Free Just Your Average Princess by Kristina Springer Page A

Pumpkin Princess registration form. Hmm. I’ll work on that for a while. Maybe that’ll take my mind off Milan.
    Question # 1 : Why do you want to be Pumpkin Princess?
    That’s easy. I smile and begin writing.

 
    10
    â€œWell?” I whisper into the phone. I lean out from my hiding spot and scan the hallway for teachers or administrators. I’ve ducked down between a row of lockers and a giant garbage can.
    â€œJamie?” Sara says.
    â€œYeah,” I reply anxiously. “You know it’s me. What’s going on?”
    â€œDude, you need to relax! This is the fourth time you’ve called today. Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”
    I know Sara is losing patience with me. I’ve driven her nuts this week calling so much to see what’s going on with Milan and Danny. But I can’t help it! I know Milan’s up to no-good. I need to get through one more full day of school and then I can keep an eye on her myself.
    I check the hallway again. Still clear. Though I’m sure I don’t have much time. “Yes, yes. Of course. But it’s only gym and I got a pass to the nurse’s office to get a Band-Aid.”
    â€œYou’re bleeding?” Sara screeches. “Jamie, go get your Band-Aid and we’ll talk after school. I can’t believe you’re calling me while you’re injured.”
    I look down at my index finger wrapped in Kleenex. The cut is tiny and my finger is hardly bleeding. I know I’ll survive a quick phone call. “Sara, please tell me. I can’t stand not knowing what’s going on there—with her and Danny—while I’m stuck at school. Just tell me. Is it bad?” I hold my breath, waiting.
    There is silence. “Um…” Sara finally says.
    My breath comes out in a whoosh. “Oh God, it’s bad. It’s bad!” I repeat. Oh, I knew it! Sara is trying to spare my feelings. It’s awful.
    â€œI didn’t say that,” Sara says. “All I said was um. ‘Um’ is a filler word used when one wants to gather his or her thoughts and—”
    â€œSara!” I interrupt.
    â€œOkay, okay,” she relents. “But it isn’t that bad.”
    â€œTell me.” I dig the fingernails of my phone-free hand into my knee.
    â€œWell, they had lunch together. On the hayrack,” Sara says.
    â€œWhat? They did? No one else was there?” I ask, feeling slightly hysterical. I peek around to see if anyone can hear me. There is a janitor pushing a big broom down the hall, but he’s not paying any attention to me.
    â€œNo,” she says slowly. “It seemed to be, well, one might think that it possibly could have maybe looked … a little like a date.”
    â€œWhat?” I scream.
    â€œI could be wrong, I could be wrong!” Sara interjects. “It’s not like she and I are best buddies and she told me this. We don’t ever even talk. It’s only that I saw her carry a picnic basket over to him and then they both climbed up on the hayrack.”
    â€œKill me now,” I say.
    â€œCome on, Jamie, it might be nothing. It doesn’t mean he likes her. She probably cornered him and forced him to have lunch with her.”
    â€œRight,” I say dryly. “I can hear him now. ‘No, no, stop coming on to me, beautiful, rich daughter of famous movie stars. I’m saving myself for the girl in the pumpkin-smeared overalls with dirt under her nails.’”
    â€œJamie…” Sara says quietly.
    â€œIt’s fine,” I reply quickly. “I’m fine. Listen, I’ve got to get back to class before someone finds me out here on the phone. I’ll see you after school.”
    I hit End on my cell and check my finger. It has stopped bleeding already. Guess I don’t need that Band-Aid now.
    I pull myself up from the floor and start walking slowly back toward the gym, almost running head-on into