Be Careful What You Wish Fur

  Copyright © 2021 Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Illustrations by Jeff Thomas © Disney Enterprises, Inc.

  Based on the book THE HUNDRED AND ONE DALMATIANS by Dodie Smith. Published by Viking Press.

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney Press, an imprint of Buena Vista Books, Inc. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher.

  For information address Disney Press, 1200 Grand Central Avenue, Glendale, California 91201.

  ISBN 978-1-368-06542-9

  For more Disney Press fun, visit www.disneybooks.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Epilogue

  1: #Selfie

  2: Little Devils

  3: New School Blues

  4: #Trending

  5: Knockoff

  6: Charity Case

  7: Ol’ Blue Eyes

  8: Replay Vintage

  9: Spotted

  10: Viral

  11: School Picture Day

  12: Roadkill

  13: Fashionista

  14: Plastic Girl

  15: Cruella De Vil

  16: Dognapping

  17: The Devil Woman

  18: House of De Vil

  19: You Belong To Me

  20: #CruellaCoat

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Click.

  Delia studied the selfie on her phone, displayed in the PicPerfect app. Her face stared back at her from the screen—familiar, yet almost like a stranger. Hazel eyes, freckled cheeks, wavy brown hair, heart-shaped lips. Her eyes were the one thing that she liked about her appearance. Emerald flecked with cinnamon and even a little gold. It was a rare eye color, and she’d gotten it from both her parents. Mom had the emerald-green eyes, while her father had cinnamon brown—or so she’d been told. She’d never actually met him, nor did her mother keep pictures of him around.

  Still, Delia frowned at her picture. She could spot every flaw in her skin, especially the monster pimple threatening to explode on the tip of her nose. Why did it always choose that spot? She approached the standing mirror, crammed into the corner of her little attic bedroom of their Chicago brownstone, and peered at her skin up close. She picked at the zit, but that just made it worse. Red and angry and swollen.

  “Why today of all days?” she muttered. “Why not yesterday, or even tomorrow?” It was like the zit knew that it was her first day at her new middle school.

  It was an evil zombie zit. It had a life of its own.

  A rush of anxiety crashed through her. There was no way to hide this thing. And she needed to look perfect for her first day. Her mother had always drummed that idea into her head.

  You only get one chance to make a first impression.

  Almost as if reading her thoughts, a prompt pinged from her phone.

  Ready to post to PicPerfect?

  Don’t let your ranking slide!

  Delia’s heart stopped—No, I’m not ready!

  Couldn’t the app detect the zombie zit on her nose?

  Apparently not. But the app so needed to add that feature. She quickly hit DISMISS, even though she did need to keep posting fresh content to her profile to keep her ranking high. At her old school, she and her two best friends in the world, Aaliyah and Zoe, had the highest rankings in their class. That also meant they were the most popular kids.

  Pretty much every kid her age had the PicPerfect app and monitored it closely, the way adults watched the weather or the stock market, tracking the slightest shifts and changes. If you didn’t keep posting selfies and getting comments, then your ranking would plummet.

  But there was a catch.

  You couldn’t post just any old pic.

  Posting bad selfies was worse than not posting at all. The goal was to collect the pink heart emojis, and avoid the dreaded red devil faces. Users clicked one if they liked your selfie and the other if they didn’t. The more hearts, the more views you got, and the more popular your account became.

  That was the goal. Grow your followers. The more hearts, the better.

  But one devil could make your account ranking plummet.

  And fast.

  Delia didn’t want to post a bad selfie and lose her high ranking. Plus, there was even more pressure today. From experience, she knew that the first thing the kids at her new school would do after they met her was search out her PicPerfect profile and check out her ranking and feed. At the top of it would be her selfie from that morning. First impressions mattered.

  That meant it had to be even more perfect than usual.

  Zombie zits were not allowed.

  Delia studied the selfie, still displayed on her phone screen, waiting for her to post it. It just didn’t look…perfect.

  Delia tried dabbing on a little pale cream concealer, but the zit was still visible like a volcano about to erupt and spew gunk. She swiped on some mascara and pale lip gloss, the only makeup her mother allowed. Mom had lots of strict rules, which annoyed Delia, but she found ways around them. Mrs. Smith, their landlady, let her do chores around the house for a modest payment, which Delia used to buy forbidden makeup, like pink blush and eye shadow, at the drug store.

  Delia stashed the contraband in a makeup bag and tucked it into her backpack to apply later at school, where her mom wouldn’t bust her. That was her normal routine, and usually Zoe and Aaliyah were there to help. But today, she’d be on her own, and it was especially important that she look her best. She needed every bit of help she could get, even if it came from a lipstick tube or blush palette.

  Her eyes flicked back to her face in the selfie. She frowned and hit RETAKE.

  The camera screen loaded up again in PicPerfect. The “PP” icon stared back at her, daring her to try again. She changed her shirt, slipping into a purple top. She aimed the phone at her face but then grimaced.

  Ugh, why did I ever think I look good in purple?

