Free The New Girl by Meg Cabot Page A

than you are.
    “That’s right,” Dad said. “Now, try punching me in the middle of the hand.” He held up his big open palm.
    “No, Dad,” I said, lowering my fist. “I can’t.”
    “Yes, you can,” Dad said. He tapped the middle of his palm. “Right here, as hard as you can.”
    I didn’t want to punch my dad. I didn’t want to punch anyone !
    On the other hand, though, I didn’t want to get punched, either. So if it was a choice between learning to punch and getting punched…
    I pulled my arm back and punched the center of my dad’s palm, not as hard as I could, because I didn’t want to hurt him. His hand didn’t even move. But my fist bounced right off.
    Mark laughed.
    “That was all right,” Dad said, giving Mark a disapproving look for laughing. “But I think you could do better.”
    I glared at Mark. I couldn’t believe he’d laughed. I’d like to see how hard he’d try to hit his own father.
    “Tell me about this guy who wants to fight you. What’d you do to him? Call him a name or something?”
    “It’s not a guy,” I said. “It’s a girl.”
    “A girl?” Dad looked surprised. “I didn’t know girls fought. I mean, physically.”
    “Oh, they fight,” I assured him. As I said it, my stomach gave a twist, the way it always did when I thought about Rosemary. “She says she’s going to kill me.”
    “Well,” Dad said, “pretend you’re not hitting me. Pretend you’re punching her.” He held up his hand again. “Now hit me. And don’t hit with just your arm. Throw your whole body behind the punch.”
    “Dad,” I said uncomfortably.
    “Do it, Allie,” Dad said.
    “Just do it, Allie,” Mark said. “Really whale on him.”
    I took a deep breath. Then I closed my eyes. Iremembered how scared I’d been in that hallway when it had been just me and Rosemary (until I’d noticed Mr. Elkhart). Then I opened my eyes and punched my dad’s hand, throwing my whole body behind the punch.
    “Ow,” Dad said, waving his hand in the air like it stung. “Good one, Allie.”
    “Yeah, that was good, Allie,” Mark said. “Did you hear that cracking sound? I think that was Dad’s hand bones. Right, Dad?”
    “That’s enough practicing for today,” Dad said. “You’ve got your technique down. Let’s talk strategy.”
    “Strategy?” I asked.
    “Yeah,” Dad said. He wrapped the hand I’d punched around the cup of coffee he’d been drinking. “When is this fight going to go down?”
    “I don’t know,” I said. “Whenever she jumps me. It’s her choice. She’s a lot bigger than me.”
    “A fifth -grader wants to kill you?” Mark asked, looking impressed.
    I didn’t want him to know the truth, especially since he knew Rosemary. I mean, he played kick ball with her everyday at recess. I wasn’t sure he especially liked her. Rosemary, unlike Prince Peter, was pretty mean to the kids who were littler than she was. But Mark was a tough kid, so he probably didn’t even notice.
    Still, I ignored his question. “What if I can’t reach her nose?”
    “A punch in the gut should make her double over,” Dad said, looking thoughtful, “and then you’ll be able to land one on her nose. But, you know, maybe this is something you should talk to your mother about.”
    “No!” I said, and Mark nodded.
    “Mom’ll just call Allie’s teacher,” Mark explained, “and the teacher’ll say something to the kid, and the kid’ll know Allie told, and then she’ll want to kill Allie even more, for being a tattletale.”
    I threw Mark a grateful look. The truth is, even though little brothers can be a pain sometimes, other times they can be nice to have around because they know exactly what you are thinking and feeling. Because they are thinking and feeling the same thing.
    “She’ll wait until no one is around,” Mark went on, “andthen when Allie least expects it, she’ll come jumping out from the shadows, and WHAM! ”
    Other times, though, little brothers go just one