Charlotte Cuts It Out by Kelly Barson Page A

don’t have any money right now. I spent it at lunch.”
    She spent it all? She got water with her tacos, and her total was less than two bucks.
    â€œIs that it?” I grab her arm and start toward Applebee’s. “I’ll cover you.”
    Right after the server brings us our drinks and disappears, Lydia says, “I’m pretty sure I failed my pedi test.”
    â€œI doubt it.” We pull the papers off our straws. “It was super easy.”
    â€œMaybe for you.” She takes a sip of her water. “I’m just not sure I’m cut out for this.”
    â€œOf course you are!” I look at the menu, although I don’t know why. We always order the same thing—chicken tenders from the 2 for $20 menu. “You’ve just been too busy at the bakery. I’ll help you before the next test. No worries.” I look around for our server. “Where’d she go? I’m starving.”
    She must have been right behind me, because suddenly she appears. “Sorry about that. What can I get ya?”
    Lydia says, “A cup of the chicken tortilla soup.”
    â€œWe’re not getting our usual?” I ask.
    Lydia blushes, but I don’t know why. Ordering food isn’t embarrassing. “Come on. You don’t want the
soup
!” Then I say to the server, “No offense.”
    â€œNone taken, hon.” Her messy ponytail wags as she shakes her head. “I wouldn’t eat it, either.”
    â€œSee?” I don’t wait for Lydia to answer. I order our tenders and our mozzarella sticks with two ranch dressings, no marinara. When the server leaves I ask Lydia, “What’s the matter?”
    â€œI told you I don’t have any money,” she says, more into her water than to me.
    â€œAnd I told you that I’d cover it. You can pay another time. No biggie.”
    â€œThat’s just it. I’m not sure when . . .”
    I wave her off. “Whenever. We’re PICs, remember?” Lydia nods after a second, and I change the subject. “I looked through the whole catalog, and you’re right. Reed isn’t in it at all. I’ve figured it out. He’s an undercover cop trying to bring down the weed dealers in automotive mech.”
    Lydia laughs. “Oh, okay, Sherlock.”
    â€œYeah, and speaking of the catalog.” I pull it out of my bag. “I’ve marked everyone we’re going to need to subcontract for our presentation.”
    â€œShouldn’t we wait for our designers?”
    â€œWe can’t wait for a second. We
need
to win this.” Then I tell her all about the bet. “So this is so much more than a school project to me. My whole future depends on it.”
    â€œGod, Charlotte!” says Lydia. “It’s one thing to bet on melting snow and a bagger’s hiccups. Are you sure you want to risk everything on a contest?”
    â€œIt’s too late. I already signed. I can’t go back now. We just have to make sure we win.”
    Lydia shakes her head. I don’t know why she’s so worried. Even if by some strange twist of fate we don’t win, we’re sure to place.
    The server brings our mozzarella sticks. I thank her and rip open a container of ranch. “So I was thinking of a fantasy Candy Land theme, since you’re so good with sugar flowers. Wouldn’t those look fantastic in a piecey updo?”
    â€œYeah, probably.” She dips a mozzarella stick.
    â€œAnd then the dresses can be shimmery with crystals all over them to look like candy, too,” I continue. “Using glitter and shine spray, we could make the models look as if they’re made of sugar.”
    â€œAs long as nobody throws water on them,” Lydia says while chewing. “We wouldn’t want them melting, melting, melting.” She cackles like the wicked witch from
The Wizard of Oz.
    â€œVery funny.” I peel off some breading and pop it