Maggie Malone Makes a Splash by Jenna McCarthy

this.”
    That’s what they all say , I think to myself as I cruise the last block to Pinkerton. I sure hope they’re right.

Chapter 21

When It’s Back to Being Invisible for Me
    I see Elizabeth pulling up to the bike rack at the same time as me. I figure that’s kind of perfect! We can get this misunderstanding straightened out before school starts. But a funny thing happens. Not funny like ha-ha; funny like a three-headed-monster coming after you—as in not funny at all .
    â€œHey, Elizabeth!” I say, locking up my bike. She parks hers on the opposite side of the rack.
    I know she heard me, because she’s standing right there . But she’s pretending I didn’t say a word, like somebody hit the Maggie Malone mute button or something.
    â€œElizabeth?” I say again as she pulls her book bag from the basket on her bike and slings it over her shoulder. Nothing. She just looks straight ahead and walks away toward the multipurpose room.
    Okey dokey. I get it. She’s giving me the silent treatment. My mom always says if someone’s not being nice, then you should just leave them alone and go find somebody else to hang out with. Since it’s better than following Elizabeth around like a lost, pathetic puppy dog, I decide that’s what I’ll do.
    I get to my locker, and wouldn’t you know it? Clumsy Carl Lumberton is there, above my bottom locker. Papers and pencils and half-eaten stale sandwiches are pouring out of his locker like an avalanche.
    â€œOrganize much, Carl?” I say. He just looks at me with his mouth hanging half open and goes back to trying to get his locker shut. He’s not much of a conversationalist.
    I stand there for another three torturous minutes but it’s no use. Carl might be here all day. I realize I have my Spanish notebook and textbook in my backpack so I decide to head straight to class.
    â€œ Hola , Margarita!” Señora Burro says when I walk in. Did you know that “burro” is Spanish for donkey? So back in her homeland, which I’m not sure but I think might be Mexico, they call her Mrs. Donkey. Maybe that’s not considered a bad thing in Mexico, but around here, donkeys aren’t known to the smartest ponies in the pasture, if you know what I mean.
    I slide into a seat next to Alicia, who looks at me like two slimy tentacles just sprouted out of my head and are about to snatch her up and sling her to a pack of hungry wolves.
    â€œUh…oh, sorry, Maggie,” Alicia says with a scared half-smile. “Winnie’s sitting there.”
    â€œWow, I didn’t even see her,” I say, pretending to look around. “I hope I didn’t squish her too badly!” Alicia doesn’t laugh.
    â€œWell, she’s not sitting there yet, but I’m saving it for her,” Alicia says, not meeting my eyes.
    She’s saving a seat for Winnie Ipswitch? This is new.
    â€œNo prob,” I say, plopping my book bag next to an empty seat behind Lucy.
    â€œActually, that one’s for Elizabeth—she asked me to save it for her,” Lucy says with a shrug.
    â€œO…kay…” I mumble to myself. I can feel my face getting hot. I look around the room and finally find a seat against the cold cement wall at the way-back of the room.
    I can’t focus on gender-specific Spanish pronouns for one second, even though I know we’re having a quiz tomorrow and this is probably my only shot at understanding them.
    The truth of what’s happening starts to sink in, and my eyes start filling up with tears. I swear my body has a mind of its own and is always insists on announcing to the world exactly how I’m feeling. Ugh. I try not to blink, but you know you can only do that so long. Finally when I do, a puddle of tears plops on the page where a guy is smiling and waving while riding a burro. This makes me laugh a little because I wonder if that donkey might be Mrs.