Katie Kicklighter Page 3

  She spotted Trey and slipped up behind him.

  “There you are, Winston,” Katie began. “I was looking all over for you.”

  “Winston? Uh, where’s Katie and what have you done with her?”

  “Pardon me, but I’m Lady Kicklighter. No self-respecting man would be so familiar to call a lady by her first name.”

  “My apologies, Lady Kicklighter, but I do think you’re taking this preparation for today’s social studies test a bit too far. We’re supposed to learn about that time in history, not pretend like we live there.”

  “Who says I’m pretending?”

  Trey stopped and grabbed Katie’s arm. “Did you eat anything for breakfast, Lady Kicklighter? Because I know that if you don’t eat, you do crazy things like this. Like the time you skipped breakfast and spent an entire day walking around campus flapping your arms like a chicken after our science class discussed flightless birds. Or the time we were studying for a test on the Stone Age and you grunted like a cave man — err, cave woman — to everyone you met, including your teachers.”

  “And I made an A on every one of those tests, didn’t I?”

  “Not before you drove us all crazy. Can you please stop this nonsense?”

  “Winston, you are quite the charmer, aren’t you? Now, Lady Margaret and I will be attending an art exhibit downtown this evening where she can see her favorite painting of all time — The Girl with the Pearl Earring. Would you like to join us?”

  “Only if you go back to calling me Trey.”

  “Very well, Winston, we’ll see you tonight.”

  ***

  BY THE TIME Katie reached her social studies class, she not only was wearing matching socks, but her gloves had been confiscated and she’d received a detention for causing a scene when her math teacher, Miss Appleton, refused to call her Lady Kicklighter. She slid into her seat and tapped her pencil on her desk.

  “Are those two guys still slugging each other in your stomach?” Maggie asked as she sat down next to Katie.

  “No, they’ve now resorted to something close to surfing. I feel like my entire stomach is swirling like an angry ocean.”

  “Well, just calm down and make an A on the test. I know you can do it.”

  Katie shot Maggie a look. “Say a prayer for me, okay?”

  Maggie nodded. “Will do.” She paused. “I’ll also make you laugh.” Without warning, Maggie pulled out her phone and replayed their conversation, except she deepened Katie’s voice.

  When she replayed Katie’s comment — “I feel like my entire stomach is swirling like an angry ocean” — Katie sounded like a giant man with a booming voice.

  Katie giggled. “What is that?”

  “Oh, it’s a fun little app for my phone,” Maggie answered. “I can record your voice and change it. It’s fun, isn’t it?”

  Katie nodded. “Let’s play with it some more later.”

  Miss McGuffin cleared her throat, arresting Katie’s attention. Katie shoved her books into her book bag and pulled out her pencil as Miss McGuffin plodded around the room, handing out tests one at a time and explaining special instructions as she went. Katie thought this agonizing ritual was like a funeral procession — and Miss McGuffin was marching Katie toward a grave.

  I’m just going to die if I don’t make an A on this test, she thought.

  ***

  WHEN THE BELL RANG, Katie shuffled toward Miss McGuffin’s desk to hand in her paper.

  “How’d you do, Katie?”

  “I did my best,” she answered.

  “Well, let’s hope it’s enough to get you on that trip to Prague.”

  Outside the classroom, Maggie stormed up behind Katie and grabbed her with both hands. She smiled as she asked the all-important question: “So do you think you made an A?”

  Katie sighed. “I don’t know, Maggie. It seemed easy to me, which always scares me because it makes me think I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

  “What questions were you worried about?”

  Katie stopped walking. “Can we not talk about this right now? I just want to have some fun today and go look at some paintings with you.”

  “The Girl with the Pearl Earring? Is that today?”

  “It sure is. Let’s hurry.”

  ***

  THE WINKLEVILLE ART GALLERY was the last place you would expect to see Johannes Vermeer’s famous painting. But since it wasn’t that far from New York City’s famous art museums, it often received special one-day showings as world-famous paintings moved in and out of New York.

