“What about the girl with the hair bow?”
“Sibby Huang,” Joe replied. “She worships Brianna because of her skating. She belongs to the same skating club I do. She’s good. Very good for her age.”
“Should we—uh—get emotional about strangler figs killing hosts, or just chalk it up to one of the cruelties of nature?” Anand asked as they kept their eyes fastened on the sixth graders circling the Court of the Mean Queens.
“What do the remoras do for the Mean Queens?”
“Play fetch, mostly, like obedient dogs,” Joe said. “And sometimes take the blame for their dirty tricks.”
“What are their dirty tricks, or special ops, as you called them?”
“The Mean Queens do a lot through texting—gossip, spread rumors. Don’t let them get hold of your cell phone. But they don’t limit it to kids. They were really mean to Ms. Elfenbach last year too.”
“The math teacher? She’s so nice.”
“Yeah, well, Carrie, who thinks she’s God’s gift to mathematics, was ticked off about her grade,” Joe said. “She claimed Ms. Elfenbach was drunk or something when she graded a test last year. She started a rumor that she was an alcoholic. Carrie and the rest of the Mean Queens started calling her Ms. Alcobach.”
Rose was aghast. “That’s terrible.”
“Yeah,” Myles broke in. “That’s what they consider really funny. So lame. Perfect example of their Trio of Doom behavior. Very destructive. Way beyond bullying.”
“So, moral of the story,” Anand said, “is: watch out.”
Rose did watch out. Until two days later, when she found herself alone in the hall. Her grandmother’s driver, Calvin, was planning to pick her up that day to take her to an orthodontist appointment after school. He had told her he would be a few minutes late. It was a minute or two past three, and the halls were empty since school had let out at 2:45. She was just getting the books she needed that night from her locker when she heard footsteps, then giggles, and then felt one hand? Two? Maybe three, shoving hard against her back. Her head banged against the metal; then there was a slam. Complete darkness. She heard a click, a sickening click. Trapped! I’ve been locked in my own locker.
“Have a nice night in school!” a voice sang out. “Maybe you can write about it on Threads!” Another voice she didn’t recognize squeaked. There were giggles from other girls. “You see—that’s how it’s done,” Lisa said to someone. “That’s how you’ll get your passport.”
“Let me out of here. Let me out!” Rose screamed. She beat on the door of the locker. The metallic sound reverberated down the corridor.
Panic surged through her. Now just calm down, she counseled herself. Calm down, Rose. Someone will come—a janitor or someone. Do some deep breathing. Calvin said he’d be late. He’ll wonder why I’m not outside and come into the building. She suddenly realized she could call on her cell phone. Who would she call? Her grandmother? No—the school, of course. She’d google the phone number. She reached into her pocket for her phone.
Nothing! She turned the pocket inside out and heard the clink of a penny and the dry rasp of some Skittles falling onto the metal floor. The phone had been there minutes ago. Joe’s words came back to her: Don’t let them get hold of your cell phone. They had it! Now what? There was an eerie stillness as the school grew silent. Then she could hear the school buses pulling away outside. And there was darkness, total darkness. The panic rose again.
Then, at last, a voice. “Rose. Rose, it’s me. Myles.” She heard something scratching on metal. Suddenly the locker door opened. There was Myles in his wheelchair.
“Nothing like a compass for picking locks.”
“Myles, you’re here?!” she said, stepping out of the locker as Myles backed away in his wheelchair.
“Yeah—why do you look so surprised? Well, maybe you should be. But I’m very good with my one working hand.” He lifted his hand that was holding his compass for geometry. “Lucky we started that geometry chapter this week,” he said, dropping the compass into a bag slung over the handles of his wheelchair.
“How long have I been in there?” she asked, glancing at the clock. It said 3:08. “Is that clock right, Myles?” He looked up at it, then at his watch.
“Yeah, 3:08.”
“It was just five minutes. It seemed like forever.”
“I heard the Mean Queens giggling and a sixth grader was tagging along. They were saying something about shoving someone into a locker. I figured it was you.”
“You did? How come?”
He looked at her and tipped his head. “You really don’t know why?”
“I’m not sure . . . my blog, maybe?”
“Not maybe—definitely, Rose. They’re just jealous.”
“But I haven’t written on my blog since . . . since my mom died.”
“The internet, YouTube. Just google Rose Ashley and you show up.” Myles stopped his wheelchair and met her eyes.
“Don’t let them scare you, Rose. You should keep writing your blog. They’ll get bored eventually. That skirt you made from scarves and ties, that was so cool. I showed my mom a picture of it on your blog. She thought it was great. And that bow tie of the month thing! Joe had this great idea.”
“What’s that?”
“Could you make us all bow ties? You should do some for girls too, of course.”
“What girls would wear them?”
“Not all the girls at Lincoln are Mean Queens. Like Susan and Zora and Lydia. They’ve all checked out your website.”
“Well, I have to wait until my sewing machine arrives. It’s supposed to come any day.”
He started up his wheelchair again, and they walked outside. Rose thought about what he was saying. His electric wheelchair suddenly shot ahead.
“Hey, slow down. Doesn’t that thing have a low gear?”
“Oh, sorry. I thought you were a fast walker.”
“Not today.”
“Are you all right, Rose?”
“Yeah . . . yeah . . . as right as one can be after being shoved in a locker. Just thinking about what you said.”
“Someone’s waving at you over there.”
“Oh, that’s Calvin, my grandmother’s driver. I have an orthodontist appointment.”
“Okay, see you tomorrow. I hope those girls get what’s coming to them for that. It was a mean trick.”
Rose turned on her heel. “Don’t tell on them, Myles. It will make it all the worse—for me. I . . . I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can, Rose. Never doubted you. But I am going to tell Joe and Anand. We’ll be on the lookout for you.”
“I’m not really hungry,” Rose said when Betty opened the front door. “My teeth hurt. The orthodontist tightened my braces. Have my boxes come yet? Caroline said she sent them two days after I left.”
“No, but they will get here. UPS is very reliable.”
Rose said nothing, but she was truly upset. The remnants of what had been her life were in those boxes—the sewing machine, yards of wonderful fabric, books, her sketch pad and three whole folders full of designs, her own designs for outfits past and those that she had hoped to make. But admittedly it was hard to even think of a future without her mom. And getting back to her blog? She might not be ready yet.