Free My Best Frenemy by Julie Bowe Page B

queasy. Does the milk taste like cardboard again? ”
    “Uh-huh, ” I say, and set down my carton.
    Stacey scoops up a forkful of peas and carrots. “You should take it back and complain,” she says. “That’s what I’d do. ”
    “Uh-huh, ” I say again.
    I push back my chair.
    Stacey munches and gives me the thumbs-up. Randi gives me the thumbs-up too.
    I stand and shut my eyes.
    I suck in every inch of air my lungs can hold.
    Then I shout, “THERE’S A MOUSE IN MY MACARONI! ”
    Only my throat muscles are pinched so tight, the words come out small and squeaky.
    But even a small squeak spreads in a lunchroom.
    Especially when Randi Peterson has told everyone to keep an eye on me.
    Chairs slide. Trays clatter. I open my eyes and see a crowd of kids gathering around me.
    “Look! ” someone shouts. “There is a mouse! ”
    I look down at my tray. A white mouse slowly sinks into my noodles. Its rubber tail is tipped with saucy cheese.
    “Mouse! Mouse in the macaroni!” someone shouts. Everyone joins in. Fists pounding. Trays clanking.
    I look at Randi.
    She looks back and wiggles her eyebrows.
    Suddenly, all the pounding and clanking and shouting stops. The kids who are crowded closest to me back away to let someone through.
    Someone with pea-sized eyes behind thick glasses. Meaty arms. And a black hairnet clamped over her gray hair.
    “QUIET! ” Mrs. Kettleson shouts. “No yelling in the lunchroom! ”
    She pushes to my side and sees the mouse on my tray. “What’s this ?! ” she blasts. A moment later the mouse is dangling in front of my face.
    Everyone explodes with laughter.
    Not counting me.
    Not counting Mrs. Kettleson.
    She grabs my arm and starts pulling me through the crowd.
    “Wait! ” I hear someone shout. “Waaaait! ” Mrs. Kettleson stops and we both turn toward the shout.
    “Ida didn’t do it! ”
    It’s Stacey. My best friend. Sticking up for me.
    Mrs. Kettleson squeezes my arm tighter. “Then who did? ”
    “Um . . .” Stacey says, glancing around. Her eyes hopscotch from kid to kid until they finally land on Randi.
    Stacey turns to Mrs. Kettleson. “It was . . . one of the boys. ”
    This isn’t the first time Stacey has lied. But it’s the first time she’s lied to get me out of trouble.
    Mrs. Kettleson pushes her glasses up on her nose and scans the crowd. “Which boy?” she asks.
    “Um . . . ” Stacey says. “It was . . . it was . . . ”
    “ That one, ” someone says.
    I look past Stacey to see where the voice is coming from. Everyone else looks too.
    A chair squeaks against the floor and Jenna Drews stands up. But she doesn’t stop there. She climbs right up onto her chair. She punches her fists into her hips and waits until everyone is looking at her. Then she points a finger at one face in the crowd.
    A boy face.
    A Quinn face.
    “He did it,” Jenna says. “Quinn put the mouse in Ida’s macaroni. ”
    Quinn’s face sags. “Huh? ” he says. “I did not! ”
    Mrs. Kettleson huffs. “We’ll see about that.” She stuffs the mouse into her apron pocket and reaches for Quinn.
    Then she hauls both of us to the principal’s office.

Chapter 11
    I’m sitting on one of the hard metal chairs in the main office. Mrs. Kettleson has already gone into Ms. Stevens’s office to tell her why I’m here. The door is closed tight, but some of Mrs. Kettleson’s words leak out. Words like shouting , trouble , and fed up.
    My face feels red hot, but my hands are ice cold. It’s hard to swallow because my heart is pounding in my throat. Not that I have any spit to swallow. My mouth is drier than Mrs. Kettleson’s corn bread. What am I going to tell Ms. Stevens?
    I watch the clock that hangs above Ms. Rivera’s head. She’s sitting at her secretary’s desk, typing on her computer like this is just another ordinary day. The big hand on the clock moves ahead a notch. It feels like each notch equals one hour instead of one minute. I’m glad about this and not glad at