Hailey Twitch Is Not a Snitch

  So after dinner I am supposed to go to my room and clean it up. I am not allowed to watch TV. I am not allowed to talk to Kaitlyn. And I am not allowed to do anything fun like dance around and practice gymnastics.

  “Maybelle!” I whisper very loud. “Where are you?” But Maybelle is gone.

  I put some puzzles, my ballet slippers, and my sand art kit all in a pile on the floor. Then I use all my strength and push that pile right under the bed. Swoosh! All clean!

  And then I hear a noise. A noise coming from under the bed where I just pushed that pile. It is a noise with lots of sniffles. Like someone who is crying and trying for people not to hear it. I know because I did that kind of crying once at a sleepover when I needed to go home in the middle of the night. Some people are just not good at sleepovers, and I am one of them.

  I get down on the floor and look under the bed. And there is Maybelle! Over in the corner, all smush, smush, smushed up into a little ball.

  “Maybelle!” I say. “What are you doing under there?” I know I said that Maybelle should live under the bed, but I really did not mean it. Maybelle cannot live under the bed. That would not be nice.

  “I am cleaning up under here,” Maybelle says. She wipes her nose on her sleeve. “It is very messy here under this bed, with lots and lots of dust.” Then Maybelle does a very big sneeze. “ACHOO!” But it sounds like maybe she is pretending. She picks up one of the books that I pushed under there. And then she pushes it back out.

  “But you do not have a duster,” I tell her. I push that book right back under. I just cleaned this room, and now Maybelle is trying to unclean it! “When my mom dusts, she gets out the duster. And some spray dust cleaner that smells like lemons.”

  “Yes, well, I am going to get it right now,” Maybelle says.

  “You are going to get what right now?” I ask.

  “A duster!” Maybelle says. And then she sniff, sniff, sniffs. Just like I do when I am all finished crying.

  “Maybelle,” I say very soft, “I think maybe you were having a good cry under there.”

  “I certainly was not!” Maybelle says. She flies out from under the bed very, very fast, but I can see that her eyes are puff, puff, puffy. And red, red, red. Also her wings are all crinkly from being smushed up in a ball.

  “Maybelle,” I say again, “I know all about having a good cry. I’ve had a good cry lots of times, like when Natalie Brice is mean to me, or when I get punished.” I get up from the floor and sit down on the bed. Then I pat the spot next to me for Maybelle to sit. “Now you sit right here and tell me why you’re crying. Is it because you feel bad you smushed that list up and I didn’t even get to be partners with Antonio after all?”

  “No,” Maybelle says. Her face is all splotchy.

  “Is it because you made me use Grandma Jokobeck’s teeth glue even though you knew I wasn’t supposed to and you got me in trouble with everyone and now I am a bad influence?”

  “No,” Maybelle says.

  “Is it because you feel bad that a nice girl like me has to be partners with Addie Jokobeck, and not Antonio Fuerte or Russ Robertson?”

  “No,” Maybelle says.

  “Is it because tomorrow—”

  “Hailey!” Maybelle says. She holds up one hand so that I will stop talking. “It does not have anything to do with you.”

  “Oh.” I do not know what to say. What else could it be if it doesn’t have to do with me? I think very hard. But I am stumped. “Then what is it?” I finally ask.

  Maybelle comes up on the bed. She sits down right next to me and crosses one tiny leg over the other. “I’m just upset,” she says. “Because I am not very good at being fun. And…and…I am never, ever, ever going to get good at it, and Mr. Tuttle is not going to be happy, and I will never get my magic back! Sprites. Are. Supposed. To. Be. Fun!” She seems like maybe she is going to cry again. Or maybe have a big tantrum.

  “It’s okay,” I say. I pat her on the shoulder. “You’ll learn. Practice makes perfect.” Then I decide to tell her this one story I know. “When my sister Kaitlyn started playing the flute, she had to practice, practice, practice.” Then I tell her the part that will cheer her up. “And that is because she was the worst flute player in her whole entire school.”

