Three

The Corn Flakes had Maggie surrounded before the Fruit Loops could even pick their ridiculous selves up off the ground.

Darbie hollered at Eddie, “Are you talking about yourself, Whale Boy?”

“You know you’re not a blimp, Mags,” Fiona said as they practically carried Maggie back to their corner. “Not even close.”

“You’re NOT fat, Mags,” Kitty sobbed. “You’re not!”

“I know.”

They all stopped in mid-hug to stare at Maggie. She just blinked, owl-like.

“They’re only stupid boys,” she said. “I don’t pay any attention to what they say.”

Darbie gave her an admiring nod. “You’re a class person, Maggie LaQuita, and don’t you be forgetting that.” She ran a steely gaze over Fiona, Sophie, and Kitty. “We’d all do good to listen to her. Boys are a sorry lot.”

“Blackguards,” Fiona said. “They just proved it. Pinky promise — one more time.”

There was pinky-linking all around before the bell rang.

“Maggie took that well, don’t you think?” Sophie whispered to Fiona as they hurried off to language arts.

“She’s resilient,” Fiona said. “Fruit Loop slime slides right off her. That’s why she’s a great agent. Now, what we have to figure out, like, IMMEDIATELY, is how I’m going to get out of shopping with that evil Odetta Clide person. Did you know that she showed me pictures of herself going to her first dance — like a hundred years ago or something?” Fiona’s gray eyes grew. “The Corn Pops are going to have a BLAST if I come in looking like that.”

“We’ll try to think of something,” Sophie said.

They pinkied up.

“I want to say my high,” Mama said at supper that night. She pushed Zeke’s plate with the broccoli left on it toward him. “Here’s your low, Z-Boy. Work on that while I’m talking.”

Zeke pretended to throw up over the side of the chair. Mama’s brown eyes got all bubbly as she ignored him and said, “I was on the phone all afternoon.”

“That’s your high?” Daddy said. “I thought you did that every day.”

Mama spread out her fingers and counted on them. “I talked to Darbie’s aunt, Maggie’s mom, and Fiona’s new nanny. What a lovely name: Odetta Clide.”

Lacie choked over her iced tea glass. “Is this person actually living in the twenty-first century?”

“She is, and she’s quite — something.”

I bet, Sophie thought. Something from the Dark Ages.

“Where does the high come in?” Lacie said.

“The four of us are taking you two, Maggie, Fiona, and Darbie to Smithfield to have lunch and shop for party dresses.”

Lacie dropped her fork into her pork chop. “You’re going to BUY our dresses! Mama, you ROCK! Only — I think we should go to the mall in Virginia Beach. No offense, but what do they have in Smithfield?”

“Loveliness,” Mama said. “It’s old, and Darbie’s aunt says there’s a museum and all kinds of little shops and cafés. And no, I’m not going to buy your dresses. We’re going there to get ideas.”

“Oh.” Lacie folded her arms. “You know, I bet I could just take the money you were going to use for fabric and buy something. They’re having a sale at Rave.”

Daddy shook his head. “Rave sells nothing but Band-Aids and dental floss. Off-limits, Lacie.”

Mama got up to clear the table and Lacie followed, going off about how they treated her like a total baby. Sophie picked up her own plate, walked over to get Zeke’s, and imagined herself shopping for her new disguise.

The lovely Smithfield boutique, where rack upon rack of elegant gowns awaited her choice. “It can’t be anything showy,”Agent Shadow told herself. She had to blend in. It was Canary and Flamingo and Owl who needed to stand out so they wouldn’t LOOK like undercover agents. Canary in fluffy yellow acquired from her older sisters. Flamingo in hot pink. Owl in brown velvet that swayed as she danced with Edward Wornum, a.k.a. Whale Boy, who would whisper, eyes downcast, that he was sorry he had ever humiliated her by comparing her to a large, lighter-than-air craft —

“Quit blowing in my ear, Soph! That tickles!”

Zeke peeled his sticky palm from Sophie’s, leaving her the last mouthful of broccoli he had spit into it.

“Already at the dance, Soph?” Daddy said. He grinned at her as he twirled her around, nearly knocking Lacie inside the dishwasher. “Just keep the daydreams here, huh? You don’t want to lose your camera at this late date.”

He was talking about the deal they had: if she made at least a B in everything, she got to keep her video camera, which meant limiting her dreaming to filming and keeping it out of the classroom, where she was supposed to pay attention.

“So can I call Fiona?” Sophie said to Mama as she washed the green off her hand. “Does she know about Saturday yet?”

Daddy leaned against the counter, elbows propped. “You’re really into this dance thing, huh? I don’t know why you want to complicate your life with boys.”

“Eew!” Sophie said.

“Well, I assume there are going to be boys at this dance.”

“I’m not going for the boys! Sick!”

