Allie Finkle's Rules for Girls: Best Friends and Drama Queens

by Meg Cabot

  ‘I know,’ Joey said. ‘You’re a lot nicer than Rosemary. She use to throw Lifesavers at me. They really hurt.’

  ‘I will never do that,’ I assured him. If I had any delicious Lifesavers, I wouldn’t waste them by throwing them at Joey. I’d eat them.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go with me?’ Joey asked. ‘I’d make a good boyfriend.’

  ‘I’m sure you would,’ I said as nicely as I could. ‘But I don’t want to have a boyfriend right now. I just want to stay a kid. And you should too. None of the Boxcar Children went with anyone.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Joey admitted.

  Fortunately just then the bell rang, so I jumped off the swing and ran to get into line to go inside, cutting off all further conversation. Of course all the girls clustered around me, wanting to know what I’d said to Joey.

  ‘I said I don’t want to go with him, of course,’ I said. Only not loudly, because I didn’t want Joey to overhear and be embarrassed. I mean, if there’s one thing I know from sitting in the back row with a bunch of boys – which I’m not so sure Cheyenne and all those girls who’d liked playing the Kissing Game so much knew – it’s that boys are human.

  Yes, I like to say boys don’t have feelings. But of course that isn’t true. They do.

  It’s just that boys get over their feelings faster than girls. They just feel them, and then they’re done.

  Whereas girls feel, and then think about their feelings, and then maybe they write about their feelings in their diaries, and then maybe they call their best friend and talk about their feelings, and then maybe they tell their kitten about their feelings, and then maybe they’ll talk about their feelings to their Webkinz, and then their stuffed unicorn with the rainbow wings, and then maybe they’ll act out their feelings in a little play in front their bathroom mirror with a pillow posing as their best friend, and then if that doesn’t work they’ll act out their feelings with their American Girl Dolls or maybe some glass animals or maybe their dollhouse figures and then maybe their Bratz dolls too, for good measure . . .

  Maybe this was why, when we got into Room 209 and were taking our coats off, and Cheyenne said to me, in the snobbiest voice I’d ever heard, ‘So. Did you tell him?’ that I just lost it.

  I mean it. I just couldn’t take it any more.

  I yelled, ‘Yeah, Cheyenne! I said no! I said no to Joey! OK? I’m not going with him. I’m not going with anybody! And you can’t make me!’

  And Cheyenne looked at me with her eyes all mean and said in a low voice, ‘Then you know you have to face the consequences, right? You know from now on no one is going to call you Allie any more, but Baby. Big Baby Finkle. That’s your new name. Big Baby Finkle. I hope you like it.’

  Marianne, who was standing right next to Cheyenne when she said this, overheard, and started to laugh. ‘Big Baby,’ she said. ‘Big Baby Finkle! That’s funny!’

  I don’t know what happened. Somehow, Cheyenne had just pushed me one step too far. I mean, Big Baby Finkle isn’t even the worst thing anyone’s ever called me. I’ve been called way worse names. At my old school people called me Stinkle Finkle, for example. I got called Allie Stinkle – which is way worse than Big Baby Finkle – for like weeks.

  But somehow, today, Cheyenne just caused me to snap. I couldn’t take it any more. I just couldn’t. Maybe it was how sad Joey had looked when I said I wouldn’t go with him. Maybe it was the fact that back there on the swings, he and I had shared a genuinely nice moment when we’d revealed we’d both like to go and live in a boxcar (although in a million years I will never, ever want to live in a boxcar with Joey Fields).

  And somehow coming inside and having Cheyenne be so mean about it just made it all seem so . . . I don’t know. Dumb. When it hadn’t been dumb. It had been nice.

  So I just exploded.

  ‘CHEYENNE!’

  Everyone in the room froze.

  ‘CHEYENNE,’ I yelled, ‘YOU ARE NOT THE BOSS OF ME AND YOU CANNOT TELL ME WHAT TO DO, SO YOU HAD BETTER QUIT TRYING RIGHT NOW. DON’T YOU DARE CALL ME OR MY FRIENDS BIG BABIES EVER AGAIN, OR YOU ARE GOING TO GET IT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND?’

  Cheyenne’s face went bug-eyed with shock.