  “And now Kaitlyn is the best flute player in her whole school?” Maybelle asks. Her eyes look very excited.

  “Um,” I say. Kaitlyn is only allowed to play her flute in the basement so that the family cannot hear what horrible sounds she makes with that thing. But I do not want Maybelle to know that. “Well, she is still practicing to make perfect.” I give Maybelle another good, hard pat.

  “I don’t know what to do!” Maybelle says. She is on her way to getting very worked up.

  “Well,” I say. “You might want to start with those clothes you are wearing.” I look at her old green dress. “You do not have any fun colors.” I point to my shirt. It has glitter butterflies all over it. I do a little dance. “Do you see,” I ask, “how these purple butterflies sparkle all over when I dance?”

  “Yes,” she says.

  “That is because this shirt is very fun. When I saw it in the store, I said, ‘Now that is a fun shirt. I want it right now!’”

  “You did?”

  “Yes,” I say, “and then my mom made me ask politely. So I said, ‘Mom, may I please have that fun shirt?’ and she said okay. Also maybe for Christmas I might get sneakers with wheels on the back so that it will seem like I am roller-skating when I am really just walking.” I sit back and wait for Maybelle to be jealous.

  But all she does is look confused. “I don’t know,” she says. “Roller skates for shoes?” She looks down at her feet

  “Come on,” I say. “I will show you something that will make that dumb Mr. Tuttle very excited.”

  And then I creep, creep, creep out of my room and tip, tip, tiptoe down the hallway. Maybelle and I tiptoe our way right into Kaitlyn’s room. And right into her closet. That is where she keeps her big box of things that she thinks are too babyish but still will not let me play with. There is a doll in there. One that is just about Maybelle’s size. One that is wearing a beautiful, pink shiny dress with a glittery sparkly skirt that flows out all around.

  “How about this?” I ask. I hold it up for her to inspect.

  “I am too old to play with dolls,” Maybelle says.

  “Not to play with,” I say. “To wear her clothes.” And then I take that pink shiny dress right off that doll and hand it to Maybelle. “That,” I say, “is a very fun dress.”

  I close my eyes while Maybelle changes. And when I open them, she looks very beautiful!

  “You look like a whole new woman,” I tell her, clapping my hands. “Now twirl around and give me a fashion show!”

  Maybelle twirls.

  Creak. The door to Kaitlyn’s room opens! And poof! Maybelle quick disappears.

  “Oh, hello,” I say to Kaitlyn when I walk out of her closet. I look very innocent, if I do say so myself.

  “What are you doing in here?” Kaitlyn demands. She looks very mad.

  “Oh, nothing,” I say. “Just looking around.”

  Kaitlyn looks suspicious. And so I quickly get out of there before she can ask any more questions.

  Chapter Six

  The Ghost of Room Four

  Maybelle is still not back by the next day and I have been looking all over for her! So when recess comes around, I walk around by the schoolyard and call her name real soft.

  “Maybelle,” I say. “Maybelle, Maybelle, Maybelle, yoo-hoo! Come out, come out, wherever you are!” Then I even say, “I give up, I can’t find you!” just in case she thinks we are playing hide-and-seek.

  “Who’s Maybelle?” Russ asks. He has popped up right behind me. He looks all around. Uh-oh, uh-oh, uh-oh.

  “You should not sneak up o
n people like that,” I tell him. “You are going to give me a heart attack.” That is something my Grandpa Twitch says when I sometimes pop up behind his chair and take his hat while he is watching TV. It is a very fun game.

  “Who is Maybelle?” Russ asks again. And then he starts yelling, “MAYBELLE, MAYBELLE, MAYBELLE!” And he flaps his arms like he’s a bird.

  “Shhh!” I say. “Stop that this instant! I do not know what you are talking about.”

  “Is she that new girl?” Russ asks. “From room five? Where is she? I want to chase her.”

  “Hey, Russ,” I say. “Do you want to go climb on the monkey bars?” This is to make him forget about Maybelle. Russ really loves the monkey bars. He loves to have monkey bar races.

