Free Circle of Secrets by Kimberley Griffiths Little

“That will be your seat. We’re writing our first essay. Something unusual you did over the summer. Write at least a page by the end of the hour. We’ll share our stories tomorrow.”
    My sneakers keep squeaking as I make my way to my assigned desk. I cringe, slipping off my backpack where it thuds loudly to the floor.
    No sooner have I taken out a notebook and a pencil than the boy who almost knocked me over whooshes back into the classroom like he’s been sprinting the whole way. He grins around at everybody, then takes his seat in the far row.
    The girl behind me taps me on the shoulder. Her breath is in my ear, and I see a flash of long brown hair and baby-blue eyes from the corner of my vision.
    “That boy there is Jett Dupuis,” she tells me.
    “Oh.”
    “Jett’s Bayou Bridge’s school track star. He bumps into everybody, so don’t take it personally. He can’t do nothing slow. He’s also the cutest boy in the whole sixth grade.”
    “That’s nice.” As if I’ll be here long enough to care. “Where was he going?”
    “Forgot his lunch and his mom brought it to the office. He probably burns a thousand calories a day with all that running so he eats constantly. I mean, constantly. You’ll be amazed.”
    I can’t help smiling at the way she talks but any second now Mrs. Daigle is going to yell at us.
    The girl switches sides and attacks my other ear. I swear she’s as good as a ventriloquist because her lips barely move. “Jest in case you get any ideas, Tara has already claimed him, so stay away.”
    Oh, so this was a warning message, I realize, and my stomach sinks just a little. “Who’s Tara?”
    “Only the prettiest girl in sixth grade. And the daughter of the president of Bayou Bridge Garden Club. And my best friend.”
    “Oh.” I’m not sure what to say so I whisper, “Congratulations.”
    She snickers and taps me again. “Me, I’m Alyson.”
    “Twenty minutes,” Mrs. Daigle says. “When you’re finished, drop your essays in the basket and do silent reading for the remainder of the period.”
    “I gotta get started,” I tell Alyson, not wanting her to quit talking to me because I like that someone has noticed me. Maybe this tiny little school won’t be so bad if all the girls are this friendly.
    “Um, Shelby. Take this.” Alyson rummages in her pack and hands me a tissue. “You’ve got black drips under your eyes.”
    “What is it?” I hiss.
    “Just a moldy leaf or something streaked down your cheek. Spit on that and wipe,” she advises.
    I rub at my face, feeling heat shoot up my neck, knowing everyone saw me walk in like that.
    I do a quick glance across the room. Jett Dupuis isn’t even out of breath. I catch a flicker of his smile toward a girl sitting across the classroom from me on the far row.
    She gives him a slow smile, and then bends over her paper again. Silky dark hair spills like a waterfall over the edge of her desk. She looks like a girl in a shampoo commercial.
    Jett taps his pencil as he stares off into space, his right knee shaking up and down a hundred miles an hour as if he’s about to explode out of his chair.
    The girl with the waterfall hair finishes writing, puts down her pencil, and rises from her chair. She places her essay in the basket on the teacher’s desk and glides back to her seat.
    My eyes zero in on the girl sitting behind Pantene Princess. Pantene Princess acts as if the girl, who isn’t even a foot away, doesn’t exist. Like she’s invisible.
    I can’t help stealing a second look, shocked at the bad scar on the side of the invisible girl’s face. Looks like she had a mess of stitches. Her cheek sort of sinks in right there, too. The girl frowns at her essay, then rubs her eraser across the page over and over again.
    I turn sideways and whisper, “Who’s that girl?”
    “What girl?” Alyson asks.
    “The one behind Pantene Princess.”
    Alyson giggles. “Pantene Princess! Oh, you mean Tara. That’s pretty