didn’t talk any more, but it didn’t matter. Not talking was almost worse—it was like they shared a secret that they didn’t want me to know about. Worst of all was Sandra’s refusal to look in my direction. The bonus Bad Moments in Language Arts? Mrs. O’Brien called on me two more times and both times I had to ask her to repeat the question. Each time, Lively snickered.
When the bell to end the period finally rang, I stuffed my books into my bag.
“Hey,” I said to Sandra, who also was putting her stuff away.
“Huh?” she said.
Before I could get another word out, a certain ponytail popped into my vision. “Sandra, don’t you have social studies next? Let’s walk over to H-wing.” Lively parked herself directly in front of my seat, preventing me from getting out of my chair and blocking my view of Sandra.
I clenched the straps of my bag in frustration. “Hey, Sandra, I—” I started.
Lively tossed her head toward me. “No one can hear you.” She slid between the chairs in the row and headed toward the door. Sandra glared at her, clacking a Jolly Rancher against her teeth. Behind her, kids were filing in for O’Brien’s next class.
“She’s tricking you!” I hissed.
“She’s just being—” she began.
“Sandra,” Lively barked from the door. “The late bell is going to ring! We can catch Robbie before his next class.”
“A jerk?” I finished.
Sandra raised her eyebrows and shoulders in my direction, then turned toward the door—and Lively. A piece of lead dropped into my middle from somewhere in my chest.
“I just want to talk to Robbie,” Sandra whispered over her shoulder.
“Ms. Harris,” Mrs. O’Brien asked, “will you be staying for a second class?”
Face burning, I gathered my bag and bumped my way around the kids settling into their seats.
“Watch it, Wide Load,” Philip Mikowski jeered as I bumped into his backpack. The tardy bell rang when I reached the hall. I leaned against the wall and let hot tears fall.
After fourth period, I found Sandra at her locker.
“It’s only one lunch,” she apologized. “Robbie Flan does sit with Lively sometimes,” she said, a glint of excitement in her eye. “It’ll just be this one time. And Millie will be there, so you guys can eat together.” She clicked a Jolly Rancher against her teeth. “Look, I’ll call you tonight and tell you all the stupid things they say,” she promised, and left me at the door of the caf—jilted, angry, and wishing for an Emergency Twinkie from my locker stash.
Millie had a lunchtime orthodontist appointment, so I sat alone, in a corner. I tried not to notice Sandra devouring her pimento loaf sandwich (her favorite) smack in the middle of Lively’s table, like she was part of the Ponytail Brigade. Once or twice I saw Sandra glancing in my direction, but every time she tried to get out of her chair Lively grabbed her arm and they started laughing about something. I forced down only half of one of my peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (my favorite) and went to science early. At least there, I couldn’t hear Lively’s and Sandra’s giggles. The distance helped soothe the aching around my heart.
Between afternoon classes I found Sandra in the hall.
“It was nothing,” she said. “No big deal.”
If it was no big deal, why wouldn’t she look me in the eye?
Chapter 7
SANDRA WON’T BECOME friends with Lively , I kept telling myself as I trudged home from school that afternoon. She knows what a sneaky weasel Lively is. In fact, in fifth grade Lively had left a wet painting on a chair in the art room, and started calling Sandra “diarrhea pants” when she accidentally sat on it. Okay, she knows Lively’s not all sugar and spice. Then why is she helping her with soccer tryouts? I finally hit on the reason: She’s setting her up, just like in Lord of the Flies. She only wants Lively to think she’s being friendly, then she’ll turn the tables on her. Almost satisfied, I