Chapter 13
Puppy Tooth-marked Clog

“It isn’t raining today!” Erin ran across the playground Halloween morning to meet me.

“I know!” I said. “We won’t end up being drowned-rat rock stars after all!”

We gave each other high tens and grinned at our costumes. We both had our hair pulled up in ponytails and were wearing black lipstick and nail polish. I was borrowing one of her rock-and-roll T-shirts. She was borrowing a tennis racket for a guitar.

We lined up to go inside, and the loud sports boys ran up, dribbling their basketballs. They were wearing long, baggy shorts and big tank tops with numbers on them.

“Are those your costumes or your uniforms?” I asked.

“They’re both,” said Charlie.

“Aren’t you freezing?” asked Erin.

“Nah,” said Charlie.

Two pumpkins, who were really Hannah and Abby, walked over to us holding hands.

“Our ballet recital sure made Halloween costumes easy this year,” said Abby.

The Rosemarys were ahead of us in line.

“Are the Rosemarys princesses or fairies?” I asked.

“They’re Good Witches,” said Hannah. “Like Glinda from The Wizard of Oz.”

Mr. Harrison walked over to us wearing a referee uniform.

“Hey, Mr. Harrison,” said Jack. “Are you a ref in real life?”

But I couldn’t hear the answer because it was a crazy madhouse inside the school.

Pirates and cheerleaders and vampires and firefighters were everywhere.

During recess Erin told me that she was so nervous to meet her stepsisters that she couldn’t even get excited about the Halloween party after lunch.

“Oh no,” I said. “That is nervous.”

She jumped up from the bench we were sitting on and started walking around it in circles.

“I know they’re going to be wicked,” she said.

“But we have a lot of information that maybe they’re not.” I opened up the WICKED STEPSISTERS NOTEBOOK.

Erin kept circling.

“There’s nothing on their FOR-SURE WICKED page at all. And there are only four things, four little, tiny things on their POSSIBLY WICKED page: ‘Maybe big feet,’ ‘Maybe loud,’ ‘Maybe lots of luggage,’ and ‘Maybe mirror-starers.’”

“What about things we don’t have anywhere in the notebook yet,” said Erin. “Things like loud and lazy and bossy and mean?”

“That’s okay,” I said, “because we have a plan, remember? If they are wicked—and that’s not for sure at all—we’ll just stop the wedding.”

Erin plopped back down on the bench. “Oh yeah.” She started jiggling her legs so much that the bench was wobbling.

“You’re still nervous,” I said. “Nervous with a capital N.”

“I’m not sure if I’m nervous about them being wicked anymore,” said Erin. “Maybe I’m just nervous about the whole thing.”

“What whole thing?” I asked.

“The whole everything,” she said.

At first I wasn’t sure what she meant, and then I had a big AHA! “You mean that you’re getting a new dad and new sisters and a whole new family?”

“Yes,” she said.

“That’s a lot of newness.” I bounced up and down on the jiggling bench. “You also have a new house and a new school and new kids to get to know.”

“Sometimes it feels like too much new,” said Erin. She stopped jiggling but started blinking super quick.

I hated that feeling Erin was having. I hated trying not to cry.

“Hey, do you want to tap-dance?” I asked.

“What?” asked Erin.

“Tap dance,” I said. “Sometimes tap dancing makes me feel better.”

“I’m not sure,” said Erin.

“This is the Pumpkin Blossom Fairy dance.” I jumped up off the bench and tapped my puppy tooth–marked clog in front of me five times. Next I did some shuffles and ball changes and brushes and strikes and finished with a cramp-roll. “Ta-da!”

Erin didn’t look sad or mad or nervous anymore. She was smiling.

“If you think watching makes you feel better, wait until you try it yourself!” I pulled her up off the bench.

I started tapping and shuffling and ball changing. Erin tried right along with me.

“What are you doing?” asked Rosemary T., appearing out of nowhere.

“What does it look like we’re doing?” I said.

Rosemary W. was right there with her. “Why are you TAP DANCING on the PLAYGROUND?”

“Why not?” I did a few shuffles to the side.

“Because you look stupid,” said Rosemary T.

I was a little bit shocked at her saying that. Stupid is a very, extremely mean and off-limits word in my house.

“No wonder Cinderella is the Pumpkin Blossom Fairy,” said Erin. “No one who thinks tap dancing looks stupid should have a solo.”

Rosemary T. got all shocked looking at that.

And then because I knew it bothered the Rosemarys, I started tap dancing right in front of them, and Erin joined right in.

“Hey! Tap dancing!” Abby and Hannah ran over to us in their pumpkin costumes. “Can we do it too?”

“Sure!” I yelled. “The more the merrier!” And we all tapped together. The Rosemarys just looked at us for a couple seconds and then race-walked away as fast as they could, because they hate to run.