Plastic Polly Read Online Free PDF Page B

hesitate before answering, maybe too long, because Principal Allen says, “Polly, there are leftover cookies in the teachers’ lounge, just down the hall. Why don’t you grab a few—there’s milk in the fridge—and we’ll pick this up in a few minutes.”
    I know she’s trying to get rid of me—though I’m not sure why—but I don’t argue, and try not to run from her office. Inside the teachers’ lounge I ignore the cookies and send Kelsey a text:
    Are you there?
    It takes a minute, but then:
    Yes. Hard 2 txt with 1 hand tho.
    I’m meeting with Principal Allen. She wants to know if I want to be the PlanMaster or if I want to resign.
    I hesitate and then add:
    Do you think I could do it?
    I had meant to text “should” do it, like whether or not Kelsey thinks it’s worth my time. But instead, I typed “could” do it, like I’m wondering if Kelsey thinks I’m able to plan Groove It Up by myself. Which, I guess I am. Wondering, I mean.
    I wait for Kelsey to text back.
    And wait some more.
    When it’s clear Kelsey isn’t going to respond, I leave the teachers’ lounge. The door to Principal Allen’s office is cracked open, and I hear whispers. Instinctively, I slow down.
    â€œOh, Trudy, you mustn’t let it get to you,” Mom is saying. “People get worked up over Groove It Up. They always have. Remember when we were in eighth grade?”
    â€œYes, but things are different this year. These prizesare making everyone crazy. Do you know how many phone calls I’ve received from parents who want their kid to get a slot on the Talent Team, just so they can get on TV if we win? Or because their kid is dying to see Shattered Stars? Henry Huff is even insisting that this is too important to let the students handle it.”
    â€œBut Groove It Up is always coordinated by the students. It’s tradition.”
    â€œThat’s exactly what I told him, but he’s one of our biggest donors, so others listen to him. I need a win here, Laura. Tell me honestly, do you think Polly can get the job done?”
    I step closer to the door. I know I should cough, clear my throat, make a bunch of noise, and pretend I haven’t just been eavesdropping. But I can’t. In the few seconds of silence as we wait for Mom’s response, I hear the question a hundred times over:
    Can Polly get the job done?
    I hear it so many times, it’s not until Principal Allen says, “Oh, I see,” that I realize Mom never answered the question.
    â€œYou have to understand, Trudy,” Mom says, sounding embarrassed. “Polly’s more of a follower than a leader. And anyway, you know kids today. They’re lazy. They’remore interested in shopping and texting their friends than working hard.”
    â€œSo true,” Principal Allen says. I don’t hear the rest of what she says, because I feel like I’ve been punched in the gut, and there’s a strange buzzing noise in my ears.
    The nickname Plastic Polly has always bothered me, but I figured it was mostly just because people were jealous, that they coveted a spot at the Court, and when it was denied, they turned to nastiness as their consolation and decided to dismiss me as shallow and fake. But do people really believe it? Does my own mother really believe it?
    I feel hollow—like I’m nothing but empty space—as I silently back up a few paces, cough loudly, and clomp through the door. I refuse to look at Mom as I take my seat in front of Principal Allen.
    â€œSo, Polly,” Principal Allen says, “we were just discussing your options. We feel it’s unfair you’ve been put into this position, that you are now in charge of something as all-consuming as Groove It Up.”
    Unfair to who? I want to ask, but don’t.
    â€œI realize that perhaps you didn’t want to be PlanMaster, that it may interfere with your