Wow—Mom’s investigation into Rafe’s chewing gum “collection” was really thorough. She even found the gum I’d hidden in his sock drawer!

Rafe was furious, of course. He denied that the gum was his, which only made Mom angrier.

It was fun while it lasted. Unfortunately, it lasted only seven minutes. Then Mom came to my room.

I stashed the popcorn under my bed as she opened my door and then closed it softly behind her. Next, she took a deep breath, almost a sigh, and looked at me. “The school called earlier,” she said.

“Oh.” It was as if frost had settled on my clothes—the chill ran down to my bones. “Um—what about?”

“About your detention.”

“I was going to tell you—” She held up her hand, and I clamped my lips together. “Sorry,” I murmured.

Mom sat at the foot of my bed and ran her fingers through her blond hair. “Georgia, you know that Rafe made a lot of mistakes at Hills Village,” she began.

“I’m not like him,” I said quickly.

“I just don’t want you to go through what he went through.” Mom’s eyes teared up a little, and I felt awful. This is worse than getting yelled at, I realized. I’ve always tried to be the kid Mom doesn’t have to worry about. I would have given anything to trade places with Rafe at that moment. I’d rather have Mom mad at me than have her disappointed in me.

What kind of world is it when Rafe is reading for fun and I’m making Mom cry by being in detention?

“I’ll never get detention again,” I promised. “I won’t.”

“I’m glad to hear it, honey,” Mom said, squeezing my hand.

I swear, I never meant to break my promise so fast.

It Ain’t Easy Being Green

I adjusted the towel on my head and frowned at the outfit I’d just laid out on my bed. Which is safer? I wondered. Jeans or leggings?

I decided to go with the jeans and a plain red shirt, no logo. Don’t give the Princesses anything to pick on, I thought.

I pulled on my “safe” outfit and found a pair of plain brown socks. I slipped my feet into a pair of low black boots. Then it was time to dry my hair.

No braids, I thought. No gel. Just plain. I took the towel off my head.

“Rafe!” I screamed, practically flying down the stairs and into the kitchen. “That’s it! That’s IT!”

Rafe cracked up. Mom stepped between us, which was lucky—for Rafe.

“Oh, green hair!” Grandma Dotty said cheerfully. “Very daring, Georgia! I love punk rock!”