Maggie Malone and the Mostly Magical Boots (11 page)

I shuffle into the freezing-cold biology lab. There's a table in the back where nobody is sitting yet, and I start to make a beeline for it. Then I hear Frank's voice in my head. (At least I
think
it's in my head. It could be coming through the loudspeakers, for all I know. I'm not sure about a lot of things these days.)

When
your
aunt
said
that
part
about
deciding
how
big
you
want
your
life
to
be, she wasn't talking about whose shoes you were going to step into next. She was talking about you.

I really, super-want my life to be good. I want to make new friends. I want to like it here at Stink—
Pink
erton. I want to
not
be invisible anymore.
What
would
Becca
Starr
do?
I ask myself.
Piece
of
cake: she'd sit wherever she darn well pleased. Why shouldn't she? And why shouldn't I?

“Is this seat taken?” I ask a girl who's sitting by herself, writing something in a spiral notebook.

“Nope, it's all yours,” she answers, hardly looking up.

“Thanks,” I say, sliding into the seat next to her. She goes right on writing.

Well, this is going well. People here at Pinkerton just must not be very friendly. I mean, why doesn't she…

Just then, the sandwich-stepping girl breezes in and sits down right across from me. She's got that same little smile on her face, the one that makes me want to run right back to my bathroom stall. But I can't do that. I
won't
do that. I'm not exactly sure how big I want my life to be, but I'm pretty positive I want it to be bigger than a bathroom stall.

You've been on a stage singing for thousands of total strangers
, I remind myself.
You
have
your
own
genie. You're funny and intelligent and kind and, don't forget, you've lived the life of an actual rock star. Start acting like it.

“I'm Maggie,” I announce, just like that, my voice shaking a tiny bit. “I'm new.”

“Alicia,” the sandwich-stepper says, holding out her hand to introduce herself. I shake it, and it's actually a nice, solid handshake. My dad always says you have to watch out for limp-fish handshakers. If we're going on handshakes alone, Alicia might just be okay. Maybe that's even a genuine smile after all. “Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to see you too,” I say, because my mom says it's smarter to say nice to “see you” instead of “meet you” in case you met that person before and don't remember. It's a cover-your-behind move. Thankfully, Alicia doesn't remember the reindeer-rocking, mummy girl from last week. I decide to just go with it.

“That's Crystal,” she says, pointing to the girl next to me. “She's cool and the smartest girl in the sixth grade. Maybe the whole school. You must be pretty smart yourself to snag a seat next to her!”

Crystal looks up and smiles, then goes back to her notebook.

Alicia slides her biology book to the side. Underneath it is a folder with a picture of Becca Starr on the front.

“Hey, you like Becca Starr?” I ask.

“Are you
kidding
me?” Alicia laughs. “Who doesn't like Becca Starr? She's totally amazing. Have you ever been to one of her shows?”

“Yeah, well, no, well, actually—” I stutter. I'm trying to figure out how I can possibly answer this question honestly when a pretty girl with honey-colored hair slides up behind Alicia and clears her throat. I do a double take. She's not wearing the same T-shirt, but I'd know that DRAMA QUEEN face anywhere. It's the girl who apparently owned the seat I was sitting in that first day in Spanish class. Looks like she owns the one Alicia is in now too, even though the one right next to it is wide open.

“What's up, Lucy?” Alicia says, all cool-like.

“That's my seat,” Lucy huffs.

Alicia pretends to look around her.

“I don't see a name tag or anything, and I'm sitting in it now, so I guess you'll have to find somewhere else to park it,” Alicia says with a shrug. For a minute, I think Lucy might push her out of the chair or start stomping her feet like a buffalo, but finally she lets out a big, noisy
arrrgh
and storms off in a huff.

“That's Lucy St. Claire,” Alicia leans in toward me and whispers. “Otherwise known as Lucifer. She's the
worst
—thinks she owns the school just because her grandfather bought new bleachers back in like nineteen-something. Anyway, don't let her push you around, okay?”

I nod and smile.

“Anyway, Becca is coming to town next month, and I'm going to the show with some friends,” Alicia goes on. “Do you want to come with us?”

“Can you teach a rock to stay?” I answer before I can stop myself. That's a Maggie-and-Stella joke, and for a second, I wish I could take it back, in case Alicia thinks I'm a big dork now.

Alicia laughs. “Good one! Okay, I'll email you all of the details. Here, write down your email address.” She pushes her Becca Starr folder toward me and I jot it down.

