Slumming
First Chapter

Nikki

There’s something about traveling to another country: you can never see your own home quite the same way again. I believe it was this experience that inspired my Great Philosophical Idea. Not that I am necessarily blaming the French. Or my mother.

French faces don’t look like American faces. It’s hard to explain. "Not a physical difference," my mother told me, “so much as a philosophical one.” We were leaning on the stone rampart along the Seine, watching five young musicians arguing with a couple of Paris policemen. "The French fit themselves into the universe in a different way than we do." My mother grinned and shrugged, looking a bit French herself. "The spirit inside shapes the face."

I remembered those words one day as I was watching Brian Camarga walk across the school lunchroom. And voilá—the Great Idea.

Of course, the second it came into my head, I started talking about it. This is one of my character flaws. Then Alicia jumped on the idea, sucked it in, remodeled it, and out it came: a new edition of Alicia’s Perky Projects. This is one of her character flaws.

And suddenly, Sam and I were trapped.

Anyway, that's how it all got started. So mea culpa—everything that happened later can be traced straight back to me. Big surprise.

Brian Camarga is a classic nerd. He's tall and skinny, has lousy skin, wears glasses, and carries about fifty mechanical pencils in his shirt pocket. He dresses like an old man, he has terrible posture, and he gets straight A's. He is, in short, a walking stereotype.

As it happens, I also get straight A's. But I am none of the above things. In fact, I am reasonably cute, I have tons of friends, pretty good hair, and I am friendly to everybody. I’m not your student government type like Alicia is. I’m just a happy person who generally likes going to school. My flaws are that I talk too much, and I have a problem with low self-esteem.

Sam

"Nikki talks too much." I say this to Alicia—not because I am annoyed. I say it because it is true.

"She talks a lot because she has a lot to say," Alicia retorts. "You know, Sam, it wouldn't hurt some people to do a little more talking."

"Oh, and you're the one to say that," I remark.

"All right," she admits. "It might not hurt either of us."

I am not concerned. "I have a Jeep," I tell her. "I don't have to talk."

Nikki

Not everybody likes me. Some people see me from the outside and conclude that I’m obnoxious and fake and shallow. Too bad they don’t look closer.

Which brings me to the point: there are all kinds of people in the world. Tolstoy once said, "All happy people are the same; but unhappy people are all interesting." Those aren't the exact words, but that's the gist of it, and personally, I think it's trash. Happy people, unhappy people—everybody is interesting. And nobody's the same.

It’s sad that some people’s lives end up being so depressingly unhappy. A person raised in a messed up family can be cursed with a seriously skewed view of himself and the world. On the other hand, a person raised in a great family can get a solid head start into a good life.

Or not. Sometimes, it’s just the opposite. Life is complex.

But that's the game, isn't it? Who you turn out to be in the end. What kind of hand they deal you, and how you choose to play it. Or, at least, that's the way it seems to me.

So I was looking at Brian, and I wondered—obviously, smart people do not have to be so completely repulsive. And then I thought, French faces, American faces—what makes the difference? Everybody has two eyes and a nose and a mouth. What makes some people beautiful and some people not?

Alicia

I will admit that when we read Pygmalion in junior English, it made a deep impression on me. And when Nikki started talking about French faces, and about Brian, I knew exactly what she meant. Even if everybody in the world had exactly the same face, there would be no two people exactly alike. Some would achieve beauty, some would be ugly; some faces would end up seeming gentle, some cruel. All depending on the person looking out through the face.

For a long time, I've wanted to find out if this is actually true. And suddenly, today, I realized: we're seniors. This is the end—-we graduate in less than two months. So if I ever want to do something big, something that has meaning, it better be now.

The idea came all at once: we will each choose a person who is obviously untapped, and we will try to open him up, set him free, give him life. I do not anticipate that it will be that hard—kindness, a little attention, support, friendship.

I want to work a miracle.

I set the rules: we have three weeks. We will choose our person, do whatever it takes, and then we will take the person we have chosen to the prom. The day after Prom, the three of us will get together and decide who accomplished the biggest change. That last part is the part I like least—the competition, I mean—but I felt I had to make it that way because some people work better under pressure.

I have to defend it like this: the three of us have a lot to give. It would be a crime if, before we leave this part of our lives forever, we don't do something to make the world better for somebody. Somebody who may be drowning. Somebody whose heart is dying.

Somebody like Morgan.

Sam

It was a stupid idea.

I have a term paper. I have a life. I should have said no.

But I hate arguing.

Alicia says, "Choose a target with potential." And I do. Then Nikki blows up in my face.

"Why her?" Nikki yells. Like I broke the rules.

But I didn’t. My target is smart and interesting. I think that counts as potential.

She's just so completely not me.

Nikki

We have AP’s and finals and term papers; it's not like we need another project. But I let this get away from me. Maybe the idea of changing Brian was so intriguing, I just lost my head. Anyway, here we go: a human experiment.

I walked away with two main misgivings: first, three weeks is not a long time to turn somebody like Brian around. For sure, you can’t clear up skin that fast—but then, that's just a minor detail. The big thing is going to be his self-confidence—fix that, and stuff like posture, taste in clothes —all that will just naturally follow.

The real worry here is that Alicia won't tell us who she’s choosing. She's holding something back, I know it. I’m betting she picked Peter—it’s just her pride that won’t let her admit it. He’s the natural choice, darned good material to begin with. But you never can tell with Alicia—especially considering what she’s been going through lately.

But Sam. Why would he choose Tia? Tia Terraletto: Girl Most Likely to Beat You with Chains. When she walks by, boys die instantly of asphyxiation. I spoke to her once, and she reduced me to ashes. She scares me to death. Here’s my question: why would she just pop into Samuel Pittman's head?

Alicia

Nikki's going to rag me all weekend. But telling was never in the rules. Besides, I heard the way she went after Sam when he picked Tia.

I don't think my dad needs to know about this little project. He has too much to worry about as it is. Anyway, it's not that big a thing. Just me trying to make a difference.

Sam

There's a reason why people wear black lipstick. The eyebrow ring, the Nazi shoes—that whole hard-guy thing—it means something. Says something. Like "up yours." Okay, so it's an attitude. You’re rejecting what’s normal.

But why? Why bother?

I like people. I like liking stuff—football and assemblies and knowing everybody I pass in the hall. And singing. And church. And believing in things.

Not rejection. I don't like that—rejecting. Or being rejected.

Tia's a good artist. That’s what Mr. Russo says. She was in his exhibit last year. I didn’t understand her drawings. They made me feel weird—I had to go look at trees and grass afterward. Normal things. Simple things.

I think she's unhappy.

Maybe I could do something about that.

Nikki

I told my mom about the Brian Camarga Epiphany. I didn't tell her about the Prom. I'm not sure how I feel about that yet. But I'm kind of excited about helping Brian. I thought Mom would get it, but she didn't. Even when I brought up French faces.

"Everybody has to be American?" she asked me. I told her that wasn't the point. It's not that I want Brian to be like me. I explained very cogently: there's a lot of untapped potential in Brian that could be brought out if he were maybe a little bit more self confident.

When I said that, my mother started getting sarcastic. So I just let it go. It doesn't pay to get into a debate with my mother.

Anyway, Monday is when we will begin our Human Project. No worries. Piece of cake—once I can figure out how to break into the myopic world of Brian Camarga.

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