Free Allie Finkle's Rules for Girls: Stage Fright by Meg Cabot

to make kindergartners and my friends and the boys in the last row of Room 209 laugh.
    But it would have been nice to have had my princess power recognized for once.
    And now Cheyenne—bratty, horrible Cheyenne —was going to get what she wanted. Again.
    And the worst part was, I could see her sitting over there looking all pleased with herself, passing notes with M and D. She really was going to turn into an evil queen—an actual one , who went around murdering anyone prettier than her—if this kept up. Cheyenne always got what she wanted…high-heeled zip-up boots, pierced ears, hundred-dollar amethyst earrings, the most expensive costume, and now the lead in the play…
    But wait.
    Wait a minute.
    She didn’t have to get this. Not if I had any say in it.
    Because even though no one wanted me to play a princess, that didn’t mean I couldn’t act like one.
    Or rather, like a queen.
    I knew how to do the queenly thing and save the day. I guess I’d known it all along.
    And when you know the right thing to do, you have to do it. That’s a rule.
    Yes. It really was all up to me.
    I guess I’d always known, in the end, that it would be.
    Which was how, after school, instead of going straight at the stop sign, I convinced Erica to turn down Caroline’s street. And we all three of us walked to Sophie’s house and knocked.
    “Oh, hello, girls,” Sophie’s mom said when she came to open the door. Sophie’s mom was working on her PhD, so as usual, she was dressed in sweats and had a pencil stuck haphazardly into her hair. “Did you come to check on Sophie? Isn’t that sweet of you. She’s feeling a bit better. She’s up in her room. Why don’t you go up to see her?”
    “Thank you, Mrs. Abramowitz,” we said, and ran up the stairs to Sophie’s room.
    Sophie was in her nightgown in her canopy bed, rereading a Little House on the Prairie book, one of her favorite comfort books. When we barged into her room without knocking, her cheeks got a little pink, but all she said was, “Oh, hey, you guys,” in a weak voice. She was still pretending to be sick. I knew she was pretending because nobody gets sick as much as Sophie.
    “Sophie,” I said, getting right down to business. Because that’s how queens do it. “We need you to come back to the play. It’s an emergency. Cheyenne got the part of Princess Penelope in your place.”
    Sophie’s dark eyes flashed a little at that. But then she controlled herself and looked back down at her book.
    “Well,” she said softly, “there’s nothing I can do about that. Mrs. Hunter kicked me out of the play.”
    “Only because you wouldn’t apologize to Allie,” Erica cried. “Just apologize, and she’ll let you back in. I’m sure of it!”
    “Yes,” Caroline said. “I’m sure Mrs. Hunter doesn’t want Cheyenne to play Princess Penelope. She wants you to play her. That’s why she picked you and not Cheyenne in the first place. All you have to do is apologize. Just say you’re sorry.”
    When Sophie looked back up at us again, her eyes were filled with tears.
    “Oh, but how can I?” she wailed. “I want to. You have no idea how much! I feel terrible for the way I acted. I let being the star of the play go to my head. I know I did. I was horrible to you, Allie. You don’t know how sorry I am. But it’s too late now! I know it is.”
    “It’s never too late, Sophie,” I said, going over to the bed and sitting beside her. “Have your mother call the school. I’m sure Mrs. Hunter is still there, getting ready for the open house. You can talk to her, and then when we go to school for the play tonight, you can apologize to me in front of her, I’ll forgive you, and everything will be all right.”
    “You don’t think Cheyenne will be upset?” Sophie asked worriedly. “I mean, about getting my part and then me showing up and taking it away again?”
    “Of course she’ll be upset,” I said. “But who cares? Cheyenne is always upset about