by Sally Warner
“He yelled at you guys?” Alfie said, her eyes big as she attempted to picture the scene. Sixth grade sounded so harsh!
“Not exactly,” EllRay said. “But you get the idea.”
Alfie nodded. She tried to imagine Mr. Havens doing something like that.
It was pretty easy, actually.
“So, how do I stay out of the princess wars?” Alfie asked again, thinking of Lulu, and those hungry shark eyes staring at her from behind her perfectly straight bangs.
“Just do something else when those three girls start arguing,” EllRay suggested. “You could do that easy for two days, I bet. You could do it standing on your head.”
“What?” Alfie asked, alarmed.
“Chill,” EllRay said, laughing. “It’s just an expression, Alfie. Ouch,” he added as Princess woke, stretched, and started sharpening her little claws on his leg.
“She probably thinks you’re a tree, you’re so tall,” Alfie said, watching them. “Can Princess sleep with me tonight?”
“I don’t know,” EllRay said, carrying the kitten over to the scratching post in the corner of the room. “You’re gonna have to work that out with her.”
“Okay, fine,” Alfie said, copying Princess’s stretch. “And thanks for helping me,” she added, remembering to be polite.
Her big brother hadn’t really helped much, in her opinion.
But there would always be a next time, she knew—because that was one thing about problems.
You could always count on them to keep turning up.
10
Alfie’s Idea
Uh-oh, Alfie thought on Wednesday morning, shortly after Mr. Havens finished taking attendance. He was perched on the edge of his desk, one long leg swinging as he thought. He straightened his narrow tie.
An uneasy silence filled the room. What was up?
Alfie counted to ten as she stared at her teacher’s big foot, afraid to look him in the eye. Did Mr. Havens have to shop for shoes at a special store? she wondered. Not a store that sold clown shoes. His feet weren’t that big. But they were bigger than most feet, that was for sure.
Maybe you had to have gigantic feet in order to play basketball, Alfie thought.
Why wasn’t he saying anything?
“It has come to my attention that you All-Stars have a problem brewing,” Mr. Havens finally said.
Alfie held her breath and tried to look innocent. Well, she was innocent, she reminded herself! She hadn’t done anything wrong. It was the princess girls who were messing things up—Suzette, Hanni, and Lulu.
Maybe Mr. Havens wasn’t even talking about the girls, Alfie thought in a flash, watching the boys in her class start to squirm as they listened to their teacher’s words. Seated next to her, Scooter was trying to catch Bryan’s eye across the room. And opposite her, poor Alan looked like he was about to faint.
What had those bad boys done?
Alfie tried to remember different pranks EllRay had told her about.
Had the boys taped shut the light switches?
Had they stretched plastic wrap over the toilet seats in the boys’ room?
Had they swiped Mr. Havens’s dreaded red marking pen?
“This only involves the All-Star girls, though,” Mr. Havens said, and half the class sighed with relief. “So I think I’ll save my little talk for them—during morning recess,” he went on. “You girls will stay inside with me, please.”
“Aww,” came the disappointed girls’ chorus, led by Arletty, who was the fastest runner in class—girl or boy. Recesses and lunchtime were never complete for her until she had run a couple of laps around either the big playground, or the school’s new lower playground.
“Woo-hoo!” Scooter said, trying to high-five a reluctant Alan.
“That’s enough of that, Mr. Davis,” Mr. Havens told Scooter. “Unless you’d like to stay inside with the girls after Writing Workshop, that is.”
“No thanks, Coach,” Scooter said, sitting up straight in his chair.
And his teacher just sighed and shook his head.
* * *
“Bottoms in chairs,” Mr. Havens barked at the girls at recess, after they had gotten their morning snacks from the cubby room. Just for today, they’d be allowed to eat in class, he had told them. But no crumbs.
The girls took their seats. Mr. Havens loosened his tie, as if doing so might help him figure out where to begin.
“This better be good,” Lulu muttered—but not softly enough.
“We’ll start with you, Miss Marino,” Mr. Havens said, turning to face Lulu. “A little bird has told me that you, Hanni, and Suzette have been squabbling over who gets to be a princess at the parade and party on Friday. The day after tomorrow,” he reminded everyone.
Just two more days!
Alfie couldn’t believe someone had blabbed—about something as silly as this. Halloween costumes?
Probably a worried parent, she guessed. A new parent, maybe.
“Is squabbling the same thing as fighting?” Bella asked after raising her hand.
“It is,” Mr. Havens said, nodding. “And I’m not having it. Do you girls hear me?” he asked.
This was not the kind of question that needed an answer, in Alfie’s opinion.
But Lulu’s chin came up, a sure sign with her that she was not about to give in. “Well, my mom is almost done making my gown,” she told Mr. Havens. “A gown is a princess dress, by the way,” she informed him. “But that’s why I should get to be the princess this year.”
“But me and my mom already bought my costume,” Hanni objected, her face turning pink with anger. “In San Diego. For a lot of money! So for sure I can’t be anything else for Halloween, and Phoebe agrees with me. My mom would have a conniption fit.”
She would, too, Alfie thought, picturing Mrs. Sobel getting the bad news.
