by Sally Warner
Bella didn’t say a word.
But Alfie admitted silently to herself that she wanted to be invited, too.
Even though she didn’t know why she wanted to go.
3
Shared Reading
“Listen up, All-Stars,” Mr. Havens called out to his students as Alfie was stowing her backpack in the cubby room.
Each class at Oak Glen Primary School had a name, and Alfie’s class was called the “All-Stars.”
The girls hadn’t gotten to vote on it. No one had.
“Bottoms in chairs, people,” Mr. Havens—“Coach”—said from his very great height. He used to play basketball in college, EllRay had told Alfie more than once. He was very strong. Even his neck looked strong, Alfie thought. It went straight down from his small, muscle-y ears into his shirt.
“Hup, hup,” Mr. Havens said, urging his students to hurry. “We have shared reading and a writing workshop to get under our trendy little belts before morning recess. So settle down while I take attendance.”
“Trendy little belts!” That was probably a jokey dig aimed at Lulu or Suzette, Alfie thought, hiding a smile. Mr. Havens liked to tease them about how fussy they were with their “outfits,” as the girls liked to call the clothes they wore each day.
But Mr. Havens was also always quick with a compliment. For example, he had told Dr. and Mrs. Jakes during Back to School Night that Alfie was “as bright as a button.” He said it was a pleasure having her in his class, they told her.
A button?
“Bright as a button” wasn’t as good as cute, talented, adorable, or smart, in Alfie’s opinion. But it was better than nothing.
Alfie and Arletty exchanged looks and smiled. Arletty had arrived at school just in time, her mom having got stuck in one of Oak Glen’s rare traffic jams.
The All-Stars made their way to the rectangular tables Mr. Havens had placed around the room the first day of school. Five kids sat at each table.
When school first started, Alfie had really wanted to have her own desk and not sit at a group table. A desk seemed more grown-up, more like second grade—or like “the bigs,” as Mr. Havens called it, using a sports term, of course.
But now, four weeks in, sharing a table with Arletty, Hanni, Scooter, and a shy new kid named Alan Lewis wasn’t so bad after all, she had to admit.
Even though Scooter and Alan were boys.
At the table behind her, Lulu was whispering to Bella—as if she had simply moved her secret conversation inside for a while. “Best sleepover ever,” Alfie heard Lulu say to Bella. Bella’s eyes were wide.
“Miss Marino,” Mr. Havens’s voice boomed. “I was not asking a question when I told everyone to settle down. There is no need for any random comments at this time. Save your words for shared reading discussion, please.”
The funny thing about shared reading was how good Mr. Havens was at it—reading aloud, and pointing out interesting things in a book, Alfie thought, wriggling her chair closer to the table. He could turn his boomy “Coach” voice into just about anything or anyone. An old lady, a spooky tree, a little kid, a penguin, a monster.
He could even sound like a nature scientist, which was probably the voice he would use today as he read The Awesome Hummingbird.
“This will be our shared reading book for the entire week,” Mr. Havens told the kids, holding up his copy so everyone could see. “Five whole days. And when we’re done, you guys will be All-Star hummingbird experts.”
Next to her, Alfie could almost hear Scooter Davis grumbling—without making a sound. “Yo, who even wants to know about hummingbirds?” he was probably thinking. “Lame! They’re the littlest birds in the world. Girly-birds. Like bugs, almost. Let’s hear about vultures! Or pterodactyls.”
Alfie considered herself to be an expert on what—and how—boys thought. She’d had a lot of experience with her big brother EllRay, after all. Living with a brother was like having a student from another country living in the same house, Alfie sometimes thought. She had seen a movie about that once.
“Remember, no Velcro sneaker noises during shared reading,” Mr. Havens warned everyone, though he gave Scooter Davis an extra-sharp look. “Or the noisemaker will be asked to perform a little dance for us all.”
Behind Alfie, Lulu had continued to whisper through Mr. Havens’s instructions. Almost everyone in class was still a little scared of Mr. Havens at times. But Alfie guessed that Lulu’s excitement about her sleepover was bigger than any fear.
