On the next Wednesday morning, the school bus rattled and bounced as it turned down the road toward Waverly Middle School. Zoe held on tightly to the folder in her lap. In it were the two letters they’d chosen to answer today, covered with carefully written notes about how she thought they should be answered. She knew Emma, sitting beside her, had a similar folder in her backpack.

Looking over, she saw that Emma’s face was mostly milky pale, with bright spots of pink high on her cheekbones. She was staring fixedly at the back of the bus seat in front of them, and Zoe could see her lips moving slightly. “What are you doing?” she whispered, nudging Emma.

“I’m practicing what I’m going to say,” Emma said tightly. “I want it to sound natural.”

Zoe wrapped an arm around her cousin and squeezed her into a side hug. She tried to make her voice reassuring, even though her own throat was dry with anxiety. “Relax. It’s just going to be us talking about problems people wrote in to us about, like we did at home. There’s nothing scary about talking to each other, right? It’ll be fun.”

“Personally, I can’t wait for the show,” Natalia said from across the aisle. “Juicy personal problems instead of sports? Yes, please! Everyone who’s not a total sports nut is going to be dying to watch this after a month of playoffs and, um, talking forever about who’s going to win what game, or why they didn’t win the game. Ugh.” She reached over and patted Emma on the knee. “Relax. The only way it could go bad is if you actually fell off your chair. Or I guess if we couldn’t hear you guys at all or something. But I’m sure they have microphones. Or, ooh, like, if maybe you threw up.” There was a wicked little twinkle in her eye.

“Natalia! Stop it! You’re being mean!” Zoe couldn’t help laughing.

Emma closed her eyes, shutting Natalia’s teasing out. “Game face,” she muttered.

The morning announcements were streamed from the student council office on the second floor of the school. As soon as they poked their heads through the door of the office, Charlotte jumped up from where she had been sitting at a long table with several other people and hurried toward them. “Hi!” she said. “Right on time!” She waved a hand at the others around the table. “This is Shoshanna, Mark, Ava, and Oliver.”

Everyone said hi, and Zoe smiled at her friend. “We know Ava,” she said. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Emma said. She looked more relaxed now, but Zoe could see how tightly she was holding her bag still, her knuckles white.

“Okay, so, as you know, Oliver and I do the announcements,” Charlotte said, speaking very quickly as she waved a hand at the table. “Mark, Ava, and Shoshanna are the crew; they’ll figure out any problems you have. Did you bring a script or something?”

“Sort of.” Zoe handed her the sheets of questions and notes.

“Okay,” Charlotte said, glancing at them. “This is great, but figure out what you want to begin and end on, too. You could do the same thing every week. That way, Shoshanna will know when to turn off the camera. Maybe decide who’s going to say what?”

“Sure.” Zoe cocked an eyebrow at Emma. “Maybe at the beginning, we can introduce ourselves and say, ‘This is Zoe and Emma to the Rescue,’ and at the end, thank them for watching and say, ‘This has been Zoe and Emma to the Rescue’ again?” She felt awkward repeating the name of the show—was it clever, like she’d thought?—but no one seemed to think it was a strange thing to do.

“Sounds good,” Emma said. She was standing straighter now, and her knuckles weren’t white anymore. Emma, Zoe knew, felt more confident when she was actually doing something. It was sitting around thinking about what could go wrong that made her nervous.

“Charlotte, we need to get ready,” Oliver called over.

“Okay.” Charlotte shot them another gleaming smile. “When Oliver and I finish announcements, we’ll get up, and you take our seats at the table and start, okay? If you’re not sure about something, Mark will tell you.”

She hurried back toward the table, and Ava came over to them.

“Hey!” Zoe said, grinning at her friend. “How’s working on the crew going?” Ava had started helping with the morning announcements at the beginning of the week.

“Pretty well,” Ava said. “I’ve learned to use all the equipment, so I’m starting to feel like an old hand at this. Here, let me clip these little microphones to your collars.”

As Ava fiddled with the microphones, Zoe looked around with interest. She’d never been in the student council office before. It was so small that there wasn’t room for much other than the table and chairs, the digital camera on a tripod that Shoshanna was peering at, long cables connecting it to the computer on a nearby desk, and the seven of them. The walls were covered with brightly colored posters advertising everything from the eighth grade Valentine’s dance to the school T-shirt design contest.

“Shh!” Mark said, suddenly, waving everyone in the room to silence. Zoe looked over to see that Charlotte and Oliver were sitting at the table, smiling at the camera. Mark held up three fingers, counting down silently, then pointed to Charlotte and Oliver as Shoshanna zoomed in with the camera.

“Happy Wednesday, Waverly Oysters!” Charlotte shouted happily.

As she and Oliver began the Pledge of Allegiance, Zoe looked through her notes again. Was she sure of her answers to the questions that had come in? Would she sound natural giving them? Beside her, Emma was doing the same thing, frowning thoughtfully.

Charlotte and Oliver’s words washed over them, and then suddenly Ava nudged Zoe and pointed to the table.

“And now,” Oliver was saying, “our March Wednesday show, Zoe and Emma to the Rescue.”

The next minute or two was a blur, and suddenly Zoe found herself sitting behind the table, Shoshanna pointing the camera at her. For a moment, her mouth went dry and her mind went blank. Mark pointed at them.

