Even though I wish that the first day of school will not come, it comes, anyway. And even though I wish that Elizabeth will be standing at the bus stop, wearing her Cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs T-shirt and mismatched sneakers, she isn't. The only people there are Quinn Kloud and his little sister, Tess. Quinn and Tess moved here last year.
It isn't long before Jenna arrives with her little sister, Rachel. Rachel stands with Tess. Jenna marches right past me and up to Quinn. "Ready for fourth grade, Quinn?" she asks.
Quinn shrugs. "I think it'll be better than third grade. At least I know some kids this year."
"Well, if it's friends you need, I can help," Jenna says. "I'm friends with everybody." Then she glances at me and adds, "Almost everybody."
Quinn just nods. Then he looks at me. "How about you, Ida? Are you ready for fourth grade?"
But before I can say "As ready as I'll ever be," Jenna butts in. "Her?" she says, giving me the once-over. "Looks to me like she's ready for kindergarten." Then she pokes her thumb toward Tess and Rachel. "Don't you want to stand with your little friends, I-duh?"
I don't say anything. Jenna laughs and nudges Quinn. "I guess she can't take a joke," she whispers loudly.
Quinn just fidgets a little and pretends to be very interested in watching for the bus to arrive.
I watch, too, and wonder if Elizabeth already has friends at her new school or if she is also wishing that fourth grade wouldn't come.
I find an empty seat on the bus and sit down. I unzip my backpack and pull out my sketchbook. I open it up to a drawing of Elizabeth and me from last Halloween. Elizabeth was the front end of a horse. I was the back end. It was a great costume until we had to march in the Halloween parade at school. Jenna (who was dressed like an organically grown carrot) got in line behind us. She kept whacking me and shouting, "Giddyap, horsey!" I swear I still have bruises in places you can't see.
On another page there is a drawing of my family. I drew big smiles on me and my mom, and we have the words ha-ha-ha-ha... floating over our heads. That's because my dad has just told us a joke. Telling jokes is one of my dad's favorite things to do.
I turn the page again and see a drawing of my bedroom, including my bookshelf, which has about a hundred books drawn on it. I bet I've read every one of those books at least three times since Elizabeth moved away.
When I get to school, our new teacher, Mr. Crow, is standing outside our classroom door. He is saying hello and shaking hands with everyone. I start to walk up to him, but Jenna and another fourth-grade girl, Brooke Morgan, shove past me.
"Excuse us, I-duh," Jenna says.
Brooke looks back at me and giggles.
Even though we have a new teacher and a new classroom, it doesn't take me long to figure out that some things haven't changed. Brooke Morgan, for instance. She is still the prettiest girl in our class. She has been the prettiest girl around for the past nine years. I know because ever since she was a baby she has gotten her picture in The Purdee Press sitting on Santa's lap. Every December a hundred kids line up in itchy red dresses or green clip-on ties, waiting for a turn to sit on the big guy's lap. But only one kid's picture gets on the front page, and it's always Brooke Morgan's. Even last year, when she was way too old for it. My dad says she has the kind of smile that could sell a million boxes of cereal.
I do not have a cereal-box smile. My smile is scrunched because my teeth are scrunched. My dad's an orthodontist, and he says I can have braces when all my baby teeth fall out, but based on the number of baby teeth I still have, I think I can pretty much count on having scrunched teeth at least until high school.
When I get inside the classroom, I realize that Mr. Crow does not believe in straight lines. That's because our desks are arranged in four clusters. Apparently, Mr. Crow doesn't believe in alphabetizing either, because Rusty Smith's desk is right next to mine. Tom Sanders's desk is in my cluster, too, and so is Randi Peterson's. Randi Peterson is a girl, even though her name sounds like a boy's. She also acts like a boy, which means I have a lot of burping and ear picking to look forward to. But at least I don't have to sit with Jenna Drews.
Jenna probably thinks everyone wants to sit with her, but really everyone is afraid of her because she's so mean. In first grade, when our teacher showed us how to make minitornadoes by shaking up water, dish soap, food coloring, and vegetable oil in old pop bottles, Jenna made poor Tom Sanders drink his. Then she spun him around until his stomach must have felt like a tornado, because Tom turned as green as the food coloring we used.
