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bushes, making long, crazy shadows across the grass. Was there a diamond hidden out there somewhere? She looked at Beatrice, already settled under the covers. She wanted to tell her about the Murphys, but at the same time, she didn’t. She wanted to keep the secret. To have something that belonged only to her.

CHAPTER
6
    At school the next day, Hero decided her plan would be to attract as little attention as possible. She got to her classroom early, slid her notebooks into her desk, and steadily ignored the whispered dog comments that percolated from the back row. She found that if she avoided eye contact with Mrs. Vanderley, the teacher never called on her. Actually she wondered if Mrs. Vanderley even remembered her name. By afternoon, Hero had decided to concentrate all her psychic energy on becoming part of the laminate wooden seat, solid yet invisible. If she could keep her name from being spoken out loud for a few days, maybe the other kids would forget the dog association.
    With this as her goal, Hero slipped through the rest of the day as quietly as possible. She didn’t talk to anyone. She didn’t raise her hand in class. She sat byherself in the cafeteria and ate, quickly and unobtrusively, the tuna sandwich her mother had packed that morning. She couldn’t entirely avoid the teasing. The boys standing behind her in the lunch line jostled one another and barked a few times. But, for the most part, they didn’t bother Hero, which made her feel relieved. And alone.

    When she got off the bus that afternoon, she forgot all about school in her eagerness to get to Mrs. Roth’s. But as she was heading away from the corner, she heard frantic shouting.
    â€œBen! No! Give that back! Give it back
! That’s my hat!”
    Hero stopped and turned. Aaron was racing around the street sign, yelling and sobbing, while two much bigger boys tossed his beloved Orioles cap back and forth. Hero immediately recognized them as two of the boys who had been waiting at the bus stop yesterday. The third boy was leaning against the street sign. She realized with a start that he was looking directly at her. He was tall, with blond hair falling over his forehead. To her amazement, he smiled.
    She looked at him in confusion. Then, suddenly, she felt a surge of anger. She dropped her backpackon the pavement and strode back to the street corner. There was Aaron, running between the two other boys, beating them with his fists and trying futilely to grab the hat they waved just out of reach. “No, Ben! Give it back! It’s mine!”
    â€œGive him back his hat,” Hero said loudly. She could feel her hands start to tremble. She clenched them at her sides.
    The tall boy looked amused. The other two just stared at her. The one holding Aaron’s hat had dark, curly hair, and something about him was familiar.
    â€œWhat are you looking at?” the dark-haired boy demanded.
    Hero could feel her cheeks grow hot. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “Just a couple of juvenile delinquents picking on a kid half their size.”
    The boy stepped toward her, and Hero deftly snatched the hat from his hand. She tossed it to Aaron, who clutched it to his chest and fled toward his front lawn, his skinny white legs flashing in the sun.
    â€œHey! What do you think you’re doing?” The dark-haired boy yelled. He grabbed Hero’s shoulder.
    But the tall boy intervened. “Aren’t you Beatrice Netherfield’s sister?” he asked.
    Hero shook free. All she wanted to do was get out of there.
    â€œYes,” she mumbled. She turned and started walking away.
    â€œYou’re Beatrice Netherfield’s sister?” She heard the other two boys laugh incredulously.
    â€œWhoa, you look nothing like her.”
    â€œWhat, are you adopted?”
    Hero didn’t turn back. She could see the picket fence surrounding Mrs. Roth’s shimmering oasis of garden. She felt like a parched