Chapter 9

When I get to school on Monday, I read the note I wrote to Anastasia again.

Dear Anastasia,

I can't tell you who I really am. But I am NOT Jenna Drews.

Thank you for not waving my other note in front of everyone.

I will be grateful if you don't wave this note in front of everyone, either.

Yours truly,

Cordelia

Simple, yet sincere.

I stuff the note back inside my pocket and wait for the sidewalk to clear. I don't want any snoopy second graders watching me sneak behind the school.

And I need to sneak, because I have decided that someone with a name as amazing as Cordelia would never toss a secret note onto someone else's desk. Cordelia would hide a secret note in a secret place. A place that only Cordelia and Anastasia will know about.

If Anastasia is clever enough to find it.

When the sidewalk is empty, I slip around back and head for the playground. I run past the swings, the slides, and the giant sandbox. I run until I come to the hogs. Actually, they're hedges that are shaped like hogs. They're hedgehogs. Get it?

Our playground has hedge animals because Mr. Benson, our custodian, is handy with hedge trimmers. We even have a dinosaur. And a ten-foot-tall giraffe.

I dodge in and out of hedge animals until I come to the cow at the sunny corner of the school. Mr. Benson hung a bell around her neck with Bessie painted on it.

I size up ol' Bessie for a minute.

She's grown a lot since second grade.

Since the day Jenna made Joey knock a brick out of the school.

The brick that is now hidden somewhere behind Bessie.

I get down on my hands and knees, squeeze behind her bushy body, and scoot along until I am completely hidden by her branches. I like the way she sort of hugs me all around.

I sit for awhile, wondering if anyone else has been here before. I bet not. Not unless they are a caterpillar or a toad or some other hairy, slimy thing. I check for anything hairy or slimy that might have gotten here before me. But there isn't anything. So I relax and smile a little. Because getting to be first at something, especially when it doesn't involve touching anything hairy or slimy, can make you feel pretty amazing.

I scoot closer to the school building and press my hand against the cool brick wall. I imagine all the kids on the other side getting ready for school. Sharpening their pencils. Licking down their bangs. Punching or getting punched in the arm for no apparent reason.

But not me. I'm safe, crouched behind a cow hedge. And the best part is, nobody knows it.

I start wiggling bricks, one by one, until I find the one that wiggles back. I pull it out a crack and stick my note to Anastasia in.

Then I crawl back out. Back to my old world of chewed pencils and crooked haircuts and bruised knees. I brush a leaf off my shirt, give Bessie a pat, and head inside.

All morning during class, I wait for our first recess to arrive. When it finally does, I pretend to tie my shoes until everyone leaves the classroom. Then I go to the chalkboard and find a small spot that isn't already covered with math problems and social studies questions and classroom papers and pictures Mr. Crow likes to display there. I pick up a piece of chalk and write:

Anastasia:

Then I draw:

I drop the chalk and run outside.

I hope Stacey will see the message.

I double hope she is clever enough to figure it out.

I triple hope no one else is.

I sit with the other girls during lunch, but I barely eat anything. I'm too busy wondering if Stacey will see my message before the afternoon recess. Then, when it's recess, I try to keep an eye on Bessie, but I don't get too close to the hedge in case Stacey catches me hanging around it. So I mostly just wander around the playground by myself, as usual, and wait.

When the recess bell finally rings, I wait for Stacey to head back inside, and run to Bessie.

I squeeze behind her, wiggle the loose brick, and...

My note is gone.

I can't get to sleep that night because I keep wondering if Stacey found my note or if it got carried off by squirrels or something. And if she did find it, I wonder if she will write back to me.

"What do you think?" I ask George. "Will she?"

George is apparently sleeping, because he doesn't answer.

"Not that I'm holding my breath or anything," I say. "I mean, she's so busy running around with Jenna she'll probably forget all about the note by tomorrow. Or else she'll show it to Jenna, and Jenna will show it to everyone, and they will figure out that I'm the weird one who wrote it. Then the whole school will be calling me I-duh, including Stacey Merriweather."

I sigh and roll over.

"Still," I whisper. "I wouldn't mind if she wrote back."