Vote for Me! Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgements

  chapter 1

  chapter 2

  chapter 3

  chapter 4

  chapter 5

  chapter 6

  chapter 7

  chapter 8

  chapter 9

  chapter 10

  chapter 11

  chapter 12

  chapter 13

  yours truly, Lucy B.Parker vote for me!

  “I just came up with a fantastic idea. When school starts in the fall, I think you should run for class president!” Laurel exclaimed. “With the promise that you’ll try your best to put an end to dork discrimination!”

  “Wow. You’re right—that is a fantastic idea!” I replied. “For someone else to do. Not me.”

  She gave me one of her super-serious, sincere looks—like the kind she used in the Don’t Let People Starve PSAs. “You have the opportunity to be the savior of not just all the kids at the Center for Creative Learning, but of anyone who has ever been teased. Or tripped. Or friend-dumped.”

  After everything I had been through over the last few years—my parents’ divorce, being friend-dumped, moving, getting a brand-new family, becoming a little sister, being about to become a big sister—only now was I starting to feel like things were leveling out. (Well, as level as they could get when you lived with the most famous girl in the world.)

  Let someone else’s life be turned upside down for a while.

  I needed a break.

  Books by Robin Palmer:

  Yours Truly, Lucy B. Parker: Girl vs. Superstar

  Yours Truly, Lucy B. Parker: Sealed with a Kiss

  Yours Truly, Lucy B. Parker: Vote for Me!

  Yours Truly, Lucy B. Parker: Take My Advice

  (coming soon)

  For teens:

  Cindy Ella

  Geek Charming

  Little Miss Red

  PUFFIN BOOKS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Young Readers Group, 345 Hudson Street,

  New York, New York 10014, U.S.A.

  Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto,

  Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland

  (a division of Penguin Books Ltd)

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  Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty Ltd)

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  Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Rosedale,

  Auckland 0632, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd)

  Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty) Ltd, 24 Sturdee Avenue,

  Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Registered Offices: Penguin Books Ltd, 80 Strand,

  London WC2R 0RL, England

  First published in the United States of America by Puffin Books and

  G. P. Putnam’s Sons, divisions of Penguin Young Readers Group, 2011

  Copyright © Robin Palmer, 2011 All rights reserved

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA IS AVAILABLE

  eISBN : 978-1-101-52868-6

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party Web sites or their content.

  http://us.penguingroup.com

  For my brother Josh, who did not look like a raisin when he was born

  Acknowledgments

  As always, immense gratitude to everyone at Penguin, most of all, Jennifer Bonnell, ne plus ultra of editors. And a special thanks to Lisa Silfen and Chris Linn at MTV, who, after I’ve been holed up writing all morning, make me laugh all afternoon.

  chapter 1

  Dear Dr. Maude,

  I know you haven’t heard from me for a while. (42 days since my last e-mail to you, in case you’re counting.) Unlike some people—i.e., the person whose bedroom is next to mine, aka Laurel Moses, Superstar—I am not in L.A. shooting a movie. And unlike my two (okay, only) friends Beatrice and Alice, I’m not away at camp. I’m here in New York City. In the same apartment building as you. With no one to talk to except Pete, our doorman.

  Besides my trip to L.A. to hang out with Laurel while she worked on her movie, it’s been a pretty boring summer. Yes, I’ve gotten to spend a lot of non–dentist appointment/ bra-shopping QT (quality time) with Mom. Which, if you remember from one of my previous e-mails, had been a problem because I had been feeling ignored by her ever since we moved here from Northampton, Massachusetts.

  But, to be honest, I’m a little sick of her, especially because, ever since Alan bought her this book called How to Become a Well-Rounded, Cultured New Yorker in Thirty Days, she’s decided that our QT should be spent going to all the different museums listed in the book. This is my summer vacation—I’m not supposed to have to LEARN things every day. I’m supposed to be doing FUN things like swimming and riding bikes, two things that are lot easier to do in Northampton than here in Manhattan.

  The good news is that in a few days I’ll be able to go ride bikes and swim all I want because I’m going up to spend some QT with my dad. It’s probably going to be one of our last QTs before my brother The Creature is born in November. Technically I should be calling him Ziggy, because that’s the crazy name Dad and Sarah, his girlfriend, are planning on giving the baby. But I’m practicing some positive thinking (because she’s a yoga teacher, Sarah’s way into that) by NOT calling him that and just sticking with The Creature until they get it together and come up with a normal name. Otherwise, he’ll be teased forever and his life will be a total mess and he’ll have to go on your TV show Come on, People—Get with the Program for advice about how to fix it.

  I’m really excited to hang out with my dad. Ever since Mom and I moved here in April so we could be with Alan and Laurel (BTW—can you believe the most famous girl in the world is going to be my stepsister? I still can’t) I’ve seen him only once. Even after the divorce, I still got to see him whenever I wanted because he moved only a few blocks away. And as much as I like New York, I guess I’m just missing home. Even though, when I came back to New York from L.A., New York felt like home, too.