  “Okay!” Russ and I run right over to those bars. But when we get there, Natalie Brice is hanging upside down in the middle. Her hair is so long it almost touches the ground.

  “Hello, Natalie,” I say.

  “Hello, Hailey,” she says. Then she turns herself right side up. And she jumps down.

  “I like your shoes,” Russ says.

  Natalie Brice is wearing shoes that are roller skates! And she has purple and gold sparkly shoelaces in them! This makes me very, very mad. I am supposed to be the first girl in room four to get those shoes!

  “Thank you,” Natalie says.

  And then Natalie says, “Hailey, what did you think about how Miss Stephanie couldn’t find the list of partners?”

  “I thought it was very weird,” I say. “I have no idea how that list disappeared like that!” Then I give a good laugh, so that she knows I think it is so very crazy. “Ha, ha, ha!”

  “Whoever took that list is definitely going to get in a lot of trouble,” Natalie says. Then she leans right against the side of the monkey bars. And lifts up part of her foot so that everyone can see those wonderful wheels on her shoe!

  “No one took that list,” I say. “That list just disappeared. Sometimes things disappear. Like socks in the laundry. Or library books. Or lists of partners.” I crouch down in the dirt then so that I do not have to look at those wheels. And then I pick up a stick. I start to write my name, “Hailey Twitch.”

  But before I even can finish the H, Natalie Brice says, “That list did not disappear. Someone threw it in the garbage can.”

  “Why did they do that?” Russ asks. He is zooming down those monkey bars without stopping even once!

  “No, they did not throw that list in the garbage can,” I say. I throw my stick down and stand up. “Because Miss Stephanie could not find it. Poof! It just disappeared right away!”

  I yell over to Antonio who is running around the jungle gym. “Antonio, how do you say disappeared in Spanish, please?”

  “Desaparecio,” Antonio says.

  “Yeah, well, that list did not just desaparecio,” Natalie says.

  “Yes, it did,” I say.

  “No, it didn’t,” she says.

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “How do you know?” I ask.

  And then Natalie Brice gets a little bit of a smile on her face. “Because it turns out that I saw that list. And it was right. In. The. Trash.”

  “It must have fallen off Miss Stephanie’s desk,” I say. “And into the garbage. Oops! Like an accident.” I smile at Natalie and quick try to make friends.

  “Or,” Natalie says, “maybe someone threw it in there. Maybe some people don’t like that list.” And then I think she looks right at me. I am not sure because sometimes my imagination runs wild.

  Then I have a very good idea. A fab, fab, fabulous idea. An even better idea than the time I made my own lemonade stand and got eleven whole dollars in one day. “Maybe,” I say, “a ghost did it!”

  “There is no such thing as ghosts,” Natalie says. And then she rolls a little bit on her skate shoes.

  “Is Maybelle the ghost?” Russ asks. He frowns. “Maybelle is a very weird name for a ghost.”

  “Yes!” I say. “Maybelle is the ghost!” I try to give Russ a wink. This is what you do when you are joking around about something. But Russ is not looking. He is still zooming on those monkey bars.

  And then all of a sudden, before I can stop it, Antonio Fuerte pops right up from behind us. “There is a ghost named Maybelle?” he asks. “Who stole that list?” His black eyes are looking very black, black, black today.

  “Why, yes, Antonio,” I say before I can stop myself. “That ghost is named Maybelle.”

  “What does she look like and where is she?” Antonio asks. He jumps up and down and swings his arms all around, like he is pretending to use a sword. “Is she a good witch or a bad witch?”

  “She’s not a witch,” Russ says. “She is a ghost.”

  “She is a very bad ghost,” I say. “She took that list and smushed it right up. But she’s gone now, and she said that she is never, ever coming back, so yay for us getting rid of that ghost!” I smile at Antonio. “Now do you want to play chase?”

  “I thought we were going to play on the monkey bars,” Russ says. He jumps off those bars and into the dirt.

  “Oh, yes, we will,” I say. I forgot that I am supposed to be playing with Russ. “Sorry, Antonio,” I say. “But maybe you can chase me around later.”

