Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar (18 page)

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.

W
HAT DO YOU THINK?” Rhonda squealed the next morning as she thrust a neon-green flyer at me. It was covered in clip art of guitars and sunglasses and music notes and said “WE STINK ROCKS OUT! Come check out the BATTLE OF THE BANDS at the HVMS dance. BE READY FOR AWESOME!”

I could just hear the parts in capital letters screeching at me in Rhonda’s voice.

“Um,” I said.
What do I think?

I thought she was nuts.

I thought I didn’t want people to watch me humiliate myself.

“The neon green is hurting my eyes” was all I could manage to say.

“YOU DON’T HAVE TO THANK ME!” Rhonda said, crushing me in a hug. “I JUST WANT EVERYONE TO COME SEE HOW GREAT WE ARE!”

“We?” I repeated. I didn’t like the sound of that.

“OUI, OUI!”
Rhonda pulled out a roll of tape and stuck up one of the flyers. “IT’S SO COOL WHEN YOU SPEAK FRENCH!”

Uh, that wasn’t French, Rhonda.

“What’s
that
?”

The sharp voice behind me made me jump. When I turned, I saw Missy and her coven of witches. All three of them were scowling at the flyer. They had appeared instantly, like flies attracted to the scent of poo.

Rhonda stood against the wall, as if she had just been caught in a criminal act. I froze too.

We were in for an all-out ballistic attack.
Run, Rhonda! Run!

But we both just stood there, as if our feet were stapled to the floor.

Missy walked right up to the flyer and ripped it off the wall. Then she gave Rhonda a look that
could melt rock. “Why are
you
putting up posters for the dance?”

For a moment, Rhonda was too shocked to speak. Missy had never spoken to her directly before. “BECAUSE MY BAND IS GOING TO BE THERE.” Rhonda looked at me for backup.

“
Your
band?” Brittany echoed, gaping at Rhonda. “What instrument do you play—
cow
bell?”

Rhonda blushed. “WELL, I SING, BUT—”

“Please!” Missy cried. “You sing? I can feel my ears bleeding already.”

“She’s part howler monkey!” Brittany added.

Rhonda hung her head. Now was my chance to tell Missy and the B’s exactly what I thought of them.

So, what did I do?

I
wanted to help Rhonda… but I also wanted to turn invisible and escape the Wrath of the Princesses. She was trapped in their evil web of insults, and it looked like they were moving in for the kill.

Get away now
, I told myself,
while you still can!
I moved, but my feet went the wrong way. Instead of going backward, they went forward. And before I knew what I was doing, I heard myself say, “Shut your lipstick holes! Rhonda’s singing with the band, and she rocks!”

The hall went dead silent. Missy’s gaze made me feel like a bug that had been pinned to a board with its wings still moving. Everyone was watching us. Rhonda’s eyes were so wide that I thought they might
fall out of her head and roll around on the floor.

Finally, Missy laughed. Brittany and Bethany laughed too, playing follow the leader, as usual. “Rhonda isn’t even your friend,” Missy announced. “Remember? You told me so yourself.” Then she looked over at Rhonda with a smile, like she’d won.

Rhonda looked at me. “Georgia wouldn’t say that,” she said, but she didn’t sound sure. For the first time ever, she spoke in lowercase letters.

“I—” I tried to speak, but all I could do was make a strangled little squeak.

Rhonda blinked, as if a bug had flown into her face. Her eyebrows pulled together, and then her chin started to quiver. People in the hallway had stopped and were staring. Things were getting quiet, in a bad-quiet kind of way.

Missy let out a loud “Ha!” and walked away, the Princesses trailing after her. I felt the students who lined the hall look away from us. But Rhonda couldn’t tear her gaze from mine. I knew what she wanted to hear—that I’d never said that. That it wasn’t true.

But I
had
said it.

PS: I just can’t draw any of this. It’s too hideous.

Please, just look away, like everyone else did.

R
honda stared at me with those huge, damp eyes, and I felt part of myself dissolve like Kool-Aid mix in water. I’ve always thought that I was a good person. At least, mostly good. But as Rhonda stood there looking at me, TRAITOR written across her face, I started to think I’d never been good at all.

Then she took off like a bullet.

I was so surprised that she could move that fast that I didn’t even follow her.

Not right away.

By the time I managed to move, Rhonda had blasted through the hallway doors. Then the second bell rang, and I found myself alone in the hall. I was late for class.

I should find her later and apologize
, I told myself. But I knew that wasn’t good enough. No—I had to find her and apologize
now
. Right away. Even if it meant skipping class and getting in trouble.

Because friendship is more important than French,
oui
?

The first place I looked was the girls’ room. No Rhonda. Just a very annoyed eighth grader who I, uh… accidentally barged in on.