Best Friends And Drama Queens Part 11

*Cheyenne,' Erica said as we came down the path towards her. *Why don't you . . .'

Cheyenne raised her eyebrows at Erica. Erica rarely, if ever, said anything mean to anyone. She was too busy trying to make sure everyone got along.

But today Erica surprised me, Cheyenne and everyone else who was watching, by shouting, *Cheyenne, why don't you just shut up . . . Big Mouth!'

*Yeah,' Sophie yelled. *Big Mouth O'Malley!'

*BIG MOUTH O'MALLEY!' Caroline shouted.

Cheyenne looked startled to be called Big Mouth O'Malley. Especially when Rosemary, who was standing nearby, starting laughing.

*Big Mouth O'Malley,' Rosemary said. *That's exactly what she is!'

Cheyenne's face started turning red.

*I am not a big mouth,' she said.

*Uh, excuse me,' Rosemary said. *But, yeah, actually, you are.'

*If I'm a big baby, Cheyenne,' I said, feeling a burst of love for my friends, who were helping me stand up to this girl who had been making me miserable for so long, *you're a big mouth.'

*You are a big baby,' Cheyenne said. Her face was turning redder by the second. *But I'm not a big mouth!'

Wow. Why hadn't I noticed before that Cheyenne was good at calling other people names, but she wasn't so good at taking it when other people called her names? How genius of Erica to have figured this out!

*Big Mouth,' Erica sang. You could tell she was kind of enjoying herself. She had had plenty of practice at home, watching her older brother and sister tease each other (and, sometimes, her). She knew how it was done. *Big Mouth O'Malley.'

*Big Mouth.' Caroline, Sophie, Rosemary and I linked arms and joined Erica. *Big Mouth,' we sang. *Big Mouth O'Malley!'

*Shut up!' Cheyenne's face was so red now, it looked like a tomato. Tears were glistening in her eyes. *I hate you guys!'

Marianne and Dominique and the rest of the girls from our cla.s.s didn't know what to do. At first they'd been giggling. Because calling someone a big mouth was pretty funny.

But then when Cheyenne started crying, they stopped giggling as much.

Still, I noticed no one came to Cheyenne's defence. No one said, *Hey! She's not a big mouth!'

I guess because they knew it was true. Also because they probably knew that tomorrow it could be them Cheyenne was calling a big baby, or something even worse, for no other reason than that they hadn't done something she'd told them to.

Suddenly, from over near the flagpole, the sound of a whistle pierced the playground. We turned around, wondering what it could be. Normally Pine Heights uses a bell system.

That's when we saw Mrs Hunter standing there in her dark green winter coat with its imitation fur trim.

*Room Two Oh Nine,' she cupped her gloved hands over her mouth to yell in our direction. *Get in your lines now!'

We all stared at her. The first bell hadn't even rung yet. What was she talking about?

*Right now!' Mrs Hunter yelled. *Patrick Day, you put down that ice this minute and get in line!'

Patrick Day dropped the two foot chunk of ice he'd managed to pry up from the sidewalk. It shattered into a million pieces a" just as he'd intended it to, although he pretended he'd dropped it by accident.

*What's all this about?' Rosemary wondered as we picked our way across the iced-over playground to get into our lines.

*You don't think she heard us, do you?' Erica worried. *And we're in trouble? I mean, Cheyenne started it.'

*She couldn't have,' Caroline said. *Maybe she's worried about the ice. You saw what Patrick was doing.'

I had a sinking feeling I knew why Mrs Hunter's cla.s.s a" and just Mrs Hunter's cla.s.s a" was being called inside early. Had my mom gone ahead and done what I'd asked her not to?

I felt like I had swallowed a fork or something.

My mom had called Mrs Hunter. She had actually called my teacher. I knew it. I just knew it.

And Mrs Hunter was going to tell everyone!

But wait . . . Mrs Hunter wouldn't say anything. When Stuart's mom had called a" and I was pretty sure she had a" Mrs Hunter hadn't said so. She'd just said the Kissing Game had had to stop. She hadn't said, *The Kissing Game has to stop because Stuart's mom called.'

Maybe it would be OK. Maybe I wasn't about to get killed by every girl in this cla.s.s (except my friends). Maybe . . .

Oh, who was I kidding? I was dead meat.

We got into our twin lines that Mrs Hunter required us to get into in order to march into school every morning when the bell rang. Only no bell had rung. Mrs Hunter stood in front of us, looking more disapproving than I had ever seen her.

Everyone thought it was because of Patrick and the ice. Patrick's face was even redder than Cheyenne's had been. Mrs Hunter looked up and down our rows to make sure everyone was there.

Then she said, in her coldest voice, *Follow me, please. When we get into the cla.s.sroom, put your coats and hats away silently and take your seats.'

