Brooke's Not-So-Perfect Plan by Jo Whittemore Page B

okay?” she asked.
    â€œIf she wasn’t, Tim would’ve said something, right?” I asked. “Besides, I’ve got bigger things to focus on. Like this project. Oh! And I’m running for president!”
    She smiled. “I think you’ve got a few years before you’re ready for the White House.”
    â€œNo!” I laughed. “Of the sixth grade!”
    â€œOh!” She giggled too. “Well, if you need any help with your campaign, let me know. Also, I’m going to the library tonight,” she said. “You should come with me.”
    â€œI don’t have time,” I said with a sigh. “I have soccer.”
    Heather shrugged. “Then we’ll go after soccer. I’ll come with you!”
    I looked up from my notebook. “Really? You want to watch me practice?”
    None of my friends ever wanted to do that.
    Heather smiled. “Don’t act so surprised! I miss hanging out.”
    â€œA www!” I gave her a spontaneous hug. “I know, me too! Things are just so crazy right now.”
    â€œTell me about it.” She rolled her eyes. “The choral director at this school is insane. She wants us to spend fifteen minutes a day singing.”
    I frowned. “That’s not so bad.”
    â€œWhile running on a treadmill.”
    â€œHa! Where are you supposed to get a treadmill?” I asked.
    Heather bumped me toward the door. “ That’s the part you have questions about?”
    She and I talked all the way to Mom’s car and then all the way to the soccer field. I couldn’t believe how much I’d missed in just a week.
    â€œThey offered you a solo and you turned it down?” I asked. “But you’re so good!”
    â€œThanks,” she said with a modest smile. “But a solo means standing alone, with all eyes on me.” Heather shuddered. “That’s too much pressure.”
    I goggled at her. “Last Friday you spoke to the entire school during our Meet the Press video.”
    â€œThat was different! I was talking to a video camera,” she said.
    â€œSo pretend everyone at the concert is a giant video camera,” I said.
    â€œRight. Because that’s not creepy.”
    I poked Mom in the shoulder. “You agree with me, right?”
    She chuckled. “I agree that Heather has a beautiful singing voice, but if she isn’t ready, she isn’t ready.”
    â€œThank you, Mrs. Jacobs!” Heather said, giving me an I-told-you-so look.
    I snorted. “That is so not my approach to life. My motto is ‘Ready or not, here I come!’”
    Heather tilted her head to one side. “I’m pretty sure that’s wrong.”
    Mom pulled up to the curb by the soccer field. “Brooke, stop bullying Heather. And have fun at practice. Do you need me to pick you up later?”
    â€œWe’re going to the library after,” I told her. “I’ll call you from there.”
    I kissed Mom on the cheek, and Heather waved to her as we both hopped out.
    â€œI’m so excited to see you play!” said Heather.
    â€œJacobs!”
    I turned just as Coach threw a cloth bundle at me. I gasped and opened it.
    â€œIs this . . . ? It is! Our new uniform!”
    I held it up and admired the bright colors and fresh scent that was completely without body odor.
    â€œIt works better as clothing than decoration,”said Coach with a smile. “Get changed and on the field.”
    Heather and I ran into the women’s locker room, where I changed and preened momentarily in front of the mirror.
    â€œI love it!” I said, beaming.
    â€œLet me get a pic.” Heather pulled out her phone, and I posed. “Perfect!”
    â€œOkay, now I really have to get to practice,” I said with a giggle.
    Heather took my bag of school clothes. “I’ll go find a place to sit.”
    I pointed to one of the shade trees. “My mom always sits