  Delia tossed the purple shirt aside, where it landed in a heap on the floor, and swapped it for an off-the-shoulder, loosely woven turquoise sweater. She peered back into the camera, angling it high and down at her face. Still, she wasn’t satisfied. While the sweater had looked great in the store, the turquoise now seemed to make her skin look pallid and greenish.

  She switched to a black turtleneck, hoping a neutral color would help. But it just made the zit on her nose more visible. Worse yet, with every wardrobe change, her hair was getting more disheveled and frizzier.

  Finally Delia gave up on trying new tops and instead tried changing the angle of the selfie, posing by the window in natural light, despite the chilly winter day outside, then casually leaning on her bed with its colorful bedspread, which she’d had since childhood, then full-on model-glamming it up in front of her mirror.

  Click. Click. Click.

  She snapped away.

  But each picture…wasn’t PicPerfect perfect.

  She sighed. No matter what she tried, something always seemed to be…wrong. Suddenly she missed her friends like a stab to her heart. They’d always take selfies together—on the way to school, or in the bathroom between classes, or after class let out in the afternoons, when they’d gather at one of their houses to work on their homework. Aaliyah and Zoe would have been able to help her troubleshoot her morning selfie woes, fixing what was wrong. They’d know if it was the wrong top, or makeup, or simply the pose or angle of the shot. They always did everything together.

  But that was over now.

  Her friends were still attending her old public
school, and Delia would be starting at Gilded Crest Academy, the fancy private school uptown. All alone.

  Missing her friends terribly, she flopped down on her bed and scrolled over to their profiles, feeling worse with each selfie that she flipped through. Their pics were so perfect. Pink hearts clustered under each image. Not a devil face in sight. But that wasn’t what made her feel bad. Of course she wanted her friends to get all the hearts and have tons of loyal followers.

  What made her feel bad was the post from that morning.

  Her eyes studied the pic at the top of their profiles. Aaliyah and Zoe posed together on the “El” train. The caption read, First day of second semester! with a cluster of trendy hashtags trailing after it. Her friends looked so happy…even though Delia wasn’t there.

  They didn’t look sad, or like they missed her at all.

  In the past, it would have been the three of them riding the train to school together, snaking through the tops of the city’s redbrick buildings with the clackety-clack of the tracks beneath them. The more Delia studied the pic of her friends, the more it felt like she had been photoshopped out of it—almost like she had been erased from their lives.

  Worse yet, they looked like they were having so much fun without her. Their faces grinned into the camera—Aaliyah with her dark skin and tightly curled black hair cropped short like a runway model, and Zoe with her blond bangs and shoulder-length bob, cut perfectly straight, almost like an antique porcelain doll. They both wore puffy coats and stylish, vintage-inspired clothes.

  “You don’t even miss me,” Delia whispered to the selfie, feeling sorry for herself.

  For the thousandth time, she wished that her mother wasn’t making her switch schools, especially in the middle of the school year. Her stomach twisted.

  But then—

  Ring. Ring. Ring.

  A vid-chat call was coming in on the app.

  Delia’s heart leapt with joy, recognizing the caller. She hit ANSWER.

  “We miss you!”

  Aaliyah’s voice echoed out of her phone. Her face lit up, and she squealed into the phone when she saw Delia. Then another voice cut her off—

  “Hey, stop hogging her! Gimme some screen time….”

  That was Zoe.

  And it was so very…Zoe.

  She pushed Aaliyah out of the shot in a playful way, flashing a big grin and waving manically at the screen. Zoe was super high-energy and played almost every sport imaginable—softball, swimming, tennis, volleyball, even Ping-Pong.

  Delia smiled at the memory of them piled on pillows on the floor of Zoe’s basement to watch the summer Olympics, a once-in-every-four-years event. Her favorite event was the high dive. She loved how graceful the divers looked arcing through the air before plunging into the deep end.

  Meanwhile, Aaliyah’s favorite sport was virtual. And it wasn’t played at the Olympics…yet. She was a big gamer, loving RPGs the most. Battlestar Asteroid was her specialty. She even had followers online and streamed her game play live for them to watch. She was sort of a legend, if you were into that sort of thing. Delia wasn’t into games. But she loved how different she and her friends were, and how despite those differences, they could still be the very best of friends.

  “We saw you lurking on our profile,” Aaliyah said with a mock-accusing look. “And posting hearts to all our selfies.”

  “So we decided to call you,” Zoe chimed in. “And have, like, a convo—”

  “IRL,” Aaliyah finished.

  Delia laughed. Zoe and Aaliyah had been friends for so long, they could basically finish each other’s thoughts. The two of them had met in day care, though technically, neither of them could remember that, while Delia met them her first day of second grade, when her mom had moved them from Philadelphia to Chicago. Sometimes the closeness of Aaliyah and Zoe’s bond brought out Delia’s insecurities, but her friends had a way of making her feel like she belonged with them, no matter what was happening.

  Just like today.

  “So are you super excited for your first day at your posh new school?” Zoe asked.

  Both their faces crammed into the shot. They peered at her eagerly.

  “I don’t know. You have no idea how much I miss you.”

  “We miss you, too!” Aaliyah said. “But something else is wrong.”