Her sleepover was going to be that good.
“Miss Marino,” Mr. Havens boomed again. He did not sound pleased. “Is there something very urgent that you need to share with everyone in the class? Something important enough to interrupt the learning process of your fellow students? I cannot imagine what that might be. But speak.”
“It’s not for everyone,” Lulu said, sounding more excited than sorry. “Just the girls. For a few of them, I mean. But only a few.”
Lulu was talking about the girls she was going to invite to her famous-but-secret sleepover, Alfie thought, sitting up extra straight.
And every single girl in class knew exactly what Lulu was talking about.
“Then we’re not interested,” Mr. Havens announced.
And he went on to read aloud the first two pages of the hummingbird book.
But she, Alfie Jakes, was very interested in what Lulu Marino had to say! In fact, Alfie was barely able to pay attention to the awesomeness of the “little jeweled wonders,” as the book called the hummingbirds on the very first page.
Who was Lulu going to invite to her sleepover?
And why was it going to be the “best sleepover ever?”
And what could she do to make sure she got invited?
Finally, what was she going to wear?
She and her mom were going to have to go amazing-jammie shopping, and soon.
4
Like a Wasp at a Picnic Table
“I’m glad you didn’t get in trouble for being late to school,” Alfie said to Arletty. They were in the cubby room digging in their backpacks for their lunches.
Oak Glen Primary School had a cafeteria, but Mr. Havens’s second graders liked to eat outdoors when the weather was nice. And it was perfect today, so that’s where most of the kids were headed. Phoebe was already outside, in fact. She was saving places for Alfie and Arletty at the second grade girls’ picnic table they liked best.
“Yeah,” Arletty said, keeping her voice low as she looked around. “I got here just in time. But what if I had started crying if Mr. Havens yelled at me for being late? ‘Crybaby, crybaby, pants on fire,’” she chanted, copying the pretend kids who might tease her if that ever happened.
“I think it’s supposed to be liars whose pants are on fire,” Alfie said, frowning because even that seemed wrong, didn’t it? No matter how much you wished it might be true? Unless it was you doing the fibbing, of course.
“And it’s not like I can boss my mom around when she’s driving me to school,” Arletty said as if Alfie hadn’t spoken. Arletty emerged from a crouch, holding her lunch high in the air. Victory!
It was true, Alfie thought, picturing Mrs. Jackson. Arletty’s mother was not the kind of mom to put up with any nonsense. Mrs. Jackson was “the human dynamo at every meeting,” Alfie’s mother had said more than once.
That meant Mrs. Jackson had a lot of energy, she explained to Alfie.
But Mrs. Jackson was nice, and she made very good brownies.
“Come on, Alfie,” Arletty said, laughing. “We’re missing out on all the fun.”
Yeah, fun, Alfie thought with a pang as she remembered Lulu, and Saturday night’s sleepover. How could something so cool—for the invited girls, anyway—make her, Alfie, feel so worried and bad?
Thanks a lot, Lulu!
* * *
Each ou
tdoors lunch table at Oak Glen was set on a concrete pad surrounded by the world’s most worn-out grass. The picnic tables—backed by a chain-link fence—were equal distances apart. They were placed in a line that stretched across the far end of the big playground.
But it was funny how every table seemed different, Alfie thought, looking at them now. Phoebe waved at Alfie and Arletty, her blond hair shining in the sunlight. She pointed down at the two spots she had saved.
This second-grade girls’ table was perfect. It was shadier than the others, with little trees planted nearby. Each tree was tied to two tall stakes—which was kind of harsh, Alfie sometimes thought, pitying them.
Alfie and Arletty ran up the small hill to their table, where several girls were talking and eating lunch. Lulu Marino was the center of attention today, of course. The girls around her were on their best behavior, as if hoping to impress her.
