Well, okay, not exactly true. I did just walk off. But I didn’t think of that witty comeback until three days later.

“Clip-clop!” Missy called after me. Her little friends laughed, and they all took off, prancing down the hall like show ponies.

Great. Now they have some little inside joke. Clip-clop. What did that mean?

I came up with a few possibilities:

1. Misheard “tick-tock”: Missy and the B’s planted a bomb somewhere in building; need to notify security PRONTO for disciplinary action.
2. Princess lingo picked up at expensive riding academy: They had a secret horse language only they could understand.
3. Insult to my footwear: It was, admittedly, not nearly as chic as theirs.

I wasn’t really sure which choice was correct, but—based on their personalities—my guess was number three. Though I went ahead and pretended it was number one.

Soooooo… now I had Grank and Screecher, a Mini-Miller, and a Princess Patrol to deal with. Could this day get any worse?

The Awesomes!

School ended about five million hours later. By the end of the day, I felt like I should just get I AM RAFE KHATCHADORIAN’S SISTER tattooed across my forehead to save everyone the trouble of mentioning it.

When the last bell rang, Missy climbed into her jewel-studded limo, and I headed back to my bus. Three whiplash-inducing miles later, I was safely home with my friends Nanci, Mari, and Patti. (Yes, they let me hang out with them, even though my name doesn’t end in an i and we don’t go to the same school.) We were sitting at the kitchen table, munching warm chocolate chip cookies that my Grandma Dotty, who lives with us now, had made.

“So, Georgia!” Mari smiled through her crumbs. “Are we ready to rock?”

“Absolutely,” I said.

“Just one more cookie,” Nanci said, grabbing five. I have no clue why she’s so thin.

“What happened to your shirt?” Patti asked.

“Mashed potatoes,” I explained. “Someone flipped them on me.”

“That is so wasteful.” Patti shook her head as she smoothed her natural-fiber batik shirt. Patti is very eco-friendly.

“Next time, I’ll give the guy a lecture,” I promised.

Then we headed out to the garage to practice.

I turned on my amp and strummed my electric guitar. Yes, that’s right, I’m in a

Nanci, Mari, and Patti are friends I made over the summer. They all go to Rafe’s school, Airbrook Arts, and I met them at the spring picnic. Mom insisted that we all go to it, since Rafe would be starting at Airbrook in the fall. We brought dessert, which is helpful for making friends with food-eating machines like Nanci.

Patti and Mari were with her. We started talking about baking, then about art (Nanci makes awesome sculptures, and Mari and Patti are into painting), and then about music. It turns out that Nanci plays drums, Mari plays bass, and Patti plays the keyboard. “All we need is an electric guitarist,” Mari said.