“What’s wrong? Had a bad day?”

For a second I thought maybe he cared. Then I noticed the big grin on his face.

“My day was horrible,” I snapped. “Thanks to you.”

“Me?” He batted his eyelashes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He opened the fridge, pulled out a carton of orange juice, and chugged down, like, half of it. Gross.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” I replied. “That’s some path you’ve blazed for me at HVMS.”

“That’s because I was the only interesting person who ever went there,” Rafe replied. He chugged more juice.

“Yeah, I met your buddy Miller’s little brother. I think we’ll be hanging out a lot.” My voice was dripping with sarcasm.

“Did he bother you?” Rafe asked. He didn’t have a smirk on his face now.

“He’s nothing I can’t handle. Anyway, all my teachers are amazed that you’re still in school,” I told him, “instead of jail.”

Rafe shrugged. “I wouldn’t even call them teachers. More like wardens. Admit it—I was right and you were wrong.”

I wasn’t about to agree with him. “One day doesn’t mean anything,” I told him, walking to the cupboard to take out a box of pasta. “It’s going to get better.”

“Wrong.”

I whirled to face him. “I’m not you, Rafe. I know how to make friends. I know how to get good grades. I guarantee that in four weeks, I’ll have straight A’s, and I’ll be one of the most popular girls at school.”

The Princess Patrol will be begging me to hang out with them, I thought. My teachers will have forgotten Rafe ever existed.

“Wanna bet?” Rafe’s eyebrows shot up. “In four weeks, you’ll have zero friends, and you’ll be begging to get out of HVMS.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “Yeah. I do want to bet.” The wheels were already spinning in my mind.

My brother looked a little surprised. “What should we bet?”

“Loser does the winner’s chores for a month.”

Rafe looked around the kitchen at the unswept floor, the dishes piled in the sink, the crumbs on the counter. The rest of our house was more of the same: like the “before” picture on a home-makeover show. There were loads of chores to be done—and I would think up plenty more when I won.

Rafe grinned again. “Deal,” he said, and we shook on it. He seemed pretty confident.

I couldn’t wait to wipe the smile right off his face… and prove to everyone that the only problem I had at HVMS was having RAFE for a brother.

Sweet Home Georgiabama

Grandma Dotty wandered into the kitchen, singing at the top of her lungs. She was wearing a tracksuit and a pair of rainbow-striped leg warmers. “I read these are making a comeback!” Grandma crowed.