“The point is,” Lulu was saying, “my sleepover will be just like the ones the big girls have.” Hanni nodded and offered her a cookie from a small plastic bag. “So we won’t be kindergarten babies anymore,” Lulu said, continuing her explanation. “And Mama says I can invite six girls, including me.”
Including her? Alfie almost burst out laughing. How funny would that be, she wondered—to have a sleepover and not invite yourself?
The only thing weirder would be to invite yourself. “Ooh, thanks! I’d love to come to my own party.”
“That means you can ask five girls,” Bella said, doing the mental math.
And Lulu was already good friends with Hanni and Suzette, Alfie thought, subtracting with her fingers under the table. So Lulu would only be inviting three other girls to the best sleepover ever.
Including Bella, there was now a total of thirteen girls in their class. And if you subtracted Lulu, Hanni, and Suzette from those thirteen girls, only three out of the ten girls left would be asked to Lulu’s sleepover.
And seven girls would not be invited.
This was the only kind of arithmetic that really counted in primary school, Alfie thought, frowning.
“Want me to throw away your trash, Lulu?” Suzette was asking.
“Let me do it for her,” Arletty said, jumping to her feet so fast that the shiny red beads at the end of her braids clicked together. And Arletty probably didn’t even want to go to the sleepover! She usually did church stuff with her family on the weekends, Alfie knew. She sighed, longing for the good old days—like last week, before Lulu ruined everything with her “just like the big girls” sleepover plans.
Today, though, Lulu was like a wasp at a picnic table. In other words, she was all anyone could think about.
And not in a good way.
Alfie sneaked a peek over at the boys’ table and the playground. She actually felt jealous of the fun they were having.
For example, Scooter Davis had drawn a big fancy watch on his wrist during writing workshop. He was pretending to time his friends with it as they took turns sprinting to the nearest battered tree.
Two other boys in her class were having an arm-wrestling contest, their elbows planted on the sticky picnic table. The boys’ faces were sweaty, they were grunting, and their arms shook as each boy tried to force the other’s arm down, down, down to the tabletop.
But “the point was,” as Lulu would say, it seemed to be the boys who were having all the fun.
Every single one of them, it looked like.
Did that make Alfie wish she were a boy?
“No,” she said, way too loud.
She just wished she didn’t have to worry so much. This was only the fourth week of school!
“That’s weird,” Lulu announced to the girls who were still sitting at the table. “Alfie’s arguing with herself, it sounds like.”
Arletty and Phoebe each shot Alfie a questioning look.
“I’m not arguing with myself,” Alfie told everyone. “I was just trying to shoo that wasp away. It had its stinger out and everything,” she added, pants on fire.
“What wasp?” a couple of girls said, jumping to their feet in alarm.
“I guess it left,” Alfie said. She shrugged modestly and collected her trash.
“Thanks,” Lulu said, relieved. “Mama says I should never get stung.”
“Because you’re allergic?” Suzette asked, eager to be sorry for her in advance.
“Nope. Because it would hurt me,” Lulu said.
As if Lulu were really such a “special darling,” as Mrs. Marino put it, Alfie thought, almost shaking her head in amazement. It would hurt anyone if they got stung by a wasp!
“Thanks, Alfie,” Lulu said again as the end-of-lunch warning bell rang. “I really mean it.”
“You’re welcome,” Alfie said, softening a little.
And to her surprise, hope fluttered in her chest.
Maybe she had a chance!
5
Pretty Little Princess
“Thanks, Mrs. Sobel,” Alfie said to Hanni’s mom after school the next afternoon, Tuesday. Mrs. Sobel worked at home like Alfie’s mother did, so the carpool schedule was perfect most weeks.
Mrs. Sobel gave Alfie a wide smile, and the woman’s dangly earrings swayed beneath the perfect straight line of her hair. She was a very tidy lady.
“Th-h-h-t,” Alfie and Hanni blurted out to each other in farewell, pushing their tongues through the holes where missing front teeth used to be.
“Ew,” they said at the same time.