  In fact, most of the faces in Room 209 went completely open-mouthed at the sound of my voice and the words I’d said.

  But no face looked as shocked as the one I saw standing in the doorway to our classroom.

  ‘Allie Finkle!’ Mrs Hunter was staring at me with her green eyes crackling. I had never seen her look so stunned.

  Or so disapproving.

  Rule #11

  Speak Softly to Your Neighbour, Please

  Mrs Hunter didn’t send me to the principal’s office.

  Probably if I had been anyone else, she would have.

  But I had never done anything bad in her classroom before, ever (except chit-chat with Erica).

  And I don’t think she actually heard what I’d said, just the decibel (which means volume) at which I’d said it. Also she didn’t see who I’d said it to.

  All she ended up saying, when she realized the person who’d been screaming at the top of her lungs in her classroom was me, was, ‘Speak softly to your neighbour, please.’

  Then she went to her desk, looking kind of dazed.

  So did Cheyenne.

  So did everyone else.

  I think maybe their ears were all ringing from me using my outside voice, which is really very loud.

  But just because I didn’t get sent to the principal’s office didn’t mean that I wasn’t scared.

  What was going to happen now that I’d yelled at Cheyenne like that? Was she going to think of some horrible, even worse punishment than calling me Big Baby Finkle?

  I could tell she was thinking about it. When she’d recovered from her astonishment over how I’d yelled at her, I saw her whispering with Marianne and Dominique and Shamira.

  Obviously she was whispering about how she was going to get back at me.

  A part of me wanted to throw up about that. It’s horrible to be hated, even by someone you don’t like all that much.

  But another part of me was more concerned about Mrs Hunter and what she must think of me. I’d been a joy to have around the classroom before. She’d told my grandma that!

  But it was pretty apparent she was going to change her mind about that now. I mean, what if she decided I wasn’t such a joy to have around after all? I could see that she still seemed confused, looking from me to the rest of the class, trying to figure out what had happened. She seemed to think I’d been yelling at one of the boys.

  Only the boys and I were of course getting along fine. Joey had taken out all the Boxcar Children he’d been hiding in his desk – seven of them! – and put them back on the classroom bookshelf (which was good, because they were seven I hadn’t read before, and now that I was going to be the class outcast, and be hated by my teacher, I’d have plenty of time to read).

  I didn’t mind so much about the rest of it, but I just couldn’t stand the idea of Mrs Hunter thinking badly of me. I loved her so much . . . I didn’t want her to think I hadn’t spoken softly to my neighbour for no reason. I had a reason . . . a really good reason!

  And that reason was Cheyenne O’Malley. And she wasn’t Talent, Not Talk. She was all talk and almost no talent, as far as I could tell. Her shirt had been lying! She’d been wearing a lying shirt!

  She should go to jail for wearing that shirt.

  Mrs Hunter didn’t speak to me again the whole day. Which I guess wasn’t that unusual. I mean, it wasn’t like there was any reason to. I never raised my hand, or volunteered to help move the chairs during music class, which I’ll admit wasn’t like me, because I like to be helpful.

  But Mrs Hunter must not have noticed my lack of helpfulness, because she didn’t say anything about it. Either that or she just hated me so much now for not speaking softly to my neighbour, she’d decided never to speak to me again.

  I was so depressed about this
that I didn’t even care when, as I was getting my coat to go home, Cheyenne sneered, ‘Way to overreact, Allie,’ in her snottiest voice on her way out of the classroom.

  I had no idea what she was talking about. I guess the whole thing where I’d told her she wasn’t the boss of me. Well, that hadn’t been overreacting. That had just been telling the truth. Something Cheyenne wouldn’t know anything about.

  ‘I don’t think you were overreacting,’ Rosemary assured me as she walked down the stairs with me. Erica was with me too, and so were Caroline and Sophie, who had temporarily put aside their fight to show solidarity for me and against Cheyenne just for the afternoon. ‘I thought what you said to her was perfect. I would have clapped, but Mrs Hunter walked in just then.’

  ‘I know,’ I said miserably. ‘Mrs Hunter, who hates me now.’