“It’s ‘my mom and I,’ not ‘me and my mom,’” Mr. Havens told Hanni—but Hanni just stared at him.
“But I called dibs first on being a princess,” Suzette argued. “Arletty even heard me do it. Didn’t you, Arletty?”
Looking horrified, Arletty gave the world’s tiniest nod.
“And a princess costume is the perfect thing for me this year, Mr. Havens,” Suzette continued. “It’ll bring me luck all year long if I wear it. And I really need good luck.”
Suzette had said this twice! Alfie wondered why.
“Would you say it’s bringing you good luck now?” Mr. Havens asked, tilting his muscle-y head.
“Well, not now,” Suzette admitted. “But today’s not Halloween.”
“Neither is Friday,” Mr. Havens said. “So wear your princess dress on the thirty-first. On Tuesday. And wear it Friday, too, if you want,” he added, shrugging. “All of you. I’m sure each one of you girls already has a tiara.”
All the girls in class nodded. Alfie had two! Tiaras—unlike some barrettes—looked wonderful on every girl. On every kind of hair.
“But—but—but—” Suzette spluttered.
“Three princesses?” Lulu wailed.
“That’s impossible!” Hanni cried.
“But wait,” Alfie said, her voice sounding way too loud.
“Wait for what?” Hanni snapped.
“Hold on, Miss Sobel,” Mr. Havens said. “Let Alfie speak.”
“It’s just that there are a ton of princesses in the world,” Alfie said, feeling her face grow hot as everyone stared at her. “From all over the place. Lots more than three, that’s for sure. I saw a show about it on TV. So why couldn’t our class have lots of princesses, too?”
Everyone was staring at her.
“There’s no law that says we couldn’t all be princesses,” Alfie continued, her heart pounding as she made her point. “If we wanted to, I mean.”
Princess Alfie, she though
t suddenly, a picture popping into her head.
“That’s just silly, Alfie,” Suzette said with a sniff.
“Yeah,” Hanni agreed. “It’s impossible,” she said—for the second time.
“Of course it’s not impossible,” Mr. Havens said, getting to his feet. “As far as I’m concerned, Alfie just had a great idea. You are all princesses, ladies. Each and every All-Star girl sitting here in front of me. The sweet princesses, the funny princesses, the quiet princesses, even the crabby ones. So I’m with Alfie on this one. If you all want to dress up like princesses on Friday, go for it.”
“Wait a minute,” Hanni said, actually holding up her hand like a cartoon policeman. “All thirteen of us?”
“Each and every one of you,” Mr. Havens repeated. “Just like Alfie said. Why not?”
Why not? Alfie echoed silently.
Bella and her mom, that was why not.
“But—that’s impossible,” Suzette said, stealing Hanni’s earlier line.
“Of course it’s not impossible,” Mr. Havens said. “You can form a princess team, as far as I’m concerned. A princess posse. You can all link arms and do a princess dance.”
That sounded like fun!
By now, Hanni, Lulu, and Suzette looked as if they thought that maybe three princesses might have been okay, after all. But thirteen?
Unconcerned, Bella doodled in her notebook. She glanced at Alfie, holding up two fingers—like bunny ears.
Trying to ignore her, Alfie’s mind raced as she imagined the perfect princess gown. Something shiny, she thought—and long, with sparkles.
“What if I want to be something else, though, Mr. Havens?” Arletty asked. “Like Dragon Girl?”
“Or a mermaid?” Phoebe said, almost squeaking out the words.
“You don’t have to be a princess,” Mr. Havens assured her—and everyone. “Does she, Alfie? Any girl here can be anything she wants on Friday,” he said, obviously eager to wrap things up. “Within the school dress code and the bounds of good taste, of course,” he added. “You girls will change into your costumes after lunch in the girls’ room. And away you’ll go.”
The only part of the dress code that Alfie could remember was “No flip-flops.” But princesses, Dragon Girls, mermaids, and bunnies didn’t wear flip-flops, so that should be okay.
“And no more squabbling, either,” Mr. Havens warned. “Or we can call the whole thing off for all you girls. The parade, the party, the works.”
The girls gasped. Could he do that?
Probably, knowing him, Alfie thought.
“So, I’d like you to tidy your desks now,” Mr. Havens was saying. “And clean up every last crumb, as I said before. I do not want to receive a note from the custodian. After that, you girls should still have time to go to the restroom and wash up before we get going with our ‘Odd and Even Numbers’ lesson plan.”
The girls got stiffly to their feet, as if they hadn’t walked in a very long time.
“Thanks a lot, Alfie,” Suzette muttered on the way out the door.
“Yeah, Alfie,” Lulu chimed in. “Thanks a lot.”
“You’re welcome a lot,” Alfie said, her heart pounding.
It had been a very good idea, she thought, trying to convince herself.
A very good idea.
11
Please?
“You’re chatty tonight,” Alfie’s mom said after dinner. She had just started the dishwasher, and Alfie was sitting in a swivel chair at the kitchen island, swiping every so often at the shiny island surface with a dish towel.
EllRay was in his room, and Dr. Jakes was at a meeting at his college in San Diego.
