be involved. I knew I should encourage that. "Okay. Shoot." "Well, we used to do this thing at my old dance studio. We called it Sweatpants Dance. We'd invite all the girls to the studio for a dance party. But only girls. No boys allowed. Everyone would show up in sweatpants and tank tops. And you didn't have to worry about guys or looking good. One of the girls would DJ and we'd play corny, embarrassing boy-band music and everyone just danced it out together for a couple of hours. We could do the same thing, only in our pajamas. Plus, we could kill a bunch of time that way." Autumn clapped. "I love it!" They both turned to me, to hear what I had to say. I smiled. "It's a great idea. Spencer, you're a genius." Which was a little much, but I wanted to be encouraging. In response, Spencer surprised me. "I just want to say sorry for what happened on pep rally day," she said, her tone suddenly serious. "You don't have to apologize to me," I told her, and was happy that it felt true. "Yeah, I do. Because of my stunt, we've been forced into this punishment." "This isn't a punishment," I clarified. "Suspension is a punishment. This is a summit, a chance to--" "Whatever you want to call it, I'm sorry. And, Natalie, I really do appreciate what you did in Principal Hurley's office. Standing up for me like that." "That's what friends do for each other." It was the first time I'd said those words to someone other than my best friend, but I meant them just as much.
We set up a table in the main hallway with a sign-up sheet, and a bunch of literature and inspiring quotes by female leaders. Spencer insisted on making her iPod play pop songs sung only by female artists. A nice touch for sure. People started showing up for school and a bunch of girls stopped by our table right away. The big draw seemed to be Spencer's Pajama Dance Party idea, but a few girls seemed to really like the quotes Spencer and the rest of the Rosstitutes handed out, too. In about fifteen minutes, we had thirty girls sign up. It was going really, really well, until Mike Domski grabbed a pencil and tried to add his name to one list. "Put that down," I told him. Honestly, you had to talk to Mike like he was a three-year-old. "Why? Shouldn't boys be allowed, too? If you exclude us, isn't that sexist?" I tried to take the pencil back, but he pulled it away. "Oh, I get it. This girls' night is more of a vaginathon. No dick allowed." I wanted to spit back some biting retort, but Spencer beat me to it. She put her hands down on the table and leaned into Mike's face. "That's right, Mike. No dicks, no dickheads, no cocks, no penises, no wieners, no wee-wees, no boners, no dongs, no dill weeds, no scrotums allowed. Which, I think, are all adjectives used to describe you." She yanked the pencil right out of his hand. "So, yeah. Looks like you're not invited." Mike's response? He gave Spencer the finger and walked away. "Point: Spencer," I whispered, and drew a line in the air. "Trust me. I know how to deal with guys like Mike," she said. "In fact, I think I'm going to break him. Just for fun. Just because I can." I threw my arm around her. Not because I cared about what kind of psycho mind games she could play on Mike Domski, but because Spencer was finally listening to me. CHAPTER FIFTEEN There's no way Spencer actually wears that to sleep. That's what I thought, anyway, when she appeared in a navy-and-green-plaid baby-doll nightgown, with white ribbon trim where the hem grazed her thighs. Her wool coat hung open, belt ends skimming the gym floor, as if she'd worn a party dress too pretty to keep under wraps. It could have maybe passed for one, if not for the pillow puffing out from under her arm and the sleeping bag dragging behind her. "Natalie!" she squealed. "I made the most awesome playlist for tonight!" She did a little shimmy out of her coat, which caused one of the delicate spaghetti straps to fall off her shoulder. "Got me checked off, right, Ms. Bee?" "Spencer
We set up a table in the main hallway with a sign-up sheet, and a bunch of literature and inspiring quotes by female leaders. Spencer insisted on making her iPod play pop songs sung only by female artists. A nice touch for sure. People started showing up for school and a bunch of girls stopped by our table right away. The big draw seemed to be Spencer's Pajama Dance Party idea, but a few girls seemed to really like the quotes Spencer and the rest of the Rosstitutes handed out, too. In about fifteen minutes, we had thirty girls sign up. It was going really, really well, until Mike Domski grabbed a pencil and tried to add his name to one list. "Put that down," I told him. Honestly, you had to talk to Mike like he was a three-year-old. "Why? Shouldn't boys be allowed, too? If you exclude us, isn't that sexist?" I tried to take the pencil back, but he pulled it away. "Oh, I get it. This girls' night is more of a vaginathon. No dick allowed." I wanted to spit back some biting retort, but Spencer beat me to it. She put her hands down on the table and leaned into Mike's face. "That's right, Mike. No dicks, no dickheads, no cocks, no penises, no wieners, no wee-wees, no boners, no dongs, no dill weeds, no scrotums allowed. Which, I think, are all adjectives used to describe you." She yanked the pencil right out of his hand. "So, yeah. Looks like you're not invited." Mike's response? He gave Spencer the finger and walked away. "Point: Spencer," I whispered, and drew a line in the air. "Trust me. I know how to deal with guys like Mike," she said. "In fact, I think I'm going to break him. Just for fun. Just because I can." I threw my arm around her. Not because I cared about what kind of psycho mind games she could play on Mike Domski, but because Spencer was finally listening to me. CHAPTER FIFTEEN There's no way Spencer actually wears that to sleep. That's what I thought, anyway, when she appeared in a navy-and-green-plaid baby-doll nightgown, with white ribbon trim where the hem grazed her thighs. Her wool coat hung open, belt ends skimming the gym floor, as if she'd worn a party dress too pretty to keep under wraps. It could have maybe passed for one, if not for the pillow puffing out from under her arm and the sleeping bag dragging behind her. "Natalie!" she squealed. "I made the most awesome playlist for tonight!" She did a little shimmy out of her coat, which caused one of the delicate spaghetti straps to fall off her shoulder. "Got me checked off, right, Ms. Bee?" "Spencer
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