Inside the Shadow City by Kirsten Miller Page A

insisted.
    â€¢ • •
    The Atalanta School for Girls had seen the last of Kiki Strike. Until the second Saturday in April, I was on my own again. Now that Kiki’s plans for the Shadow City were under way, she had better things to do, she informed me, than memorize state capitals. I wished I could follow her lead, but I knew my mother and father would never let me blow off the seventh grade. They didn’t care what clothes I wore or what I ate for dinner, but missing school was not an option. I was jealous that Kiki’s parents seemed to have their priorities in order. While Kiki Strike was preparing for a great adventure, I would have to finish the school year, and that meant dealing with the Princess by myself.
    When I arrived at school the following Monday, I found The Five hovering around my locker. I was pleasantly surprised to discover that my stomach remained calm and my heartbeat slow and steady. Even without Kiki around to rescue me, I wasn’t afraid. Somehow, the Princess had lost her power over me.
    â€œStep back!” Sidonia snapped at her posse as I approached. The large pink diamond on her right handglittered under the fluorescent lights. “Give me some space, you morons.”
    I walked past her to my locker and started to dial the combination.
    â€œI know you didn’t steal my ring,” said the Princess coldly. I braced for an apology that wasn’t going to come. “Naomi saw the girl who passed the note. Is she a friend of yours? What’s her name?”
    â€œWhen did you start taking an interest in seventh graders, Sidonia?” I asked. “Are you having trouble making friends your own age?”
    The Princess gritted her teeth and took a deep breath.
    â€œNaomi said the girl didn’t look well. A bit on the pale side and awfully small for her age. I hope she’s eating well. I would hate for my hero to fall ill.”
    Whatever Sidonia was after, it couldn’t be good. I turned around to look her in the eye.
    â€œYou’ve got your ring back, so why don’t you go harass some fourth graders and leave me alone.”
    The Princess frowned, and for a moment I thought she might slap me. Instead, she bared her teeth in what passed for a smile.
    â€œBy the way, where is your friend today? I’d love to thank her in person. Do you think you could arrange a meeting?”
    I still didn’t buy it. The Princess never thanked anyone for anything. Common courtesy was too common for her. I glanced over at Naomi, who looked as though she’d aged ten years over the weekend. Somehow, she must have convinced the Princess she was innocent.
    â€œI’m not her social secretary,” I answered. “If you want to meet my friend so badly, you’ll have to find her yourself.”
    The Princess’s cheeks colored with rage. “If you insist, squid girl,” she hissed.
    â€œSquid girl?” I laughed. “If that’s the best you can come up with, it’s a good thing you’re rich. You’d suck as a scholarship student.”
    I spent the rest of the day wishing Kiki Strike had been there to see the Princess stomp off in a huff.
    â€¢ • •
    The following weekend, I set out for the first meeting of the Irregulars at 133½ Bank Street in Greenwich Village. When I reached what I thought was the right block, I walked up and down the street, searching for the building. After several trips, I came to the conclusion that while there was a 133 and a 134, there was certainly no 133 ½ Bank Street. I sat down on a stoop to review my options, and was soon joined by DeeDee Morlock. Her dreadlocks had been trimmed to a uniform length, and she was wearing a violet dress sprinkled with acid burns. I watched as she walked up and down the street, occasionally pausing to reread her invitation. Eventually she stopped in front of me, her confusion written on her face.
    â€œExcuse me. Do you know where I can find