  But getting back to why you haven’t heard from me in so long. Now that I live with Laurel, I know how busy a person can get when she’s famous. I mean, you’re not as famous as she is (did you hear that In Touch with People magazine named her Most Famous Teen Superstar of All Time last week?), but between your show, and the fact that you’re a New York Times–bestselling author, and that infomercial you do for wrinkle cream, you’re still pretty famous.

  But still, just because a person is famous doesn’t mean that she doesn’t have to practice common courtesy—like, say, taking the time to send at least ONE e-mail back to a fan. Especially if that fan has written the famous person 31 VERY LONG e-mails (32, including this one).

  I know you’re probably saying, “Look, you’re only twelve years old, and while you might THINK you have problems, you really don’t, which is why I have to spend my time focusing on the adults who do.” But not being able to get your boobs to stop growing or the fact that you can’t figure out who to have as a local crush on ARE big problems.

  Remember I told you about how Beatrice says there’s a three-crush rule? How you have to have a local one, a long-distance /vacation one, and a celebrity one? Well, I still don’t have any. Yes, I may have kissed Connor Forrester in L.A., but he’s definitely NOT my lon
g-distance and/or celebrity one. We’re friends, but frankly I find him too goofy to have a crush on.

  That being said, seeing that I am the keeper of the recently started Official Crush Log of the Girls at the Center for Creative Learning in N.Y.C. (to go along with the Official Period Log of the Girls at the Center for Creative Learning in N.Y.C.—I decided to make it school-wide instead of just focusing on my grade), it doesn’t look good that I don’t have any crushes to put in there. OR that I still don’t have my period. I’m still kind-of, sort-of considering Beatrice’s brother Blair for the local crush position, but I’m going to have to wait until I see him after he comes home from camp to see if I feel any crush symptoms before being sure.

  Personally, I think this crush stuff is overrated. I mean, what’s so great about having one crush, let alone three? I’m sure right now you’re probably saying, “Well, Lucy, if you feel that way, then why did you start a log?” And the answer to that would be that while I may be a little (okay, a lot) on the unorganized side when it comes to my bedroom, I feel very strongly that there are certain things that need to be kept organized in case anyone needs certain information. Like, say, about crushes. Or periods. Even if Cristina Pollock, the meanest/most popular girl in my grade thinks it’s stupid and calls me Period Girl because of it.

  But getting back to the crush thing. Maybe if I had it easy, like Laurel, I’d be a little more into it. See, she gets to have Austin Mackenzie as all three of her crushes. Local (when they’re in the same city like for movies or awards shows), long distance (when he’s in L.A. and she’s in N.Y.C.), and celebrity (as you probably know, he’s the boy equivalent of her). And not only is he her crush, but he’s also her boyfriend, because they totally fell for each other when we were in L.A.

  Anyway, I hope you and your dachshunds Id and Ego are doing okay. I still keep hoping I’ll run into the three of you in the lobby. Even though doormen are supposed to protect the privacy of the people who live in the building, Pete told me that you’re in town instead of away on summer vacation. (Don’t worry—the only reason he told me is because we’re really, really good friends, and he knows how much I want to meet you.)

  Oh, I keep meaning to ask you—do you have any hobbies? I don’t. But I think I’m going to make that one of my resolutions for the school year—to get some hobbies. That, and to get my period.

  Hope to hear from you soon.

  yours truly,

  Lucy B. Parker

  A few days later, as I was packing for my trip to Dad’s (really just shoving all my clothes into a duffel bag as quickly as possible before Mom could come in and say, “Lucy, how many times do I have to tell you that that’s NOT the way we pack around here! We FOLD the clothes NEATLY so that they don’t get all WRINKLED!”), I came up with another resolution: “No matter how mean a person has been to you, try being nice to them and see if that makes them be a little nicer.”

  That one I wasn’t going to wait until school began to start working on. I was planning on putting it into use during the trip in case I ran into my ex-BFFs Rachel and Missy, the ones who dumped me three days before sixth grade started. Over the PHONE from the mall.

  If I did run into them, instead of ignoring them and pretending they didn’t exist, I would have what Mom calls a BPM (Bigger Person Moment). I’d just walk straight up to them and say, “Hi, guys. How are you?”

  It’s not like I would try and become BFFs again with them, because (a) I already had two new BFFs: Laurel and Beatrice, and (b) Missy and Rachel had been so awful to me that they barely deserved me TALKING to them letting alone the re-friending thing. But at least it would clear the air and hopefully give me some good karma, which is something that my parents are big on. They’re both Buddhists and say that karma is kind of like luck. And if you do good things in this lifetime, then your karma is good for the next one, when you’re reincarnated. Basically, it’s like extra credit points on a test.

  A little while later, after changing three times before finally settling on my new Minnie Mouse T-shirt, a denim miniskirt, red knee socks, and black Chuck Taylors (the red and black matched the T-shirt), I walked from my apartment on Central Park West and Seventy-sixth Street down to Seventy-second to catch the crosstown M72 bus. Laurel and I were going to have a Welcome-Home-to-Her /Bon-Voyage-to-Me lunch at Synchronicity 4, our favorite restaurant. Once I was settled in my seat, I reached into myI ❤ NY tote bag for my Bonne Bell Coconut Cake Lip Smacker and smothered it on my lips.

