Best Friend Next Door Read Online Free PDF Page B

raising her thin eyebrows. “I certainly hope you can go to the bathroom by this point. The correct question is may I? ”
    “O.M.G.” Gina says. I can hear her high-pitched giggle right behind me. Other people are laughing, too. My cheeks get warm and tears are stinging my eyes.
    “Class!” Ms. Linhart says. She’s frowning even more than usual.
    “May I?” I ask quietly.
    “Yes, you may.” Ms. Linhart turns back to the group. “You know about adding and subtracting numbers with decimals, but what about when you multiply them?”
    I push up off the rug and walk out the door. I won’t cry on the way to the bathroom. I won’t cry in school. I will count the seconds until lunch and recess when I see Hannah. We always eat lunch together. Sometimes a few girls from her class join us. Hands down, it’s the best part of my day. Tuesdays and Thursdays are even better because those are the weekdays that we have swim team practice at the YMCA. I tried out for the Dolphins and made it. Hannah and I are both in the silver level, which is the top for our age group. On swim days, we walk home from school, have a snack, and then carpool to the Y. Today is a Tuesday, so it’s Hannah’s family’s turn to take us.
    As I’m washing my hands, I think about eating bananas with Hannah on the way to practice. Laughing in the locker room. Shrieking as we dive into the cold water. Looking at the big clock that Coach Missy props up so we can watch our times. Everything will be okay once I’m away from my class and having fun at swim practice.
    When I return to the classroom, people are getting ready for gym.
    “It’s orienteering day so you’ll be outside rain or shine,” Ms. Linhart calls out. “Remember your raincoats and boots if you have them.”
    My teacher seems truly happy at the prospect of us orienteering (whatever that means) in a downpour. I reach into my cubby for my raincoat and slide my arms into the sleeves.
    “Seriously?” Gina whispers. “A purple flowered raincoat?”
    I freeze mid-zip. Is she talking to me?
    “That’s so fourth grade,” Haley says.
    “So not Greeley,” says Alexa.
    Gina, Alexa, and Haley are all wearing super-sporty black raincoats with neon-yellow stripes. I didn’t get the text message that our coats need to be identical. It’s not like I love my raincoat, but who cares? It keeps me dry.
    “Are you sure you’re ten?” Gina asks. “You’re just so … tiny.”
    I bite my lip. I can’t think of a single thing to say.
    “Don’t get upset,” Gina says. “O.M.G., we’re just joking with you.” Then she spins around and walks briskly into the hall.
    That’s it. I’ve had it.
    As people start toward gym, I go up to Ms. Linhart. “I don’t feel well. May I go to the nurse?”
    Yep, May I .
    I’m not stupid, after all.

    “It’s not a fever,” Mom J says when we get home. She’s obsessed with the new thermometer that she ordered. She probes it into my ear whenever I’m the least bit flushed. “And you’re not queasy?”
    “Not really.” I set my backpack on the floor and sit on a stool in the kitchen. “I just feel … sick.”
    “Sick how?” she asks. “Does your throat hurt? I would look down your throat but I still haven’t found our flashlights. I know they’re somewhere. Oh! I can use the light on my phone.”
    I reach down to scratch Butterball on the head.
    Mom C says that if Mom J hadn’t become a journalist she probably would have gone to medical school. Instead she’s acting out her doctor dreams with me. I can’t even tell her when I have a splinter because she’ll chase me with tweezers and Neosporin.
    “I’m just tired,” I say, dodging her as she comes toward my throat with her phone on high beam.
    I’ve told my moms that Ms. Linhart is strict, but that’s about it. I haven’t told anyone about Gina and the other girls. There’s nothing anyone can do about it, and tattling on them will just make me sound like a loser. Which I’m