“Good attitude, Soph,” Daddy said. He put out his arm just as Lacie tried to make an exit from the kitchen and he hooked her in by the neck. “Now, you, on the other hand — ”

Lacie started screeching again. Sophie loaded the silverware into the dishwasher, thoughts — and stomach — turning. I don’t even want to get anywhere CLOSE to a boy! Gross me out, why don’t you?

She tried to imagine sharp-faced Tod Ravelli, Mr. I’m So Cool I Can Hardly Stand It, holding out his hand to her, asking her to dance — but even Agent Shadow wouldn’t go there. “I won’t even do it to capture spies from the Corn Pop Organization,” the agent told herself. “I have made a promise to my people that I will never break.”

It was obvious the next day that the Corn Pops had made no such promise to each another. During first period, Sophie saw Anne-Stuart go to the sharpener with a point already on her pencil, just because Tod was there. Second period, Ms. Quelling had to call on B.J. twice because she was so busy staring at Eddie.

How TOTALLY gross is that? Sophie thought.

The only thing grosser was Julia walking her fingers up Colton Messik’s neck while they were standing in the lunch line. He reached back to grab her hand to make her stop, and then he twisted her arm around until she was almost on the floor.

She laughed up into his face like he was James Bond.

More like Pond, Sophie thought. Pond SCUM.

“I’d break his arm if he did that to me,” said the girl behind Sophie.

It was Gill, one of the four athletic girls in their class who were friendly to the Corn Flakes. Sophie and Fiona had named Gill and her friends the Wheaties. Gill was lanky, with reddish hair and very green eyes.

“I think Julia likes it,” Sophie said, nodding toward Julia, who was now weaving among the tables with Colton on her heels threatening her with his juice box.

“You know it,” Gill said. She nudged Sophie lightly on the arm with her fist. “But what’s to like about somebody trying to squirt you with grape juice?”

“And they say YOU guys are weird,” said another Wheatie, a husky girl named Harley whose cheeks came up and made her eyes almost disappear when she smiled. “They’re the weird ones.”

The Corn Pops got weirder after lunch, when all the fourth, fifth, and sixth graders were seated around the edges of the cafeteria on floor mats for an assembly. Julia led her group to sit against the wall, right behind the Corn Flakes.

“What’s this about anyway?” Sophie heard B.J. say.

“We get to see somebody do gymnastics,” someone answered her.

Sophie took a peek. It was Willoughby. She was finger-twirling a piece of her wavy milk-chocolate-colored hair — worn in a short cut that was shorter in back than in front. One sandal-clad foot was wiggling too. Sophie had heard Julia tell her to “quit fidgeting — you’re so annoying” more than once.

“All of us can do gymnastics,” Julia said, flipping her burnt-auburn ponytail. “What’s the big deal?”

“It’s a boy,” Willoughby said.

“A boy?” Anne-Stuart said.

“Oh, brother,” Fiona whispered to Sophie. “I bet you ten dollars Julia’s already putting on lip gloss.”

“A boy from our class,” Willoughby said.

“Nuh-uh,” B.J. said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Sophie could see B.J. get up on her knees to scan the sixth grade.

“It’s not somebody from our class, Willoughby,” B.J. said. She sounded like she had something in her mouth she wanted to spit out. “The only boys who could do gymnastics in our class are Tod and Eddie and Colton, and they’re all sitting out here.”

“Eddie doing gymnastics?” Kitty whispered across Maggie, who was beside Sophie. “He’d break the floor.”

“They’re not the only boys in our class,” Willoughby said.

But just then Mrs. Olinghouse, their tall principal with the silvery hair and the blue eyes that could slice through somebody, stepped up to a microphone in the corner. The whole cafeteria went silent.

“We have a special treat today, boys and girls,” she said. “Many of you know this young man, but you don’t know that he competes all over the country as a gymnast. And today, he’s going to do a demonstration for you.”

“Life’s desire,” Sophie heard Julia say behind her. “Wake me up when it’s over.”

“I can do a cartwheel,” Colton Messik yelled to Mrs. Olinghouse.

“If you can do one like this boy, Colton, I will give you a day off.”

“Sweet!”

“And now, boys and girls, I give you — Jimmy Wythe!”

“Jimmy WYTHE?” the Corn Pops said in unison.

“That kid who hangs out with the computer guys?” Maggie said to Sophie.

It was the same kid, suddenly doing double backflips across the padded floor and landing on his feet. For the next twenty minutes he didn’t stop — skinny Jimmy Wythe, who didn’t look so scrawny in his shiny one-piece suit. He had muscles where Eddie Wornom had baby fat, total control where Colton Messik stumbled over his own feet, and speed that would have left little Tod Ravelli in the dirt.

Colton is definitely not going to get his day off, Sophie thought.

Sophie had never really noticed blond-haired Jimmy Wythe much before — except for the fact that he, like his friends, kept pretty much to their computers and didn’t make disgusting noises with their armpits and burp “Jingle Bells” the way the Fruit Loops did. Even Kitty had said she thought he was “mysterious.”

But there was no missing Jimmy now. He moves like a deer, Sophie thought. A deer that does somersaults and walks on his hands.