“Bye, Hanni,” Alfie added, still giggling as she slammed shut the car door.
She’d been feeling kind of shy around Hanni for the past day and a half. That was probably because Hanni had become such good friends with Lulu Marino once second grade started. Hanni was, after all, part of Lulu’s group of three.
But the carpool face-making and laughter had helped get things back to normal—for now, Alfie thought, sighing.
Since Mrs. Sobel and Mrs. Jakes always waited until each girl was inside her house before driving away, Alfie hurried up the driveway to her kitchen door instead of dawdling. And dawdling—goofing around doing nothing—was one of her favorite things to do.
Alfie eased herself into the kitchen carefully, so Princess wouldn’t escape, not that the Jakes’ small gray kitten seemed at all interested in getting out.
Princess was a late-summer gift from the Sobels. Alfie and EllRay thought Princess was probably the cutest kitten in the world. Almost thirteen weeks old now, Princess had eyes that had turned from blue to a golden-green, and her ears looked two sizes too big for her silky head.
“Clown-kitty,” EllRay sometimes called her now, teasing.
“Princess!” Alfie called out in the empty kitchen. “Mom, I’m home!”
Where was her welcoming committee?
Her mother’s car was in the driveway, Alfie knew, so she was probably finishing a chapter in the new book she was writing. And Princess was most likely asleep.
Taking naps seemed to be their kitten’s favorite hobby.
But she, Alfie, was starving. Alfie heaved her backpack onto the kitchen island and headed for the fridge.
“Peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly sandwich,” she recited to herself. “And an icy-cold glass of milk,” she added, her stomach gurgling.
Out of nowhere, just as Alfie sat down at the kitchen table with her after-school snack, Princess came skidding into the kitchen—as if she had only now learned that Alfie was home. The kitten clawed her way up Alfie’s leggings like she was climbing a tree. “Ouch,” Alfie said, plucking Princess off her leg. She cuddled her close for a moment.
Princess started purring, her kitty motor turned up high.
Purr. Purr-r. Purr-r-r.
“Pretty little Princess,” Alfie said through a mouthful of smooth peanut butter and grape jelly as she munched her way through her f
irst bite of sandwich. Then she hugged her kitty as tight as Princess would allow. Alfie could feel her own heart fill up with something warm and sweet, like hot chocolate with a gooey marshmallow on top.
That’s how good having a kitty made Alfie feel—as if she could tell Princess anything, and the kitten would get it.
“You probably already know this, Princess,” Alfie began, “but I don’t even really like sleepovers. Not since I hurled all over my Fairy Kitties sleeping bag that time. Mom finally had to throw it away, because it wouldn’t wash right,” she told her kitty. “Even though that sleepover was really more of a babysitting night, not a party,” she added, correcting herself. “But I got homesick almost right away,” she confessed into Princess’s soft, gray fur.
Purr. Purr-r. Purr-r-r-r.
Princess loved her no matter what, Alfie thought, relieved.
“So why do I even want to go to Lulu’s goofy sleepover?” she asked aloud. “Two reasons,” she said, as if Princess was waiting for the answer. “First, I want to see why Lulu says this will be ‘the best sleepover ever,’” she told her kitten. “I mean, how good can a sleepover be? And why is it going to be so great? Is she ordering pizzas for everyone? Or handing out really cool party favors?” she asked.
Purr. Purr-r. Purr-r-r-r-r.
“Or maybe there are gonna be some super-fun games,” Alfie said, working her way through her sandwich. “And prizes. Or there might be ghost stories right before going to bed,” she added, shivering with pleasure. “Who knows?”
Princess gazed up at Alfie—like she was asking her a question.
“Okay, okay,” Alfie said, as if confessing a secret. “All that stuff is only kinda true. Because the main thing is, I don’t want not to be invited. That’s all. I mean, if we’re going to be ‘just like the big girls,’ I want in,” she added, trying to make things clearer. “Or else I’ll be o-u-t. And who wants to be left out? Not me.”
