Free Quinny & Hopper by Adriana Brad Schanen

of body parts Hopper likes so much. I think about Freya. Who will help me catch her now?
    “Quinny, hurry up,” calls Victoria.
    One of my feet wants to keep following Victoria toward the exciting surprise, but the other foot wants to go find out why Hopper was being such a crabby-pants before.
    “Victoria, wait, I have a better idea.…”
    But before I can explain, a minivan pulls into Hopper’s driveway, and Trevor and Ty burst out of it. Those beastly bully twins are back from summer camp! They run into their yard and pull that soccer goalie net out from behind the garage.
    The one that broke, all by itself, when Hopper and I turned it into a hammock.
    Uh-oh.
    I turn and run to catch up with Victoria. Spending the afternoon safe inside Mrs. Porridge’s house suddenly sounds like the best idea after all.

Twenty-six

    My brothers get home from camp, all rough and loud and covered with mosquito bites. They’re furious about their broken soccer net. They’re curious about who broke it. Which means they find me (hiding under my bed) and swing me around by my ankles.
    But I keep quiet. I’m not tattling on Quinny, no matter what.
    Mom finally comes in and makes them stop.
    “Boys, that’s enough. Sometimes things just break,” she says, looking at me like she knows how this particular thing broke. “T hat’s called life. Now stop this nonsense and come downstairs for lunch.”
    “ We know it was you.” Trevor pokes me in the chest.
    “T his isn’t over,” hisses Ty.
    It never is.
    “Lunch. Now,” Mom reminds us.
    “I want pigs in a blanket!” shouts Trevor.
    “I want chicken nuggets and fries!” roars Ty.
    Mom serves them turkey sandwiches and carrot chips instead. My brothers are so busy whining about the healthy lunch that they forget to keep bothering me. I sit all the way at the other end of the kitchen table. I finish eating my cauliflower sandwich and look out the window.
    That’s when I notice Quinny walking down the street with Victoria Porridge.
    Wa it a second.
    Victoria only talks to people she can boss. I didn’t think anybody could boss Quinny. I watch the two of them walk away. It looks like they’re headed toward Mrs. Porridge’s house. It looks like they’re friends now.
    I think I just lost my appetite.
    Victoria Porridge never says hi to me, but she’s being nice to Quinny. Most people are nice to Quinny, I think. She makes friends wherever she goes. She’ll be fine without me when school starts. I’m the one who won’t be fine without her.
    Because the whole truth is this: I have no friends at school.
    None, as in zero.
    I used to have a friend, Owen, who I met in kindergarten. Owen built birdhouses out of toothpicks and ate cauliflower sandwiches for lunch and never went anywhere without his pocket dictionary. But he moved away after first grade. And then in second grade, I didn’t find anyone else to like who also liked me back.
    Of course, there were some friendly grown-ups at school. My second-grade teacher, Mrs. Santos, was kind. The librarian and the lunch lady always said hi. And some of the kids were okay. But there is a big difference between finding an okay kid and finding a true friend. A true friend saves you a seat at lunch, and no one did. A true friend asks, “Where were you?” if you were absent, and no one did. A true friend invites you to his birthday party, and no one did (except for Liam Crewson, who invited the whole class because his parents made him).
    I don’t know why, but none of the kids at school really noticed me last year. And Victoria Porridge is the one who didn’t notice me the most.
    Once Quinny finds all this out, she won’t be my friend anymore. After all, who wants to be friends with someone who doesn’t have any friends?
    I finish my sandwich, by hiding most of it under a napkin. Trevor and Ty are wrestling on the floor now. Mom is talking on her phone. I go upstairs without anyone noticing.
    I look out my window. From up here I can