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third floor to take a look. It was going to be a great place to store my private stuff.
    My bedroom was small but it had a terrific view of the town. I sat Waldo in the corner.
    “Stay put,” I said. “You're going to get me in big trouble if you keep mouthing off.”
    “And whose fault is that?” he said.
    The cracked windowpanes made the view out my windows wiggly, but Dad promised me he'd fix them.
    I thought about calling Sam, but he was at school. And there was no telling where Gram would be. The time difference was going to make staying in touch a problem. I wanted to tell someone about my secret room, but the two people who would be excited for me were a long way from Texas.

T he doorbell rang. I turned to Waldo. “Hey, maybe someone's come to meet us after all.” I closed the door and jogged downstairs.
    A woman and a skinny red-haired girl about my age were standing in the kitchen. Dad was talking to them.
    “This is my wife, Carole,” he was saying as I walked into the room. “And here's our son, Baker.” I gave a small wave. “Mrs. Wilson and her daughter, Hannah, brought us pizza. Isn't that great?” The pizza smelled wonderful. I could hardly wait to dive in. “They live across the street,” Dad added.
    “Thank you so much,” Mom said gratefully. “Now, that's Southern hospitality. We were just getting ready to order some, weren't we, Baker?”
    “Uh, yes,” I said, startled to see the bright red hair. The kid who had been watching us wasn't a boy at all.
    “It's from the Whip-A-Dip,” the girl said. “They make the best pizza in town.”
    Mom insisted that the Wilsons join us. After the grown-ups each took a slice, they went out on the porch to eat. I was alone with Hannah. I didn't know how to talk to a girl. Back in Seattle, Sam and I always tried to steer clear of them.
    “What grade are you in?” she asked, walking around the boxes to get to the pizza.
    “I'm going into fifth.” A million questions about school and Franklin were roaming in my head, but I just stood there and stared at her. She was at least a head taller than me.
    “I'm in fifth too! You'll have Mr. Sims. He's new this year.” She opened the box and handed me a slice. It was dripping with cheese. Then she took one for herself. First she picked off the pepperoni and lined them up across her napkin. Then she ate the cheesy crust. I thought that was a weird way to eat pizza. Maybe it was a Texas thing. She saved the pepperoni until last.
    “Are you sure I'll have him?” I asked. “I haven't even been to the school yet.”
    “If you plan on being in fifth grade, you will,” shesaid. “There's only one fifth-grade class in Franklin Elementary, and Mr. Sims is teaching it. I volunteered this year to be an escort for new students. I'll be showing you around. You've moved at a good time. Franklin and Buffalo Gulch are planning our annual fall festival. It's a blast.” She popped a piece of pepperoni into her mouth. “Are you going to try out for the play?” she asked.
    “What play?” I asked.
    “Every year the fifth grade puts on a play for the whole school,” she told me, licking her fingers. “Our class competes against the fifth graders in Buffalo Gulch. Mr. Sims doesn't know much about it either. Murray and I will tell you everything you need to know.” She reached for another slice.
    “I don't think I can be in a play,” I said as visions of Ryan Morris danced in my head. Performing in front of a group of kids I didn't know? No way.
    “You'll change your mind,” she said. “Everyone wants a part. It's a tradition.” She started poking around the boxes.
    “Baker's stuff?” she read, looking inside a box and scrunching up her face. “You keep plastic dishes in your room?” she said, laughing.
    “Oh, that. Um, no.” I put my pizza slice on the counter and walked over to the box she was talking about. “Mom was a little confused when we weretrying to leave,” I said. “I guess she marked