It was clear that Mrs Hunter's fourth-grade cla.s.s was in trouble. Big trouble. We followed Mrs Hunter inside the warm building, aware that all the other kids in school, back outside, were watching us and talking about us. The first bell hadn't even rung yet, and they were all outside, still playing, while we were being brought inside to . . .

What? Be punished?

We didn't know. But it was clear it wasn't going to be good.

We didn't dare speak. We just went upstairs to Room 209, took off our coats and hats and mittens and scarves and went to our desks the way Mrs Hunter had told us to. None of us said a word. Joey Fields tried to say something to me. I think it was Arf, but I gave him a warning look, and he quietened down. I don't know about anyone else, but I felt as if what I had had for breakfast a" oatmeal a" was sitting like a tiny bowling ball in my stomach.

Mrs Hunter, instead of going to her desk and looking over her lesson plan for the day, like she normally did first thing, got the stool she usually read to us from, brought it to the front of the room and sat down on it.

Then she just looked at us.

She didn't seem to like what she saw either. It was as if what she saw was a bunch of maggots crawling from a skull, like in one of Stuart Maxwell's drawings.

*Last night,' Mrs Hunter began when she was sure she had our complete and undivided attention, *I got a very disturbing phone call from the parent of a fourth-grader.'

Oh no! She'd done it! My mom had done it! And after I'd asked her not to!

I wanted to bury my face in my hands. Only I couldn't, because then everyone would have known the parent who'd called was my own. Instead, I tried to sit as still as possible, with my face turned straight ahead and my expression as blank as possible, as if I found what Mrs Hunter was talking about very interesting.

But inside I was freaking out.

This was it. I was going to throw up my breakfast all over my desk.

After that, I was moving to Canada.

Because I was never going to be able to show my face at Pine Heights Elementary School ever again.

I was praying, Please don't say my name, please don't say my name, please don't say my name. If you ever thought I was a joy to have around the cla.s.sroom, Mrs Hunter, please remember that and don't say my name.

*I was extremely shocked and horrified to learn,' Mrs Hunter went on, *that there are children in my cla.s.s who are "going with" one another.' She said it just like that too. Like it had quotation marks around it. She even made quotation marks with her fingers in the air as she said the words "going with". I knew what they were, because we were learning about quotation marks in English.

*I have no idea what "going with" means,' Mrs Hunter said, *but I can tell you right now that I will not condone it in my cla.s.sroom. Any of you who are "going with" with anyone else in Room Two Oh Nine or any other cla.s.sroom here at Pine Heights Elementary are officially broken up as of this minute.'

It was so silent in Room 209 I almost thought I could hear Mark breathing down in the playground. No one moved. No one even seemed to inhale. Everyone seemed to be afraid even to look at anyone else. Joey didn't even growl. I'm almost positive Patrick didn't pick his nose.

*If I hear any more talk of boyfriends or girlfriends or "going with" or kissing or crushing or anything like that,' Mrs Hunter continued, *I will personally send the person to see Mrs Jenkins down in the princ.i.p.al's office. Then I will call his or her parents. Have I made myself clear?'

The eyes of every student in Room 209 were wider than I had ever seen them. I looked down our row and saw Patrick Day gulp.

*You are children,' Mrs Hunter said, her green eyes crackling. *Most of you aren't even ten years old yet. You have years before it's time to start worrying about crushes and "going with" each other. You are not going to start now, this year, in my cla.s.sroom. For now, you are going to concentrate on being nine. Put your hand down, Cheyenne.'

To my total disbelief, Cheyenne had actually raised her hand. At Mrs Hunter's tone, however, she lowered it pretty quickly.

She didn't look too happy about it though. She ducked her head, muttering to herself.

*If any of your parents have a problem with what I've just said,' Mrs Hunter went on, *they are welcome to call me, either here at school or at home. I'll be happy to discuss this with them. In fact, I'll be making a few phone calls tonight myself.'

Cheyenne's head shot up. Now she looked a little scared.

Marianne and Dominique, I couldn't help noticing, also exchanged glances.

*Now,' Mrs Hunter said, sounding more like her usual self. Her eyes weren't crackling any more, *in the future, I want you to know that if any of you is having a problem with any of your fellow cla.s.smates . . . if you feel as if you are being bullied, or picked on, or even feel like you just need to talk a" you can always, always, always come to me. That's what I'm here for.'

Right after Mrs Hunter said that, the first bell rang, indicating that the new day was starting.

Which was kind of funny.

Because a new day really was starting for all the students in Room 209.

Just in a different way than usual.

Rule #13.

Snow Boots May Not Look As Good As High-heeled Zip-up Boots, But They Will Never Let You Down.

By morning recess most of the ice had melted, so we were allowed to go outside a" which was good, because spending recess inside was always fun for a while (Mrs Hunter lets us play with her old board games. The Game of Life is especially hilarious), but I've always noticed boys can get annoying if they're cooped up inside for too long. Possibly this has to do with not being allowed to throw things at each other's heads.

