Plastic Polly Read Free Page B

different table, people would look at you funny.
    â€œIf we were sitting at the Court,” Kelsey said, “no one could touch us. We should go over there.”
    I’d only been a middle schooler for approximately four hours, but I’d been hearing all about the Court—the table where the cream of the crop of Winston Academy sat, ruling from on high—for years in Winston’s elementary section. Jenna Huff always acted like it was just a given that she’d end up at the Court. Once, in fifth grade, I heardJenna and her friends making a list of the people they’d allow to eat with them once they were in charge. My name wasn’t on it. “Polly’s too dorky to sit at the Court,” I’d heard Jenna say to her friends. But I wondered if the real reason was because every week I beat Jenna for first place in the class spelling bee.
    Alyssa stared at Kelsey like she’d just suggested we chop off a finger or two. “You can’t be serious. You have to be invited to the Court. No one just goes over and sits down.”
    â€œOh yeah?” Kelsey stood up. “Watch me.”
    â€œKelsey, wait!” I said. Alyssa and I grabbed our lunches and scrambled after Kelsey, who marched straight over to the Court and pointed to two empty chairs at the end of the table.
    â€œSit down,” she commanded.
    Alyssa and I sat. Kelsey dragged over another chair. Then she sat down and quietly began eating her lunch.
    Meanwhile, everyone else at the table stared at us. Amanda, the girl who’d insulted Kelsey earlier, said, “What do you think you’re doing?”
    Kelsey smiled back at her. Then she proceeded to utterly pick apart Amanda’s outfit and all the ways it wasn’t worthy to be worn at the Court. When Kelsey finished, there was a stunned silence.
    Until Brooklyn Jones, the most popular eighth grader, said, “What’s your name?” After Kelsey answered, Brooklyn smiled and said, “Nice outfit.” Then her smile vanished. “And, Amanda? She’s right. Tomorrow don’t bother sitting here unless you can clean yourself up. You’re making us all look bad.”
    While everyone talked about clothes and football and their classes, I quietly ate my lunch and read an invitation I’d received in homeroom to take the Star Student test—a program for academically gifted kids. The students who passed the test were bused over to Maple Oaks High School during lunchtime to take a couple of afternoon prep classes. I hadn’t decided yet if I wanted to take the test. I knew my mom would love it if I did, but I wasn’t sure yet what I wanted.
    â€œPolly, what are you reading?” Brooklyn said suddenly, sounding irritated that I hadn’t been paying enough attention to her.
    I looked up at Brooklyn and realized I couldn’t tell the truth, especially since she’d just called the AcaSmackers—members of the Academic Smackdown club—“hopeless überdorks.”
    â€œNothing.” I quickly stuffed the letter back into my pocket. “But, hey, there’s something super important Ineed to ask you.” I leaned toward Brooklyn and made my eyes go wide, like I was about to ask her the most important question in the history of the world. “What are you wearing to the football game on Friday night?”
    At the end of lunch Brooklyn said she’d see us all tomorrow. But the next afternoon in the cafeteria Alyssa refused to sit at the Court.
    â€œNo. I’m not eating there again. Not even for you, Kelse. The people over there are lame.”
    â€œWill you please lower your voice?” Kelsey said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one heard. “And you don’t know the people over there, so don’t make generalizations. Don’t you see? If we join the Court, we could do whatever we wanted and no one could mess with us. It’s the only way.”
    â€œIt’s