Free The New Girl by Meg Cabot

Caroline.
    “What’s ‘incapacitate’?” Erica asked.
    “You know,” Sophie said. “Prevent Rosemary from functioning normally for a moment because she’s busy writhing in pain.”
    “Oh, dear,” Erica said. “I guess so, then.”
    “I don’t know.” Caroline looked doubtful.
    I kind of agreed with Caroline. I thought incapacitating Rosemary, just like telling Mrs. Hunter, was only going to make Rosemary madder. The whole situation, really, was turning out to be one where no matter what I did, it seemed like it was going to get me beat up worse than if I continued to do what I was doing now…which was nothing.
    Ultimately, I could see I was going to have to consult with someone who actually had experience in this kind ofthing, since it didn’t look as if the situation was going to improve on its own.
    And I knew exactly whom to go to.
    I found my dad putting together the bed (with Mark’s help) in the guest bedroom after school, in preparation for Grandma’s visit at the end of the week. Dad had just said a bunch of swear words because while he is very good at teaching college kids how to write computer programs, he is not very good at putting beds together. When you say a bad word in our house, you are supposed to pay a quarter. When we get enough quarters, we take Marvin to the dog grooming place and he gets a shampoo and comb out and comes back looking beautiful. Until he rolls in the dirt, which he usually does the first chance he gets, because he doesn’t like the way the dog shampoo smells.
    I pretended I didn’t hear Dad’s swears, though, because I wanted to talk to him about something serious.
    “Dad,” I said, “how do you fight someone?”
    Mark started laughing, although I didn’t really see what was so funny.
    “Fight someone?” Dad was putting a screw into the bed frame he was assembling. He had the screw he was going to use in his mouth so he wouldn’t lose it, so he was talking kind of funny. “Why do you want to fight someone?”
    “I don’t want to fight anybody,” I said. “Somebody wants to fight me.”
    “Who wants to fight you?” Mark wanted to know. Mark was holding the nut so Dad wouldn’t lose it.
    “Nobody,” I said. The less your little brothers know about your business, the better off you are. That’s a rule. A big one.
    “The best way to fight someone,” Dad said, taking the screw from his mouth and putting it in the hole, “is to punch them in the nose.”
    “Why the nose?” I asked.
    “Because,” Dad said while Mark held the nut in place, “it really hurts to get punched in the nose. But the nose is only made up of cartilage, which splinters easily beneath the knuckles, and so you won’t hurt your hand punching it. As opposed to if you punch the guy in hismouth—then you’d cut your knuckles on his teeth. Or in the jaw or the eye—you’d bruise your knuckles on bone.”
    “Gee, Dad,” Mark said admiringly. “You must have hit a lot of guys, huh?”
    “Oh, no,” Dad said. “I just got beat up a lot in school.”
    I looked down at my fists. I didn’t think I could punch Rosemary. For one thing, she was a lot taller than me. I wasn’t sure I could reach her face.
    “No, no, no,” Dad said, noticing what I was doing. “That’s not how you make a fist. Here.”
    He put down the partially made bed frame and stood up and came over to me.
    “First of all,” Dad said, “never put your thumb inside your fingers when you make a fist. Because when you hit someone, you’ll only end up breaking your thumb. Keep your thumb outside. Like this.”
    Dad showed me how to make a fist, keeping my thumb outside my fist. Mark came over to show me, as well, even though I’m pretty sure Mark’s never been in a fight in hislife. Except with me. But the only fights we’ve been in I’ve always won by sitting on top of him and then threatening to spit in his face. This is an excellent way to win fights with your brothers. But only if they are smaller