Free Isabelle Shows Her Stuff: The Isabelle Series, Book Two by Constance C. Greene

“What’s wrong, dear? Do you feel all right?”
    â€œI feel fine,” Sally blubbered. “It’s just that I hate to move. I’m sad about leaving. I don’t want to go.”
    Isabelle was dismayed by Sally’s tears. She didn’t think Sally ever cried. Sally was a leader. Leaders didn’t cry.
    â€œNothing will ever be as nice as here,” Sally snuffled. “This is the best place in the world. Nothing will be as much fun.”
    â€œDon’t worry, Sally,” Isabelle said. “You’ll make friends. I bet you’ll be the art editor at your new school. I bet you’ll be the best speller and the best in arithmetic, too.”
    â€œI don’t want to be a baby,” Sally said. “But I couldn’t help it.”
    â€œI’ll miss you,” Isabelle whispered at the edge of Sally’s ear. “You are my friend, Sally. You are the best person in the entire world. You are the best …” she paused, trying to think of other comforting words to offer Sally. Herbie arrived and stepped hard on Isabelle’s Adidas.
    â€œKnock it off,” Herbie said, scowling. “We’re having a game of musical chairs, so come on and stop being a jerk.”
    Musical chairs! Isabelle’s favorite. All the pushing and shoving! Lovely.
    â€œCome on, Sally,” and Isabelle dragged her new friend’s hand and pulled her into the game.
    Isabelle had never even been to Sally’s house. She had not been invited to Sally’s birthday party, which took place in Sally’s rec room. Sally had one toe out the door, so to speak, and here they were, best friends. She promised to write her every day.
    That night, before lights out, Isabelle wrote on her blackboard SALLY SMITH IS COOL . SALLY SMITH IS MY PEN PAL . SALLY SMITH IS MY NEW BEST FRIEND .
    And underneath, written in letters so small she had to push her nose against the blackboard to read them, Isabelle wrote: YEAH ! ISABELLE . NEW ART ED . OF THE BEE . YEAH !

Chapter Fifteen
    â€œThey followed me home from school yesterday,” Guy said. “Calling me goody-goody Guy, Mama’s boy, all that. I went to your house and you weren’t there. I sat and waited for you and you didn’t come.”
    â€œI was at Sally Smith’s farewell party,” Isabelle told him. “I told you about that. You knew I was going to her party. I can’t just not go because you want me to figure out a way to make ’em stop, can I?”
    â€œNo,” said Guy.
    â€œI thought about it, though. A lot. I thought and thought. How about if you throw a stone through the principal’s window. And it breaks. Not a big stone, only a little one, so if it hit Mrs. Prendergast, it would only bounce off her head and wouldn’t even cut her or anything. Only scare her a little. How about that?” asked Isabelle, who had only just that minute thought of this plan.
    â€œMy father’d get awful mad at me if I did that,” Guy said. “Besides, I like Mrs. Prendergast. She never did anything to me. Why’d I want to do that to her?”
    â€œFor crying out loud!” Isabelle cried. “What difference does it make if you like her or not? You want them to stop calling you names, don’t you? You want to do something bad so they won’t call you a goody-goody, don’t you?”
    â€œYes,” said Guy.
    â€œWell then. If you did that, everybody would find out about it and they’d say, ‘Hey, that’s the little creep we were always calling a goody-goody. Guess he’s not one after all.’ Isn’t that what you want?”
    â€œI’m too scared to do something like that,” Guy said.
    â€œWell, you could break into the school on Saturday when it was empty and write stuff on the walls and mess up the classrooms.” He looked at her with great, sad eyes and was silent.
    â€œSheesh! I’m running out of