  According to Mom, Lip Smackers had been around since she was my age, but I had only recently discovered them at Claire’s. The minute I tried the Cookie Dough one, I was totally addicted. Of the bazillion flavors, I already had twelve, which was two more than the number of pairs of Converses I owned. Not only do they do a great job keeping your lips soft, but if you’re the kind of person who gets hungry a lot, they’re doubly awesome because of their dessert, soda, Starburst, and Skittles collections.

  After I made sure the cap was on tightly (lint-covered Lip Smackers = disgusting), I took out my “Important Pieces of Advice” notebook. It used to be called “Important Pieces of Advice People Have Given Me,” but I changed it on account of the fact that I was coming up with a lot of the advice myself. Like, say, “Bigger Person Moments (BPMs) lead to better karma,” which is what I wrote down right then. And “Make sure you double-check to make sure the cap on your Lip Smacker is on tight before you put it in your bag.”

  After the old woman sitting next to me told me that she liked my outfit, I wrote, “Don’t be afraid to wear lots of color.” Color is very important to me. Unfortunately, some people (i.e., Cristina Pollock) don’t appreciate it. In fact, I had once heard her tell her BFF Marni that I looked like a crayon box had thrown up on me.

  As usual, Synchronicity was packed. Not only were they world famous for their frozen peanut butter hot chocolate, but after Laurel recently made the mistake of telling a reporter it was her favorite restaurant in New York, it got even more crowded.

  I’m here, I texted Laurel. Where r u?

  Next to the statue of the moon, she texted back.

  I looked over to see a girl with frizzy red hair, buck teeth, and thick-lensed black-rimmed glasses wearing a lavender shirt and overalls. I sighed. If they had given out awards for Most Dramatic Change from One of the World’s Most Beautiful Teens to Total and Complete Dork, Laurel totally would’ve won it, because there was no way anyone would’ve recognized her at that moment.

  Back when she had been in Northampton shooting a movie when our parents first started dating, I had taken her to the Holyoke Mall so she could experience what it was like to be a normal kid. At the time, I had suggested that we make her look nerdy so there wouldn’t be a giant stampede if they recognized her. Ever since then, she’s gotten really into wearing disguises when we go on our IBSs (Individual Bonding Sessions—this thing Alan had come up with so that we could blend our family together faster). At first it had mostly been hats (luckily, I had a very large collection of them), but then she started adding glasses, and wigs, and really ugly clothes from the thrift stores that I dragged her to. In the beginning she hated thrift stores because she had an issue with germs, but soon she came to love them. Well, after Annie, the woman who owned our dry cleaner, assured her that the chemicals they used would get rid of any grossness without harming the environment. But the fake buck teeth were new. Not to mention a little scary.

  I made my way over. “Hey, Laurel.”

  She looked around nervously. “I don’t know who you’re talking to. My name is Jane.” Jane Austen was Laurel’s pseudonym, which is a fake name you use when you’re trying to disguise your identity, like at hotels and stuff. In Laurel’s case, it was also the name of her favorite writer, some British lady who lived over two hundred years ago. Apparently, she was pretty famous, so it seemed like a weird name to choose if you were trying to stay anonymous.

  “Okay. Hi, Jane. What happened to your teeth? They’re so ... buck.”

&nb
sp; “Aren’t they great?” she whispered excitedly as she took them out and shoved them toward me. “I had the prop guy on the movie make them when I was in L.A.” One of the good things about being a star was that if you were nice—like Laurel was—then you could get all sorts of free stuff from the prop and wardrobe department. I couldn’t wait for Halloween.

  I leaned back and cringed. “Laurel, I know we’re fristers and all, but I don’t need to touch your teeth,” I whispered, pushing them back toward her. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a Japanese man wearing anI ❤ NY T-shirt with a camera strap around his neck looking very confused. “Put those back in,” I ordered. “You’re scaring the tourists.”

  To be honest, she was starting to scare me. Before I knew it, she was going to do something really gross, like add a fake mole to her face. Which, I knew from my old teacher Mrs. Kline, was very hard to look at. Especially if there were hairs growing out of it.

  I looked around the packed restaurant. “How long is the wait?”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied. “The hostess told me forty-five minutes, but when the girl who got here right after me asked, I heard her say twenty.”

  I sighed. “Uh-oh.”

  “What?”

  “I hate to tell you this,” I said, “but you’ve been the victim of ... dork discrimination.” DD, as Beatrice and I called it, was when you were ignored in stores or picked last in gym because of things like having bad skin, or wearing Christmas sweaters in February.

  Her eyes widened. “I have?” Laurel may have been really smart when it came to choosing movie roles, but when it came to real-life regular kid stuff? Not so much.

  I nodded. “I’m afraid so.”