Plastic Polly by Jenny Lundquist

drowning a chunk of pancake in chocolate syrup, I tell Mom and Dad about the tryouts and what a disaster they were. Mom and Dad sit close together and hold hands while I talk. Dad steals bites from Mom’s plate, and Mom takes small sips of Dad’s coffee, because she says she only wants a little caffeine this late at night. These are the nights I like most, when neither of them are working and the three of us can just hang out.
    When I’ve finished, Mom, who’s all about the fine print, says, “Are there any guidelines stipulating who you can and who you can’t vote for?”
    I shake my head. “I checked The PlanMaster’s PlanMaster this morning. It clearly states judges can vote for whoever they want. Technically we’ve done nothing wrong.”
    Which is exactly what Kelsey said when I called her this afternoon and told her what happened at tryouts. I didn’t tell Kelsey about another rule I’d found, one I was pretty sure would solve my judging problem. If I had the guts to use it.
    Dad snatches his coffee cup away from Mom and says, “It’s wrong in spirit. It’s a talent show competition, so theexpectation is that the judges will vote for the most talented students.”
    â€œIf that was the expectation, they should have put it in writing.” Mom snatches the coffee cup back.
    Mom and Dad argue for a few minutes. I doubt Mom actually thinks it’s okay that Melinda and Jenna only voted for the popular kids. Mom and Dad enjoy debating each other over a million different topics, just to see who can make a better case.
    Dad once told me Mom was not only the most beautiful woman he’s ever met, but the smartest, too. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever meet a boy who will say that about me, instead of having to put up with guys like Derek Tanner who think they’re so cool just because they play football.
    â€œWell then,” Mom says when she and Dad have finished debating, “what are you going to do about it?”
    â€œI don’t know. Alyssa said—”
    â€œAlyssa?” Mom interrupts. “Did she try out? She’s so incredibly talented. Lynn told me Alyssa wants to study at Juilliard. I’ll bet one day she’ll sing on Broadway.”
    I grimace and sip my hot chocolate. Mom and Mrs. Grace—Lynn—are friends, and Mom doesn’t understand why Kelsey and I don’t hang out with Alyssa anymore. (I never told her about our fight over the Court.) And wheneverher name comes up, Mom likes to talk about Alyssa’s great talent. Just once I wish she’d brag about me that way. I mean, Alyssa’s not even her daughter. And I am.
    â€œAlyssa tried out,” I say quickly, “and she says there’s no way we can win the competition with the acts Melinda and Jenna selected. But Kelsey says—”
    â€œâ€˜Kelsey says’?” Mom frowns. “What about what you say? You have your own voice, Polly. So far I’ve heard what Alyssa thinks and what Kelsey thinks. What about what you think?”
    â€œI don’t know what I think.” I slam my hot chocolate down so hard, it sloshes over the side. “That’s why I was asking for your opinion. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
    Just like that, Mom can take a nice night out and ruin it. Just because I’m not more like her and always know exactly how I should handle things. I avoided her all day because when I woke up this morning, I saw she’d placed the application for Camp Colonial on my desk. So while she was taking a shower, I dropped the application onto her bed with a sticky note attached that said, Tag. You’re it!
    â€œPolly, I wasn’t saying—”
    Mom is interrupted by a syrupy voice calling across the diner, “Laura, Nick, I thought that was you!”
    I turn. Mrs. Huff is standing near the cash register while Mr. Huff pays their bill.
    â€œOh no,” Mom groans.
    â€œI