“Worser” isn’t really a word, but it’s exactly what happened. Things got worser and worser. Day after day I waited as everyone else in class got to open a door on the Advent calendar. And I can’t tell you how sick and tired I got of hauling Steggo back and forth.
So I’ll skip ahead a week or so. It was the day before the pageant. We would be having the dress rehearsal that afternoon.
At recess we watched the older kids crawl all over the school, hanging lights and tinsel. They’d been put in charge of dressing up the school for the Pueblo del Mar Holiday Decorating Contest.
“Why are they even bothering?” asked Hunter. “The reformatory always wins.”
“Yeah, the reform school wins every year with that same lopsided star,” said Tonya.
“The reformatory is where I plan to study when I’m older,” I announced.
“Why?” asked Yoshi.
“Because they get to wear uniforms. And live inside a private compound.”
“A compound surrounded by barbed wire!” giggled Sofie.
“And they all get to sleep together in one big room. A big pajama party every night. I can’t wait to sleep in the reformatory dormitory.”
“I think they only accept boys,” said Boris.
“That needs to change,” I said. “I’m determined to be the first girl to get in.”
The bell rang. We trudged inside. When we reached the cafeteria, we stopped and inhaled deeply. The fourth graders had been chosen to make a gingerbread schoolhouse. Giant cookies were coming out of the oven. The smell was yumma-licious.
Ms. Marzipan pointed her baton at us. She told us to stop loitering and escorted us to the auditorium for rehearsal.