Free Plastic Polly by Jenny Lundquist Page A

Pritchard says. “I’ll check the coin.”
    â€œI’ll check it with you,” Mr. Fish says. Before Mr. Pritchard can move, Mr. Fish has turned aside the desk so they can both stare at it.
    â€œIt’s tails!” Mr. Fish hollers.
    â€œAre you sure it’s tails, because it looks like it could be—”
    â€œIt’s tails,” Mr. Fish says. “Tails, definitely.”
    Once we’re seated again, Mr. Fish says, “We’re happyto host Groove It Up. I think you’ll find that Winston’s auditorium is quite sizeable and can easily accommodate both schools.”
    Mr. Pritchard smiles, although it looks like the effort might kill him. And I’m pretty sure I hear him mutter something about “snobby private school kids” before he says, “Thank you.”
    A girl from American River—Montana, I think—who has beady black eyes, slicked-back brown hair, and really chubby cheeks says, “We have a list of things we’ll need from you as the host school.” She looks expectantly at Justin, who’s staring at the fire alarm, looking like he wishes someone would give it a good pull. Then, with a disgusted grunt, she picks up Justin’s clipboard and says, “Each act from our Talent Team has a list of needs.”
    â€œYou had tryouts already?” I ask.
    â€œWe had them last month. Our students have been perfecting their acts for the last several weeks. You’d better prepare yourself.” Montana regards our team coolly. “We’re through accepting second place. The concert and the spot on Good Morning, Maple Oaks are ours.”
    â€œOh yeah?” Melinda says. “Well, that’s just too bad, because our school has quite a nice collection of trophies. And we’d like another one.” She wrinkles her nose atMontana like she smells something rotten. “Those are nice cheeks you have there. Shouldn’t you be somewhere else right now, storing up nuts for the winter?”
    Mr. Fish tells Melinda she’s out of line, but no one listens to him. Montana’s cheeks swell even larger, and she says something equally nasty to Melinda, which is followed by a cutting remark from Jenna. Then both teams are standing up and yelling, except for me. And for Justin, who’s leaning forward trying to get my attention.
    â€œAll right, that’s enough!” Mr. Fish hollers. “This meeting is now over!”
    I ignore Justin and leave the classroom, barely hearing Melinda’s and Montana’s voices as they continue trading insults. I pull out my phone and send Kelsey a text.
    I’m on my way. I NEED to talk to you. Right now!
    Fifteen minutes later I’m standing in front of Kelsey—who’s lying on her bed, propped up on a sea of hot-pink throw pillows—feeling like a chastened general giving a bad report to her queen.
    â€œLet me get this straight,” Kelsey says, settling back under her red quilt. “Justin, the guy you were going on and on about last night, is American River’s PlanMaster?”
    I nod, and blink several times. Every time I walk into Kelsey’s room, I feel like I need sunglasses. Last year she decided to decorate her room in bright shades of red and hot pink, saying they were her power colors. I’ve never told her this, but personally I think it looks like a valentine upchucked all over the place.
    â€œIt gets worse.” I tell her all about the meeting and how her brilliant plan to feature the cheerleading squad has been crushed.
    When I’ve finished, Kelsey throws a pillow at me, which I catch. “That’s just great, Polly. The next time you decide to blab your business to a random guy at the mall, do me a favor? Make sure he’s not your competition.”
    â€œDid you know?” I toss the pillow back at Kelsey, which she catches.
    â€œDid I know what?”
    â€œThat giving the cheerleaders multiple slots in