The Mean Queens’ scratches healed quickly. Not their feelings, apparently. A month later, when Rose went to her locker, she found a note undoubtedly composed by Carrie but signed by all three.

I just want to inform you that on behalf of the undersigned, my father, Neil Harrison, is filing a personal injury lawsuit.

Carrie Harrison

Brianna Gilbert

Lisa Woodson

“Gimme a break!” Rose gasped.

At just that moment Myles rolled up with Anand and Joe. “You got one too?”

“A lawsuit threat? Did you get one, Myles?”

“Yep, for reckless operation of a vehicle.”

They both started to laugh.

“No way they’re going to do this,” Anand said.

“And attacking a CP kid in a wheelchair.” Myles made a slightly huffy sound. “Puleeze.”

“I can say they threw a rock through my grandmother’s greenhouse window.”

“They did?” Susan asked, walking up to them. “They are the worst.”

“But why? I just don’t understand.”

“Why? Power. Look, my dad’s a lawyer. He says a lot of crime has to do with power. Take it from me, the Mean Queens want power. You know, last year Carrie deliberately sat on my glasses when we were in the locker room getting ready for gym.”

“I don’t see how breaking your glasses gives her power.”

“Do you know how nearsighted I am? Take away my glasses and I’m stumbling around. She could laugh at me. She’s a bully. Bullies love laughing at people weaker than them.”

“What did you do?” Rose asked.

“I . . . I . . .” Susan seemed to be summoning all the breath she could. “I told her to get her big fat butt off my glasses.” Except for Halloween, when Susan had called the three girls a sack of pig droppings, that was the loudest any of them had ever heard her speak. “But they were already broken.”

“Well, good for you anyhow,” Joe said as he gave her a pat on the shoulder. This set off mild internal tremors in Susan. About a three on the quake-of-joy Richter scale.

Rose stood in the schoolyard with Anand and Myles, waiting for Calvin to pick her up, watching the buses line up. The number one was already beginning to pull out onto the street.

“Uh-oh . . . here comes a remora looking desperate.”

It was Sibby Huang. She was carrying a pair of skates. “Has the number two bus left yet?”

“Nope, but about to,” Anand answered.

“I . . . I . . . have to get Brianna’s skates to her.” There was a desperate squeaky sound in her voice.

“Man, Brianna has big feet!” Anand commented.

A look of panic swept across Sibby’s face. Just then Brianna came tearing off the number two bus. “At last!” she said, seizing the skates.

That evening, Rose and her grandmother were sampling the first of the Italian radishes.