The Good, the Fab and the Ugly by Compai

Author:Compai [MAUDE, RACHEL]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: JUV006000
ISBN: 9780316039949
Publisher: Little, Brown Books for Young Readers
Published: 2008-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

“What are your symptoms?” the school nurse inquired in a cereal-crisp voice, subjecting Janie to a calculating once-over. Nurse Jackie wore her silver hair in a short, angular bob that never seemed to grow out or be cut, and appeared to subsist on a strict diet of Pepsi One and York Peppermint patties, nibbling around the edges like a rat at a wheel of cheese. Her fake-baked rail of a body, with its galaxy of sunspots across the arms and chest, earned her the nickname “Nurse Crackie,” which everybody used, including some teachers. She was in her sixties, but still dressed sixteen — a cause of major distress for Winston’s more fashion-forward females. Nothing quite compared to the trauma of arriving to school in the same outfit as their sour-faced school nurse, an experience collectively referred to as “crack,” as in, “ew-uh . . . my pink Burberry driver’s cap is totally on crack!”

But Nurse Crackie restricted her purchases to luxury retailers like Barneys, Saks, and Ted Pelligan, so the chances of Janie appearing in her clothes were slimmer than Crackie herself. Today, for example, the school medic wore light blue high-waisted jeans (Stella McCartney) with a wide fruit-roll-up-red belt (Marc Jacobs), a patterned navy blue blouse with puffed sleeves (Nanette Lepore), cherry patent-and-cork pumps (Tapeet), and plastic bangles (Jessica Kagan) that clacked when she extended her bony arm to slide the thermometer from Janie’s waiting pursed lips.

“You don’t have a fever,” she remarked, shaking the thermometer with a decisive flap of loose underarm flesh. She observed Janie with an appraising look. “Would you like to lie down?”

“Okay,” Janie nodded weakly, crawling across the crackling butcher-papered cot. She sent Nurse Crackie her bravest smile. “Is it okay if I call my mom?”

“Of course,” she replied, and swiveled in her seat, returning to her gray computer. Janie unearthed her cell phone from her crocheted bag and pressed 1.

“Hello,” answered a breathless voice on the first ring. Janie smiled into the phone.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Sorry?”

“I’m at the nurse’s office,” Janie explained, lowering her voice.

“Oh!” Amelia cackled with comprehension. “Faker.”

“I’m actually not.” Janie frowned, peeling the lid of a mini Kozy Shack rice pudding. “I actually feel really nauseous.”

“Oh no.” Amelia mulled this new information over. “Have you immaculately conceived Paul’s love child? Are you Juno?”

“Amelia!” Janie yelped, almost dropping her Nokia. She glanced in the direction of Nurse Crackie’s workstation, expecting a hard and reproving stare, but the nurse was plugged into her Nano and engrossed in her MySpace profile, oblivious to every word. “Amelia” — she lowered her voice a harsh whisper — “tell me he did not hear you say that.”

“Omigod, Janie,” Amelia laughed. “He’s a million miles away, I swear. And you’ll never guess what he’s doing.”

“What?” Janie licked her floppy foil pudding lid with great melancholy.

“Making a daisy chain.”

“He is?” Janie smiled. She knew Paul had a sensitive side.

“Puh-lease don’t sound like that,” Amelia chastised. “This is seriously disturbing shit. Like, the other day? He was listening to Devendra Banhart.”

“Um .

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