Remembering that made me realize that Mom was right. I am good at sticking up for myself. And Missy really isn’t any different from Mini-Miller except that her clothes are nicer.

But was kicking her shins the best way to teach Missy a lesson? Probably not.

There were almost too many good alternatives.

Revenge Served Lukewarm

Georgia, it’s seven AM. What on earth are you cooking?” Mom asked when she walked into the kitchen two days later. She blinked blearily at the large pot on the stove.

“Just desserts,” I told her. I stirred the thick mass of rice pudding in the pot on the stove.

“Desserts? At seven o’clock on a Thursday morning?”

“I’m bringing the snack today,” I said. “Once a week, someone brings in a snack for homeroom.” Yes, I felt guilty about lying to my mom. Guilty and a little proud too, because it turned out I was good at it.

“What?” Mom shuffled over to the coffeepot. “Rafe never did that.”

“Oh, Rafe,” I said, shrugging in my most Rafe-doesn’t-ever-participate-in-class-activities way.

Mom is never really awake before her morning coffee. It isn’t hard to fool her.

She just nodded and then suggested that I add a little more nutmeg to the pudding. So I did. Then she offered me a ride to school, since it would be hard to carry the huge plastic tub on the bus.

Perfect!

I got to school early and hid in a stall in the girls’ room near the gym. The Princesses occupied it every morning for the ten minutes before homeroom. They needed that time to slather on makeup and figure out ways to insult perfectly nice people, I guess.

“Can you believe what Ashley Parker is wearing today?” I heard Brittany ask as the Princesses waltzed in.

Right on time, I thought gleefully.

“She looks like a cup of cottage cheese,” Missy said, and the other Princesses cracked up.

Wait, I told myself. Wait until the time is right.

I watched through a crack in the door as Missy smeared on some lip gloss, then pursed her lips in the mirror. “Who’s going to tell Madison that she’s got broccoli caught in her teeth?” she asked.

“I will,” Bethany volunteered. “Who eats broccoli for breakfast, anyway?”

Missy fluffed up her hair. And then she headed into the other bathroom stall.

I counted to five, then climbed up onto the toilet seat, hauled up the tub, and let out a huge “Bluurrggh!”

I fake-barfed warm rice pudding all over Missy. The moment it glopped down the side of her head, she screeched like a cat in heat. Like a cat in heat that’s just been puked on while peeing.

“BLUURRGGH!!!” I upped the volume of my retching noises.

The other Princesses rushed to help, but the door was locked and Missy was blinded by pudding, so they fumbled around while I just calmly walked out of there as if nothing had happened. My only regret was that I didn’t actually get to see Missy, but I had a heck of a great time imagining it.