You’re Invited Too Read Free Page B

more or less backfired. I’m sure she’s been trying to think of a way to get back at Vi ever since. For some reason none of us have ever figured out, Linney thinks that not having tons of money is a good reason to make fun of someone.
    When Vi doesn’t say anything, I add, “Get it? Since your dad’s new uniform is navy blue? That’s so much better than orange-and-white stripes, right?”
    Vi smiles, but doesn’t really laugh. Instead she runs her fingers through her blond waves. “You don’t think anyone will notice, do you?”
    â€œWhat? Your hair or your skirt?” I ask. She’s wearing a cute polka-dot skirt that the old Vi—the one who lived in running shorts, flip-flops, and a ponytail, and who’d have passed up a million dollars if it involved her wearing a dress—wouldn’t have even looked twice at.
    Her face flushes red. “ No. My dad.”
    â€œOh. No, I doubt it.” Or I hope not, anyway. Logically, no one should care. Vi’s dad needed a new job, and he got one at our school. No big deal. Except people aren’t always logical. No one wants their parents working at their school. Having your mom teach science, like Emily Fenimore’s mother, is bad enough, but having your dad be the janitor is a hundred times worse. Especially if your name is Vi Alberhasky and you’ve been putting up with Linney Marks making fun of you since fourth grade.
    At 7:59, Becca pokes her head in the door and waves. She points at me, mouths, You, me, dance committee! and does a little hip wiggle before darting down the hallway to the homeroom she shares with Sadie.
    At eight o’clock sharp, the alarm goes off on my phone. I scramble to turn it off before Ms. Purvis notices. Maybe I don’t really need to set a reminder that says School! It’s not like I’ll forget to show up or something.
    While Ms. Purvis goes through the usual back-to-school announcements and rules (don’t run in the hallways, keep your phones in your bags, don’t stick gum under the desks, don’t put live animals in your lockers, don’t dump sand in the gym showers), I look around the room to see who else is here. I spot Anna Wright, who’s captain of the It’s All Academic team. Behind her is Linney, who’s twirling her shiny hair around a cake-topped pen from her mother’s bakery while Ms. Purvis reminds us to get everything we need from our lockers before the bell rings. Of all the seventh-grade homerooms (well, all three of them), Vi and I have to get stuck in the same one as Linney.
    Homeroom is probably the most pointless period of the day. I mean, you don’t actually learn anything. It’s usually the class where I mentally walk through the rest of my day and make sure I haven’t forgotten something important. The only thing useful about it today is getting books for all my classes. After paging through those, I go through all the vocab words I learned this summer to keep myself entertained. Finally the bell rings, and I can take off to English.
    â€œWhat’ve you got next?” I ask Vi as we move toward the door.
    â€œSpanish,” she says. “Room 114.”
    â€œI’ll walk with you. I’ve got English on the first floor.” We squeeze through the door—where Lance is waiting for Vi.
    â€œUm, hi,” he says.
    â€œHi.” Vi’s looking everywhere but at Lance. And we’re still standing in the middle of the doorway.
    â€œIt would be nice if some people could actually moo-ove ,” Linney whines from somewhere behind us.
    At that I roll my eyes, grip Vi’s arm in one hand and Lance’s in the other, and pull them both clear of the door.
    â€œFinally,” Linney mutters as she emerges from the classroom. She stops across the hall at a locker—right next to mine. Okay, this cannot possibly be a sign. If it is, I’m going to completely ignore it. Having