  As they moved through the gallery, they finally came to Maggie’s favorite piece of art. She preferred it over the Mona Lisa because she said it reminded her of pictures she’d seen over her mother when she was younger. Katie liked it because it was one of only three paintings she’d ever even heard of, not to mention it was the only one of those three she ever had the chance to see for herself. As the only people in the room, they both stared with their mouths agape.

  “What do you think?” Maggie asked Katie.

  Katie pulled out Trixie from her pocket and stared through her at the canvas. “She’s beautiful! Even more so with Trixie.”

  “Does she look like a pixie?” Maggie took Trixie and began to examine the painting even closer. “Amazing!”

  “Her eyes glisten and she looks like she wants to tell me something. I could look at her for hours.”

  “Then maybe you should,” said a familiar voice.

  Katie and Maggie spun around to see Trey smiling and waving with his laptop in his hand. At the same time, the gate to the room came crashing to the floor, locking the girls in the room. A siren began blaring and a security light flashed in the corner.

  “Now you can look at it all you want,” Trey said.

  At first Katie laughed. “Okay, Trey, you got us. Now get us out of here.”

  “Not until you apologize for calling me ‘Winston’ earlier today,” he shot back.

  “Winston? Isn’t that your name? Why should I apologize for that? All your teachers call you Winston,” she replied.

  “But you don’t call me Winston — you call me Trey.”

  “Fine, Trey. Sorry for calling you by your real name earlier today. I had no idea you loved the name Trey so much.”

  “Only when you call me that,” he said.

  “Will you please let us out of here now?” Maggie moaned.

  “Very well. I won’t imprison you any longer with your favorite painting, Maggie.”

  Trey started pressing keys on his laptop, but nothing happened. The gate didn’t budge. “You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

  “What is it, Trey?” Katie asked, nervous by the growing look of concern sweeping across Trey’s face.

  He banged on his keyboard some more. Nothing happened. “I can’t seem to get this gate up.”

  Sirens continued to wail before several stodgy guards stormed down the hall toward them. They grabbed the gate and rattled it for a few moments. It didn’t move.

  One of the men spoke into a walkie-talkie in his hand. “I think I know what caused this,” he said as he looked down at Trey, who was too busy trying to open the gate to notice the guards. He grabbed Trey by the collar.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” he protested.

  “Fixing a problem,” he replied as he dragged Trey down the hall.

  Suddenly, the gate flew open, freeing Maggie and Katie.

  “Look! I fixed it!” Trey said as the man continued to drag him down the hall.

  “I’m going to fix you in a few minutes,” the guard answered. His voice boomed down the hall.

  The gallery’s curator stood at the end of the hall, awaiting Trey’s arrival. “Bring him to me. I know his father. I wonder what he’ll think about finding his son in jail.”

  CHAPTER 6

  A Day That Went

  from Bad to Worse

  MISS DINGLEDINE KNOCKED on Katie’s door, startling her awake.

  “I’m up!” she
moaned.

  “Let me hear those feet hit the floor, Miss Kicklighter,” she bellowed through the door.

  Katie grabbed her social studies book off the nightstand and dropped it on the floor. Thud!

  “I said feet, Miss Kicklighter, not your school books.”

  How does she know these things? Katie asked as she crawled out of bed and walked to the door. She flung it open. “Satisfied?”

  “Completely. Now, get moving, dear.”

  Katie watched Miss Dingledine shuffle down the hall to the next door and repeat the ritual.

  She was so focused on getting up that she barely noticed Maggie, who was sitting on her bed across the room and crying softly.

  “What’s the matter, Maggie?”

  “My mother called me this morning with terrible news. She wants me to go to Milan with her.”

  Katie scratched her head. “My dad used to make me go to the dump with him — and I might cry about that. But I’ve never heard of anyone crying because her mother wants to take her to Italy. I’m sure it can’t be that bad.”