  ‘Mrs Hunter could never hate you,’ Erica cried. ‘She loves you! She trusts you enough to let you sit in the back with all those bad boys.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Rosemary agreed. ‘That’s really a place of honour. Not just anybody can sit back there. I should know.’

  ‘She just put me back there because I have brothers like you, Rosemary,’ I said, ‘and I’m not afraid of boys.’

  I didn’t add that I’m afraid of girls. Well, not all of them, but a lot of them. And how I’d started keeping a book of rules, mostly just so I’d know how to get along with girls.

  I hadn’t told anybody at this school about my book of rules though. I’d learned a lesson from my old school about that.

  ‘So? It’s still an honour. Cheer up. See you tomorrow!’ Rosemary ran off when we got to the bottom of the stairs, to go get in line for her bus.

  Which made her lucky, in a way. Because our walk home wasn’t the most cheerful. Erica tried to keep everyone’s spirits up and make us all get along, as usual, but with Caroline and Sophie still not speaking, it wasn’t very easy. And I was still too sad to make much of an effort. By the time Caroline and Sophie left us at the stop sign, no one had really said much beyond, ‘Come on, Allie, it will be all right,’ and, ‘Cheyenne won’t dare say anything to you tomorrow! You showed her!’

  But I knew they were wrong. Cheyenne would have plenty to say to me tomorrow, after she’d spent half the night on the phone with ‘M and D’ and the rest of her posse. She would have new ammunition and she’d probably make me so mad all over again I’d do something else to make Mrs Hunter shocked at my behaviour. Maybe this time I really would get sent to the principal’s office!

  Maybe I’d even get kicked out of school! It was possible that instead of being a good influence on all those boys I was sitting in the back row with, they were being a bad influence on me! Maybe, by the end of this semester, I’d end up in reform school . . .

  . . . or jail!

  But when I mentioned this to Erica, she said, ‘Oh no, Allie, I don’t think that’s possible. You’re good. Way better than Cheyenne. Did you see that shirt she was wearing today? It said Naughty But Nice. You’re not naughty at all.’

  This didn’t make me feel better though. We all knew Cheyenne’s shirts lied.

  Erica asked me over for an afternoon snack and a game of dollhouse. She even said I could play the girl dollhouse character, and make her get kidnapped and then rescue herself if I wanted. But I said I wasn’t feeling up to it. I said I just wanted to go home and maybe read some Boxcar Children. So Erica said she understood and to call her if I needed to talk. I hugged her and said I would. I let myself in through the utility-room door . . .

  . . . and was surprised to see Uncle Jay letting himself out just as I was coming in. He had his coat on and everything. And Uncle Jay didn’t have any afternoon classes that day. It was the first time in days I’d seen him up when he didn’t have to be.

  ‘Where are you going?’ I asked him.

  ‘I’ve decided that if Harmony won’t accept me the way I am,’ Uncle Jay said, ‘then I’m just going to have to make myself into the kind of man she wants. I’m going to interview for a job.’

  That’s when I noticed he’d shaved off his beard. Including his goatee.

  ‘Uncle Jay,’ I cried. I was almost as stunned by the change in Uncle Jay as I’d been by everything that had happened to me that afternoon. His face looked naked. ‘Are you sure?’

  Something about the fact that Uncle Jay was willing to go against his principles after all this time and change just because Harmony had asked him to made tears well up in my eyes. I know our two situations are completely different – he’s a grown-up man and I’m a fourth-grader, and Harmony was his girlfriend and he loved her, whereas Cheyenne’s just a girl in my class and I don’t care what she says at all. Well, very much – but still. The fact that after all this time Uncle Jay had decided to do what Harmony wanted instead of staying the way he’d always been made me want to cry all of a sudden.

  ‘Hey,’ Uncle Jay must have seen the tears in my eyes, since he poked me in the shoulder, ‘don’t look like that. I’m still the same Jay. Getting a job is a small concession to make if it will make Harmony happy. Besides which, I do need the money. Somebody has to buy turtle food for Wang Ba. And this will hopefully give me some good source material for my writing. Also, by conceding to this one small point of Harmony’s, there’s a chance she’ll take me back. So it’s a win-win situation. Any other questions?’

  I shook my head. I didn’t trust myself to speak, because I was afraid I’d start crying.

