I place my elbows on my desk and rest my chin in my hands, and I do not even let out one “Wahoo!” when Mrs. Spangle tells us we are going to have fifteen minutes of extra recess this afternoon, even though I love recess.

“If you’re finished with your seatwork, Mandy, you have time to do some silent reading,” Mrs. Spangle calls from her desk. So I pull out my Rainbow Sparkle book, but I do not read it. Instead, I lay my head down on my arms and close my eyes.

And I am trying not to cry again, if I am being honest, because everything is awful.

I have no coins and no sunglasses and no best friend, and I do not know how to do the monkey bars, which I didn’t even know I couldn’t do before. I squeeze my eyes shut and push the tears back inside with my pinkies, and I try to think about gummy bears and Rainbow Sparkle because they are the only things that still make me happy.

“Mandy,” I hear Mrs. Spangle whisper from her desk. “Mandy.”

I whip my head up and look at my teacher, and she is a little bit blurry behind the mist in my eyes. She wiggles her finger back and forth for me to approach her desk.

I wipe the backs of my hands across my eyes as I walk toward Mrs. Spangle, and I just know she is going to put my initials on the board again, and I do not even care why.

“Are you feeling okay?” Mrs. Spangle asks.

I nod my head, even though I am not. But I am not really sick—I am just sick of Natalie and Dennis and my two working wrists.

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Spangle asks again. “You’re not acting like yourself.”

I nod again, because Mrs. Spangle will not understand my problems.

“Just having a bad day?” she asks.

“A bad week,” I answer.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

“No, thank you,” I say, and I am polite and everything.

Mrs. Spangle smiles a little then, which I think is rude. She places her fingers under my chin and lifts it a tiny bit. “Buck up,” she says. “You just keep plugging away, and I bet it gets better.”

I nod again, and I am pretty sure I have never been so quiet in my life.

“Remember, the Mandy I know never gives up,” Mrs. Spangle tells me. “Even if she is having a bad week. Am I right?”

“You’re right,” I say, but I am not sure that I mean it.

Mrs. Spangle gives me a sad face that matches my own. “I hate to see you like this.”

“My mom says I am a crankypants,” I tell her, and Mrs. Spangle smiles.

“Well, what can I do to cheer you up?” she asks.

“Nothing,” I answer, because I am absolutely positive that Mrs. Spangle will not know how to make Anya my best friend again instead of Natalie’s.

“I have an idea,” Mrs. Spangle tells me. “Julia is absent, and she is supposed to be our Line Leader this week. How about you take her place for the day? I know you like that job.”

“Really?” I clap my hands together and then shoot my fist in the air. “Wahoo!” Being the Line Leader is the best of all of the classroom jobs, because you get to be at the front of the line and be in charge, and best of all, Mrs. Spangle always holds the Line Leader’s hand in the hallway. I got to be the Line Leader the third week of second grade, but I have a very long wait until Mrs. Spangle makes it all the way through the rest of my class and back to my name. I know this because when she switches the classroom jobs every Monday, I ask her if it is my turn to be Line Leader yet.

“There’s the Mandy I know,” Mrs. Spangle says. “Now skedaddle back to your seat and do some silent reading. We have two minutes before we go to special subject.”

I bounce away from Mrs. Spangle’s desk and back to my own. I lift my Rainbow Sparkle book off my desk and pretend to read it, but I am too jittery from Line Leader excitement to concentrate.

After what feels like many, many minutes, Mrs. Spangle announces that it is time to go to special subject, so I stuff my book back into my desk and sit up very straight with my hands folded, waiting.

“Look at the great example our Line Leader is setting,” Mrs. Spangle tells the class, pointing at me. “Go ahead and start the line for us, Mandy.”

I leap from my seat and push my chair in super fast, then I walk as quickly as I can to our classroom door.

“Hey, Polka Dot’s not the Line Leader,” Dennis calls out. “Julia is.”

“Julia’s absent today,” Mrs. Spangle explains. “And what did I tell you about name-calling?” When Mrs. Spangle looks away, Dennis sticks his tongue out at me, but I am too busy focusing on being the Line Leader to care.

“Let’s see which groups look like they’re ready for special subject,” Mrs. Spangle continues, and she tells them to get in line one by one—all behind me, because I am in charge. Dennis walks to the line the slowest, because he always likes to be the caboose.

“Okay, Mandy,” Mrs. Spangle calls from her desk. “Get us going.”

“Aren’t you coming?” I call back.

“I’ll catch up in a second,” Mrs. Spangle says, moving around piles of papers on her desk. “You’re in charge.”

I take a deep breath and step into the hallway, looking over my shoulder to make sure everyone is following me. I make a left out of our classroom and take ten medium-size steps down the hall—not too big and not too small—so that everyone can keep up. I am an excellent Line Leader, I think.

I look behind me and grin super wide when I see my whole class following me. I take ten more medium-size steps and then look back again to see what is taking Mrs. Spangle so long to come hold my hand. I see her in the middle of our line, and I stop at the corner near the library, just like I am supposed to, and wait for her to catch up to me.

“Mrs. Spangle!” I whisper-yell, but instead of coming to meet me, Mrs. Spangle only waves her arm to signal me to keep going. And that’s when I see it: the reason Mrs. Spangle is not holding my hand.

She is holding Natalie’s hand. The one that is not covered by the cast.

I am absolutely positive that I have never been so angry in my life.

I flip my face forward and begin walking much faster down the hallway, not caring anymore if my class can keep up. I reach the end of the library and do not even stop at the corner before making a right, and I march at full speed toward the art room.

“Mandy! Mandy!” I hear calls behind me, but I ignore them because you are not supposed to talk in the hallway, and also, I am too busy being angry.

“Mandy!” I recognize Mrs. Spangle’s voice. I whip my head around to face her, even though I don’t want to, and I see the rest of my class waiting at the other end of the hall. Mrs. Spangle points to the door they’re standing near. “We have music today, not art.”

I feel my forehead get hot, and Dennis starts laughing at me loudly.

“It’s okay,” Mrs. Spangle says. “We all make mistakes, Dennis.” She shoos my class into the music room while I shuffle back down the hall with my head down. I take my place in line behind Dennis—even farther back than the caboose.

“You’re not such a hot Line Leader,” he says, and Anya does not even care enough to be here to stick up for me. I guess it is no wonder that Anya wants to be Natalie’s friend and not mine. Because no one wants to be friends with a bad Line Leader.