Alfie nodded. “But nobody can tell Mr. Havens about it,” she explained to her mom. “Because if we did, Lulu would cut us off her guest list for sure. Besides,” she added, frowning, “Mr. Havens doesn’t really get girl-stuff, I don’t think. You know,” she reminded her mom. “Because he’s a boy teacher.”
“Got it,” Mrs. Jakes said. “That is, I don’t think you’re right, but I hear what you’re saying.”
“But it’s even more complicated than that. Not that I want you to fix anything,” Alfie hurried to say before her mom came up with one of her way-too-easy solutions. “Because Lulu says she won’t decide who she’s inviting until Friday afternoon, even though I know I’m not going.”
“And just how do you know that?” her mom asked.
“Because I told Lulu in private that she should invite all the girls in our class to her party,” Alfie confessed. “I’m not saying where I got that bright idea,” she added, before her mom could ask. “But Lulu told me to mind my own business. And that I wasn’t gonna be invited anymore—for sure.”
“Hmm,” Alfie’s mother said.
“So now Lulu’s got everybody all worked up,” Alfie said. “And there are only two more days left for her to decide who she’s gonna ask. On top of that,” she added before she could stop herself, “Mr. Havens knows something is wrong! He made me stay behind at lunch and talk to him.”
“You?” her mom asked, surprised. “Why not Lulu?”
“Because he doesn’t know what’s going on,” Alfie explained. “Not exactly. He knows something’s wrong, though,” she added. “And he says he thinks I’m kind of like a leader of the girls,” she added with an it’s-not-funny laugh. “But I’m no leader.”
She left out the part about her being a bridge. That was just too weird to explain.
“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” her mom said, thinking about it.
“I sure would,” Alfie said, breaking the news. “Anyway, Mr. Havens wanted me to tell him what was happening with the girls,” she added, making a face.
“And did you?” her mom asked.
“No. And there wasn’t any time to tell the other girls about what he wanted, either,” Alfie said, scootching away from her mom a little as she stretched the truth. She didn’t like to fib.
Okay, lie.
Maybe there had been time to tell the girls, Alfie admitted to herself. But what was she supposed to say to them? And why stick her neck out now, when she did not have a chance in the world of going to the party?
“Okay, I’ve heard enough,” Alfie’s mom said, standing up. “But it’s no wonder you’ve had the yips, sweetie. I think I’d like to go downstairs and talk to your dad about this one.”
Her dad? But he made everything super-complicated, he was so serious.
“I can’t explain it all again, Mom,” Alfie argued, faking a gigantic yawn. “I’m already half asleep, and so is Princess. And you told Dad you were gonna handle it.”
“Yes. But this sounds serious, and I’d like your father’s input,” her mom said. “You can join us for a conference in the morning, Alfleta. I’ll get you up a little earlier.”
Alfie groaned. “Okay,” she said. “But I don’t get how we’re gonna conference our way out of this one,” she added, struggling to keep her voice calm. “Anyway, I was just trying to explain my mood to you, Mom. Not start a battle or anything.”
“The three of us will talk about it in the morning,” Mrs. Jakes said again. “Now, get some sleep, sweetie.”
“Easy for you to say,” Alfie mumbled into her covers as her mother slipped out the door.
13 Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff
It was strange, Alfie thought early the next morning, Thursday, standing next to her mom in the family room doorway. The room looked almost unfamiliar, as if it woke up a little bit new each day, wondering what might happen next.
She was usually brushing her teeth at this time on a school morning, Alfie thought. Maybe that was it.
“All the way in, Cricket,” her dad said, laughing from where he was sitting on the sofa. Alfie’s mom showed her where to sit—as if Alfie were a guest in her own home.
“I was telling your dad last night about your difficult week,” her mother began.
“Mostly yesterday,” Alfie said, trying to get it right. “Yesterday was the worst. And all I wanted was for all the girls in my class to stay friends at the same time.”
But then there was seeing Bella cry in the girls’ room. Not that Alfie’s parents knew about that.
And observing the miffed, hurt, irked, and furious girls in her class.
And having that disastrous talk with Lulu about inviting everyone to her sleepover.
And being late to Social Studies for the first time ever.
And having to stay in class during the first part of lunch, with Mr. Havens trying to get her to tell him what was going on—because she was such a great leader, ha ha.
And then there was her mom coming upstairs to talk about her mood.
“It was difficult mostly yesterday,” Alfie’s father said, repeating her words. “But you know, Alfie, your mother and I attended a parents’ meeting a few weeks ago, toward the end of summer. And Principal James was talking about just this sort of thing. He gave us parents some pretty good advice.”
Alfie blinked. Her dad was talking about something Principal James had said four weeks ago? She could barely remember what she’d had for dinner last night! And what was “just this sort of thing” supposed to mean?
“But how did Principal James know this was gonna happen?” Alfie asked, frowning. “Is he magic or something?”
“Of course not, sweetie,” her mother assured her. “And Principal James didn’t know, not exactly. He just warned us that something like this was bound to happen this year. A feud among the girls,” she added, explaining.
“Boys fight,” Alfie told her parents. She did not like the girls
