Ava and Taco Cat by Carol Weston

that’s all we want to be!”
    I looked at Maybelle for backup, but she was talking to Emily Jenkins, who had just put down her tray.
    â€œAva, relax,” Zara said, “I’m just trying to help.”
    I sat there, frozen, while Zara bounded over to Chuck. I wanted to go after her, but it was like I was stuck to my chair. And the thing is, I wasn’t even 100 percent sure if Zara was butting into my life to cause trouble, or if she was, as she put it, “trying to help.” Does she meddle on purpose, or does she just not think about things? (Do I think too much about things?)
    When Zara reached Chuck, he looked surprised. He was sitting with Aidan, Jamal, and Ethan (who are all good at sports), and she leaned in and started talking to him. Suddenly he turned and stared at me, wide-eyed. I wanted to disappear! Moments later, she bounded back. “He says he has to think about it,” she reported and smiled as if she’d done me a favor!
    Next Zara lowered her voice and asked, “Do either of you have a pad?”
    I was about to say, “No!” but Maybelle said, “Let me check.” And then (you won’t believe this!) Maybelle dug into her backpack and unzipped a cosmetic case and handed Zara what I guessed was a little wrapped-up pad.
    â€œThanks,” Zara said. “I’ll be right back.”
    When she was gone, I said to Maybelle, “You got your period?!” She said no but that she and her mom had had a big talk, and her mom said that Maybelle might want to start carrying pads in case she or a friend ever needed them. Which I guess Zara did. (!!!)
    â€œWhoa.” I couldn’t imagine ever having a conversation with my mom about that stuff—though maybe someday Pip will explain it all to me. Right now, whenever Mom and Pip talk about growing up, I just walk away.
    I was also surprised Maybelle hadn’t told me her mom had given her pads. We usually tell each other everything—even though some things take longer to come out than others.
    â€œYou and Zara are becoming pretty good friends,” I mumbled because I couldn’t bring myself to say, “Don’t let her come between us!” or “I liked things the way they were!” or “You and I were friends first!” or “Why are you so nice to someone who keeps minding everybody else’s business?”
    Maybelle shrugged, and Zara came back, and we headed toward class. I had to stop at my locker to get the rolled-up poster, and instead of waiting, they kept going, which made me feel even worse than before. I watched them walk away, and they were so close to each other that the sides of their backpacks bumped together.
    Seconds later, I walked in and handed Mrs. Lemons the poster. I’d written the haiku in big, neat letters, and Pip had made the trees look like hands and the moon look like a shimmering golden ball.
    Mrs. Lemons said she wanted to share my haiku with Mr. Ramirez and Mrs. White, the school librarian and the town librarian. I always think of Mrs. White as Mrs. (Bright) White, since she was Miss Bright before she married Mr. White. Mr. Ramirez, by the way, just got engaged to his boyfriend who teaches history at a private school. When he told us, everyone said, “Invite us to the wedding!!!” and he said he wished he could but it was going to be just family.
    Anyway, Mrs. Lemons said that Mr. Ramirez and Mrs. (Bright) White had arranged for our fifth-grade classes to have a two-day writing workshop. She said that on January 26 and 29, Jerry Valentino, the children’s author who had judged the library contest, was going to come with “writing tips and hands-on exercises.”
    I said, “Cool,” even though that was the library contest that had gotten me into so much trouble.
    Meanwhile, I had to find a seat. I looked around, but Maybelle and Zara were sitting together in front of Riley and the three Emilys, and there were