Whenever he finished a part of his routine, shy Jimmy Wythe faced the audience, throwing his arms up and rewarding them with a smile that flashed white against his very tan skin. The kids cheered and whistled loud and high.

As he made his final bow, Kitty leaned across Maggie again and said, “He’s a babe!” Her cheeks were watermelon red.

But Kitty’s excitement couldn’t compare to B.J.’s and Anne-Stuart’s. They were screaming so loud, Sophie turned around to make sure they weren’t dying. Anne-Stuart’s pale blue eyes were about to wash right out of her head, as far as Sophie could tell, and B.J. was climbing up onto wiry little Willoughby’s shoulders, craning for a last glimpse of Jimmy as he left the cafeteria with a wave.

“I thought they said he was a geek,” Fiona said to Sophie.

“Well, they’re going mental over him now,” Darbie said.

Sophie felt herself grinning. This is ALMOST as good as if one of us did it, she thought. He showed those Pops they’re not the only ones who can do awesome things.

When Mrs. Olinghouse dismissed them to go to fifth period, Anne-Stuart and B.J. climbed over Darbie and Fiona and raced for the door. By the time the Corn Flakes reached it, one of them was on each side of Jimmy, tugging at his sweaty arms and saying things like, “You were so GOOD!” And “I never knew you could do that!”

“They never knew he existed,” Fiona muttered.

“He WAS good though,” Maggie said.

“Sorry, Maggot,” said Colton, grinning at Maggie from one stick-out ear to the other.

“It’s about TIME you were apologizing,” Darbie said.

“Nah,” Colton said. “I’m sorry she doesn’t have a chance with Jungle Gym Jimmy. I heard he doesn’t like fat — ”

“Close your cake trap, Colton,” Darbie said.

Colton froze for a mini-second, and then grinned at Darbie. “Cake trap. That’s pretty good. Hey, Eddie — close your cake trap, dude! Close your cake trap!”

“We’re so out of here,” Sophie said. She hauled Darbie and Fiona toward the math room before they had a chance to close Colton’s cake trap for him. Kitty and Maggie had already disappeared.

“Why are those boys bugging us again?” Kitty whined while Mrs. Utley was handing out worksheets. “I thought they learned their lesson during the science project.”

“I don’t know,” Darbie said, “but I’m dying to make them pay.”

“But that isn’t the Corn Flakes way,” Sophie said. She handed Darbie a sheet from the stack Mrs. Utley put on their table.

“Besides,” Maggie said, “it doesn’t bother me. They’re just stupid boys.”

Mrs. Utley paused before she moved on to the Wheaties. “And my advice to you ladies,” she said, her many soft chins jiggling happily, “is that you wait until they get a whole lot smarter before you have much to do with them.”

“We hear you,” Fiona said.

Mrs. Utley smiled and took her chins to the next table. By then the Corn Pops were all standing at the pencil sharpener next to the door. When it opened and Jimmy Wythe appeared, back in his jeans and T-shirt, Anne-Stuart twirled to face him, but not before B.J. got to him, grabbed him by the wrist, and dragged him toward the Corn Pops’ table.

“I think B.J. won that round,” Fiona said.

“That’s because she mugged him!” Sophie said.

“Anne-Stuart won’t be giving up,” Darbie said.

Kitty giggled. “You can’t blame her. He IS cute.”

The four of them turned on her. “No BOYS!” they all hissed.

“Ladies,” Mrs. Utley said. She was looking at the Corn Pops, but the Flakes zipped their mouths and hunkered down over their papers.

Before five minutes had passed, Mrs. Utley moved Jimmy back to his usual “computer geek” table with curly-haired Nathan and skinny Vincent and the round-faced twins, leaving B.J. to pout her lower lip out and Anne-Stuart to go to work writing in her fake-curlicue form what Sophie knew had to be a note.

When the bell rang and everyone burst from the room for the break before science, Sophie saw Anne-Stuart tuck the folded paper into the pocket of Jimmy’s T-shirt, giggle into his face, and run off to catch up with her fellow Pops.

“But we have more important things to do,” Agent Shadow told herself as she moved with the crowd out into the hallway. “If I had time — if I didn’t have spies to watch — I would like to say to Secret Weapon Wythe, ‘You’re better than all of them.’ ”

“Thanks,” someone said. Sophie felt her eyes widen. Beside her stood Jimmy Wythe. He smiled a shy smile at her and backed away into the hallway crowd.

“Did I say something to him?” Sophie said.

Kitty sighed, eyes in two dreamy puddles. “I don’t know what it was — but I think he liked it.”

“But somebody ELSE didn’t like it.” Maggie jerked her head toward the water fountain.

Anne-Stuart and B.J. stood there, holding Julia’s hair back while she drank, looking dead-on at Sophie.

“I think they’re wishing it was YOUR head in that sink so they could drown you,” Darbie said.

Sophie didn’t answer. She knew Darbie was right.