  “Yeah. Spill it,” Zoe added. “I know that tone in your voice.”

  “No secrets, remember?” Aaliyah added with an arched eyebrow. “We’re best friends forever. Going to different schools doesn’t change that. Forever means forever.”

  “Okay, okay,” Delia said, feeling her nerves flare up. “I guess…I’m nervous about the new school. It’s different than Shady Grove. It’s a private school with all these traditions and new people and—”

  “And they’re lucky to have you!” Zoe said. “You’re the best! And you’re the smartest person I know. You’re the only reason I passed math last year. They’re gonna love you.”

  Aaliyah nodded. “Yeah, you’ll have zero problems making new friends.”

  “But how do you know?” Delia said, her insecurity so deep, it felt like the undertow in a big wave threatening to suck her under. “What if they already have their friend groups and no one wants to, like, sit with me or talk to me or whatever?”

  “You made friends with us, and we were already a ‘friend group,’” Aaliyah said pointedly, exchanging a look with Zoe.

  “And we’re awesome,” Zoe agreed. “Just look at our PicPerfect ranking!”

  Delia’s eyes flashed to the number in the corner of the vid-chat screen. It was true. They had the highest rankings in their school. That made Delia feel better. Her friends knew her better than anyone. Their faith in her ability to make new friends boosted her confidence.

  She felt her nerves about her first day and her FOMO about not being with her besties ebb a bit. Their selfie on PicPerfect was just one picture. And deep down, despite their perfect appearances and worry-free smiles, her friends really did miss her. She had to remember that pictures didn’t always tell the whole story. In fact, sometimes they even lied.

  “Thanks. You’re the best,” Delia started, feeling gratitude thrumming in her chest. “I really mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you—”

  “Oh, sorry,” Aaliyah cut her off. “Gotta go. We’re at our stop.”

  “Yeah, one more tardy,” Zoe said with a panicked expression, “and I swear, my folks are gonna disown me. And make me quit Ping-Pong. They said it’s stretching me too thin.”

  “And no more Battlestar Asteroid for me,” Aaliyah said. “Screen-time grounding is, like, worse than regular grounding. I’m happy to stay home, just don’t take away my Wi-Fi.”

  “Bye, Delia! Good luck!” they chorused.

  With that, the screen went dead, dissolving back into the PicPerfect home screen. Delia wished they had more time to chat—or better yet, that they still attended the same school so they could spend the whole day together.

  Virtual friendship is better than nothing, she told herself.

  Delia posed one last time and raised her phone to try again. Click. She snapped the selfie, forcing a brave smile. And this time, for some magical reason, when she checked the photo on her screen she actually liked the picture. While the zombie zit was still there, it looked less monstrous somehow. Her frizzy hair also looked less…frizzy.

  It was the magic of friendship, she decided. It had boosted her confidence.

  She wrote a quick caption. To the two best friends in the whole world…I miss you! Then she tagged Aaliyah’s and Zoe’s accounts. Perfect.

  At that moment, an impatient voice reverberated through the town house, making her jump and hit POST before she could properly hashtag it.

  “Delia, you’re gonna be late for school!”

  “Don’t make me come up there and get you!”

  Her mother’s voice reached her bedroom clear as day, somehow echoing up all those winding stairs to the attic without losing
an ounce of strength.

  Delia and her mom lived in a town house in the Old Town neighborhood of Chicago, which they shared with their elderly landlady, Mrs. Smith. It had been in Mrs. Smith’s family for generations, and its age showed in the worn wooden floorboards, rickety windows that stuck when you tried to open them, and creaky bathroom fixtures that went drip, drip, drip.

  In all truth, it could use some serious updates. But it stayed warm in the winter and cool in the blistering Midwest summers, and Delia and her mom were lucky to have a nice place to live in a safe neighborhood. Delia had her own room there, even if it was in the attic. In their last apartment, which was technically public housing, they’d had only one bedroom to share.

  Delia’s father had taken off when she was just a baby, and her mother almost never talked about him. Delia didn’t know a lot about him or why he left, just that he wasn’t ready for a kid. She wished her mom would say more, but recognized it was a source of pain. It represented a visible way that she’d failed her daughter, or so her mother thought, even if it wasn’t true.

  If it was anyone’s fault, it was Delia’s for showing up in this world. That was why her father left, wasn’t it? But she knew better than to voice that opinion out loud.

  Often, Delia found herself at a loss for words when her friends talked about their fathers, even if they were complaining. She wished she had a dad to complain about.

  Despite her mother’s busy schedule with work and night school, and her strict rules like her makeup ban, Delia respected how hard her mom worked to give them a better life. They’d been able to move in with Mrs. Smith when her mom landed her new job working at a law firm.

  “It’s your first day, remember?” her mom called up the stairs now. “You know what I always say: First impressions matter….”

  Delia mouthed along to that last part because she’d heard it so many times. Two of her mother’s other favorite sayings were Always make the best of a bad situation and Never look down, only up.

  It was true, though, Delia supposed. First impressions did matter, especially on first days at new schools. Especially one called Gilded Crest Academy. Even the name sounded super fancy.