In second grade, Jenna threatened to tell on Joey Carpenter for cheating on a math test unless he knocked a loose brick out of a school wall so it would collapse and we'd all get a long vacation while they built it again. Joey had to sneak a hammer and chisel to school. But it didn't work. Well, it sort of worked. He got caught, and when he told Ms. Stevens, our principal, it was all Jenna's idea, she got suspended for three days, which was sort of like a vacation for me.
Then, last year, Jenna made up new names for me and Elizabeth. I think she was jealous because we were best friends. She started calling us I-duh and Elizabutt. When you have a best friend, stuff like that doesn't bother you as much.
I sit down at my desk and glance over at Rusty. He doesn't seem to realize I'm there. Neither does Randi, who is busy shooting a crumpled paper ball at a hoop Rusty is making with his long, skinny fingers. Randi loves basketball. She even brings her own ball to shoot hoops at recess.
"Betcha can't make a three-point shot," Rusty says to Randi.
"Betcha I can," Randi answers and slides out of her desk. She takes a few steps back, narrows her eyes, and studies Rusty's freckled fingers. Then she lets the paper ball fly. Unfortunately, Tom Sanders arrives just as she shoots. The ball bounces off Tom's head and hits me in the nose.
"What's a nose shot worth?" Randi asks Rusty.
"Four points!" Rusty says between laughs.
Randi turns her shaggy head to me. "Hey, Ida, let's go for eight!" she says, crumpling up a new paper ball.
Even though this is the first time Randi has ever invited me to join a game, I just say, "Um ... no thanks," and turn my nose away.
As I do, I see that the new girl, Stacey Merriweather, has arrived and is sitting in a cluster near me, along with Jenna, Brooke, and Dominic Jordan. Dominic doesn't have much to say, but that isn't slowing down the girls.
"Did you move here because your parents got new jobs?" Brooke asks Stacey.
"Not exactly," Stacey says. "They, um ... are news reporters. So they have to travel a lot to interview important people like, um ... presidents ... and kings ... and queens, even," Stacey says.
Jenna lifts her chin. "My mother is a president," she brags.
"Not of a country," Brooke says. "Just the PTA."
Jenna gives Brooke a look. But Brooke is too busy staring at Stacey to notice. "I would love to meet a real queen," Brooke says.
Stacey clears her throat. "Well, I have. Twice. In fact, I'm pen pals with the queen of England."
"No way!" Brooke cries.
Stacey nods and fidgets a little.
Jenna's jaw tightens like she's sucking on a screw. "Well, if you and the queen of England are so chummy," she says, "why aren't you staying with her while your parents are away?"
Stacey fidgets some more. "Because my parents made arrangements with my, um ... aunt," Stacey says. Then she adds, "My rich aunt."
"Wow," Brooke says, her eyes expanding to the size of silver dollars. "It must be great to live with a rich aunt."
"Oh, it is," Stacey says. "Aunt Tootie redecorated one whole floor of her house just for me. I even have my own TV and computer in my bedroom."
"That's nothing," Jenna snorts. "I've had my own TV and computer since I was two."
"How about your own hot tub?" Stacey asks.
Jenna clamps her mouth shut. Brooke looks like she wants Stacey's autograph.
"How long do you get to live with your aunt?" Brooke asks.
I lean in, waiting for Stacey's answer. As I do, Stacey glances at me and smiles.
I do not smile back. I just pretend to be studying the classroom rules Mr. Crow is writing on the board while keeping one ear tuned into Stacey.
Stacey looks back at Brooke and Jenna. "Um ... I get to live with my aunt until my parents are done traveling. Which will be a long time," she says.
"You must miss them while they're gone," Brooke says to Stacey.
"Yeah, I do," Stacey says, without fidgeting at all.
The bell rings and Mr. Crow starts taking attendance. I think about everything Stacey told Brooke and Jenna.
The more I think about it, the more I wonder if she was lying. That's because I saw her get dropped off at school this morning and she wasn't riding in any limousine. It was an old rusty van. And the woman driving the van did not look like a rich aunt. She looked more like a grandmother with pink curlers in her hair. Rich aunts never wear pink curlers in their hair. At least not in public. Plus, she kissed Stacey good-bye before she drove away. And Stacey even let her. Only grandmothers are allowed to kiss you in public past the second grade.
So that's why I'm sure Stacey isn't telling the truth.
But why would she lie?