I gently placed Mr. Bananas in my locker and floated toward my class. I was wrapped in a pink, fluffy cloud. Life was a chocolate mountain! Middle school was a bucket of sunshine!
“Hey, Limpy.” Mini-Miller grunted at me. “My brother has a message for Rafe.”
“Is it a fan message?” I asked, feeling my cotton-candy cloud start to melt.
“Nope. It’s a warning.” Mini-Miller leaned so close to me that I could see his nose hairs. “The message is, ‘Watch out, loser. I have friends at Airbrook Arts.’ ” He gave a snort-laugh.
I think I’ve already mentioned that nobody is allowed to pick on Rafe but me. Especially not after he helped me with the garage sale. And especially especially not on the Best Day of My So-Far Middle School Life. “Back off, Mini-Miller,” I snarled.
“What did you call me, Knuckle Toes?” Mini-Miller snapped. “What are you gonna do, limp after me?” He gave my shoulder a shove, and I stumbled backward.
Mini-Miller cracked up, and rage took over my body. I swear I’m not responsible for what happened next.
I froze, watching Mini-Miller hop halfway down the hallway. My first feeling was horror: I can’t believe I did that! My next feeling was excitement: I can’t believe I did that!
But I did! I kicked Mini-Miller in the leg!
Mini-Miller was still howling and hopping, so I stepped around him and started down the hall feeling more stunned and happy than when I’d won the regional spelling bee in fifth grade.
Rhonda hooted. She’d seen the whole thing. She held up her hand for a high five, and I slapped it. “NOW WHO’S LIMPING, MILLER?” she screeched as he hobbled away.
That made me smile.
I guess Rhonda and I are kind of friends.
Weird friends, but friends.