Part 9 (1/2)

Fortunately just then the bell rang, so I jumped off the swing and ran to get into line to go inside, cutting off all further conversation. Of course all the girls cl.u.s.tered around me, wanting to know what I'd said to Joey.

*I said I don't want to go with him, of course,' I said. Only not loudly, because I didn't want Joey to overhear and be embarra.s.sed. I mean, if there's one thing I know from sitting in the back row with a bunch of boys a” which I'm not so sure Cheyenne and all those girls who'd liked playing the Kissing Game so much knew a” it's that boys are human.

Yes, I like to say boys don't have feelings. But of course that isn't true. They do.

It's just that boys get over their feelings faster than girls. They just feel them, and then they're done.

Whereas girls feel, and then think about their feelings, and then maybe they write about their feelings in their diaries, and then maybe they call their best friend and talk about their feelings, and then maybe they tell their kitten about their feelings, and then maybe they'll talk about their feelings to their Webkinz, and then their stuffed unicorn with the rainbow wings, and then maybe they'll act out their feelings in a little play in front their bathroom mirror with a pillow posing as their best friend, and then if that doesn't work they'll act out their feelings with their American Girl Dolls or maybe some gla.s.s animals or maybe their dollhouse figures and then maybe their Bratz dolls too, for good measure . . .

Maybe this was why, when we got into Room 209 and were taking our coats off, and Cheyenne said to me, in the sn.o.bbiest voice I'd ever heard, *So. Did you tell him?' that I just lost it.

I mean it. I just couldn't take it any more.

I yelled, *Yeah, Cheyenne! I said no! I said no to Joey! OK? I'm not going with him. I'm not going with anybody! And you can't make me!'

And Cheyenne looked at me with her eyes all mean and said in a low voice, *Then you know you have to face the consequences, right? You know from now on no one is going to call you Allie any more, but Baby. Big Baby Finkle. That's your new name. Big Baby Finkle. I hope you like it.'

Marianne, who was standing right next to Cheyenne when she said this, overheard, and started to laugh. *Big Baby,' she said. *Big Baby Finkle! That's funny!'

I don't know what happened. Somehow, Cheyenne had just pushed me one step too far. I mean, Big Baby Finkle isn't even the worst thing anyone's ever called me. I've been called way worse names. At my old school people called me Stinkle Finkle, for example. I got called Allie Stinkle a” which is way worse than Big Baby Finkle a” for like weeks.

But somehow, today, Cheyenne just caused me to snap. I couldn't take it any more. I just couldn't. Maybe it was how sad Joey had looked when I said I wouldn't go with him. Maybe it was the fact that back there on the swings, he and I had shared a genuinely nice moment when we'd revealed we'd both like to go and live in a boxcar (although in a million years I will never, ever want to live in a boxcar with Joey Fields).

And somehow coming inside and having Cheyenne be so mean about it just made it all seem so . . . I don't know. Dumb. When it hadn't been dumb. It had been nice.

So I just exploded.

*CHEYENNE!'

Everyone in the room froze.

*CHEYENNE,' I yelled, *YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME AND YOU CANNOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO, SO YOU HAD BETTER QUIT TRYING RIGHT NOW. DON'T YOU DARE CALL ME OR MY FRIENDS BIG BABIES EVER AGAIN, OR YOU ARE GOING TO GET IT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?'

Cheyenne's face went bug-eyed with shock.

In fact, most of the faces in Room 209 went completely open-mouthed at the sound of my voice and the words I'd said.

But no face looked as shocked as the one I saw standing in the doorway to our cla.s.sroom.

*Allie Finkle!' Mrs Hunter was staring at me with her green eyes crackling. I had never seen her look so stunned.

Or so disapproving.

Rule #11.

Speak Softly to Your Neighbour, Please.

Mrs Hunter didn't send me to the princ.i.p.al's office.

Probably if I had been anyone else, she would have.

But I had never done anything bad in her cla.s.sroom before, ever (except chit-chat with Erica).

And I don't think she actually heard what I'd said, just the decibel (which means volume) at which I'd said it. Also she didn't see who I'd said it to.

All she ended up saying, when she realized the person who'd been screaming at the top of her lungs in her cla.s.sroom was me, was, *Speak softly to your neighbour, please.'

Then she went to her desk, looking kind of dazed.

So did Cheyenne.

So did everyone else.

I think maybe their ears were all ringing from me using my outside voice, which is really very loud.

But just because I didn't get sent to the princ.i.p.al's office didn't mean that I wasn't scared.

What was going to happen now that I'd yelled at Cheyenne like that? Was she going to think of some horrible, even worse punishment than calling me Big Baby Finkle?

I could tell she was thinking about it. When she'd recovered from her astonishment over how I'd yelled at her, I saw her whispering with Marianne and Dominique and Shamira.

Obviously she was whispering about how she was going to get back at me.

A part of me wanted to throw up about that. It's horrible to be hated, even by someone you don't like all that much.

But another part of me was more concerned about Mrs Hunter and what she must think of me. I'd been a joy to have around the cla.s.sroom before. She'd told my grandma that!

But it was pretty apparent she was going to change her mind about that now. I mean, what if she decided I wasn't such a joy to have around after all? I could see that she still seemed confused, looking from me to the rest of the cla.s.s, trying to figure out what had happened. She seemed to think I'd been yelling at one of the boys.

Only the boys and I were of course getting along fine. Joey had taken out all the Boxcar Children he'd been hiding in his desk a” seven of them! a” and put them back on the cla.s.sroom bookshelf (which was good, because they were seven I hadn't read before, and now that I was going to be the cla.s.s outcast, and be hated by my teacher, I'd have plenty of time to read).

I didn't mind so much about the rest of it, but I just couldn't stand the idea of Mrs Hunter thinking badly of me. I loved her so much . . . I didn't want her to think I hadn't spoken softly to my neighbour for no reason. I had a reason . . . a really good reason!

And that reason was Cheyenne O'Malley. And she wasn't Talent, Not Talk. She was all talk and almost no talent, as far as I could tell. Her s.h.i.+rt had been lying! She'd been wearing a lying s.h.i.+rt!

She should go to jail for wearing that s.h.i.+rt.

Mrs Hunter didn't speak to me again the whole day. Which I guess wasn't that unusual. I mean, it wasn't like there was any reason to. I never raised my hand, or volunteered to help move the chairs during music cla.s.s, which I'll admit wasn't like me, because I like to be helpful.

But Mrs Hunter must not have noticed my lack of helpfulness, because she didn't say anything about it. Either that or she just hated me so much now for not speaking softly to my neighbour, she'd decided never to speak to me again.

I was so depressed about this that I didn't even care when, as I was getting my coat to go home, Cheyenne sneered, *Way to overreact, Allie,' in her snottiest voice on her way out of the cla.s.sroom.

I had no idea what she was talking about. I guess the whole thing where I'd told her she wasn't the boss of me. Well, that hadn't been overreacting. That had just been telling the truth. Something Cheyenne wouldn't know anything about.

*I don't think you were overreacting,' Rosemary a.s.sured me as she walked down the stairs with me. Erica was with me too, and so were Caroline and Sophie, who had temporarily put aside their fight to show solidarity for me and against Cheyenne just for the afternoon. *I thought what you said to her was perfect. I would have clapped, but Mrs Hunter walked in just then.'