Free Hailey Twitch Is Not a Snitch by Lauren Barnholdt, Suzanne Beaky Page B

you get hurt? Are you bleeding? Oh, I am so, so sorry! ” She looks like maybe she is very sorry, too. Not pretend-sorry like sometimes I am when I get into a fight with Natalie Brice.
    “I’m…I’m—” I cannot find my voice. It feels like I am trying to talk with a big mouthful of peanut butter sandwich before I’ve had any milk. My heart is beating very fast in my chest, and I wave my hand through the air, checking for strings from the ceiling that could be holding her up, like maybe it’s a trick that my sister, Kaitlyn, is playing on me. But there are no strings. “I’m okay,” I say finally.
    “Good,” the person says. She pats my shoulder. “I think you’re probably just a little clumsy.” She flies up a little bit in the air, and I stand up, so that we are both at the same level. “My name is Ms. Maybelle Sinclair,” she says. She is very small, like maybe as tall as a foot. “And I am a sprite that has come to live with you and bring you some fun!” Maybelle Sinclair holds out her suitcase. “Now where should I put this?” she asks. “You could offer to take it from me. Don’t they teach manners here in Massachusetts?”
    “Of course I know about manners,” I say. We learned all about manners and being polite last year in first grade. Manners that I am good at are bringing my dishes to the sink and being a neat eater. Manners that I am not good at are knocking before going into people’s rooms, and not using people’s things without asking. Like my sister Kaitlyn’s special apple shampoo that can be used as a very bubbly bubble bath. But I am working on it.
    “I am Hailey Twitch, and I am pleased to meet you.” I put my hand out and wait for a shake.
    “That’s a little better,” Maybelle says. “Because honestly, you really should—” Then she stops talking and gets a very upset sort of look on her face. “Oh no, no, no!” she cries. THUNK . She drops her suitcase on the floor. “There I go, at it again!”
    “There you go at what again?” I ask. I sit down on my bed and wait for her to explain. I learned all about patience in first grade, too. It is another thing I am working on.
    “Being a rule monger!” Maybelle Sinclair exclaims in a sad voice. She starts zooming all around the room, her long green dress flying out behind her in a long line. She is flying so fast that she almost knocks my whole dollhouse over.
    “What is a rule monger?” I ask. I sniff, sniff, sniff the air as she flies by. Something doesn’t smell so good in here. I wonder if Maybelle has had a bath anytime soon.
    “It’s someone who is a stickler for rules,” Maybelle says. She sighs and then settles down next to me on my bedside table. “Someone who just cannot ever even think about breaking rules and wants to do chores. All. The. Time.”
    “Ohhh,” I say wisely. “I know all about a rule monger named Addie Jokobeck.” Maybelle raises her sparkly little eyebrows. “She doesn’t like glitter pencils,” I explain.
    “Yes, well, I am not supposed to be a rule monger, because that is how I ended up STUCK IN THAT DOLLHOUSE IN THE FIRST PLACE!”
    “Let’s use our indoor voices, please,” I say, covering my ears.
    “I’m sorry,” she says. She flies around for a second and then sits down next to me on the bed. “It’s just that I’ve been trying for so long to get out of there. And now I finally am, and I have to remember that I am not going back.” She bites her bottom lip. “You see, I am not a very good sprite. I made all the princesses in the castle do their own chores, and I never let them have any fun.” She looks very, very, very upset. And then her bottom lip starts to shake, like maybe she might even start crying! “And so Mr. Tuttle, he…he took my magic away and made me live in that dollhouse.”
    “Is Mr. Tuttle the principal?” I ask. Principals are really not very fun or funny. Mine is named Mr. Jenner and he is very scary with a bushy brown mustache and big