The Friendship Song by Nancy Springer

it.
    â€œNo kidding.”
    â€œI’m hungry too.”
    Now that we were in the maze, it no longer felt like we were outside. I didn’t remember going through a wall or a door, but I couldn’t see the sky or hear the music except as a muffled sort of thumping that seemed to come from everywhere, and there were walls to each side of us, metal ones. There was some light, but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was like being in a sewer. No, more like being lost in a mess of basement corridors in some huge new school. Except that we weren’t lost really. I knew where I was, I knew my way through the maze in Gus’s backyard. It was just that everything seemed different and so much bigger. Our footsteps echoed. So did Rawnie’s voice saying she was hungry—hungry—hungry …
    â€œI’m not,” I told her.
    â€œWe’ve been in here for hours.” (Hours—hours—hours …)
    â€œIt just feels like hours.”
    â€œAnyway, you’ve gotta be hungry.”
    â€œI’m not. I’m too starved to be just hungry.”
    â€œOkay, be that way. What’s that smell?”
    All of a sudden we were drowning in a drooler, a stomach-growler of a good food smell, and I didn’t even have time to think up a smart-mouth answer for Rawnie before we turned a corner and there it was.
    â€œA hot dog stand!”
    Wow, were they ever hot dogs. Plump, brick-red foot-longs sizzling on their grill. Not a bit like the wimpy green hot dogs at school. Though by then I was so starved I could have gobbled down anything, even school food.
    â€œFree hot dogs,” the person behind the counter told us politely. She had a pale face and not much hair but she did have a big beak of a nose, which she talked through. “As many as you like.” She offered us one in each hand.
    â€œAll riiiiight !” Rawnie started to reach for one, but I grabbed her arm.
    â€œListen, there’s no hot dog stand in Gus’s backyard.”
    â€œSo what? There is now!” She pulled her arm away from me, but I got hold of the other one, because I had a funny feeling.
    â€œNo, wait, Rawnie, don’t!” My stomach was growling maybe even louder than hers, but I never did trust anything that was free. Also, there was something about the hot dog lady—I should know her. I didn’t like her, and why did I keep thinking about school?
    â€œFree,” White-face urged, poking hot dogs toward us. Her pale hands had long fingernails painted black.
    â€œLet me go!” Rawnie squirmed away from me, but I lunged after her and got her by both arms from behind.
    â€œHarper, stop it!”
    â€œNo, Rawnie, listen, it’s some sort of a trap!”
    She wasn’t listening. I found out later that the one way to make Rawnie go absolutely psycho was to grab her from behind. Always, ever since she was a little kid, it made her fight like a wildcat. Which was what she did. She elbowed me in the ribs so hard that everything went black for a second. I doubled over, and I guess my hands slipped. She twisted around and tore loose and hit me in the face with her fist. That girl really knew how to hit. I had to stagger back or I would have fallen over.
    â€œYou don’t tell me what to do!” she screamed at me. She stood panting at me a minute, and then she turned away and headed toward the hot dogs again.
    My ribs hurt and my head hurt clear down to my knees and I was so shaking mad at her that I nearly let her do it. It still scares me, remembering the way I felt for a second. But something else took over. My heart made my feet get moving, and I ran and tackled Rawnie before she got far. This time I didn’t mess around. I knocked her flat on the ground and sat on top of her. She struggled and tried to throw me off, but I outweighed her.
    â€œDamn it, Harper, get off me! You big moose, I hate you!”
    I knew she didn’t mean it, and I