I thanked her and went into the inner office. Mr. Bryant and my aunt were there, waiting. "Well, well, well," he said. "My favorite student."

That didn't sound good. I didn't want to be the principal's favorite student, did I? "Am I in trouble?" I asked.

On Sunday, my mother was torn — she couldn't decide whether it was better to go or to stay. She needed to leave, so she could look for a house, but she wanted to stay, so she could keep an eye on me. In the end, she went back to New Jersey, thinking that the sooner she found a house, the sooner the three of us would be together.

Jane and I left them at the airport at 4 PM. Whenever my father flies, he insists on being at the airport two hours before the flight — "Not leaving the house, not ready to go, but AT THE AIRPORT." So at the airport they were, and in no time at all, they passed through security.

That left my aunt and I at loose ends. It was too late in the day to start anything, and too early to have dinner, so we went back home and hung around aimlessly. Eventually we ordered a pizza.

The phone and the doorbell rang at the same moment. I stood up, vacillating, unsure which way to go.

"Marcie, I'll get the door," my aunt called out, "You get the phone — it's probably for you anyway."

The call *was* for me, and (of all people) it was Mrs. Wilson, the mother of the twins on the Little Train. She apologized for calling, hoped she wasn't interrupting dinner, and so on... She seemed to have a hard time getting to the point.

After she'd chatted a bit, she asked if I'd ever heard of Brenda Earshon, a local psychic. I hadn't.

"She is amazing! She's just amazing! Every so often I go for a reading," Mrs. Wilson said, "And she is amazing! Oh, I said that already, didn't I!" She giggled at herself and went on. "Do you know, she told me two years ago that I would have twin boys? At the time I couldn't even get pregnant! Can you believe it?"

Mrs. Wilson seemed like a nice lady, but I had zero interest in her psychic friend and all her amazing predictions. In the background I could hear her little boys shouting, and then a loud BANG!

"Do you need to go?" I asked her. "It sounds like something happened there."

"Oh!" she scoffed. "Something is *always* happening here. That's what it's like when you have children."

Aunt Jane, who imagined I was talking to one of my friends, gestured impatiently, calling my attention to at the pizza. I rolled my eyes and pointed desperately at the phone, and she got the message. She called loudly, as if from far away, "Marcie! The pizza's getting cold!"

That startled Mrs. Wilson, and she got to the point. "I'm sorry, dear! I won't keep you from your dinner. I'll tell you why I called. Marcie, Mrs. Earshon wants to meet you. She can give you a reading — it'll be my treat. Okay? I'm telling you, you won't believe it! Do you have any time this week?"

"No, this week is going to be pretty busy. How about next weekend?"

"She doesn't do readings on the weekends, but anyway she told me you'd find some free time this week."

That put me off. What business did this lady — psychic or not — have with my schedule? "She told you that, did she?" I asked, a little testily. "I don't have *any* free time this week." Didn't I just say that?

I didn't like being so rude to Mrs. Wilson, but she didn't seem to notice or to mind.

"I know," she said. "You don't have free time now. She meant that you would find free time that you don't expect."

I sighed. Aunt Jane pointed again at the pizza. I gestured helplessly at the phone. "Mrs. Wilson? They're calling me to dinner. It's getting cold. I'm sorry..."

"Will you do this for me?" Mrs. Wilson asked, "and then I'll let you go. If you suddenly find yourself with a lot of time and nothing to do — during the week, this week — will you call me?"

I promised I would, and hung up.

"Weird," was my aunt's only comment when I repeated the conversation.

Monday was a quiet day. Eden was on pins and needles, wondering what Mr. Bryant would do or say about my wall-climbing.

"I'm dying to tell my mother," she said. "I can tell her tonight, right?"

Surprisingly, I was very calm about the whole thing. I guess from the very start I was mostly concerned about my parents' reaction, and whether I'd have to leave school — or worse, leave Marcie — behind. Since neither of those things was likely to happen, I felt that I was in the clear.

In fact, it was well into into third period before the PA system crackled to life and called me to the office. Ms. Tandy was talking to Denise as I arrived. "Here she is," she said, and then to me: "I tried to put you in the best possible light."

I thanked her and went into the inner office. Mr. Bryant and my aunt were there, waiting. "Well, well, well," he said. "My favorite student."

That didn't sound good. I didn't want to be the principal's favorite student, did I? "Am I in trouble?" I asked.

"Let's try to avoid those stereotypical labels, shall we?" he said. "Good, bad, trouble, punishment — let's just talk about what we're going to do."

I swallowed hard. It sounded like I was in trouble.

"As Ms. Tandy said — several times — you did a good thing and a bad thing at the same time. Luckily you weren't hurt, but if the student body hears that you scaled the wall, you can be sure that others will try to duplicate your stunt. And you can rest assured that at least one attempt will end badly.

"So, while I admire and applaud the way that you selflessly helped Cory, in the interest of public safety, I have to take some kind of disciplinary action. I've talked with your aunt, and we've agreed that you will be suspended for one day — tomorrow — but that it will not appear on your record."

"Suspended!?" I cried.

"It won't go on your record," my aunt pointed out.

"So?"

"The point is," Mr. Bryant said, "that — as far as the student body can see — you've been punished. From your point of view, you could look at it as a day off from school. And nothing will go into your permanent record."

"It's a good deal, Marcie," my aunt told me. "Your father is on board with this."

"But, but...," I floundered.

"I would appreciate it if you would keep the part about your permanent record to yourself," Mr. Bryant said. "I'm also going to make sure that the school newspaper doesn't feature the event in another cartoon."

I frowned. "I thought you said you couldn't censor the paper."

"This is a matter of public safety," he replied smugly.

"And there is one more thing I have to say: Could you try to think before you act, Marcie? Next time you're going to do something out of the ordinary, ask yourself what someone else would do — what would your aunt or Ms. Tandy or Ms. Price do in the same situation? You have a big heart, and you seem to be absolutely fearless. That's wonderful... but you need to... you need to think first. You don't want to be all heart and no head. Do you understand?"

"Suspended!" Carla shouted. In a lower tone she added some more colorful comments that actually shocked me.

"Oh, Marcie!" Eden sympathized.

"It's okay," I said. "At least my parents won't freak out on me." When I told them how Saturday had gone, they were wide-eyed.

"Man, Marcie," Carla said. "You're just a magnet for trouble, aren't you?"