  “I will chase you around and I will stop that ghost at the same time!” Antonio yells. He is really waving his fake sword around now. “I will save you from that ghost, Hailey!” he shouts in a very big outdoor voice. “Her name is Maybelle, and she is queen of the bad ghosts!”

  And then before I can stop him, Russ stands up and yells, “GO AWAY, MAYBELLE, YOU STUPID GHOST!”

  That is not very nice of him. I am glad Maybelle is not around to hear that. I do not think she would like being called a stupid ghost very much.

  “Hey, Natalie, are you glad we got rid of that ghost Maybelle?” Antonio asks. “Since it’s a really mean one?”

  “Yes, I am glad,” Natalie says. “I do not think that ghosts should be allowed at this school.” I am very shocked that Natalie is agreeing with me. And for some reason, I am a little nervous, too.

  Chapter Seven

  The Addie Jokobeck Surprise

  Before I know it, the school day is over! We are done with recess, done with gym class, done with everything! And Addie Jokobeck is coming over to my house to work on our French costumes. Me and her are going to give it another try.

  “This is going to be very, very fun,” Addie Jokobeck says. We are waiting in the classroom for my mom to come and pick us up. “I am so excited to be making a nice costume for France!” Addie claps her hands. Then she bounces all around in her chair. She is wearing white earmuffs that are fluff, fluff, fluffy. And it is not even that cold out.

  “Why are you wearing those earmuffs?” I ask her. “When it is not even really that cold out?”

  “Better safe than sorry!” Addie says. She smiles.

  “Yeah,” I say, even though I do not really mean it. I am looking around for Maybelle. She is still not back. I hope she didn’t hear all that talk about her being a bad ghost. I don’t think sprites really like to be called ghosts. Especially because they are supposed to be fun. And especially ones who have lost their magic.

  “What are you looking for?” Addie asks me. “Did you lose your earmuffs?” She looks under the table.

  “I did not wear earmuffs today,” I say. And then I say, “It is not cold enough.” Just in case she forgot.

  “Then why are your eyes moving all around like this?” Addie Jokobeck moves her eyes all around like she is looking for something. “If you are looking for your sparkly pencil, it’s right here.” And then Addie puts her hand into her backpack. She pulls out my pink, sparkly pencil. It is the one with the purple sparkly eraser that matches.

  “Where
did you get my pink sparkly pencil?” I ask her.

  And then Addie Jokobeck’s face turns red, red, red. It is so red that it goes up to her ears. It looks exactly like mine when I am caught doing something I’m not supposed to do. “I borrowed it,” she says so soft it is hard to hear her.

  “Oh.” I do not tell Addie that when you borrow something, you need to ask first.

  Addie Jokobeck has a weird sort of look on her face. Like maybe she already knows the difference between stealing and borrowing. And then I remember one time when I got in trouble about borrowing. It was last year and it had to do with some wonderful snow boots.

  “You know,” I say. “I was not even looking for that pencil. I was not even missing it at all. You can probably have it.” I put the pencil down on the desk between us.

  “I can?” Addie Jokobeck seems very happy and excited to get that pencil. She is smiling very, very wide.

  “Yes,” I say. “I have blue and silver and green and gold and lots and lots of pink ones.”

  “Thank you.” Addie takes that pencil. She really holds on to it tight, tight, tight. I think Addie Jokobeck might love that pencil.

  “I thought you didn’t like pencils with sparkles and glitter,” I say.

  “Well, I didn’t used to,” she says. “Because I thought they made your printing and cursive all wobbly. But now I am a better printer, so I think I should be able to handle some sparkly pencils.”

  And then Addie Jokobeck holds on to that pencil until my mom comes. I think maybe me and Addie Jokobeck might be friends.

  “I am going to wear a French mustache,” I tell my mom when we get to my house. “So I hope you got some things to make very curly French mustaches.” Then I push my lip up, up, up and imagine how it would feel to have a fabulous, scratchy, curly French mustache up there.