Besides, annoying or not, Dawn is a grown-up, and I wasn’t raised in a barn.

So I try not to show how frustrated I am.

Then she follows me right into the bathroom.

When I hiss at her that I’m fine, she can stand outside and play on her phone until I’m done, she asks a few more mortifying questions first. Loudly. In the middle of the crowded hallway.

While Zeke and Devontae happen to be walking by.

That does it. I hide in the bathroom a few minutes to get it together. I cuss at the sink, the toilet, and the mop bucket. This has to stop. When I bash my way back out through the door, making Dawn jump, I don’t much care about being polite anymore. By the time the end-of-day bell rings, Dawn looks as ready to escape as me.

“So, today was … fun!” she tries.

“Uh-huh.” I don’t think anyone’s fooled.

She beats it out the front door, and I take off to find Ale. She and Tina are already looking for me. I spill the details of my train wreck of a day—chair grabbing, bathroom following, and every awful moment between. Except the part about Devontae getting a front-row view of both cringe-worthy moments, because that’s too awful to mention.

Tina groans when I finish. “I told you Dr. Grayling was going to be trouble,” she says. “My mom said he was like this over in Harper Three, too. Well intentioned, but a real stickler, she said. He even decided kids couldn’t flip on the jungle gym without an adult spotting them!”

Ale scowls a minute, then grins. “Well, what shall we do about it?”

“I tell my dad,” I say. “Then we talk to Ms. Hernandez again.” I try to remember which evenings Dad will be home this week.

Ale’s grin widens. “Then, mi querida,” she says slowly, “until then, we’ll have to give your new shadow some on-the-job training, won’t we?”

12

Double Down

Ale’s words stick with me the whole ride home. Deep down we both know making Dawn’s job harder isn’t the nicest thing to do, but I can’t help daydreaming about it—just a little.

“Think it over,” Ale says, whispering so her mom won’t hear us. “A little creative mayhem might help.”

“Let me talk to Dad first,” I tell her. “We might not even have to.”

After Ale’s mom drops me off, I go inside, log on, and check my shop. I tally last week’s sales and double-check tracking on in-transit orders. The only bag that hasn’t arrived is the one for AK_SalmonGranny. I guess mail’s a little slow out on some wild Alaska island.

A text from Ale chimes in. Operation Mayhem, chica. Say the word and we’ll have that aide itching for a job at the library.

Ale always knows how to cheer me up, but I’m still betting on getting Dad on my side. I look at Salmon Granny’s amazing profile again and wonder if anyone ever gives her crap about what she can and can’t do. She doesn’t seem like someone who would care—or even listen—but who knows if she’s anything like her profile in real life?