Chapter Six

After my study skills class, I see Josh in the hall, putting books in his locker.

“Hey, Jules, just two more classes then we’re done. How’s your day going?”

“It started great. The science teacher said I could adopt Chewie.”

“Chewie?”

“Chewie’s a rabbit,” I say. “And you have to help me convince Mom and Dad we can adopt her.”

“You mean like take it home and keep it as a family pet forever?”

“Yeah, cool, right? Mom and Dad said we could get a pet once we settled in.”

“Yeah, but a rabbit? I wanted a dog.”

“They are more likely to agree to a rabbit,” I say. “Rabbits are easier to take care of and cheaper, too. You should see her. She’s adorable. Then in a few months we’ll start working on Mom and Dad about getting a puppy. They’d never agree to a puppy now, with the store opening in two weeks. Puppies are a lot of work.”

“True,” Josh says, slamming his locker shut. “But you better think of a new name for your rabbit, something that sounds tame and sweet and well behaved. Believe me, ‘Chewie’ is not it. Do you really think Mom will allow any animal in the house with that name?”

“No,” I sigh. “You’re right.”

Josh checks his watch and his schedule, then says, “Hey, David told me about a group of kids called Vet Volunteers—they help a veterinarian down the street from us.”

“Yeah, Sunita told me about them, too. There’s only one problem. You know that red-haired girl who freaked out on the bus this morning?”

Josh nods.

“Well, that’s Maggie. And Dr. Mac, the veterinarian, is her grandmother. Plus, wait till you hear what happened in the hallway when I saw her again. I’m sure Maggie hates me now.”

“What happened?”

I tell him about the tutoring mix-up. “Maggie took it the wrong way, and I’m sure she thinks I was trying to insult her.”

Josh shakes his head.

“Josh, you’ve got to help me smooth things over.”

He looks me right in the eye. “Look, Jules, why don’t you try being friendly for a change? Maybe even smile now and then?” he says. “I can’t go on fixing all your problems. You messed up, Jules, so you fix it. I’m going to class.”

Josh disappears down the hall.

Fix it with Maggie? Sure. How am I supposed to do that?

I walk to my next class, and that’s when I see Maggie in the hall, talking to Mr. Hart, my science teacher. He’s got his hands on his hips and is shaking his head. Maggie is holding the shoe box I bumped into on the bus. My math class is just beyond them, so there is no way around. Why is this happening to me again?

I try to walk as far away from them as possible. I practically rub my shoulder against the opposite wall full of lockers to stay clear. I avoid all eye contact. I stare at my feet and put one foot in front of the other. Maybe they won’t even know I’m there. But as I get closer I can hear them. Maggie says something about her project, though I can’t quite hear what. Just as I’m about to pass them, my shirt snags on a locker, holding me in place. I tug myself clear, but it tears a hole in the sleeve and scratches my arm underneath. Ouch.

“Look, Maggie,” Mr. Hart says. “The rest of the class managed to turn in their models on time. I already gave you an extension over spring break. So you turn it in today or you get an F.”

“I told you what happened,” Maggie said. “It wasn’t my fault.” She sounds desperate.

I should just keep going.

Or maybe I could fix this after all. I take a deep breath and walk closer. “It’s true,” I say.

Mr. Hart and Maggie stare at me. Maggie’s eyes grow big and a little wild. She slowly shakes her head back and forth as if that could make me disappear.

I smile, acting friendly like Josh suggested, so Maggie can see I’m trying to help her. They don’t say anything, so I start again. “Mr. Hart, really, it’s true. I saw her project on the bus this morning. It looked great. But then I bumped into her, and her project got kind of crushed. It was my fault. I’m really sorry.”

There, that should fix it. I hold my hand over my torn shirt and try to smile even though my arm hurts.

Mr. Hart lifts the towel, uncovering Maggie’s model. The inside of the box is smeared with black paint. It’s a mess of colored spheres, tape, and tangled fishing line.

“I’m disappointed in you, Maggie. First you tell me you need more time. Then you tell me that a dachshund boarding at your grandmother’s clinic chewed up your solar system model . . .”

Oh no. Maggie must have come up with some other excuse, and now I blew it.

Mr. Hart looks back and forth between us. “And now,” he says, “you’re getting your new friend to cover for you? You really need to take responsibility for your own work, Maggie MacKenzie.”

My smile is frozen on my face. Maggie is going to think I’m smiling because I’m happy she’s in trouble. And Mr. Hart is going to think I’m dishonest and not let me adopt Chewie.

Josh never should have told me to “fix it by being friendly.” Now look what’s happened. I’m just not a smile-and-fix-it kind of girl.

“And what’s this?” Mr. Hart asks, holding up a purple-painted Nerf ball.

“That one is, um, Pluto,” Maggie says.

“You did not do your research, Maggie. Nor were you paying attention in class—or else you’d know that Pluto is no longer a planet.”

Maggie’s shoulders droop.

“So which is it, Maggie?” Mr. Hart says. “Did the dog eat your planets?” He looks at me. I have to get out of here before this gets any worse. “Or are you going to blame it on your new friend?”

“Both,” Maggie says, looking right at me, “and she is not my friend!” She walks to the garbage can and dumps in what remains of her solar system model.

“I’m sorry,” I say as I head to my class. “I’m really sorry.”

“Get away from me,” Maggie says. “And stay away!”

So I go. I go as fast as I can without actually running. I’m late to yet another class, and I definitely did not “fix it.” My chance of ever becoming a Vet Volunteer is over. Especially if Maggie MacKenzie has any say.