“Um, there's just one thing,” I say, sliding the folder back toward Alicia. “My best friend from my old school? She's like the biggest Becca Starr fan on the planet. Maybe in the universe. Would it be okay if she came too?”

I hold my breath. As much as I want to make new friends, Stella comes first. She'd be crushed if we didn't go to that show together, and besides, I'd never throw her under the bus like that or just ditch her for some new friends. We have history—and you can't jeopardize
that
.

“The more the merrier,” Alicia whispers as Mrs. Shankshaw shuffles in the door.

“Today we are going to be comparing and contrasting plant and animal cells,” Mrs. Shankshaw says. She opens a cabinet door and starts plopping microscopes randomly on tables. “You know the process. Grab a partner and find an open microscope.”

“Want to be partners?” Alicia asks.

I nod, and we stand up to make our way to a nearby open microscope. As we do, I notice a girl just standing in the doorway. I realize she's the girl from the bike rack this morning.

“Um, excuse me—” she says, holding a late slip out to Mrs. Shankshaw as she walks by. Mrs. Shankshaw promptly ignores her—probably because she doesn't even see her.

“Hang on a second,” I say to Alicia, walking over to the girl, who I notice has a Band-Aid across her nose. I have a feeling I know what's going on.

“Are you new here?” I ask her.

She nods her head. The poor thing looks as if she's about to break down bawling. I've sure been in
those
shoes.

“Bottom locker?” I ask, pointing at her nose.

She nods again.

“I'm Maggie,” I tell her. “Maggie Malone. What's your name?”

“Elizabeth O'Connor,” she says in a mouse voice.

“Well, welcome to Randolph J. Pinkerton Middle School, Elizabeth O'Connor,” I tell her, linking my arm through hers.

“Is it as bad here as everyone says?” she whispers as we make our way through the room.

“Not if you don't want it to be,” I tell her.

I give her my biggest smile, and her face lights up. When it does, I realize I don't just want my life to be big. I want it to be huge.

Just like I love to try out new lives, I also love to try out new words! Here's a list of some sort-of-fancy words I used in this book that you might not have known before. I included a synonym for each, but you could probably figure out what they mean from the way I used them in the story. Now that you know these words, don't be afraid to use them. Being smart is totally cool.

1.
absurd: crazy

2.
advantage: benefit

3.
alternative: possible choice

4.
ancient: old

5.
appreciate: enjoy

6.
approach: draw near

7.
attempt: try

8.
aware: conscious

9.
bland: tasteless

10.
bombarded: attacked

11.
brittle: weak

12.
budge: move

13.
buffet: food bar

14.
casual: offhand

15.
challenge: test

16.
character: role

17.
comprehend: understand

18.
confirm: insist

19.
conniption: fit

20.
consume: eat

21.
crew: team

22.
crumple: scrunch

23.
declare: announce

24.
desperate: urgent

25.
distant: faraway

26.
drab: boring

27.
effect: impact

28.
emerge: come out

29.
excessive: exaggerated

30.
exquisite: beautiful

31.
extend: offer

32.
fantastic: delicious

33.
fret: worry

34.
gale: windstorm

35.
gash: cut

36.
genuine: real

37.
gigantic: huge

38.
haul: loot

39.
insist: demand

40.
instant: on-the-spot

41.
introduce: acquaint

42.
incision: cut

43.
incurable: fatal

44.
jeopardize: risk losing

45.
jostle: shake up

46.
limp: hobble

47.
lofty: tall

48.
mane: hair

49.
merit: excellence

50.
minus: without

51.
motionless: still

52.
navigate: steer

53.
oblivious: unaware

54.
option: alternative

55.
optimal: best

56.
pathetic: pitiful

57.
pause: stop

58.
peculiar: odd

59.
process: procedure

60.
professionals: experts

61.
puny: small

62.
ravenous: starving

63.
recover: bounce back

64.
request: inquiry

65.
resist: combat

66.
rodent: rat

67.
scorching: burning

68.
skepticism: disbelief

69.
sole: bottom of a shoe

70.
solitary: alone

71.
stall: delay

72.
stench: bad smell

73.
superb: best

74.
surround: enclose

75.
survive: continue to live

76.
swivel: spin

77.
task: assignment

78.
temporary: not permanent

79.
umbilicus: navel

80.
unruly: wild