  Maggie blew her nose. “It is if it’s during the same time as your school trip to Prague.” She then broke into tears again.

  Katie walked across the room and sat down next to her friend. She put her arm around her and tried to comfort her. “There, there, Maggie. It’s all right. If it makes you feel any better, I won’t be on the trip either.”

  Maggie looked up at Katie and stared at her. “Why? Did you find out what you made on Miss McGuffin’s test?”

  “No, but we both know I was never going to make an A.”

  “You don’t know that, Katie.”

  Katie stood up. “I know that I’m not Miss McGuffin’s favorite, not like you, anyway. Let’s just be real.”

  “Just because I can’t go doesn’t mean you should make up some story to try and make me feel better. I’ll be very upset if at least one of us can’t go and experience Prague.”

  ***

  AT BREAKFAST, Trey joined Katie and Maggie and told them about his eventful weekend. Once Trey was caught controlling the Winkleville Art Gallery security system with his computer, the museum curator had him arrested by the police.

  “Fortunately, my father was already on the way to Winkleville and was able to pick me up. I couldn’t bear the thought of spending the night in jail.”

  “Trey, they don’t let little kids stay in jail.”

  “I’m not little,” he huffed. “And all computer hackers have to get into trouble at some point or else nobody knows who they are.”

  “You’re a piece of work, Trey,” Maggie blurted. “Stop trying to get in trouble. If you keep this up, you might get arrested when we go to Prague. And who knows how they treat little kids in jail there.”

  “I’m not little,” he shot back. “And besides, it won’t matter since I’m not going on the trip.”

  “What?” Katie asked.

  “You obviously don’t know my father,” Trey said. “If you thought he was going to let me go to Prague after this little stunt, you have no idea what kind of man he is. The only people who get rewarded are those who follow his rules.”

  “I’d never get any rewards,” Katie added.

  “He hates people mismatching their socks.”

  “Exactly. I’d have a permanent chair in time out at your house.”

  “Well, seems like none of us will be going,” Maggie added. “I’m going to Milan with my mother now and can’t go, Katie believes she didn’t make an A, and you’re going to be in your room until you’re eighteen years old.”

  Katie chugged down a glass of orange juice and slammed it on the table. “Can we please stop all this talk? It’s really depressing me.”

  ***

  THAT AFTERNOON in Miss McGuffin’s class, Katie waited for the tests to be passed out, one at a time, in a slow and painful manner. If Katie thought she could get away with it, she would’ve tackled her teacher and dug through the tests to find hers. The suspense was driving her mad.

  Miss McGuffin finally made it around to her desk and put Katie’s test face down on her desk before moving to the next student.

  With eyes bulging, Maggie looked back at Katie and nodded at the test. “Well?”

  “Well, what?” Katie snapped.

  “Well, what did you make?” Maggie asked.

  “I’m afraid to look.”

  “You’re driving me bonkers. I’m going to look if you don’t.” Maggie reached for Katie’s paper. But before she could turn it over to see the grade, Katie pinned Maggie’s hand against the desk so it couldn’t move.

  “Not yet! I’m not ready,” Katie said.

  “Fine,” Maggie said as she pulled her hand back. “Just don’t wait all day, okay?”

  Katie fiddled with her fingers, biting off a fingernail that had snagged on her desk. She adjusted her socks, pulling them up to her knees and then pushing them back down again. This went on for about a minute before Maggie reached for Katie’s test and snatched it.

  “Gimme that!” Katie said. “You shouldn’t look at it before me!”

  “Somebody needs to look at it—”

  “And that somebody is me!” Katie quipped. She grabbed the test back from Maggie before her friend had a chance to see the grade.

  As Katie pulled it back, she couldn’t help but notice the red letter written at the top of the page: B+.

  “A B+?” Katie whispered aloud. It was just audible enough for Maggie to hear her. Katie put her head on her desk and began quietly sobbing.

