Free Revenge of the Snob Squad by Julie Anne Peters Page B

Krupps. We’re
     better than that. Aren’t we?”
    No one answered.
    “Well, aren’t we?” My eyes circled around the Snob Squad. They all gaped at me, wondering, I’m sure, whether they should call
     the hospital and have me readmitted. On the psycho ward. It was no use. I figured I’d been wrong abut them. “Would you buy
     just as good?” I mumbled as I got up to leave.
    Prairie said, “N-no. We’re better.”
    I turned back. “You bet we are. Anybody want another Eskimo Pie?”
    Lydia scowled. “So what do you suggest we do, Jenny? Just let them get away with it? Let people like Ashley Krupps keep on
     humiliating us forever?” Her voice edged toward a screech.
    “No,” I replied, handing her a pie to calm her down. “We’re not going to put up with any more crap. What we need is a new
     attitude. You said it, Lydia. You called us the Snob Squad. Maybe we should act it. Allow me to demonstrate.” I pushed up
     my nose with my index finger and strutted across the Peacemobile. Prairie covered her mouth and tittered. She jumped up and
     copied me, and pretty soon Max was doing it. The Snob Squad Salute.
    Lydia met my eyes. She wasn’t convinced, I could tell. This was hard for her. But maybe, like her tarot cards said, she had
     to make a choice. Finally, reluctantly, she rose and joined us.
    Our troubles weren’t over. We knew that. If it wasn’t Ashley and the Neon Nikes, it’d be somebody else tormenting us. We were
     targets. But we didn’t have to be easy targets. Maybe, if we banded together, we’d make moving targets. And if we kept moving,
     we might just make it through middle school.
    My appointment with the psychologist was Saturday morning at ten. Since I couldn’t persuade Mom to cancel the appointment,
     I devised a plan. I called it the “Jenny Solano Dummy Up Plan to Frustrate the Head Fed.” My best role was playing the Blob.
     I looked the part. No one dared mess with my body, and no one was going to mess with my mind, either. Not even a trained professional.
    Mom picked me up at Max’s, looking a little shocked over where I’d spent the night.
    “Don’t worry, Mom,” I assured her. “We only drove the van to McDonald’s and back.”
    I guess, seeing the tires on the Peacemobile were flat as Fruit Roll-Ups, she recognized the humor.
    The shrink’s office was on the twenty-third floor of a glass and marble skyscraper. Even though we were rising up, up, up,
     I felt my stomach plunging down, down, down.
    The office had Mickey Mouses stenciled all over the walls. Appropriate, I thought.
    “Hello, Jennifer. I’m Dr. Sidhwa.” A short, dumpy man came out to greet me. He extended a hand to shake.
    I let him waggle my limp wrist. The way he said Jennifer, so exotic sounding, made my scalp tingle. He said hello to my mother
     and ushered me in. My eyes strayed over my shoulder. I wanted Mom to come with me so bad. She smiled encouragement.
    “You can call me Dr. Sid.” He pronounced it Dr. Seed. “Do you have a nickname?” He motioned to me to sit.
    “Blubber Butt,” I said, taking the only chair. There was no couch or else I would’ve sprawled out for a nap. It’d been a late
     night.
    He smiled. “I’ll just call you Jennifer.”
    “Jenny,” I said. If my scalp tingled too long, I might let down my guard. He had kind eyes.
    “Jenny. Your mother tells me you have a problem.”
    I rolled my eyes.
    He folded his hands. His fingers were short and fat, like Vienna sausages. “Do you think you have a problem?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “My mother.”
    He chuckled. “Don’t get me started on mothers.” He threw up his hands. “Mine calls me twice a week to ask if I’m engaged yet.”
    “Are you?” I said.
    He pointed a fat finger. “Don’t you start.” Smiling, he settled back in his chair. “Tell me about yourself. You’re in sixth
     grade, yes?” He arched an eyebrow.
    Okay, I thought. Time to implement the Plan. I just sat there. In a second he’d start