The New Girl by Meg Cabot Read Free Book Online

shoes, but, like, twenty. Or a coffeemaker or set of golf clubs. Fortunately, Erica’s sister, Melissa, had just bought a new pair of tap shoes (in addition to baton twirling, Missy is also an accomplished jazz and tap dancer), so we were able to spend the afternoon making a beautiful bed for Mewsette, even using a tiny velvet bag that used to hold a pair of Missy’s earrings for Mewsette to rest her sweet precious little head on.
    Only it turned out Missy hadn’t really thrown out the velvet bag, and when she found out it was missing she came storming into Erica’s room and ripped it out of the bed we’d made and called us a couple of ingrates and laughed cruelly at the idea of us ever nursing a sick premature kitten to health when we tried to explain, then stomped out again.
    But Erica said to ignore her and that Melissa was always like that right before a twirling competition and that there was one coming up next week. I said I understood, even though I didn’t. I knew Erica was just trying to keep the peace, like Caroline said she always does.
    When we were done looking up the word “ingrate” in the dictionary and deciding that we aren’t actually ungrateful or self-seeking, we went down into Erica’s dining room and rang the secret bell under the dining table, which signals the maid in the kitchen (if Erica’s family had a maid, but they don’t. The bell is left over from olden times) until Erica’s mom came out and told me it was time to go home.
    I took the shoe box and went home and asked Mom if there was any more news from Mrs. Hauser, but there wasn’t. By that time, we were all sitting down to a dinner of salad and microwaved macaroni and cheese, which we eat quite a lot, since we have no stove or oven. Also, Uncle Jay was visiting.
    “Well,” he said when we had all gathered at the table. “I have some interesting news.”
    “So do I,” I said. “I’ll go first. Lady Serena Archibald, the mother of my kitten-to-be, Mewsette, has gone into early labor and might die or have the kittens too soon, and they might be very sick, but that’s okay, because as a future veterinarian, I’m prepared to nurse a premature kitten.”
    “No,” Mom said. “Allie, that is not going to happen without some discussion first. That is too much responsibility for a nine-year-old girl. Jay, please tell us your news.”
    “Well,” Uncle Jay said, “it’s not quite as interesting as Allie’s news, I’m afraid. But I spoke to Mom today—my mom, that is—and…well, kids…Grandma’s coming!”
    Mom laid down her fork with a bang.
    Dad said, “Oh, yeah. I forgot. My mother is coming to visit next week.”
    “Yay!” Kevin yelled. “Grandma’s coming! I hope she’ll buy me a book about pirates!”
    “I hope she’ll buy me a dirt bike,” Mark said.
    “You just got a new mountain bike for your birthday,” I reminded him.
    “None of the kids in this neighborhood ride mountain bikes,” Mark said. “They all ride dirt bikes. So I need a new bike.”
    “That’s stupid,” I said. “There’s no difference between a dirt bike and a mountain bike.”
    “Uh,” Mark said. “Excuse me. But there’s a ton of difference.”
    “Uh,” I said. “Excuse me. But you’re wrong. And even if that’s true, you don’t need a whole new bike just to fit in. If your new friends don’t like you the way you are, then they aren’t really your friends.”
    “True,” Mark said. “But I do need a whole new bike so I can do freestyle BMX racing or tricks.”
    Mom wasn’t listening to our conversation, so she wasn’t able to break in to say over her dead body was a son of hers going to become a freestyle BMX racer or trick performer.
    “Your mother is coming to visit next week?” she asked Dad instead.
    “She wants to see the new house,” Dad said. “And the kids, of course.”
    “We don’t have an oven,” Mom said. “The bed in the guest room isn’t set up. There aren’t curtains in