The Hot List by Hillary Homzie Page A

were both facing ahead, looking at Madame Kearns’s assignment that she was writing on the whiteboard.
    â€œVoila,”
I whispered, passing the hoodie under the desk, away from prying eyes.
    Why was I doing this? Oh, right, the Hot List.
    Squid snatched the hoodie and cupped it in both hands.
    And that was when Maddie turned to peer at me. Her eyebrows curved into a question.
    I flicked my eyes at Squid, who was frozen, still holdingmy shirt. It was like he was meditating on it or something. Then he brought it up toward his nose and sniffed it before it putting it on. I cringed and my toes curled.
    Okay, tonight, I was definitely going to have to sterilize my hoodie.

Chapter Fourteen
    A s I rushed down the hall, Maddie and Nia caught up to me.
    â€œWe weren’t laughing at you in French,” said Maddie.
    I continued to speed-walk, keeping my eyes on the floor. “Okay, whatever.”
    â€œNice top,” said Nia.
    â€œBut you’re going to get busted,” said Maddie.
    Nia nodded. It was true. Without my hoodie, I was only my wearing a tank top with spaghetti-thin straps. It was completely illegal at Travis. Straps had to be two and half inches thick, and you were allowed to show skin only two inches below your neckline. This shirt scooped big-time.
    I tried to pull ahead of the Nia pack, but Maddie caught up to me. “We’re just trying to help.”
    â€œStop helping,” I snapped.
    â€œSeriously, Sophie,” said Maddie. “Your dad does have a scary radar for anyone breaking the rules,” she added, as Nia and then a frowny Ava pulled alongside of us.
    â€œMaybe it’s because of his radar ears,” said Ava. “They stick out enough.”
    â€œShut up,” I said. It was one thing if
I
wanted to make cracks about my dad’s ears, but not Ava. I also have this theory that whenever you say something bad about someone, you can guarantee they will show up.
    I picked up the pace.
    Maddie, Nia, and Ava picked up the pace.
    I ducked my head down.
    â€œSorry about the radar-ears comment,” said Ava.
    â€œWhatever,” I said.
    I turned around.
    My dad, Edward Fanuchi, a.k.a. the principal of Travis Middle School, rushed forward, racing toward me as if I had just stolen his basketball—only we’re not at the court, we’re at school. Travis Middle School. The school where he’s the principal.
    I was walking down the hallway—me, the principal’s daughter—in a tank top with straps that were definitely less than two inches thick. I was so violating the dress code.
    And that principal, my dad, was heading my way, looking as angry as I had ever seen him.
    I was busted.
    â€œSophie,” he said accusingly, “
What
are you wearing?” He stared at my spaghetti-thin straps. His face tightened and his irises contracted. This was trouble.
    Everyone in the hallway had stopped to stare at me, as if I was wearing a bikini in a snow storm. A crowd of skater dudes, and a flock of sixth graders, carrying giant posterboards about killer viruses. I mean
everyone
.
    Including Hayden Carus, who looked me up and down, taking in my too-thin-for-school spaghetti straps. I could feel my ears burning at the tips, and red-hot heat spreading across my cheeks and blooming up my neck.
    â€œSophie, you’re going to have to change into something more appropriate right now,” Dad said. “This is a warning. If this happens again, you’ll get detention.”
    Maddie fingered one her of her many layers, a mint-green sweater with the ying-yang symbol. It looked almost like the one that Nia had on, except hers was in beige. “You can borrow my sweater.”
    â€œUm, well … it’s okay.” I so didn’t want to be rescued by Maddie.
    Dad eyes grew bigger. “It’s not okay.”
    Maddie pulled off her sweater and her beads clacked together. “Here. Take it.”
    Dad smiled. “Thank you,