Chapter 1 The best part about painting on your wall is that as soon as it dries, you can paint right over it. Put birds in a tree, pepperoni on pizza, or a leash on your dog. You can change anything, like it never even happened. If only the same were true about school. Roxie can''t paint over all the times when she sat alone at recess or didn''t have a partner in science, or when someone laughed as she passed by because they still remembered the cupcake disaster. But this year is going to be different. Roxie checks the time. She''s been up since six trying to decide if it''s better to say "Nice to meet you!" or "Hey, nice to meet you" or just "Hey.
" Her parents had finally decided to move. Not just to a house around the corner, but to a whole new town in a new school district. It was her chance to start over. To make friends who''d say, Come sit with us. Share our inside jokes. Join the group chat. She could be a brand-new blend of colors--not some stick figure drawn with a black Sharpie by people who don''t really know her. Roxie rearranges the nail polish bottles on her dresser and then puts them back in rainbow order.
She stands next to Nash and looks in the mirror to reassess her outfit--black leggings and a gray-and-white-striped shirt. "What do you think? Low-key but not trying too hard?" Nash wags his tail, leaving a trail of yellow hair on her knee. "Gee, thanks a lot," she says, rubbing his head and then grabbing the lint roller. "We''ll tell Mom you need a good brushing tonight." Roxie looks at the picture she painted next to her closet, the one with a butterfly on Nash''s head. Every time she picks a patch of wall, the image in her mind slides down her arm, through the paintbrush, and becomes real. But mixing white, brown, yellow, and black to make the perfect yellow Lab color is so much easier than finding the right words to strike up a conversation like it''s no big deal. She kneels, holds Nash''s face, and gazes into his gentle brown eyes.
"I know, I''m procrastinating. If I don''t leave soon, I''ll be late." Since Theo is starting kindergarten, Mom will be busy taking him to school. Roxie can finally walk to school by herself. Nash follows her into the kitchen, smelling breakfast. Mom made her favorite banana pancakes, but Roxie can''t finish the second one because it feels like there''s microwave popcorn in her stomach. "It''s going to be a good day," Mom says, kissing the top of her head. "I know you''re probably a little nervous .
Starting a new school can feel scary for everyone." " Mom --I''m not one of your clients." "Sorry, I''ll stop. You''ve got this." "Can I have that pancake if you''re not eating it?" Theo says, reaching over with his fork. "Sure," Roxie says. Dad walks into the kitchen, putting on his watch. "Rox, the braille label fell off this shirt in the wash.
Is this my white or black polo?" "Black," says Roxie, as she takes her plate to the sink. She puts it in the dishwasher and fills up her water bottle. "Hey, Dad," says Theo from the kitchen table. "I have a funny joke!" "Okay, buddy. What is it?" "Why did the banana go to the doctor?" Roxie and her parents wait, wondering if this will be one of those jokes that Theo made up himself and only makes sense to him. "Why?" asks Dad. "Because it wasn''t peeling well!" Theo dissolves into giggles. "Get it?" "Ohhh, that''s funny!" says Dad.
Roxie rolls her eyes as she puts her water bottle in the outside pocket of her backpack, and then she gives Mom and Dad quick hugs. Prepare for the worst, but hope for the best, she tells herself. "School rules!" Theo says. She gives him a high five before shutting the door behind her. Sometimes she wishes she could be as naive as him again. She''s seen plenty of shows about middle school and knows kids in seventh grade can be mean. When you''re walking down the hall, they can point and whisper and make you feel like you''ve got a giant pimple on your nose. Walking to school with Mom and Nash used to make her feel safe.
Whenever Roxie''s stomach felt twisty, Mom would tell her to breathe in for four and out for seven, and it always helped. Part of Roxie wished that Nash could stay with her all day, like he was her guide dog. Roxie passes her favorite house in their new neighborhood, the one with the red swing on the front porch. Her family hasn''t met many of their neighbors yet because they''ve been so busy unpacking, but she hasn''t seen any girls her age. Maybe someone her age lives in that house. The first time they came to look at houses in Greenview, her parents liked that their new house was so close to the train station. But Roxie couldn''t believe how many buildings they passed had huge murals--jungles and mountains and hands holding hands. This wasn''t some average Long Island town.