  Miss McGuffin stopped handing out tests for a moment and looked at Katie. “Are you all right, dear? You did very well on the test.”

  “But I made a B+, not an A,” Katie said between what was now heaving sobs. “I can’t go to Prague now.” She put her head back down on the desk and continued to cry.

  “You did your best, Katie, and you should be proud,” Miss McGuffin said. “I’m sure you’ll have other chances to go to Prague.”

  Katie didn’t move. She knew she wasn’t like all the other kids. They went to places like Prague for spring break or for a long weekend on their family’s private jet. She lay there with her head down for a few moments before looking up. Maggie was staring at her with big puppy dog eyes.

  It was now official: Neither she nor her friends would be going to Prague.

  CHAPTER 7

  Bowls of Ice Cream

  and Disappointing Dreams

  “WE NEED ICE CREAM with a capital I,” Maggie said as she walked out of Miss McGuffin’s classroom with Katie. Not even the suggestion of Katie’s favorite dessert was enough to cheer her up — yet.

  Katie shuffled out of the building and down the sidewalk without uttering a word or even acknowledging Maggie’s suggestion. In her short time on planet Earth, Katie had racked up more than her share of disappointments, but this one felt like a mule kicking her in the stomach. She’d studied hard for the test and did her best, but it wasn’t enough.

  “It’s not fair! It’s not fair,” Katie said.

  “I know — let’s do your hair?” Maggie asked.

  Katie stopped and stamped her foot. “Maggie, I’m going to cut your hair all off in the middle of the night if you don’t stop rhyming everything I say right now. I’m not in the mood.”

  “You don’t want ice cream, you don’t want me to do your hair, and you dislike my rhymes — would you like to black out the sun and finish taking away all the joy in my world?”

  “I’m sorry, Maggie. It’s just that — I’m terribly disappointed right now and I want to sit alone somewhere and sulk.”

  “That’s not acceptable. Friends don’t let friends cry alone. If you’re going to be upset about something, I’m going to be with you.”

  “Fine. We might as well get some ice cream then.” A faint smile glimmered on Katie’s lips.

  “Now, that’s what I’m talking about. Let’s go get some ice cream.”

  ***

  AT THE TASTEE FREEZE Ice
Cream Shoppe, Katie ordered the largest size offered — “The Monster” size. It held enough ice cream to give every 10-year-old a stomachache for at least three days after eating it. Katie tasted all 43 flavors before finally deciding on a scoop of pistachio, a scoop of orange sherbet, a scoop of chocolate, a scoop of strawberry, and two scoops of cookie dough. She added chocolate candies and finished off her creation by ordering it slathered in caramel and chocolate.

  Eyes bulging, Maggie asked, “Are you going to eat that thing or enter it in an art contest?”

  Katie smiled and licked the edge around the entire bowl that could barely hold the dessert. “I suddenly feel much happier. Great idea, Maggie.” Katie dug her spoon into the frozen treat and began to gather tiny portions of each flavor until it filled up her spoon.

  “It’s going to take you a week to eat it like that,” said Maggie, still in awe.

  Katie smacked her lips and licked them to ensure that not a single morsel of ice cream goodness escaped her. “It’ll melt before then — and I’ll have the most delicious milkshake ever created.”

  Maggie shook her head and placed her order — two scoops of vanilla with chocolate syrup. She and Katie sat down at a table and, in a matter of seconds, were laughing.

  “So, are you excited about going to Milan?” Katie asked.

  Maggie looked down. “Not really. It’d be way more fun to go to Prague with you.”

  “Watching those fancy supermodels in a cool city like Milan has to be a little bit fun, right?”

  “Think about it, Katie. Would you want to watch people walk up and down a stage in front of you in new dresses for three hours?” Maggie didn’t wait for a response. “I know you — you’d go crazy. Just like I do. Adventure happens when we go somewhere or look for something, not in watching someone else.”