Portia's Exclusive and Confidential Rules on True Friendship by Anna Hays

into the Palmville night, she shouts, “I’m so pleased you’re my new friend.”
    â€œThanks, Misty.” Mrs. L. doesn’t even wait long enough for me to wish Misty a good night.
    I sit back on the bench and look up at the expansive universe above me and wonder what tomorrow willbring. Today was a grab bag of surprises. I break out laughing when I think about how Webster and I held hands for almost five seconds! I catch myself, straightening out my hair, looking at the passersby from the corner of my eye, making sure no one witnessed my momentary slip.
    I take a long pause and silently ask the glittery bursts of energy overhead to work together with me tomorrow when I sit in Killjoy’s class facing a letter-size sheet of white paper covered with triangular shapes and unfamiliar combinations of numerals. I ask the moon that is on its way to utter fullness to please keep Sweet Sunshine safe tonight and let tomorrow be the day when Misty and I finally find her. I make a promise with our neighboring planets to remind Amy C. that our friendship is exactly the same today as it was yesterday and the day before, too. Then I make a special request to the entire Milky Way galaxy to please let Frederick forgive me for spending so much time away from home and for not playing fetch or rubbing his belly or sneaking him a spoonful of his favorite canned cat food.
    9:35 P.M.,
M Y B EDROOM
    F rederick sleeps in the far corner of my room again, closing his eyes, pretending that my dirty laundry pile is more comfortable than my fluffy purple down comforter. I sit up, propped by an extra stash of round velvet toss pillows, staring at my open math textbook. Sample formulas and equations on worksheets are spread out everywhere. Miraculously, I manage to get through two practice quizzes and feel 55.6 percent ready for tomorrow, which will in all likelihood be the day that Killjoy will bestow the quiz upon our math class.
    Like I do most every night, I wash my face with mind-expanding mango and kiwi blend and then slip under the covers. As I prepare for sleep, I find myself creating my own theorem.
    Portia Avatar’s Theorem
    There is exactly one mother, one cat, and one daughter, the sum of which equals the current makeup of the Avatar home. If one father, whose name is Patch, only knew how important his presence in this current incomplete formula would be and how it would lead to maximum happiness, then he would with 100 percent certainty grab the next plane, hop the next train, or catch the next bus to Palmville, USA.

Chapter 9
    8:48 A.M., M EDIA AND T ECHNOLOGY
FOR THE M ILLENNIUM C LASS ,
P ALMVILLE M IDDLE S CHOOL
    M edia for the Millennium is in progress. The discussion this morning is on media and our absorbent minds. Mr. Scuzzy, who wears his usual black T-shirt and faded jeans accompanied by a pair of original Converse All Stars, is midway through a description of what the brain looks like when it discovers something new. I feel a tap on my shoulder halfway through Scuzzy’s next sentence about programming our internal circuitry. Then a note drops onto my lap.
    Maxwell hasn’t touched his food in twenty-four hours, but he’s getting bigger!
    It doesn’t make sense. He needs another visit from a professional (aka you!).
    Any news on my Sweet Sunshine?
    Your newest best friend,
    Misty
    Mr. Scuzzy appears from out of nowhere, looking down at me with a disappointed look on his face. All I can manage is a very weak, “Hi, Mr. S. Nice weather, isn’t it?”
    â€œIt’s fire season and unseasonably hot.”
    â€œI see your point.”
    Staring at Misty’s handwritten note, which she wrote on bright purple stationery (did she have to be obvious about it?), he gestures for me to hand over the evidence. Because he’s a teacher on the cool side, he doesn’t read the note out loud. But because he’s a teacher, he requests my presence (and Misty’s, too) after