“Shoot!”
I dropped that rock like it was a hot potato and refused to look back at Brody again.
Hannie was still dragging the trash bag along the ground.
“Get that bag off the ground, Hannie,” I said. “Look what you’re doing to it. You’ve got a hole worried in it so big, that unicorn’s gonna fall out and get lost. Come on! Hurry up, will you? The crossing guard won’t be there all day. I swear, you are the slowest…”
I tried ignoring that sad face of hers and pried her hand off my sweater for the umpty-dozenth time.
“Unicorn heavy, Mags,” she whimpered.
“Then you shouldn’t have asked to bring it in the first place … and you shouldn’t have said you’d carry it by yourself.”
I squinted toward the highway, trying to figure out who the crossing guard was this morning. I liked it when Mrs. Clinton crossed us. Hannie was scared of her, but she was just right in my book. She was bigger than a barn. Not even a stream of cars on the highway would mess with her.
“Use two hands to carry that bag, for crying out loud,” I said, feeling angry at everyone in the world. “Can’t you use your head sometimes, Hannie?”
I was so angry and I didn’t even know why. I just knew it was all tied up with Hannie and Mooch and that scumball Brody Lawson.
The road roared in front of me with rush-hour traffic. It wasn’t even Mrs. Clinton crossing today. It was crummy Mr. Bumbaugh, and him no bigger than Mama in her bare feet.
I hate that highway.
Mr. Bumbaugh got Hannie and me halfway across to the grass strip and then left us there to bring Brody over. I felt pulled apart, with the traffic tearing behind me in one direction and tugging the front of me in the other. We were later than ever this morning; nearly everyone was already out on the playground, waiting for school to start. I promised myself that when Mr. Bumbaugh held up traffic in the other direction, I would not run across in front of everyone. Running showed you were scared.
“Mags?” I felt Hannie pulling at the bottom of my sweater.
I turned around to look at her and found Brody Lawson’s ugly face staring straight at me.
I pried Hannie’s fingers off my sweater. It’s bad enough she sticks to me like a sorry old shadow. I don’t need her clinging on to me in the middle of that stinking highway in front of the whole school.
I scowled down at her and wished she’d just stay there, stuck in the middle of that road forever, and never bother me again. I felt my insides shivering and I wrapped my arms tight around my chest, so Brody wouldn’t see I was scared.
Hannie was crying real soft, but I couldn’t give in to her. Not with Brody standing there. She got louder, so that kids on the playground were starting to look up.
“All right!” I yelled.
Hannie jumped. I grabbed for her to keep her from stumbling back into the traffic behind her.
“Give that bag to me,” I said. “I’ll carry it.”
I don’t think she wanted to hand it over anymore, but she did what I told her for once. I could feel Brody behind me, burning holes in the back of my head with his narrow little eyes.
Some magic, I thought, holding the bag full of unicorn and feeling the ground shiver under my feet.
Mr. Bumbaugh held up his stop sign, stopping the traffic in the other direction. He waved us across.
I ran, even though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t. I ran, with the bag full of unicorn bumping against my legs, until I felt the dirt and grass of the school yard under my feet.