As usual, seeing us together, Alyssa couldn’t miss the chance to be mean. “I said, Hey, Bertie!” she hooted, knocking his arm so that the book slammed to the floor. I stared at her coldly. Hubert’s problem is that he doesn’t stand up for himself. He’s too polite. He doesn’t even like to talk out loud to more than one person. “Hey, Bertie. Did anyone ever tell you that your hair looks like a lawn that someone mowed in the wrong direction?” Hubert rolled his lips around and stood on one leg. I think his hair is cute. It stands straight up and looks like the glossy pelt of a panther you’d like to pat. “Alyssa,” I snarl, “did anyone ever tell you that your face looks like oww!” Hubert kicked me. He was reminding me not to stoop to her level, as tempting as it might be. “Hey, Bertie, good thing you brought your baby-sitter along. Too bad she’s got breath like a garbage dump.” “At least I don’t sing like a seal.” I had to have the last word, even though she actually sounds like a real singer, all clear and trembly.
