What did I do?
Something. It had to be something.
Is it because I took their torture without complaining? Because I ditched the pony backpack? Because I’m the sister of a seriously rebellious HVMS legend who now goes to a totally hip art school?
None of those reasons seemed likely. I only knew one thing: Missy Trillin asked me to have lunch with her and the other Princesses.
There has to be a logical explanation, I thought, but I couldn’t figure it out. Here’s what happened:
Actually, it was a little more like this:
Ha-ha, ha-ha, Rafe! I’m winning already!
So—okay—maybe they just wanted me to bring them cookies. That was today. Tomorrow, it could be pie. And after a while, I would just be hanging out with them. The fourth Princess, on patrol.
I picked three enormous cookies flecked with M&M’s for Missy and the B’s. The HVMS cafeteria mostly serves reheated mystery meat, but the desserts are good.
Out in the courtyard, I sat down on a bench, wondering why more people don’t eat out there. It was a pretty day, with only a few puffy clouds in a bright blue sky.
“Excuse me?” someone called. It was a cute guy with sandy-blond hair. “Um, hey—” He glanced over his shoulder, then hurried through the cafeteria doors. “You’re not supposed to be out here.”
“What?” I asked. I turned to look over at the cafeteria windows.
“Oh,” I said. I felt like I’d just swallowed a boot: sick and lumpy.
“Are you okay?” the blond kid asked me. “You look like you just swallowed a boot.”
Suddenly, the cafeteria doors burst open. In a cloud of smoke, Mrs. Stricker—the Hills Village Middle School vice principal—appeared.
And she was heading straight for us.
