Mom sipped her coffee. “Well, that’s the plan, sweetheart. I hope we can. I may need to go into work for a bit.”
Really? But she never worked on weekends.
“What for?” I asked.
“Extra stuff. Maybe just an hour or two. Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m not worried. I just want to go to Old Navy. Like you promised.”
Mom’s frown made me realize that I’d sounded fresher than I’d meant. Oops. “So anyway,” I added quickly, “until we do go shopping, can I please borrow something?”
“You mean from me?” Mom asked.
I nodded.
Mom put down her coffee.
“Seriously, Mila, why do you want to wear my clothes? They aren’t right for school.”
“Well, yeah, the worky stuff isn’t,” I agreed. “But what about that red plaid shirt—”
“You mean the one I wore to paint the bathroom?”
I nodded.
“First of all, it still has paint spatters.”
“I don’t mind.”
“And second of all—”
“It looks like a tablecloth.” Hadley started giggling. “Or a blanket for Delilah’s dog bed.”
Mom smiled. “It does not. It’s just a comfortable old flannel shirt. But really, Mila, I’m sure it’s too big!”
“Well, I think it’s fine,” I argued. “Anyway, I’ll wear it over something. So it’s supposed to be big.”
“I guess that could look okay,” Mom said. I could see her mom-wheels turning. “But why do you want to? Are your friends criticizing your wardrobe?”
I shook my head.
“Is it Omi? Sweetheart, I know her grandparents like to buy her nice things—”
“Omi is the prettiest,” Hadley announced.
“It’s not about Omi,” I said quickly. “I just hate all my clothes, nothing fits, and I really, really want to wear that shirt. I think it’ll look cool. Please?”
Mom glanced at her watch. “All right, fine, Mila. But I’m serious—we absolutely need to leave in two minutes, or I’ll really hear it from Robert.”
“Robert who?” Hadley asked.
“My new boss, baby. Robert Reinhold.”
“His name sounds like rrrrrr. Like a growl,” Hadley said. She made a growling-dog face.
“It certainly does, Had.” Mom sighed. “So Mila, just get dressed really fast, okay? And grab a granola bar for breakfast. You can eat it in the car—”
“Hey, how come Mila gets to eat a granola bar for breakfast? In the car?” Hadley protested.
Because I’ll be wearing a tablecloth.
EARLY
I got to school twenty-five minutes early that morning. When Ms. Wardak saw me in the hallway outside my locked homeroom, she asked if there wasn’t “somewhere else” I could be.
“Actually, I’m okay right here,” I told her.
“Young lady,” Ms. Wardak snapped. “Don’t give me attitude, or I’ll report you to Mr. McCabe. Is that what you want?”
I shook my head. Mr. McCabe, the assistant principal, had a fleshy pink face and a look in his eyes that said Don’t mess with me. I knew he wasn’t evil or anything; after all, he’d stopped Hunter from bothering Max last year. But he was still in charge of punishments, so I definitely didn’t want to get reported.
And honestly, I hadn’t meant to give Ms. Wardak any attitude. Maybe there was something in my voice I didn’t know about. This wouldn’t be surprising—it was as if lately I’d been losing track of myself. What I looked like. What I sounded like.
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “I just meant I felt okay. Here. Waiting for homeroom.”
“Well, homeroom isn’t happening anytime soon, so find a place to be,” she said. “A hallway is not a place.”
I almost asked what it was, then, if it wasn’t a place—but there was a good chance Ms. Wardak would think that was more attitude.
So first I went to the first floor girls’ room, but then a janitor came in to disinfect, and I had to leave. I knew the lunchroom wasn’t a possibility; Hunter Schultz and some of his friends hung out there in the mornings, playing Magic cards until homeroom. And after Max’s problems last year, I knew to keep away from Hunter myself.
When I spotted Ms. Wardak circling back to my hallway, I made a quick decision: I’d go to the band room, but only if Ms. Fender was there.
No way would I go in there alone, even if I wasn’t wearing The Sweater.
BAND
Good morning, Mila!” Ms. Fender greeted me. Today she had on a blue dress with yellow roses, and her honey-colored hair was loose around her shoulders. Sometimes I tried to guess how old she was, but it was hard to tell. For all I knew, she had kids.
Which was funny to think about, actually, considering the way she had favorite students. Maybe as a mom she had favorite babies. You can have this rattle, but you just have to watch.…
“Hi,” I said. “I’m early today, so. Okay if I practice until homeroom?”
She took a sip out of her fancy water bottle. It was white, with gray swirls on it to make it look like marble, and it had a twist-off lid made of metal. I wondered if Ms. Fender had bought it for herself; it was hard to imagine being the kind of person who spent money on fake-marble water bottles.
“Of course, Mila,” she said nicely. “You’re always welcome here to work on your music. How are you finding ‘Pirate Medley’?”
“It’s okay. Although the middle section is a little hard.”
“Well, watch your section leader. Callum has the fingering perfectly. I can ask him to show you—”
“No, that’s okay,” I cut in.
Ms. Fender raised her perfectly shaped eyebrows. You were supposed to follow the leader, who in my case was Pet Number Three. For a second I thought she’d remind me about that, but she pressed her lips together instead.
The door opened, and Pet Number One walked in. Samira Spurlock said hello to Ms. Fender, then went over to her chair. She opened her backpack, took out a sheet of music, and brought it over to Ms. Fender.
“My little brother spilled glue all over the table last night,” Samira said. “So now all my papers are sticky. Can I please have a new ‘Pirate Medley’?”
“Of course,” Ms. Fender said. “I grew up with a little brother too, so I know how it goes.” She winked at Samira. Actually winked. “Let me make you another copy, dear. One second.”
She took Samira’s music and left the room.
Samira glanced at me through her blue glasses. Her eyes and her long braids were two shades darker than her brown skin; she looked pretty, but also smart. And it wasn’t just because of the blue glasses.
“That was weird on the bus yesterday,” she announced suddenly.
I swallowed. “Yeah. It was.”
“Why were those boys teasing you like that?”
“I really don’t know.”
She frowned. “If it was me, I wouldn’t allow it.”
“You think I allowed it?”