“I need you to be our mascot later during the assembly.”

I choke and sputter in disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, a smug smile on his stupid handsome face. “I helped you with Joshua this morning. Now I need you to do something for me.”

My eyes narrow. That’s why he was so nice before. “Who’s going to sit with my class while I’m in the costume?”

“Chris can watch them. He doesn’t have a class that period.”

“So then why don’t you ask Chris to be the mascot?”

“Because I’m in charge, and I want you to be the mascot.”

We stare each other down, a battle of the wills. In the end, I have no choice but to back down. He’s my boss. If I want to keep my job, I have to do what he says.

“Fine.” I spin around and stomp back into Becca’s room.

“Everything all right?” Sammi asks.

“Sure. Everything’s great. You’re looking at the mascot for today’s assembly.”

“Are you okay in there?”

“I’m in a giant bird costume. It’s a thousand degrees in here. And I can’t see where I’m going. I am definitely not okay.”

The Vice Principal, Mrs. Wilcox, laughs. “It was great of you to volunteer to do this. It’s like pulling teeth trying to find someone willing to put this thing on.”

“Can’t imagine why,” I mutter.

“Once Mr. Waters calls you in, you’re going to walk straight down the middle of the auditorium. I will hold your wing and guide you, since you can’t see. You’ll dance a little at the front until the music stops, wave a few times. That’s it. It’ll be five minutes tops.”

Beads of sweat trickle down my cheeks. Five minutes. I can do this.

The auditorium erupts in cheers. “That’s your cue. Here we go.”

I shuffle my giant bird feet, allowing Mrs. Wilcox to guide me down the aisle. She says something to me, but the music’s so loud, I can’t hear her. All I can do is keep moving. Just a few more minutes and this will be over.

As I take my next step, my foot hits something. I lose my balance and start to fall forward. I flap my wings around, trying to steady myself, but it’s no use. I tip over and hit the ground.

The music stops and the crowd gasps. I roll over, trying to build enough momentum to pull myself up. But like a turtle stuck on its back, I can’t get to my feet. Where the hell is Mrs. Wilcox?

“You stepped on my foot!” a kid yells.

Oh my God. I stepped on a student?

“Get the bird!” yells another.

“No!” I shriek. “Don’t get the bird!”