  ‘Good,’ Uncle Jay said. ‘Wish me luck.’

  I didn’t say anything, but I don’t think he noticed. I just got out of the way so he could leave. Then I took off my coat and hat, pulled off my snow boots, went into the kitchen for my snack, ate it, went upstairs, picked up Mewsie, went into my closet, closed the door, sat down, put Mewsie in my lap and started to cry.

  I’d probably cried for about ten minutes before there was a knock on my closet door and Kevin’s voice went, ‘Allie? Are you crying in there?’

  ‘GO AWAY!’ I yelled at him. Mewsie, who was curled up on my lap, purring, stopped purring when I yelled. But as soon as I stopped yelling, he started purring again.

  Kevin went away.

  A little while later, there was another knock on my closet door, and I heard Mark’s voice go, ‘Allie? Kevin says you’re in your closet crying. Why are you in your closet crying?’

  ‘None of your business!’ I yelled. ‘Get out of my room!’

  Mark didn’t leave though. I could hear him breathing through the door. Mark is the loudest breather in our family. Sophie says there’s probably something wrong with his adenoids, which is part of your sinuses.

  ‘Do you want me to get Dad?’ he wanted to know. ‘Mom’s not home yet.’

  ‘No!’ I yelled. ‘Just leave me alone!’

  Of course Mark didn’t do as I asked. He went and got Dad. If you have brothers, you know exactly how big a pain they are, and why you can’t really tell them anything. Because they will do things like this.

  ‘Allie?’ Dad tapped on the closet door. ‘Could you come out of the closet please?’

  I don’t know why everyone was bothering me. I was totally snug inside my closet. I had my sleeping bag and all my dirty laundry piled up in there. Yes, it was dark and, yes, I was crying.

  But I had Mewsie, who was soft and warm and purring and sopping up my tears with his fur. Why was everyone making it their business what I was doing in there? Was I bothering anyone? No!

  ‘I’m not coming out,’ I said to Dad. ‘Please just go away.’

  This seemed to surprise Dad. I guess that’s because I usually do what he says. You’re supposed to do what your parents say. This is a rule. A BIG rule.

  Parents are supposed to protect you from getting hurt. This is another rule. And usually they do this.

  But parents can’t protect you from the Cheyennes of the world. Because parents have no idea that there ARE Cheyennes in the world.

  ‘Allie,’ Dad said in a different voice, ‘are you hurt? Is
something the matter?’

  ‘No, I’m not hurt,’ I said. ‘I just don’t feel like coming out of the closet. Why can’t I just sit in the closet if I want to? It’s my closet.’

  Dad thought about that for a while from outside my closet door. Then he said, ‘Well, of course you can sit in your closet if you want to. But you’re crying. Your brothers are upset, because you don’t usually sit in your closet and cry. So they asked me to see if there was something wrong. Would you like to tell me what’s wrong?’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘And you’re sure you’re not hurt?’ he asked again.

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  Dad thought about this for a little while too. Then he said, ‘Well, all right then. If you change your mind and decide you want to talk, I’ll be downstairs, making dinner.’

  ‘OK,’ I said.

  I heard Dad tell Mark and Kevin to leave me alone, that I just needed some time to myself. Then Dad went away, his weight creaking on the stairs as he went down them.

  After a while I heard a different kind of creaking on the stairs, and then I heard Uncle Jay’s voice outside the closet door.

  ‘Hey, Allie,’ Uncle Jay said. ‘I hear you’re in the closet. I’m home from my interview now. Want to come out and talk?’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘Oh,’ Uncle Jay said. He sounded kind of surprised. ‘Well. Do you want to talk through the door?’

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘Oh,’ Uncle Jay said. ‘Do you not want to talk at all?’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘I don’t want to talk at all.’

  ‘Oh.’

  I heard some whispering, and then I heard Kevin say, ‘I told you!’ and then I heard Mark say, ‘Shut up!’

  Then Uncle Jay said, to me, ‘Well, Allie, if you change your mind, you’ll know where to find me. On the couch downstairs. Your dad is making your favourite for dinner . . . tacos. With no salsa. We know how you hate anything red.’

  I didn’t say anything. Really, what was there to say?

  Finally Uncle Jay went away.