Seems like when a day starts off bad, it only gets worse. Could be that you’re so distracted by one bad move that you wind up making others. Or maybe some days are mixed into your life to prove you can survive them. Maybe it’s like leveling up.

I got to the bus stop in the nick of time and shuffled on last. Everyone else found seats quick, but I was shut out cold, with kids expanding their territory when they saw me coming down the aisle, making like there was no room on their bench in case I was thinking of squeezing in.

Nothing new there.

And then I heard my name. “Lincoln! Lincoln! Back here!”

I recognized her voice right off, and a sly-eye proved that, sure enough, it was Kandi.

My day was racing along the fast track from bad to worse. Why was she even on my bus? I checked around quick for a place to sit, pretending I hadn’t heard her.

“Lincoln!” she hollered again. “Back here!”

Now everyone was staring at me, and the back of the bus started treating me like I’d been drinkin’ stupid water. “Dude, what’s wrong with you?” “Wake up, man!” “Hellllloooo, moron…”

No grapes or tuna were flingin’ around yet, but I was imagining spoons getting unholstered and Troy commanding the troops.

Ready….

I could feel it—spoons were being loaded.

Aim….

They were cocked back and quivering!

Fire!

No food came zinging through the air, but Kandi’s voice sure did. “Lincoln!”

I finally looked at her square-on. She had a hand slapped down on a seat beside her. Holding it for me. There wasn’t a spoon in sight.

“Lincoln!” the bus driver hollered into her big bus mirror. “Sit down!”

“Why were you ignoring me?” Kandi hissed when I took the seat she’d saved.

“What are you doing on this bus?” I asked back.

She full-on frowned at me. “Why’d I even bother to save you a seat?”

About then is when it sank in: I was in the fling zone and no one was hurling food or insults. “Where’s Troy?” I asked, sly-eyeing around to be sure I wasn’t about to be ambushed.

Hilly Howard was sitting across the aisle from Kandi and me, messin’ with her bracelets. “I see what you mean about him not answering questions,” she said over me like I wasn’t even there. “It is annoying.”

Kandi gave me the stink-eye and called, “And I’m definitely annoyed!”

So yeah. Girls are confusing. First they save you a seat, then they act mad when you’re sitting in it.

Kandi crossed her arms. Her little turkey-tail nails were chipped here and there, like they were tired of looking so festive. “Aren’t you going to apologize?” she asked with a huff. “Or at least thank me?”

“For what?”

“Another question,” Hilly said, causing trouble. She wasn’t even looking at me. She was pulling at her bracelets, moving them around and around her wrist, and it made me notice that her fingernails were painted just like Kandi’s, only the turkeys looked brand-new.

“See?” Kandi cried.

“Which is another question from you,” I pointed out. “You’re the one who never answers questions!”

Hilly quit messing with her bracelets and squared off with me. “You could start by thanking her for saving you a seat.”

I nearly broke it to her that I’d rather pick tuna out of my hair, but she leaned across the aisle and whispered, “Or how about for getting Troy kicked off the bus?” She gave me laser-beam eyes. “Not that the world needs to know that, but you should.”

My head whipped back to Kandi. “How’d you do that?”

She got busy chipping at a turkey tail. “I told Ms. Miller.”

“But…why’d you do that?”

“Because Hilly told me how bad it was. And someone needed to do something. And I’m not afraid of Troy Pilkers.”

“But…he’s gonna think it was me.”

It came out sounding like no one I wanted to be. I didn’t sound like Lamar or Lucas or any of the heroes in my stories. I sounded like a scaredy-cat.

A coward.

Hilly leaned over the aisle again. “I’m not seein’ a famous journalist in him, Kandi.”

“Me?” I asked, pointing to myself like the word alone wouldn’t do.

Kandi smiled at her. “You’ll see.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked, whippin’ my head from side to side.

Hilly gave me a look that said I was way smaller than my britches. “Kandi was up all night predicting your future.”

“What?” I was gettin’ whiplash from looking back and forth.

“Hilly!” Kandi cried.

“Well, you were,” Hilly grumbled. Then she frowned at me and said, “You need to thank her, stupid.” She went back to her bracelets again, her little turkey tails reeling them around her wrist. “Nobody liked what Troy was doing. Even if you are a dork.”

“He’s not a dork,” Kandi said.

I don’t know if I was sticking up for myself or Kandi, but something made me look right at Hilly and say, “That’s right. I’m not.”

The bus was pulling into the drop-off zone, and Hilly stood up while it was still moving. “You are until you thank her. After that, we’ll see.”

They both focused double-barreled stares on me, Hilly from above, Kandi from the side.

So I broke down. “Thank you.”

Kandi’s nose tilted back and a little air came puffing out of it. “No problem,” she said, but the look she gave me said she was lyin’.