The Sleepover by Jen Malone Page A

coach,” Paige says, all innocence. She could give Max a run for his money.
    Principal Wexman’s eyes narrow, and she nods once beforeturning from us. She takes a few steps toward her office before facing us again. “Please use the front doors to exit, girls. I’ll have the janitor lock up behind you. Thank you for bringing this tomfoolery to my attention.”
    She gestures to the row of doors right beside the main office and hovers as we race over to them. They must only lock from the outside because they push right open, and we burst into the sunshine. As soon as the metal doors click shut behind us, Paige sinks to her butt on the cement steps.
    â€œThat could have been a total disaster!” she says, clasping her side and laughing.
    â€œI wasn’t scared,” says Veronica, a bland expression on her face.
    I want to laugh, from relief more than anything else, but the inside of my head is still buzzing and my heart is racing too fast to do much of anything but slump down beside Paige. Immediately she stands and holds out her hand.
    â€œLet’s get out of sight while we figure out what to do next.” She pulls me up and walks us over to the corner of the building, away from any windows or the parking lot, where she lets me drop down like a rag doll again. I swear, it’s like my bones turned to jelly back there in that hallway.
    Paige plops down next to me. Veronica does too, sitting crisscross-applesauce style in the grass. “So, we’re all fine, thankfully, but we barely had any time in the classroom tolook for more clues. Which leaves us with exactly zero ideas of where our best friend is,” Paige says.
    She pulls out her phone and flips it around so we can see: 8:25.
    We wasted almost a whole hour getting to school and returning the ducks, and we’re no closer to finding Anna Marie. In fact, it feels like we’re even further than ever from finding her. Pickup time is looming closer and closer. We are so dead.
    All three of us stare off into space, lost in our own thoughts. I’m mostly trying to imagine the exact shade of purple my mother’s face is gonna turn when she shows up at the Guerreros’ house at noon.
    Eventually Paige says, “Where’d you come up with unicycle floor hockey?”
    Veronica unties and reties her sneaker laces. “Because I play it. Duh.”
    Paige and I exchange glances over Veronica’s head. I try to make my voice all gentle when I say, “Um, no offense, Veronica, but do you mean you wish it were a sport so you could play it?” At least I’m getting my voice back.
    Veronica scoffs. “Nooooo. I mean I actually play it. Every Tuesday night at the Y in my town. It’s a thing. Google it. Anyway, right now it’s just me and three other homeschooled kids, and we mostly just scrimmage because we haven’tbeen able to find a whole lot of other people who can ride a unicycle, but Kevin—I mean, Anna Marie’s dad—says he’s gonna help give lessons after the wedding. I’m gonna try to talk AM into learning so we can practice on the weekends she’s visiting us.”
    I don’t want to break it to Veronica that Anna Marie has been known to trip over air, so the idea of her on a unicycle is, well, pretty laughable.
    Paige says, “I guess it’s no weirder than cheerleading. Did you hear some of the cheers they had at the pep rally yesterday, Megs?”
    Who can think about pep rallies at a time like this? I open my mouth to say so, but Veronica speaks first. “Ooh. I’ve always wanted to be on a cheerleading squad.”
    Paige blinks several times, fast. “ You want to be a cheerleader?” I narrow my eyes and try to convey Be nice! with them, but, as usual, Veronica seems completely oblivious to Paige’s tone.
    â€œOh, not to cheer,” she says. “To be the school mascot. I mean a school mascot, since my homeschool is population