I do mean it. But also, in her skirt and with her hair done so perfectly, Germ looks like an animal tamed somehow. My favorite Germ is the Germ running ahead of all the boys on the playground, hair flapping in the wind behind her as if she weren’t going to stop even if she ran off the edge of the earth. It’s hard to think of her doing that in a skirt.

The crowd starts to thin, and Germ turns to Bibi as Bibi whispers something to her. They both laugh. And then Bibi steps off into the crowd somewhere. Germ turns to me, her face becoming uncertain.

“Bibi wants me to come to her house and celebrate with some cake her mom made. But…,” she says. She looks unsure.

“I thought you weren’t allowed out.”

“Well, my mom made an exception because of the show; she’d be coming too, to meet Bibi’s mom.” She looks hesitant, and flushes.

“Bibi is the worst,” I say. It just slips out. I think I suddenly understand the term “green with envy.” I feel like the color of barf inside.

Germ frowns at me. “I know you and Bibi aren’t on great terms…” She trails off. “But she said you could come with us.”

“I’ve got to go home and figure out how to save myself from a witch,” I say flatly.

Germ bites her lip, and her cheeks flush red. She looks like she’s going to cry.

“I’ll convince my mom she should let me come over to your place instead. Or maybe I could ride home with her and then sneak out. I don’t think she’s going to—”

“No, that’s okay.” I sound harsher than I mean to. And then more just comes burbling out. “Go do what everyone else wants you to do. You’re getting really good at that.”

Germ is stunned for a moment. She opens her mouth to say something, but I never get to hear it. A wave of kids sweeps around us—a loud, chattering group we always said we didn’t want to be a part of, and they start to tug at Germ. Bibi clasps a hand around her elbow, pulling her away, as Germ looks over her shoulder at me.

I don’t know what to do. I just stand there and watch her disappear out the gym doors. My best friend looks at me once, with an unreadable face—an edge of anger and hurt—but she doesn’t fight the current.