CHAPTER 3

At lunch, Allie shares what she’s learned about the new girl. “Name: Dana Denver,” she begins, as we unpack our lunches. “She’s in my health class. Mr. Montgomery had her introduce herself.” Health and PE are the only classes that are not AA and that Allie and I don’t have together.For those classes, we switch teachers.

Allie pulls her red plastic chopsticks out of her lunch pouch. “Dana just moved here from Texas.”

My brain rattles off some facts. Texas, the Lone Star State. Looks like it has a chimney. Second-largest U.S. state in terms of area. Capital: Austin. A few years ago, Baba bought me a U.S. map place mat. I studied it every morning while eating my hummus. Eventually I memorized all fifty states.

“She’s so tall,” Allie says. “When Mr. Montgomery asked her to stand up and tell everyone about herself, I thought she was already standing up!”

I burst into giggles.

“So what happened on the bus?” Allie asks.

I tell Allie the whole story. When I’m done, her mouth drops open. “Wait, you sat down?” she asks, horrified.

I am also suddenly horrified.

“Well, what was I supposed to do?” I grumble. “Fight her? She’s taller than most adults I know.”

Allie thinks about it. “No,” she says finally. “Fighting gets you suspended from the bus.” Then she asks, “Didn’t Bridget do anything?”

“No,” I grumble. “You know how Bridget is.”

“You always think she’s so terrible,” Allie says, rolling her eyes. “She’s in my health class too. She’s pretty nice to me.”

Bridget used to be our friend, until she changed in third grade. I guess I was hurt by it more than Allie. I change the subject, because I don’t like talking about Bridget. “What else did Dana say?” I ask.

Allie ticks her fingers on her left hand. “Plays basketball. Broke a record for swimming at her old school. Favorite color is denim—”

“Denim is not a color!” I interrupt.

“Fact. Also, she rides horses. She just got her own pony for Christmas, but they left him in Texas.” Allie pauses, her chopsticks poised in the air. “I think maybe that part is made up. Who buys a horse and then leaves him in Texas?”

We both think about it for a bit, then agree that Dana must be lying about owning a horse.

“Well, Dana and her imaginary horse won’t be at Magnet. I’m so excited for next year,” says Allie.

“Yeah,” I say happily. “And we won’t have to deal with that anymore.” I point to the Beckinson twins, who are having a sword fight with their corn dogs.

“Bonus!” she agrees. Together, we watch Winston, who raises his hand to tattle on them. The lunch monitor, who walks around handing out napkins and sporks, waves Winston away. She’s heard him tattle a million times.

However, my smile falls right off my face when I turn my head and see Dana. She’s standing by the window and staring outside. My heart starts pounding. I know what she’s looking at. Right now, Samir’s kindergarten class is on the playground.

Dana points outside while speaking to Bridget and some other girls at their table. Whatever she says makes them all crack up.

I have to know what she’s saying. I stand up and pretend as if I’m going to throw my napkin in the trash can, which is next to Dana’s table.

Even though her back is to me, I hear her now. “Why do they have those kids at this school?”

I imagine what she is seeing. Maybe Samir is sitting on the mulch, his hand tucked under his chin. Maybe his friend Ana is having a hard time climbing the steps to the slide because of her leg braces. Maybe Thomas is sitting in his wheelchair, drawing a picture.

Dana shudders, as if something is grossing her out. The other kids gather at the window to watch and roll their eyes. Bridget is there too. As I learned a long time ago, she never misses a chance to be popular, even if it equals being mean.

Suddenly Dana turns her head and sees me. I hurry back to my table. There is a tight ball of fear in my chest.

“What’s wrong, Farah?” Allie asks.

“The new girl—I think she’s making fun of some of Samir’s friends,” I say.

Allie shakes her head. “I doubt it.”

“I don’t think so,” I say. I’m laser-sharp about how other kids look at Samir’s friends. When she said “those kids,” I know what she meant.

“Well, then you should tell someone,” she says logically.

Right.

I walk up to the lunch monitor. “Excuse me?”

“You need a spork?” she asks me tiredly.

“No. Um, that girl right there—” I say, turning to make sure Dana doesn’t see me pointing. “She’s making fun of the kids on the playground.”

“Sweetie, that’s not a huge deal. Please sit down, okay? The bell’s about to ring.” And she walks away, just like that.

I stand there, stunned. The lady looked at me as if I was Winston, complaining about small stuff.

I report back to Allie, who shrugs. “Forget it,” she says. “Nobody got hurt. Let’s go.”

“But, Allie, she’s making fun of my brother.”

“Well, we can tell Dana’s teacher.”

I think about what to do as I pack up my lunch. I could talk to her teacher, but what would happen? He’ll just talk to Dana. She will say she didn’t do it. I’ll say she did.

Maybe they’ll call in her mom for a conference. She’ll say Dana is an angel. I’ll say she’s not. Nobody will be able to prove anything. They might even tell me what the lunch monitor just did, that it’s not a big deal. And that means nothing will be solved. Even worse: Dana will hate me for complaining about her.

“Come on, Farah,” Allie says. “We’re going to be late for class.”

Doesn’t she understand that this situation is bothering me? I think. I’m upset right now, but she is already packed up and ready to head to class.

“I’m coming,” I say, trying to hide my annoyance.