I really wanted to talk to Mom about Missy… but it looked like this wasn’t my lucky night. I’d just have to figure out what to do about the Princesses on my own.

I would have to fight fire with fire.

The Princess Dress Code

When I came downstairs the next morning, Rafe took one look at me and nearly blew a chunk of Cap’n Crunch out his nose. He had to take a sip of juice to keep from choking on his own laughter.

“Be quiet,” I told him as I slid into the chair across from his.

“You look very pretty, Virginia,” Grandma Dotty said.

“Thank you.”

“Something special happening at school today, honey?” Mom asked as she placed an empty bowl in front of me.

“She’s trying to fit in,” Rafe announced.

Okay, that’s not really what I was wearing. But I couldn’t believe Rafe had figured out that my oh-so-casual outfit was really oh-so-desperate. Am I that obvious?

“Yeah,” Rafe went on, “Georgia’s going to attempt to pass herself off as an earthling.”

I relaxed a little. Of course Rafe didn’t have me figured out. He can barely figure out how to work a toilet-paper roll.

But even though he didn’t know it, he was right. I’d gotten up early and put together an outfit that looked a little bit like what Brittany and Bethany had been wearing the day before—skirt, leggings, flats, and a tunic—with a messenger bag instead of a backpack. I was going to try to blend in.

Naturally, my plan worked flawlessly. Instant popularity was mine.

“Please tell me that you got dressed in the dark this morning,” Missy begged, and her friends giggled. “Nice try. I guess you’re just…”—she smiled smugly—“… super lame.”

“Super lame!” Brittany squealed, and she and Bethany high-fived.

Yeah, well, you’re just… uh… you’re a big… um—

I couldn’t think of a single witty comeback. So I trudged toward my locker, trying to ignore the other kids lining the hallways.

The trick is to stay out of Missy’s way, I told myself as I spun my combination lock. Most kids scattered when they saw her coming down the hall. Seriously—it was like a Godzilla movie, only scarier. I was pretty sure that one day Missy would be the first dictator of the United States.

Not My Problem

As the Princesses strutted past my locker, I watched the other students cowering before Missy and the B’s. It was like the Patrol had some kind of “loser radar”—from all the way down the hall, they could zero in on loners, nerds, and kids with less money than them. I even saw teachers duck into their classrooms to avoid the princessy sneers.