selling seemed to be working. So far my parents hadn’t mentioned that the for sale sign was missing from our front yard. I knew there was more work to do—Mrs. Klinghoffer had put ads in the newspaper and online, and there was supposed to be an open house this coming weekend.
But I could only handle one thing at a time.
Still, I’d learned a lesson from the Scott Stamphley thing. I wasn’t telling anybody any more secrets, just in case.
“Look,” Brittany said. “Just leave it to me, okay?”
I blinked at her. “Leave what to you?”
“The Mary Kay thing. I have a plan.”
“You do?” I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that.
“Uh-huh,” Brittany said. “A brilliant plan, if I do say so myself.”
I was really sure I didn’t like the sound of that. The last time Brittany had had a brilliant plan—getting rid of a substitute teacher none of us liked when Ms. Myers had been out sick with the flu—it had ended up with the substitute crying in the teachers’ lounge and Mrs. Grant, our principal, coming to our class and taking away our recess privileges for a week. Which may not have been a big deal to Brittany, who is no big fan of baseball or even softball.
But it was a big deal to me.
Still, I didn’t say anything.
Because one of the other things I don’t like about baseball (besides the whole waiting-until-it’s-your-turn-at-bat thing) is people who get mad while they’re playing it and argue over whether a ball was a strike or an out or whatever and waste everyone’s time and keep me from being able to take my turn and hit the ball.
These people are bad enough.
But the worst—the absolute worst—are the bat throwers. These are people who get so mad during the game that they throw their bat.
In professional baseball, throwing a bat can get you automatically suspended.
My dad says bat throwing is very bad sportsmanship. The only thing worse, he says, is golf club throwing, because golf clubs can splinter if they break (as I found out when I was trying to open geodes with them) and put someone’s eye out.
In our school, the worst bat thrower isn’t who you’d think. It’s not Scott Stamphley.
It’s Brittany Hauser. She once threw a bat so hard on the ground it bounced up and nearly hit the catcher in the head.
So that became a rule: Never be catcher when Brittany Hauser is up to bat.
It’s not that Brittany’s a bad person. She just has a bad temper. And when things don’t go her way, she throws things.
That’s why, Whatever Brittany Hauser says, just do it (that’s another rule).
So when Brittany was saying she had a plan to get me and Mary Kay back together as friends, I didn’t say anything like, “Uh, Brittany, really, that’s not necessary.”
Because it just so happened that Ms. Myers’s stapler was sitting nearby.
The other thing was, I knew Brittany’s plan was going to fail. Because Mary Kay wasn’t about to forgive me. Ever.
I knew that because I had gone up to Mary Kay in the coatroom earlier that very day when no one was looking and said, “Mary Kay. Look. I’m really sorry I did what I did. It was the stupidest thing I ever did. I didn’t mean to hurt you. All I want is to be friends again. I’ve been writing down the rules of friendship and life and everything like I showed you and trying really hard to follow them. And I was just wondering…well, do you think you can you just forgive me now?”
But Mary Kay had turned around and flounced away. Like always.
So whatever Brittany was planning, it wasn’t going to work. And just about everybody in the entire universe seemed to know it.
Except Brittany.
But she’d find out soon enough.
I just had to make sure I was out of firing range when she did.
RULE #7
First Impressions Are Very Important
The thing is, I probably should have asked Brittany if she had any tips on how to keep our house from being sold. I’m sure she’d have had a plan for that, too.
It’s just that it probably would
But I could only handle one thing at a time.
Still, I’d learned a lesson from the Scott Stamphley thing. I wasn’t telling anybody any more secrets, just in case.
“Look,” Brittany said. “Just leave it to me, okay?”
I blinked at her. “Leave what to you?”
“The Mary Kay thing. I have a plan.”
“You do?” I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that.
“Uh-huh,” Brittany said. “A brilliant plan, if I do say so myself.”
I was really sure I didn’t like the sound of that. The last time Brittany had had a brilliant plan—getting rid of a substitute teacher none of us liked when Ms. Myers had been out sick with the flu—it had ended up with the substitute crying in the teachers’ lounge and Mrs. Grant, our principal, coming to our class and taking away our recess privileges for a week. Which may not have been a big deal to Brittany, who is no big fan of baseball or even softball.
But it was a big deal to me.
Still, I didn’t say anything.
Because one of the other things I don’t like about baseball (besides the whole waiting-until-it’s-your-turn-at-bat thing) is people who get mad while they’re playing it and argue over whether a ball was a strike or an out or whatever and waste everyone’s time and keep me from being able to take my turn and hit the ball.
These people are bad enough.
But the worst—the absolute worst—are the bat throwers. These are people who get so mad during the game that they throw their bat.
In professional baseball, throwing a bat can get you automatically suspended.
My dad says bat throwing is very bad sportsmanship. The only thing worse, he says, is golf club throwing, because golf clubs can splinter if they break (as I found out when I was trying to open geodes with them) and put someone’s eye out.
In our school, the worst bat thrower isn’t who you’d think. It’s not Scott Stamphley.
It’s Brittany Hauser. She once threw a bat so hard on the ground it bounced up and nearly hit the catcher in the head.
So that became a rule: Never be catcher when Brittany Hauser is up to bat.
It’s not that Brittany’s a bad person. She just has a bad temper. And when things don’t go her way, she throws things.
That’s why, Whatever Brittany Hauser says, just do it (that’s another rule).
So when Brittany was saying she had a plan to get me and Mary Kay back together as friends, I didn’t say anything like, “Uh, Brittany, really, that’s not necessary.”
Because it just so happened that Ms. Myers’s stapler was sitting nearby.
The other thing was, I knew Brittany’s plan was going to fail. Because Mary Kay wasn’t about to forgive me. Ever.
I knew that because I had gone up to Mary Kay in the coatroom earlier that very day when no one was looking and said, “Mary Kay. Look. I’m really sorry I did what I did. It was the stupidest thing I ever did. I didn’t mean to hurt you. All I want is to be friends again. I’ve been writing down the rules of friendship and life and everything like I showed you and trying really hard to follow them. And I was just wondering…well, do you think you can you just forgive me now?”
But Mary Kay had turned around and flounced away. Like always.
So whatever Brittany was planning, it wasn’t going to work. And just about everybody in the entire universe seemed to know it.
Except Brittany.
But she’d find out soon enough.
I just had to make sure I was out of firing range when she did.
RULE #7
First Impressions Are Very Important
The thing is, I probably should have asked Brittany if she had any tips on how to keep our house from being sold. I’m sure she’d have had a plan for that, too.
It’s just that it probably would
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