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the only reason they don’t,” Margalo observed.
    â€œHe said he looked up my record and he knows all about me,” and Mikey grinned. “That means he looked at yours, too.”
    Margalo stuck to the point. “If it’s not to apologize, what is your punishment?” This was their first real run-in with junior high justice, and she was curious.
    â€œI have to help clean the cafeteria after first lunch for the rest of the week.”
    â€œMaybe Mr. Saunders is okay,” Margalo said.
    â€œOr maybe he doesn’t think girls merit big-time punishments,” Mikey answered. “Maybe he doesn’t think a girl can get up to anything all that disruptive. That’s my guess, anyway. Remember the first assembly?”
    â€œYou mean with Louis Caselli?”
    â€œAll Louis did was lip off a little, and Saunders was all over him.”
    â€œGet real, Mikey. You know what Louis is like.”
    â€œBut it was the first assembly, and all Louis did was say, ‘Yes, SIR,’ the way they do in the army, in the movies. But Mr. Saunders gave him the works, don’t you remember? The silent stare. The leaning over the podium. The calling by name.” She quoted, “ ‘Lou-is Ca-sel-li, if I’m correct,’ ” in a deep, looming voice.
    â€œBut in the end, all Mr. Saunders did was say he didn’t share Louis’s sense of humor,” Margalo made her final, winning point and smiled. “I remember perfectly.”
    Mikey made her own winning point. “This afternoon, he didn’t even know at first if I was me or if I was you. He started out school knowing the boys’ names, especially the troublemakers. But he hadn’t even looked at the girls.”
    â€œHe’s not supposed to be looking at the girls.”
    â€œYou know what I mean.”
    â€œIt was a joke,” Margalo said.
    â€œNot very funny.”
    â€œIt is, if you have a sense of humor.”
    â€œHe doesn’t respect girls,” Mikey said. “He doesn’t think we’ll give him any trouble. He doesn’t even think we can. Do you think he’s right?”
    â€œIt’s never girls who get national headlines,” Margalo admitted. “But in that case, you’d think he’d respect us more .”
    Mikey followed her own train of thought. “Because things really are different in junior high. We’re all getting different. You are, too.”
    â€œYou’re not,” Margalo pointed out.
    â€œI was about to,” Mikey admitted.
    It took Margalo a minute to figure this out. She asked, “The party?”
    â€œThe”—and Mikey interrupted herself—“it’s really lucky that what happens in junior high doesn’t mean the rest of your life will be like that.”
    â€œYeah,” Margalo agreed.
    â€œBecause otherwise, ninety percent of the people in the world would have killed themselves by now.”
    â€œMikey,” Margalo asked, light dawning, “exactly who did you invite? Besides me.”
    They were seated on the bus, Mikey beside thewindow because Margalo had had it Friday. Mikey looked out the window, watching kids filing into the other buses as she listed off all the names in a low voice. “Heather James, Annie Piers, Stacey Beard, and Lacey Gleason and Tracey Tomlinson. Linny Mitchell, and Tanisha, and Ronnie. Rhonda Ransom. And Frannie.”
    Margalo honed in like a heat-seeking missile. “Rhonda Ransom? You asked Rhonda Ransom? Why would you do a thing like that?”
    Mikey shrugged, avoiding looking at Margalo, avoiding the question.
    â€œBecause she’s popular this year? And you know that’s just because she’s turned into a Barbie with the way her figure—”
    Mikey shrugged and kept looking out the window. The bus pulled away from its space at the curb.
    Under cover of the grinding gears, Margalo didn’t have to lower her voice to