Free Best Friend Next Door by Carolyn Mackler Page B

it.”
    “What did they do to the collage?” Mom C asks.
    I shake my head. I don’t want to say it out loud. “It’s over. I already threw it away.”
    Mom J clears her throat and then sits up straight. “First of all,” she says in her no-nonsense lawyer voice, “thank you, Hannah, for looping us in. There’s a lot we can do. You’re talking to a journalist and a litigator, as well as two moms who would do anything to fight for their kid.”
    I bite the insides of my cheeks. “But I don’t want to fight,” I say. “It’ll just make it worse.”
    “When Mom C says fight ,” Mom J explains, “she doesn’t mean we’re going to actually fight . She means we’ll stand up for you. It can be a quiet kind of fighting. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.”
    We all look over at Butterball, scratching his claws against a wooden fence at the edge of the yard.
    “Don’t say that!” Hannah shouts. “What if Butterball understands people language?”
    “He’ll be traumatized for life,” I say, attempting to smile.

    By Sunday night, everything is different.
    I can’t believe it. I really can’t.
    After dinner, Mom J and Mom C invite Hannah over for homemade crumble-top apple pie. As Mom J passes out forks and Mom C scoops vanilla ice cream onto our plates, Hannah hands me a blue ribbon that she’s made from construction paper. It says First Place in silver marker.
    “For your wall,” Hannah says. “It’s the most artistic thing I’ve done all year.”
    “First-place what ?” I ask.
    Hannah tugs her hair into a ponytail. This time she gets most of it into the rubber band. “Whatever kind of winner you want,” she says.
    I grin at Hannah. Because right now I do feel like a winner.
    After our talk yesterday, Mom C emailed the principal and the guidance counselor at Greeley Elementary and arranged an emergency phone meeting. They even had Ms. Linhart on the call at some point. When I heard that, it made me so nervous my hands were shaking. At first, the guidance counselor said she could have a talk with Gina and the others on Monday, which my moms said definitely needed to happen. Even so, my moms didn’t want me in a classroom with them anymore.
    This morning, the principal called to say I’m being switched to Ms. Chung’s fifth-grade class. Effective tomorrow ! Mr. Bryce’s class doesn’t have room but there’s a girl from swim team, Jillian, who has Ms. Chung and says she’s really nice.
    “This pie is so good,” Hannah says, balancing an enormous bite on her fork. “I can’t believe we picked these apples ourselves.”
    Mom J smiles at Hannah. “Thank you again for watching out for Emme. I’m so glad you both came to us.”
    “Of course,” Hannah says, her mouth full of pie. “The thing is, Emme is …”
    As Hannah chews and swallows, I know she’s going to say it.
    “Too hot to hoot?” I ask, grinning.
    Hannah laughs so hard she starts coughing and has to chug her entire glass of milk. “That’s exactly what I was going to say!”
    Mom C shakes her head. “Sometimes I feel like you girls speak your own language.”
    Hannah and I look at each other and shrug. I guess we sort of do.
    Later, as I’m walking Hannah across the yard, we make a plan for tomorrow morning. Mom J is coming along to meet with the principal, and Hannah says she’ll go into Ms. Chung’s class with me. I’m nervous about starting in a new class in November, but anything is better than facing Ms. Linhart’s room again.
    We reach Hannah’s side porch. “Remember what you told me?” I ask, hugging my arms around my chest. It’s getting wintery cold out, and I’m just wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. “About how Margo is adopting you?
    Hannah nods. She’s got a jacket on, but she squeezes her arms around her chest, too.
    “I realized something,” I say. “We’re both going to have one birth parent and one adoptive parent.”
    It’s dark out, but I can see by the porch light that Hannah is