âWhatâs wrong, dear? Do you feel all right?â
âI feel fine,â Sally blubbered. âItâs just that I hate to move. Iâm sad about leaving. I donât want to go.â
Isabelle was dismayed by Sallyâs tears. She didnât think Sally ever cried. Sally was a leader. Leaders didnât cry.
âNothing will ever be as nice as here,â Sally snuffled. âThis is the best place in the world. Nothing will be as much fun.â
âDonât worry, Sally,â Isabelle said. âYouâll make friends. I bet youâll be the art editor at your new school. I bet youâll be the best speller and the best in arithmetic, too.â
âI donât want to be a baby,â Sally said. âBut I couldnât help it.â
âIâll miss you,â Isabelle whispered at the edge of Sallyâs ear. âYou are my friend, Sally. You are the best person in the entire world. You are the best â¦â she paused, trying to think of other comforting words to offer Sally. Herbie arrived and stepped hard on Isabelleâs Adidas.
âKnock it off,â Herbie said, scowling. âWeâre having a game of musical chairs, so come on and stop being a jerk.â
Musical chairs! Isabelleâs favorite. All the pushing and shoving! Lovely.
âCome on, Sally,â and Isabelle dragged her new friendâs hand and pulled her into the game.
Isabelle had never even been to Sallyâs house. She had not been invited to Sallyâs birthday party, which took place in Sallyâs 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
âThey followed me home from school yesterday,â Guy said. âCalling me goody-goody Guy, Mamaâs boy, all that. I went to your house and you werenât there. I sat and waited for you and you didnât come.â
âI was at Sally Smithâs farewell party,â Isabelle told him. âI told you about that. You knew I was going to her party. I canât just not go because you want me to figure out a way to make âem stop, can I?â
âNo,â said Guy.
âI thought about it, though. A lot. I thought and thought. How about if you throw a stone through the principalâs 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 wouldnât even cut her or anything. Only scare her a little. How about that?â asked Isabelle, who had only just that minute thought of this plan.
âMy fatherâd get awful mad at me if I did that,â Guy said. âBesides, I like Mrs. Prendergast. She never did anything to me. Whyâd I want to do that to her?â
âFor crying out loud!â Isabelle cried. âWhat difference does it make if you like her or not? You want them to stop calling you names, donât you? You want to do something bad so they wonât call you a goody-goody, donât you?â
âYes,â said Guy.
âWell then. If you did that, everybody would find out about it and theyâd say, âHey, thatâs the little creep we were always calling a goody-goody. Guess heâs not one after all.â Isnât that what you want?â
âIâm too scared to do something like that,â Guy said.
âWell, you could break into the school on Saturday when it was empty and write stuff on the walls and mess up the classrooms.â He looked at her with great, sad eyes and was silent.
âSheesh! Iâm running out of