Actually, I didn’t do that.
I helped Rhonda pick up her books. Why, you ask? It’s simple.
I am an idiot.
I mean—that’s obvious, right? I’m supposed to be winning over the Princesses, not making friends with people they hate. I have a bet to win.
“WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” Rhonda asked me as I helped her to her feet. I will never, ever get used to that screechy voice of hers. Her clothes were even wackier than they had been yesterday. Every single thing she was wearing had an R on it.
“I’m Georgia,” I told her as I collected her books. “Georgia Khatchadorian.”
“THAT’S BEAUTIFUL!” Rhonda shrieked.
“Um, thanks.” I gave her a quick smile and headed toward my class.
A moment later, I noticed the sound of heavy breathing behind me.
“SO, GEORGIA, DO YOU LIVE CLOSE TO HVMS?” Rhonda asked.
“Not that close,” I told her. “I have to take a bus.”
“I LOVE THE BUS! I HAVE TO TAKE ONE DOWNTOWN SOMETIMES FOR MY VOICE LESSONS.”
I wasn’t really listening. “It’s okay, I guess.” Isn’t she supposed to be going the other way?
“DO YOU HAVE ANY BROTHERS OR SISTERS?”
Is she serious? She’s never heard of Rafe? Wow, this girl does not get out much. “I’ve got a brother.” I picked up my pace a little, but Rhonda kept up with me. I wondered what would happen if I went into a bathroom. Or oncoming traffic.
“WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN, GEORGIA?”
OMG, is she my grandma or something? I wondered. “Well, I’m in a band.”
“YOU’RE IN A BAND?!?!”
Rhonda said it the way everyone else said, “You’re Rafe Khatchadorian’s SISTER?!” She sounded shocked. Amazed. Maybe even terrified.
“Yeah. We really… rock.” I was going to say “stink,” but then I realized that Rhonda would never know the difference.
“OMIGOSH, I WOULD DIE TO BE IN A BAND!” Rhonda hugged her books so tightly, I thought they might explode against the ceiling. “I LOVE TO SING!”
I laughed, but then Rhonda looked hurt, and I realized she was serious. “You… sing? You?”
“WHY? DOES YOUR BAND NEED A SINGER?” She grabbed my arm and squeezed it hopefully. And painfully.
“No,” I said quickly. “Sorry.”
“OH.” She looked crestfallen. “BECAUSE I’M REALLY GOOD,” Rhonda added.
“Okay,” I told her. “Well, here’s my class. Gotta go!” And I finally escaped into social studies.
I could feel Rhonda watching me from the door as I sat at my desk. But I didn’t look at her. I just stared at the whiteboard until the bell rang and she disappeared.
I am soooo regretting being nice to her.
If I’m not careful, she could sink my whole year.
