffed with rotting food scraps.
    “Ew.” Dylan scratched the side of her leg with the tip of a mocha-brown suede cowboy boot.
    The rest of the girls tried to escape the fermenting-garbage smell by burying their noses inside their shirts and inhaling their perfumes.
    “
Au contraire
, Miss Marvil.” Mr. Myner reached into a small white cardboard box next to the bins and pulled out five hairnets. “What you are smelling is the cycle of life.” He inhaled deeply. “Isn’t it powerful?” He exhaled with a satis-fied moan.
    “Sure is.” Claire’s eyes watered.
    “Please put on the nets and rubber gloves and join me behind these bins.” Mr. Myner demonstrated by stuffing his wavy black hair inside the webbed cap. “Any questions so far?”
    Massie raised her gloved hand. “Um, why do we
have
to wear these?” She tilted her net like a beret. “It’s nawt like it matters if we get hair in the food. No one’s gonna eat
this
.” She turned away from the rank bin of eggshells, coffee grounds, banana peels, and vegetable scraps.
    “The earth will be eating it, and trust me, she has no tolerance for your mousse, sprays, and fruit-scented gels.” Mr. Myner pushed open the side door, letting in a gust of cold but refreshing air. “Behold, OCD’s compost.”
    The Pretty Committee stared in shock at a roofless, outhouse-shaped structure surrounded by piles of mud.
    “The workmen who renovated our cabana had to use one of those,” Alicia announced, “because my mom didn’t want them going
numero dos
in our house.”
    “There’s no way I’m going in there.” Dylan pulled off her gloves. “You can expel me again if you want.”
    “Relax.” Mr. Myner snickered. “No one has to go in. It’s a
compost
.”
    “Given.” Dylan slowly put her gloves back on, her baffled expression making it obvious she had no clue what a compost was.
    “Compost is one of nature’s best mulches,” Mr. Myner explained. “You can use it instead of fertilizer. All you have to do is dump the good stuff in and watch as bacteria, fungi, worms, and insects gather. What remains after these organisms break down the soil is a delicious earthy substance your garden will love.”
    The girls stared back at him,