It was one that believed in color and creativity. That art should live side by side with the bank and the shoe store and the pharmacy. The Realtor told them the murals were part of an initiative to revitalize downtown and encourage people to shop on Maple Street. But to Roxie, they were a sign. She could feel like she belonged here. Be known for who she is, not for who her parents are. Roxie sees two girls walking farther down the block. They have their backpacks slung over just one shoulder, and they''re laughing.
She shifts her own backpack to one shoulder and then breathes in for four and out for seven, just like Mom taught her. If she wants to fit in, she''s got to dare herself a little bit every day. Speak up. Say hi. Step out of the background and let herself be seen. Maybe she''ll even get to play Truth or Dare this year--and it''ll be just like she''s always imagined. Sitting in a circle with her cinnamon-scented candle burning. Answering questions like "Do you still sleep with a stuffed animal?" or "Who''s your secret crush?" and doing things like mixing milk and orange juice and drinking it or smelling another girl''s feet.
Knowing they''d never tell anyone else what had happened. Because playing Truth or Dare with best friends is the ultimate . You can be yourself and feel totally safe. She takes the two barrettes with tiny fake pearls out of her hair and then puts them back in, making sure they''re even on both sides. She''s not used to wearing them, but they''ll keep her hair from falling in front of her face, and she''s determined not to hide anymore. When she sees Greenview Middle School at the end of the block, she slows down. If only she knew for sure what to expect. It would have been easier if she had started here in sixth grade, when everyone else was starting a new school, too.
She breathes in for four, out for seven, and then starts rainbow walking. Every step she takes is a different color-- red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple --until she''s at the front door of school. Surrounded by moving bodies, she keeps focusing on her steps as she walks up the slightly sticky stairs to the second floor and down the hall to room 207. This is it. The door is open, but her homeroom teacher isn''t here yet. She grips the strap of her backpack and then walks in and finds a seat at the end of a row. She takes out her blank academic planner and runs her finger along the edge as she glances around at the other kids. One girl has cool purple hair, another has jeans with zigzag rhinestones down the side, and a boy in the back row has a Rubik''s Cube on his desk.
None of the other girls are wearing barrettes--maybe they''re too sixth grade. She won''t wear them tomorrow. Roxie hears heels clicking in the hallway. "Good morning!" Ms. Powell bursts into the room like she was an opera singer in a previous life, holding a mug that says easily distracted by books. "Welcome to seventh grade!" She tells them this will be their home base, where they can relax for a bit each morning, and they should feel free to use her as a sounding board for any problems they''re having. Then she sits on the front of her desk with a clipboard. "Okay then, why don''t we use this time to get to know each other better?" She looks down at her list.
"I have a little questionnaire for you to fill out, but first, let''s go around the room and everyone tell us your favorite ice cream flavor and one fun fact about yourself." Fun fact? Roxie twists the pinkie ring she got when her family went to the Grand Canyon last year and runs through possibilities in her mind. She can balance a pencil on her nose? She can count backward from a hundred by sixes in two minutes? She learned how to swim when she was two? She can read a little bit of braille? If she says that, someone will ask why. "I''ll start. I''m Ms. Powell, my favorite ice cream flavor is coconut, and I collect antique jigsaw puzzles." Then she points to the boy at the other end of Roxie''s row. "I''m Jake Yang.
My favorite flavor is chocolate. And, uh, I ate a nacho cheese-flavored cricket at camp." "That''s so gross," a kid behind him says. "Sounds pretty brave," Ms. Powell says, checking Jake''s name on her list. "I''m Quinn Cooper," says the girl with the purple hair, whose beachy golden skin obviously never burns the way Roxie''s does. "My favorite flavor is mint chip, and I starred in a production of High School Musical this summer." She tosses her hair over her shoulders like in a shampoo commercial.
"Well, that''s exciting," Ms. Powell says. There are four more kids until she gets to Roxie, who still has no clue what she''s going to say. If she says something weird, every.