From the Notebooks of a Middle School Princess Read Free Page B

only one person’s attention I wanted anyway. “But, um, I was wondering if I could talk to you in private?”
    â€œI already told you,” Justin said, still not looking up from the game. “Go away.”
    â€œI know,” I said. “But this is an emergency. You see, there’s this girl, Annabelle Jenkins? You know her dad is your dad’s business partner, right?”
    â€œLawyer,” Justin said, not looking at me.
    â€œUm, sorry, right. His lawyer. So, she says she’s going to give me a beat-down after school, but I don’t know why. So I was wondering, if she tries to, will you, uh, help me?”
    Justin made some kind of mistake in the game, and all the boys at his table went, “Oh!” and a couple of them called him bad names. That’s when Justin swung around to glare at me and said, “GO AWAY or Annabelle won’t be the only one giving you a beat-down, Olivia Grace!”

    What Justin didn’t know, though, was that Dr. Bushy (the principal) was right there, doing his turn as cafeteria monitor.
    He heard Justin yell at me. Dr. Bushy doesn’t like it when people yell in his cafeteria (or the hallways, where Justin and his friends frequently make fun of sixth graders like me and Nishi for no reason), so he came right over.
    â€œWhat’s this? What’s this?” Dr. Bushy wanted to know. “If you two can’t get along nicely with each other, maybe I should give you both a demerit. Would that help?”
    I nearly died. A demerit! After going the whole year without one!
    Justin turned bright red and said, “No, Dr. Bushy. That would not help.”
    â€œNow, that’s more like it,” Dr. Bushy said. “What about you, Olivia? Would you like a demerit?”
    â€œNo, sir,” I said, swallowing. I couldn’t see Annabelle anywhere, but I was sure she was watching. “I wouldn’t like one, either.”
    â€œGood! Then go back to your seat!”
    Then Dr. Bushy left to go yell at some kids who were stuffing leftover pizza in the recycling bin instead of the compost bin.
    I fled to my seat, practically crying.
    â€œOh my gosh!” Nishi said. “Did Dr. Bushy just give you a demerit?”
    â€œI don’t know,” I moaned, burying my face in my hands. “I don’t think so. But maybe!”
    Netta and Quetta patted my back, murmuring soothing things, and Beth Chandler called Dr. Bushy a name under her breath. Sara just said, “Told you so,” about Justin. She sounded kind of smug about it.
    Even though I wouldn’t want one like Justin or Sara, sometimes I wish I had a sibling. I’m pretty sure if I did, he or she would have my back in an emergency. Like now, as three o’clock grows closer with every jab of the minute hand.
    Instead, I’m just going to have to face the fact that my first year of middle school?
    It’s probably going to be my last.

 
    Wednesday, May 6
3:35 P.M.
Limousine
    Yes, you read that right. I am writing this from the inside of a limousine.
    It just goes to show that a lot can happen in an hour. You can go from having the worst day of your life to the best day (well, second best after the day I got the scholarship to art school).
    I have to get all of this down or I feel like it might all turn out to have been a dream. Maybe I’ll wake up in the hospital and the nurse will tell me I had a concussion in PE (except that they don’t have contact sports in PE in my school anymore because of litigation concerns) and imagined it all.
    Except the buttery leather seat underneath me feels pretty real.
    And the scent of the perfume of the royal princess of Genovia sitting beside me smells pretty real.
    I think it’s all real.
    Maybe Dad is right, though, and writing it down will help it to make more sense. Like how keeping my class schedule taped to the inside of my organizer makes me feel better.… Only this isn’t a class