Free Wild Cat by Dandi Daley Mackall

shake, like they’re not going to stand here another minute. If I don’t get a chair, I’m going to collapse in the middle of this classroom.

Eleven
    Fiona Morris stands and waves at me from the front of the room. “There’s a seat up here, Katharine!” she shouts. “Come sit by me.”
    I’m surprised she knows my name, even though we had gym together last year. I mostly sat out.
    “Katharine!” Ms. Buffenmyer sees me now. “Welcome. Glad you could make it. I mean, it’s good to see you.”
    I walk to the front and take a seat next to Fiona. She’s wearing a skirt with a green V-necked top. Her shirt matches her eyes. Her auburn hair flows straight to her shoulders and tucks under perfectly, like those expensive wigs in catalogs. I think she’s lived in Nice only a couple of years, but she was the most popular girl in elementary school last year.
    “Thanks, Fiona,” I whisper.
    She pats my hand. “I don’t mind,” she whispers. “Really, I don’t.”
    I’m not sure why, but having her say she doesn’t mind makes me feel like maybe she does. Then she flashes me a smile, and I know I’m imagining things. I’d still be standing in the aisle if she hadn’t flagged me down.
    Cassie’s on the other side of Fiona. I can’t believe how much she’s changed over the summer. She’s streaked her hair, and it looks great. Maybe it’s her low-slung jeans and low-cut top, but she could pass for 18.
    “Hey, Cassie,” I whisper. “I love your hair.”
    “Thanks. You too.” She smiles, but her gaze is stuck on my wig and stays there a few seconds too long. Makes me wish I’d picked the blonde wig instead.
    Alex leans up from the seat behind me. He’s in my youth group at church, when I feel well enough to go. “Hey, Kat. Cool hair. New?”
    I whisper back at him, “Kind of. Thanks, Alex.” I could hug the guy for liking my hair. My stomach unclenches. I reach into my book bag for a notebook.
    Fiona leans over. “Don’t pay any attention to Alex. Boys can be so rude.”
    I ease back into my seat, clutching my notebook like it will keep me from falling off the earth.
    “All right,” Ms. Buffenmyer says, “let’s get down to business, people. Now, I’m going to need something in writing from you by the end of the hour. You’ve had a week to think about your social studies project.”
    As if she’s just remembered that I haven’t been here all week, our teacher turns to me. “Um, Katharine, we’re doing projects in teams of two. Each team has to come up with a civic service project. Teams set goals together, draw up a plan, and do some kind of service for the community. The whole project will be worth a fourth of your grade.” A shadow passes over her face, and she steps closer to my desk. “Since you’re coming in on this late, maybe you and I can come up with an alternate project, something you can do at home if you want to. A report, maybe?”
    I know she’s trying to be helpful, but the last thing I want is special treatment. “I’d like to do the civic service project.” My voice cracks, so I clear my throat. “It sounds great. Fun. I really want to do it.”
    “Well . . .” Ms. Buffenmyer draws out the word like she’s trying to string thoughts together. “That’s a problem. We’re doing the work in pairs—partners. I . . . I don’t think we have anyone for you to work with.”
    I hate the silence that follows. They knew I was coming. Why didn’t they put me on a team?
    “JP, you don’t have a partner, do you? I mean, since Ian got his schedule changed?” Meagan Reed announces this from the back of the room. Meagan is probably the smartest person in seventh grade.
    JP turns and glares at her, like she’s ratted him out. He’s wearing a Chicago Bears T-shirt and gray sweatpants. His legs are sprawled out, and his big feet rest on the chair in front of him. JP lives football. It’s the only thing I’ve ever heard him talk about, although he wasn’t talking to