“What is that? Rabbit poop?” Rafe asked, eyeing my cereal.

“It’s muesli,” I said.

“Moose pee?”

My older brother is sooooo sophisticated. “Muesli is like granola,” I told him. “They eat it in Europe.”

“They also eat slugs in Europe,” Rafe pointed out.

“Snails,” I corrected. “Escargot.”

Rafe rolled his eyes. “That word even sounds like barf.”

I looked over at Mom. Her face was quivering, as if she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or frown. I love my mom, and I have no idea how she can find Rafe funny. It must be a gene I missed.

“So, are you two excited for your first day?” Mom asked.

Changing the subject. Nicely done, Mom.

“I can’t wait,” Rafe and I said together. Only his voice clearly meant “I can wait,” while my voice meant “I’m so excited that I’m about to explode!”

Rafe snorted. “You’re nuts.”

“Just because you didn’t like sixth grade doesn’t mean that I won’t.”

“Yeah, because you’re nuts.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “It’s like prison in there. You’ll get eaten alive, Little Miss Pink Backpack with a Pony on It,” he growled.

“Mom!” I screeched.

“That’s enough, Rafe,” Mom said, casting a worried glance my way. “Stop trying to scare Georgia.” I knew she was nervous about my first day. After all, Rafe had had a pretty rough sixth-grade year.

What? Did you just say I shouldn’t worry, because my brother is a big, fat liar?

Hey—watch it. I can talk all I want about my brother, but nobody else can say bad things about him. I have Rafe’s back. Mostly to throw stuff at, and for the occasional backstabbing.

The point is—his back is mine, not yours.

And even though my brother is a big, fat liar, I had a bad feeling he was telling the truth this time.

Horrors of an (In)Famous Brother

The good news is that nobody cared about my backpack. The bad news is that Rafe was right—HVMS is like prison. My crime? Mistaken identity.

It wasn’t bad at first. I didn’t really mind that the school bus smelled like an armpit. I didn’t even mind that all the kids seemed to know one another already.

Then I got to homeroom. I’d never had to change classes before, so I was nervously trying to memorize my schedule while the teacher, Mr. Grank, called roll. He suddenly said, “Georgia Khatchadorian? You’re Rafe Khatchadorian’s SISTER?!” Yup, he said it just like that, in all-capital letters, with an exclamation point at the end.