“Hi!” Emma said suddenly, a fraction too loudly. “We’re Emma and Zoe, and this is Zoe and Emma to the Rescue.” She paused, and Zoe’s mind raced. Was she supposed to say something? How come Emma, who had been so nervous, now seemed totally confident about what she needed to do?

Before Zoe could work out what to say next, Emma went on. “We got some great letters asking for advice. Zoe, do you want to read the first one?”

“Sure,” Zoe said. Her mouth was still super-dry, and her voice sounded raspy at first. “Here we go. Dear Zoe and Emma, How do I get people to stop teasing me? On the first day back from winter break, I slipped and fell off my chair in the cafeteria. My skirt flew up, and I spilled my fruit juice all over my clothes, so I had to walk around with a huge orange stain on my skirt all day.” Zoe heard her voice get more relaxed as she read. “Kids in my class are still making fun of me. Sometimes they imitate the look on my face, and how I flailed my arms around as I fell. I try to laugh it off, but my friends tease me about it. I get just as embarrassed every time I think of it as I did when it happened. What should I do?” Zoe looked up at Emma. “So, what do you think?”

“Wow, that does sound like it was really embarrassing,” Emma said. She looked into the camera. “I’m sorry that happened to you. But embarrassing stuff happens to everyone. It’s not as big a deal as it might feel like. People think it was funny, but they don’t think you’re dumb or ridiculous. It was just something that happened.”

“Yeah,” Zoe agreed. “Every single person who teases you, or who even just saw it happen, has had stuff just as embarrassing happen to them. I know I have.” She shuddered, remembering getting locked in the bathroom backstage at theater club during the intermission of The Wizard of Oz and having to shout for help loudly enough that everyone, even the audience, had heard her.

“Sometimes the best thing to do when something embarrassing happens is just to laugh it off,” Emma said thoughtfully. “That way, it’s still something funny that happened, but you’re laughing with other people about it, not getting laughed at.”

“I think that’s true, but this is something that happened a whole month ago,” Zoe said. “Can she suddenly start laughing about it?”

“Why not?” Emma said. “Not, like, hysterical laughter, but when people bring it up, she can just roll her eyes and say, ‘Oh, yeah, that was so embarrassing, ha-ha.’”

“She could call them out a little bit about it, too,” Zoe said. “Be like, ‘Really? You’re still talking about this a month later? Whatever.’ If they realize that it’s lame to still be trying to tease someone about something that happened ages ago, they might back off.”

“I think that laughing it off or being sort of scornful and whatever about it will work when people who she isn’t close to are the ones teasing her,” Emma said. “But it might be worth actually pulling her real friends aside if they’re still bringing it up and being like, ‘This is upsetting me, I want to forget about it, please stop talking about it.’ Because her real friends don’t want her to feel bad. They might not realize this is something that’s hurting her. They probably think she thinks it’s kind of funny, too.”

“Good point,” Zoe said briskly. She looked into the camera. “So, laugh it off or say whatever to people who don’t really matter, and try telling your real friends directly that you want them to stop. And remember that embarrassing things happen to everybody and that, in the long run, it’s not really a big deal.”

“Okay, my turn to read a letter,” Emma said. She was smiling, and Zoe grinned, too. The words were coming more easily now. This was starting to be fun.

“This is a question about love,” Emma went on. “Dear Zoe and Emma, There’s this boy I really, really like. We always smile at each other in class, and my friends think he likes me, too. We haven’t talked very much yet, but he seems great. How can I make him see me as more than just a girl in his class?”

“Ooh, I love this question,” Zoe said. “I say do something big and bold to get his attention. It already sounds like you’re pretty sure he likes you as much as you like him. So, take the plunge!”

“Like how?” Emma asked, a thin, thoughtful line appearing between her eyebrows.

“Like, some people think that guys should make the first move. But that’s ridiculous. Why should they have all the pressure, and all the fun? You should ask him out; don’t wait around for him to figure it out.” Zoe felt like she’d been struck by a bolt of inspiration. “Just go for it! Buy him flowers! Sing him a song! Put a poster on his locker! Make it clear that you like him!”

“Wow, really?” Emma asked. “You think she should put herself out there right away?”

“Absolutely,” Zoe said. “What could be more flattering? And it’ll be fun. The worst thing that could happen would be that he doesn’t like her back, and that’s not the end of the world. Better to find out for sure.”

“Huh,” Emma said slowly. “I agree that she should go ahead and make the first move. But I don’t think such a big gesture is a great idea, or that she should ask him out right away. They barely know each other. Maybe she should try talking to him. Like, go over and sit with him at lunch. Or ask him if he wants to study together. You need to figure out if you like someone enough to even be friends with them before you start getting all romantic.”

“So, we agree that, if you like this guy, you should go ahead and make your move,” Zoe said, looking into the camera again. “But whether you take it slow or go with a grand gesture is up to you. Good luck!” Mark was making a “wrap-it-up” gesture. “That’s it for this week!” she said.

“Thanks for watching,” Emma added. “This has been Zoe and Emma to the Rescue.”

Shoshanna smiled and pushed a button on the camera, then Ava clicked the program on the computer to OFF.

“Great job, guys!” she said cheerfully, and the rest of the crew murmured congratulations, too.

“So fun!” Charlotte said enthusiastically. “How do you feel?”

Zoe sucked in a deep breath. Her whole body was buzzing with excitement. “I feel wonderful,” she said.