Part 2 (1/2)

I remembered when Mrs Hunter had asked me this in front of the whole cla.s.s on my first day and how nervous I'd gotten. My knees had started to shake and I'd wanted to die on the spot. I felt sorry for Cheyenne, wondering if she felt the same way. I hoped if her knees started shaking, her ankles wouldn't turn in her high-heeled boots.

But if she felt nervous, you couldn't tell at all.

*Certainly,' Cheyenne said. *I'm considered highly intelligent, and I enjoy water sports such as swimming and sailing, especially on Lake Ontario.'

*Thank you, Cheyenne,' Mrs Hunter said, before any of us had a chance to applaud. Well, I don't know if anyone but me felt like clapping. But I thought a speech that good deserved some applause. Cheyenne hadn't said *um' once! *You may take your seat. Your desk is right next to Erica Harrington . . . Erica, will you show her?'

Erica waved her arms to show Cheyenne where her (or really my) desk was. Cheyenne smiled graciously and went to sit down at her new desk. I watched as Erica said h.e.l.lo to her and helped her put away her things. All the things Cheyenne owned were very grown-up looking. For instance, her pencil box didn't have h.e.l.lo Kitty, Webkinz or Bratz on it. It was just plain.

Which actually seemed kind of boring to me, but whatever. If I was starting a new school in a new country, I'd have gotten horses on everything. Or at the very least, rainbows or unicorns.

I saw that Caroline and Sophie had turned around in their seats in front of Erica's row to say h.e.l.lo. So had some of the other girls. Cheyenne, I could tell, was going to be popular. Probably because of her T-s.h.i.+rt. Who wouldn't want to be friends with someone who was all talent and no talk?

Wearing the fact that you are talented on your T-s.h.i.+rt is always a smart move. This is a rule.

I was going to have to wait until recess to talk to her, of course. Because I was stuck at the back with Rosemary and the Terror Triplets. There was no way I could even throw Cheyenne a special Welcome to Pine Heights note from here. It would never reach her. I was stuck at the back of Mrs Hunter's fourth-grade cla.s.s, with the nose-pickers and the zombie brain-eaters.

Who knew if I'd ever even make it out alive?

Rule #4.

Friendly People Don't Tell Other People That Their Games Are Babyish.

I made it out for morning recess, but barely. I had to tell Stuart to knock it off with the zombie drawing four times. Finally I realized the only way he was going to stop showing me his disgusting horror sketches was to make my own, one that was so much grosser than his that he'd realize I was the Queen of the Zombie Drawings. I had to spend all math on mine, so I didn't raise my hand once, and let Caroline do all the answering, which I knew was unusual for me, and Mrs Hunter noticed.

She didn't say anything though. She must have known I was getting acclimatized to my new environment (I learned that expression in the animal books I like to read).

I showed my drawing to Stuart just before recess. He was so freaked out he could barely speak, except to go, *You didn't draw that . . . did you?'

So then I showed him my signature, Allison Finkle, at the bottom. Also that the fly pupae coming out of the skull's eyeb.a.l.l.s were of my own creation. I'd gotten the idea for them from a dead squirrel I saw once.

I am naturally a very talented person.

The thing is, I have to talk about it, because I don't have a T-s.h.i.+rt to tell people about it.

As I was rus.h.i.+ng to the coat-rack to get my coat and hat and stuff to go to recess, I saw a weird thing inside Joey Fields's desk. Or at least I thought I did. It was only out of the corner of my eye, so I can't be sure. But I thought I saw some of Mrs Hunter's old copies of the Boxcar Children inside his desk.

Except that isn't possible, because boys don't read those books. Especially weird bad boys like Joey Fields.

Of all the people in our cla.s.sroom, the last person I'd suspect of being the one to selfishly h.o.a.rd Mrs Hunter's Boxcar Children books for him or herself was Joey Fields. In my dazed state after trying to out-gross Stuart Maxwell, I must have been seeing things.

Once I was out in the playground with Erica, Sophie and Caroline, I started feeling a bit better. Maybe it was the fresh air, even if it was cold.

Or maybe it was just being away from all those boys.

*Oh my gosh,' Erica said, hugging me. *I miss you so much, Allie! It's so horrible, not sitting next to you! I wanted to say a million things to you all morning, and I kept turning my head to do it, only it wasn't you! It was that Cheyenne girl!'

*Mrs Hunter is probably happy you two are separated,' Caroline said knowingly. *She hasn't mentioned the words chit-chat all day. It's a new world record.'

*You don't think she moved Allie on purpose because of that,' Sophie cried. *Do you?'

*No,' Caroline said. *Although I did notice there were a lot fewer disturbances from the back today. Allie seems to be having a good influence on those boys. How are you handling things back there, Allie?'

I made a face. *Let's not talk about it,' I said. *I just want to forget about the back row for fifteen minutes. Let's go play queens, OK?'

*I thought you'd never ask,' Erica said with a smile, and took my hand. We were about to run across the playground together when Erica stopped dead and I nearly ran into her. Which made Sophie almost hobble into me, and Caroline almost run into her.

*What?' Caroline asked. *What is it?'

*You guys,' Erica said. *Look.'

Erica pointed. It was kind of hard to see what she was pointing at because she was wearing mittens. But we looked in the general direction of where her arm was waving, and saw the saddest thing. Which was Cheyenne sitting all by herself on one of the swings. The swings were pretty much deserted because it was the middle of winter and too cold to go swinging (we'd tried it once and ended up getting snot on our faces).

Cheyenne must have known about this since she wasn't swinging. She was just sitting there, staring down at her feet. No one was talking to her and she wasn't talking to anybody else.

*Aing over to me when no one else on the whole playground would, the way I expected her to, Cheyenne said very briskly, *That depends. What game are you playing?'

*We like to play a game we call queens,' Caroline explained, because she is the champion speller of our school, so we usually let her do all the talking. *We pretend that we're four queens, and that an evil warlord is trying to force Sophie to marry him, only she doesn't want to marry him because her heart belongs to another, Peter Jacobs a” he's over there in the green coat, playing kickball.' Caroline helpfully pointed Peter out. *He's in Mrs Danielson's fourth-grade cla.s.s next doora”'

*You guys!' Sophie squealed, blus.h.i.+ng with embarra.s.sment. But you could tell she liked the attention.

*So we have to fight the evil warlord with swords and truncheons and boiling oil and stuff,' Caroline went on. *We play it in this cool wooded area over there.' Caroline pointed at the secret fort where we usually play queens. *Anyway, you can come over and play with us, if you want.'

Cheyenne looked over at where Caroline was pointing. Then she smiled politely and said, not getting up from her swing, *No thank you. Actually, I don't know whether or not you noticed, but we're in the fourth grade. That's a little old for playing such babyish games of let's pretend, don't you think?'

I was so shocked I didn't know what to say or do. I couldn't believe she'd actually said that a” that our game was babyish. I just stood there staring at her until I felt someone's hand on my arm and heard Caroline going, *Well, I'm very sorry you feel that way. We'll leave you alone now. Bye,' and realized Caroline was pulling me away.

*Oh my goodness, oh my goodness,' Sophie was saying, over and over, as Caroline dragged the three of us away from the swings. *Did you hear what she said? Did you hear? She did not just say that. She did not!'

*She didn't mean it,' Erica was saying, because Erica can't believe anyone would ever say anything mean. *Maybe she misunderstood, because she's from another country. Why would she say such a mean thing?'