Of course, when we got outside, all anybody could talk about was Mrs Hunter's speech. It turns out Mrs Danielson had given her cla.s.s a similar speech, so all the fourth-graders in the whole school were talking about it. At least, the girls were. The boys just went off to play kickball in the wet puddles left over from the ice. Rosemary wouldn't go with them, no matter how much they begged. She wanted to stick around and see what happened with Cheyenne.

*Did you see her face?' she asked me. *I thought she was going to hurl!'

This was an accurate observation. Cheyenne hadn't just looked like she was going to hurl. She'd actually looked like she was going to cry. I'd noticed right after Mrs Hunter's speech that Cheyenne had reached inside her desk, pulled out her pencil box a" the plain one, the one that just had flowers, nothing else on it a" and had slowly scratched out the big heart she'd drawn on it, with the initials CO + PD = True Luv 4ever inside it.

This, Rosemary had observed, had made her feel like hurling.

Now, standing around on one of the playground paths at recess (it was too wet for her to go anywhere else in her high-heeled zip-up boots, which, by the way, were suede), I overheard Cheyenne saying loudly to anyone who would listen, *It doesn't matter what Mrs Hunter says. A love like Patrick and I share can't be denied. We may be too young now, but when we're sixteen, and we have our driver's licences, we're going to meet at the Brooklyn Bridge in New York City at midnight on New Year's Eve, and no one is going to be able to stop us!'

All her friends looked very impressed. I knew Cheyenne was telling the truth, because Patrick had already gotten Stuart to draw a picture of the car he was going to use to drive to meet Cheyenne a" a yellow Corvette ZR1 with a supercharged LS9 engine, he said.

Patrick didn't have the car yet, but he was going to start saving his money so he could buy it in time for his sixteenth birthday.

I had to say Patrick didn't seem at all upset about the fact that he and Cheyenne had had to stop going together. None of the boys seemed upset by Mrs Hunter's speech from that morning. In fact, Patrick was more excited about the car he was going to get than he was about seeing Cheyenne at midnight on New Year's Eve seven years from now. He seemed way more upset about the fact that Rosemary wasn't interested in playing kickball today than he was about him and Cheyenne having to break up.

But then, I didn't understand what Cheyenne had seen in Patrick in the first place, so who was I to judge?

Caroline, however, didn't seem impressed at all by Cheyenne's announcement about their plan. She'd apparently had enough of Cheyenne, and proved it by marching up to Cheyenne right there on the playground and saying, *You aren't going to be able to drive all the way to New York City when you're sixteen, Cheyenne. You'll still have to have a licensed driver in the pa.s.senger seat when you're driving at that age, especially if you're driving at night. I don't know what the driving laws are where you come from, but here in America they're different. You and Patrick are going to have to wait until you're eighteen at least.'

Cheyenne looked from Caroline to me to Rosemary to Erica to Sophie. Her face contorted with anger. Really, like a cartoon character's. I don't think I'd ever seen a person that mad.

*You!' Cheyenne screamed. Screamed. Right in the middle of recess. She pointed a leather-gloved hand at Caroline. *You're the one who told! Didn't you? You're the one whose mom called Mrs Hunter! Don't try to deny it! I can tell!'

I froze. I couldn't believe it. Cheyenne was totally accusing Caroline a" wrongly a" of something I'd done! Poor, innocent Caroline.

I couldn't let this happen. I had to say something a"

*Wrong,' Caroline yelled right back at Cheyenne. *It wasn't my mom. It was my dad!'

What was happening? What was Caroline saying? Why was she lying like this?

All the girls standing behind Cheyenne gasped, looking shocked. But before any of them had a chance to say anything mean to Caroline, I did what a good friend should, and took a quick step forward, saying, *No! Caroline, what are you talking about? I'm the one whoa"'

*No, I did,' Erica said quickly, stepping in front of me. *I told. And my mom called Mrs Hunter.'

*Oh my goodness,' Sophie said, thrusting her small round body in front of both Erica and Caroline. *No, that's not right at all. I told. My mom asked why I was so unhappy, and I said it was because you and I were fighting, Caroline, and when I told her why, she called Mrs Hunter. Last night.'

The four of us stood there, blinking at one another. I felt such a huge wave of love for all of them a" Erica, Caroline and Sophie a" I couldn't believe it. I wanted to throw my arms around them and hug them all. Truly, they were the most fantastic friends who had ever lived.

*You guys,' I said to them, blinking back tears, *you don't have to do this. You don't have to pretend that your parents called Mrs Hunter. It's OK. My mom did it. I'm willing to take the blame.'

Erica looked at me blankly.

*What are you talking about?' she wanted to know. *My mom was on the phone with Mrs Hunter for half an hour last night. Our beef stroganoff got cold. Missy was mad. But Mom told her some things were more important than her dinner.'

Wait . . . what? Had their parents really called Mrs Hunter?