SmartGirl Authors

Snap!

by SG Author Isabel

Alex Cabella and Nikki Martinez are two best friends who so far have withstood the tests of time. But will it last when Alex accidentally gets the part in the school musical that Nikki wanted? Their friendship is breaking, and Hollywood doesn't have much glue.

Chapter 1

The sign on the front of my English class door speaks my three least favorite words. No, not "Extra essay tonight", but "Musical Auditions Today". Ugh. With both volleyball and book club to worry about, The Music Man can wait.

I'm Alex Cabella, a Quileute sophomore at Lady Bird Johnson Senior High, about five miles from La Push Beach. The Quileutes are a Native American tribe in Washington State. My family lives on the Quileute reservation, again a couple miles from La Push.

I love to sing, but I really don't want anyone to know. I don't like all the attention. Being a famous author: well, that would be different.

However, my best friend Nikki was probably the first one on the sign-up list. She loves singing and acting, but she isn't very good at it. Of course, I've never told her this. You've got to give her credit, though; she is really a very good artist. Much better than me.

On this particular day, I have to sit through volume measurements in chemistry class, letter writing in English, sour, week-old fish sticks in the cafeteria (complete with food fight), and the end-of-semester math test before (after spending a few minutes in the bathroom picking tater tot pieces out of my hair) I am free to run to the only drinking fountain in the east wing.

Naturally, since the east wing houses the gym, there is a mile-long line at the fountain. I groan. Six hours in ninety-degree weather makes me a little irritable. After 15 minutes, there is only one person in front of me, so I lean over and whisper in her ear, "One, two, and three, save some for me!" She looks a little annoyed when she leaves, but hey, so am I!

I lean down and start taking big gulps of what seems like the freshest, coolest, sweetest liquid on Earth. Hey…

I am under a turquoise waterfall with sweet, fresh, cool water pouring out of the top. I start gulping it down. Aaah…. Birds sing, dolphins and manatees swim around me, and it seems like the forces of nature are all working together just for me. "Alex!" Since when do all the forces of nature sound like Nikki? "Alex!!" Oh, crud.

And there I amhead in the water fountain, good old H20 dripping down the front of my shirt. Great. There is no way I can show up for volleyball looking like this. Nikki shakes her head and sighs. "Come with me, Al," she demands. She then grabs my shoulder and drags me off in the direction of her locker, which I like to refer to as Bloomingdales Jr. I'm not kidding. Nikki has practically her whole closet in her locker. I'm not complaining, of course. Nikki Elizabeth Grace Martinez has gotten me out of fashion predicaments on more than one occasion.

When we get to her locker, me dragging behind, Nikki pulls a purple sequined tank top from the depths of Locker 174 and hands it to me. Inside the locker are only clothes as far as I can see. And, of course, her books stuffed in the corner.

"Go change," the fashion savior groans at me, pointing towards the bathroom.

I trot to the nearest empty stall, which is thankfully the only stall with a hanger. Unfortunately, this good thing also comes with the fact that it is the ‘baby changing' stall. I pull off my Green Day concert tee and slip on the tank top and get to thinking. Where would I be if I hadn't met Nikki in kindergarten? We actually met when she asked for half of my peanut butter and M ‘n' M sandwich, saying it was her favorite. It was also mine, and, being kindergarteners, we hit it off immediately. If we hadn't, I thought to myself, I would be the laughingstock of the entire school on several occasions. Thank goodness for PB and M ‘n' M. I grin, and then pull open the door.

Nikki is checking her mascara in the bathroom mirror. I roll my eyes. Nikki, ever fashion-conscious, tends to check her make-up at every possible second. I don't even wear makeup!

I pull her away from the mirror. "Come on, Nikki." I tease, dragging her out the door by one arm, sodden shirt in my other hand. "It's time for you to get that part." Inside my tee, I have my fingers crossed.

As Nikki and I stroll down the hall, a voice crackles over the PA system. It is Mrs. Bongo, the vice principal. "Mrs. Aston, the volleyball coach, debate team leader, and book club director, has a sprained ankle. Hereby, volleyball practice, debate team, and 10th grade book club are cancelled until further notice." Nikki lights up like a light bulb at a National Energy Society meeting (no, I'm not entirely sure if there is one. But you never know!).

"Great!" she cries. "Now you can come with me to the Music Man auditions!" Before I can protest, Nikki the impatient grabs my shoulder for the second time that day and drags me away.