I tried to concentrate on my book, but I couldn’t. I kept thinking how much I wanted to grab Missy’s glass of water and toss it in her face. She’d probably start melting like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz. And then I’d be all “Clip-clop—I mean, ding-dong—the witch is dead!”

Someone kissed my hair, and I looked up to see Mom smiling at me. “How’s it going?” She leaned against the stool beside mine. “Good shake?”

“The best.”

“Then why are you scowling?”

“I’m not,” I lied. “This is just my face.”

Mom folded her arms across her chest and glanced over at Missy’s table. “How are things going at school?” she asked. When her eyes met mine, I was suddenly sure Mom knew all about Missy and why I wanted to toss water on her.

“Is this, like, some psychic mom thing?” I asked her.

Mom shrugged. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Things are… not great,” I admitted. “HVMS is like Georgia Smackdown Central.”

Mom touched my hair gently. “You’ve always been good at standing up for yourself with Rafe.”

“He’s different,” I said.

“How?”

“Because he’s Rafe!” I stabbed a long spoon into my milk shake and stirred. “He isn’t the queen of anything. Missy is.”

Mom looked over at Missy’s table again. “I know it’s hard to stand up for yourself sometimes,” she said. “I wasn’t any good at it at your age either.” She bit her lip. “I still have trouble sometimes.”

“I guess it’s genetic, then,” I said.

Mom frowned for a minute, and she opened her mouth to say something, but Pearl buzzed by with a “Jules, honey, would you be a sweetheart and take care of table eight?”

“Sure,” Mom said to Pearl. Then she touched my shoulder. “We’ll talk later?”

“Okay,” I said, but my words only reached empty air. Mom had darted off again.

I glanced over at Missy and caught her watching me. I narrowed my eyes at her.

Just you wait, Missy Trillin, I thought. Your queendom is about to get trashed.

When You Seek Revenge, Dig Two Graves

I’m taking her down, even if I go down with her.

That was the thought that whispered itself over and over in my mind as I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling. I wasn’t angry. I was perfectly calm. Okay, maybe a little excited.

Missy had insulted, humiliated, and betrayed me. I’d lost my bet with Rafe. I’d gotten detention—twice. There really wasn’t anything she could do to me that she hadn’t already done.

So I was free.

Free to get revenge.

An image of Mini-Miller flashed in my mind—how he looked as he limped away from me. I solved that problem pretty fast. All it took was a couple of kicks to the shin.