My Best Frenemy by Julie Bowe

the same time.
    “You okay? ” I hear someone say.
    I look at Ms. Rivera. She tips her chin and studies me over the top of her blue-rimmed glasses.
    I nod. “It’s just that I’ve never been sent to the principal’s office before. Not ever. It’s something I work really hard at not doing even though Ms. Stevens doesn’t seem so bad. Still, if it was up to me, I’d rather do anything else than talk to her right now. Even fractions. Even dodge ball.” I’m babbling like crazy, but I can’t help it.
    Ms. Rivera gives me a sympathetic smile. Then she goes back to typing.
    I glance at Quinn. He’s sitting next to me on another hard chair, bouncing his feet against the chair legs like tether balls. “Is this your first time too? ” I ask him.
    Quinn bumps the back of his head against the wall in time to his swinging feet. “Second,” he says.
    “When was the first? ”
    Quinn stops swinging and bumping. He glances sideways at me. “Remember last year? When all the kickballs got stuck on the roof? ”
    I nod. “The playground monitor made us all stand by the school wall and think about how boring recess is without kickballs. ” I pause. “You kicked them up there? ”
    Quinn nods. “Me and Rusty. ”
    “Why? ” I ask.
    Quinn shrugs. “Why not? ”
    The door to Ms. Stevens’s office opens and she steps out. “Ida? ”
    She says my name like it’s a question, but I don’t answer. I just slide off my chair. It feels like my heart slides right out of my chest and onto the floor.
    Mrs. Kettleson steps out and gives me a smile. It’s not the sympathetic kind. “I’m telling you, Ms. Stevens, ” she says, “it’s the quiet ones you’ve got to watch out for. ”
    “I’m sure we’ll get things straightened out, won’t we, Ida? ” Ms. Stevens says.
    I nod, partly because I really do want everything to be straight again and partly because my neck is the only bone I can move.
    Mrs. Kettleson looks at Quinn and frowns. “And that one, ” she says. “He needs watching too. ”
    “I didn’t do anything, ” Quinn grumbles.
    “We’ll see about that,” Mrs. Kettleson says again, and huffs out the door.
    Ms. Stevens motions to me. “You first, Ida,” she says.
    I take a step toward Ms. Stevens, but then I stop and glance back at Quinn. “I know you didn’t do it, ” I whisper to him.
    Quinn starts swinging his feet again.
    I walk inside Ms. Stevens’s office.
    “Have a seat, ” she says, closing the door.
    I sink into a chair by her desk. It’s a lot softer than the waiting chair. At least my butt feels cozy.
    Ms. Stevens sits behind her tidy desk. The only things on it are a couple stacks of paper, a Purdee Panthers mug filled with pens and pencils, a telephone, and a rubber mouse.
    Ms. Stevens looks tidy too. Her hair fits her head like a brown knit cap. It angles toward her square chin. She laces her long fingers on top of her desk. Her fingernails aren’t chewed up at all. They’re painted pink.
    I pick at the last bit of gold polish on the tips of my stubby fingernails. It’s all that’s left from the last time Stacey spent the night at my house. The night we were both angels in the Purdee Holiday Pageant. We painted our nails gold to match our tinsel halos and wings.
    “Why don’t you tell me about what happened in the lunchroom, ” Ms. Stevens says.
    I look away and see a picture on her wall of trees and a river and hills. The colors all blend together and I wonder if maybe the artist used oil pastels to draw it. I wonder if it’s a drawing of a real place and if I could fly there right now.
    “Ida? ” Ms. Stevens says my name like a question again.
    “I guess I yelled, ” I say. “A little. ”
    Ms. Stevens leans forward in her chair. The only thing between me and her is the rubber mouse. “What did you yell? ”
    I sink deeper in my chair . “‘There’s a mouse in my macaroni’? ”
    “And was there a mouse in your macaroni?” Ms. Stevens asks.
    I shake my head.