“I like to talk, I guess,” Alfie said. But really, she was trying to figure out how to ask her mother to make her a princess costume—in time for the parade and party on Friday.
That had been a good idea she’d had in class, no matter what Lulu and Suzette thought.
The right words about the costume hadn’t come out yet, though, or anything close to the right words. Alfie knew how busy her mom was lately.
“Did you finish all your homework?” Mrs. Jakes asked.
“Mm-hmm,” Alfie said, nodding.
And swiveling.
And swiping.
Her mom called that “multitasking.”
“It was mostly a Science Activities worksheet tonight,” Alfie explained, thinking she should say more. “It was called ‘Classifying Our Animal Pals.’ You know, like whether the animals are mammals, reptiles, birds, or amphibians,” she added, struggling a little over the last word.
She kept saying “amphubians” by mistake, or “amphlibians.”
“Did you even know all those guys were animals, Mom?” Alfie added. “Because when I was little, I thought animals had to have fur.”
“Mmm,” her mother said, half listening. “Did you look up all the words?”
“We didn’t have to define them,” Alfie said. “We just had to draw lines from the words to the little drawings of the animals. And I think I got everything right.”
“That’s excellent,” her mother said, glancing at the microwave clock.
Yeesh, Alfie thought. Her mom was about to go take a look at her writing! And this was important.
Do something fast, she told herself. “Listen, Mom,” she began.
The kitchen was silent for a moment.
“Yes?” Mrs. Jakes finally asked. “Just spit it out, sweetie,” she said, meaning that Alfie should say what was on her mind, Alfie knew. Not that she should actually spit anything out.
Gak.
And so Alfie decided to go for it. She hopped down from the swivel chair and adjusted her T-shirt. “Listen, Mom,” she said again. “I really want to be a princess on Friday.” She tried to make this statement sound reasonable and urgent at the same time. “I need to be a princess. So can you make me a princess dress in time? Please? I mean a gown,” Alfie corrected herself. “Because that’s what they call a dress when a princess is wearing it.”
“Alfleta Jakes,” her mother said, shocked. “You told me you were all set for Friday. I just assumed you were going with that darling bumblebee costume.”
Oops, Alfie thought, thinking instantly of an entirely different costume: the bunny costume Mrs. Babcock was sewing for her.
This very minute, maybe!
Whir-r-r-r! Alfie could almost hear the sound of a sewing machine.
She had forgotten all about it—for the second time today.
The first time she forgot, Alfie had tried out the princess idea on Bella during lunch. “My princess idea sounds like fun, doesn’t it?” she had asked. “Dressing up all poofy and everything. With sparkles and a tiara,” she added, her own eyes shining.
They could blend in with everyone else.
Her wish come true!
“Yeah, but we’re all set,” Bella reminded her through a bite of sandwich.
Oh, yeah, Alfie thought, her princess dream sinking into a puddle of gloom.
But the dream had returned.
Alfie had not said one word to her mom or dad about the bunny costume in the four days that had passed since her playdate with Bella. The only time she even thought of saying anything about it to them was last night at bedtime, but she decided it would be more fun to keep the bunny costume secret.
That wasn’t lying, she assured herself—it was planning a surprise.
And she sure wasn’t going to say anything now that she had changed her mind! Because—she wanted to be a princess, Alfie told herself firmly. Like Suzette, Hanni, and Lulu. And probably also like Phoebe, and at least two of the other girls, too, Nina and Estella, which meant “star.”
The whole princess thing had been her bright idea! She deserved to be a princess. So Bella could be “all set” about being a bunny all by herself.
Ping! She felt the tiniest tickle of guilt.
“Alfie?” her mother was saying—as if for the fourth or fifth time. “What happened to you being a darling little bumblebee?”
“I just can’t, Mom,” Alfie said, sudden tears filling her eyes.
“But—but this is Wednesday night, sweetie,” her mom said. “And your party is on Friday. That would only give me one day, tomorrow, to make you
a princess gown. And I’m already supposedly making two batches of homemade pumpkin muffins. And I’m in the middle of a writing project—with a deadline.”
“I know, Mom,” Alfie said, sniffling as she wrapped her arms around her mother, trying to dab her eyes dry on Mrs. Jakes’s already-damp apron.
“Don’t you dare wipe your nose on my apron, Miss Alfie,” her mother cautioned, laughing. “We have tissues for that sort of thing.”
“I know,” Alfie said again. “And I’m sorry about the costume, Mom. I didn’t know we were all going to be princesses, did I? So, please?” she asked again.
“Since when do you care what everyone else is doing, young lady?” her mother asked, holding Alfie at arm’s length for a moment so she could take a good look at her. “You’re one of a kind, you are.”
That was probably what all moms thought about their kids, Alfie thought. But really, “one of a kind” was not what she wanted to be.
“I know, Mom,” she said. “But this is different. It’s like everyone was arguing, see,” she tried to explain. “Only now, we’re all on the same side, thanks to me.”
Or they would be, once things settled down, Alfie told herself.
But how could she explain to her mom how important the princess costume was, Alfie thought, when she couldn’t even explain it to herself?