Friends of a Feather Read Free

bubble that showed her saying, “
OH NO, OCTOPUS POOP!
”
    I grab Joseph’s arm. “Did Mrs. Webber tell you where to sit yet?” I ask. “Let’s ask if you can be by me.”
    â€œToo late,” Chase says. He points to the desk next to his. Joseph’s stuff is on top of it, including his backpack with the broken strap that he and I fixed with a rubber band.
    I pull Joseph toward Mrs. Webber anyway.
    â€œMrs. Webber, can Joseph please be in Crazy Crabs?” I ask. The desks are set up in clusters all over the room, and each cluster has a name. Crazy Crabs, Super Sea Horses, Dapper Dolphins—like that, for all eight clusters. All the names have to do with the ocean because . . . well, I don’t know why. But, huh . . . is that the reason Lexie gave him an octopus shirt?
    â€œOr he could sit with me,” Lexie says, elbowing her way in.
    â€œNo, because we don’t have an octopus group,” I say. “We have Jiggling Jellyfish, but no octopuses.”
    Lexie looks at me funny. “Octo
pi
,” she says. She turns back to Mrs. Webber. “There’s tons of room by me and Breezie, and we’ll take good care of him. Right, Breezie?”
    Breezie is Lexie’s real best friend. I scan the room, wanting to know what
she
thinks of this idea.
    â€œUh-huh,” Breezie says. She’s in the beanbag chair in the reading nook, her knees pulled to her chest and her arms wrapped around her shins. She’s staring at the floor.
    â€œWe should let Joseph decide,” I say. “Joseph, whose group do you want to be in?”
    â€œIf you stay in Wonderful Whales, you’ll be closer to Lester,” Chase says, because suddenly he’s there, too.
    â€œWho’s Lester?” Joseph asks.
    â€œOur class snake,” Chase says. He tilts his head, like how could Joseph forget Lester?
    And I think,
Because Joseph wasn’t here when we got Lester, that’s how.
Chase would know that if he were Joseph’s best friend. But he isn’t, so he should stay out of it.
    â€œI’ll show you Lester after we move your stuff,” I say.
    â€œOr I will,” Lexie says.
    â€œOr I will, because you already have a desk, and it’s next to mine,” Chase says.
    Taylor bursts into the room. “Ooo-eee!” he says. He sticks out his booty and pulls his fists in at his sides, just like he did with Hannah and Claire. “Makin’ bacon!”
    I scowl at him, because this is all his fault. Everything that’s making me feel . . . twisty-uppy is Taylor’s fault. If he hadn’t ambushed Hannah and Claire with his poot smell, then I would have gotten to Mrs. Webber’s room earlier. If I’d gotten to Mrs. Webber’s room earlier, then I’d have been with Joseph when Mrs. Webber assigned him a desk, and I’d have made sure he was a Crazy Crab.
    â€œOOO-EEE!” Taylor says, even louder. “MAKIN’—”
    â€œTaylor
,
no,” Mrs. Webber interrupts. “No more bacon, any of you,” which is unfair because no one was making bacon except Taylor.
    Taylor says,
“Mwa-HA-ha-ha!”
and Mrs. Webber says, “Taylor? Enough!”
    Her voice is sharp. Joseph flinches.
    â€œOh, Joseph,” Mrs. Webber says, softening her tone. She squeezes his shoulder, and he looks at her hand. She lets go.
    â€œRight,” she says, going back to teacher mode. “Put away your free-choice activities, everyone. It’s time to work on your vocabulary sheet.”
    My heart flutters. “But—”
    â€œWe’ll figure out the desk situation later.”
    â€œBut Mrs. Webber—”
    â€œIt’s okay,” Joseph says. “I don’t mind.”
    Lexie smiles triumphantly. “Yeah,
Ty
,” she says. “He doesn’t
mind
.”
    A lump forms in my throat.
    â€œWait,” Joseph says. “I
do
mind, but I