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murmurs arose from the rest of the group, some in agreement with Molly, others defiantly not, until Hannah banged her gavel again.
    “Your comments are noted, Madam Secretary,” Hannah told Molly, “but ultimately, discarded. The class king and queen are long-standing traditions at Willowbrook High and by continuing the process each year we honor everyone who came before us. I second Member Spinelli’s motion that we discuss the vote.”
    Of course she did. Hannah had been voted class queen both our freshman and sophomore years. She already knew she had junior queen in the bag too.
    After another torturous twenty minutes of discussing class king and queen—by “discussing” I meant everyone saying why they thought Hannah should be junior queen—the meeting finally adjourned.
    “Thank you,” I breathed as I gathered my backpack and purse. “Another five seconds and I would have knocked myself out with Hannah’s gavel.”
    Molly, who had sulked throughout the entire discussion of junior king and queen and refused to take any notes for the meeting minutes, glared at Hannah’s back as she left the room. “What I wouldn’t give to see her lose junior queen. Can you imagine the stroke she’d have?”
    I could imagine. She had cried for days when she lost the fourth grade spelling bee—to me. It was amazing we ever managed to be friends before the big fall out, considering how we had always competed for the same awards and titles.
    “Hannah won’t lose,” I said. “She’s got too many people fooled by her innocent act.”
    We left the classroom where the junior class council usually met and started down the hall.
    “So what kind of business are you doing for your economics project?” Molly asked.
    “Zac says I can’t tell anyone until next week,” I said.
    Molly made a noise of indignation. “You can’t even tell me , your bestest friend in the entire universe?”
    I rolled my eyes. “Fine. It’s a matchmaking service.”
    “Awesome! I’m totally stealing that idea.”
    “You can’t,” I said through clenched teeth. “Then Zac will know I told you and he’ll kill me.”
    Molly patted my shoulder. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. Nathan and I have already decided on our business. We’re running a bakery.”
    I stumbled a bit at her words. “What do you know about baking?”
    “Zero,” Molly said. “But it was the only thing we could agree on. He likes to bake, I like to eat. It’s a win-win. Plus, in my mind, we’re really undercover CIA operatives and the bakery is a front so people don’t suspect anything.”
    Elliott materialized through the crowd a few feet ahead of us. Ugh, so not in the mood to deal with him after dealing with Hannah for the last hour. I pulled Molly into the girls’ bathroom before she could see him.
    Molly shot me an irritated look as she smoothed out the wrinkles in her shirt. “What’s wrong with you?”
    “Nothing,” I said. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
    “Uh-huh.” Molly crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against a sink. “And the fact that Elliott was headed in our direction had nothing to do with it?”
    If Molly ever did become a secret agent, her targets would never get away from her extra keen awareness of her surroundings.
    “Of course not. I didn’t even see him.”
    Molly gave me a look that said she totally didn’t believe me.
    I turned away and started fixing my hair in the mirror. Not that my hair needed fixing, but at least it gave me something else to focus on.
    “Hey,” I said, “do you think your mom would pay me to cut your grass again?”
    “No, I don’t,” Molly said matter-of-factly. “You cut the grass too short last time. It’s taken a month for it to grow back to a normal height.”
    “I told you that lawnmower needs to be replaced.”
    Molly dug around in her backpack and came up with a tube of watermelon-flavored lip gloss. “It’s not the lawnmower, it’s the person doing the