The Rule of Threes, Marcy Campbell [short novels to read .TXT] 📗

Was it? The outer office was the space I was standing in right now, the little lobby area where Mrs. Abbott sat. Behind her desk was a hallway that led to Mr. V’s office, and some other administrators’ offices. Hardly any students ever came through here unless they were in trouble.

Next, Katelyn reached her fingers into the basket. I noticed her nails were glossy and pink, just like her lips.

She opened up the slip of paper and waved it around triumphantly. Main hallway. One of the other team captains—the head of the math club—yelled, “Dangit!” but I didn’t say anything, didn’t want to give Katelyn the satisfaction of knowing I was disappointed.

But by the time study hall came around, I had altered my thinking. Olive helped.

“There’s way more opportunities in the office than in the hallway, with a bunch of dumb old lockers,” she said. We had a sub who was letting us talk quietly.

“Yeah, but I won’t be able to try out my wallpaper mural idea.”

“Come on, Maggie, you know that wouldn’t have lasted anyway. Kids would have torn it down.”

She was probably right. There were just tons of things to consider in a space like the outer office, but that also made the job more interesting. The BFFs loved a challenge.

Ideas and questions started popping into my head immediately. “Do you have your BFF notebook, Olive?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said, pulling it out, along with her pink pen.

“I’m wondering if we want to decorate with books. Or if we need a rug. What kind of art?”

Olive scribbled.

I said, “We need to provide a cheerful place for visitors to the school.”

“But we’ve got to show there’s serious learning going on,” Olive added.

I nodded, getting more excited by the minute. “And calming colors, definitely,” I said. Nothing like calming colors when you’re going to visit the principal.

Ten minutes into our discussion, a kid came in to tell us all the teams were allowed to check out their spaces so they could start planning. Olive and I jumped out of our seats and practically ran down the hall. I texted Rachel on the way.

When we got there, Mrs. Abbott offered us lemon drops from the bowl on her desk. They were wrapped in white paper and coated in powdered sugar that got on my fingers when I uncovered one. I licked the sugar off, popped the candy into my mouth. Sweet and sour at the same time, and absolutely delicious.

“How many are in your group?” Mrs. Abbott asked.

“Three,” Olive said. She looked at me. “Has Rakell texted back yet?”

“Nope,” I muttered. I knew I couldn’t count on her much lately, but even thinking about the possibility of her not helping us set off a wave of panic. Winning this contest would require all three of us. And Katelyn was a team captain, which made me think, what if . . . oh, man . . . what if Rachel decided to work with Katelyn? Giving the enemy all our secrets and maybe even helping her win? Just the thought of it made me feel faint and wobbly, like a stool without a leg. I had to grab the edge of the desk.

“I can’t wait to see what you girls come up with,” Mrs. Abbott said. She had a purple pencil stuck behind her ear, which was sporting a gold earring in the shape of an owl. “So, do you need anything from me?” she asked.

“Well, it would be great if we could interview you,” I said. Steady now, I pushed the lemon drop with my tongue so it nestled inside my cheek. Mrs. Abbott was the only one actually occupying the outer office, so she would be our primary client. “Rachel usually asks the questions, though.”

Just then, the door opened, and I turned, hopeful, but it was only a teacher leading a boy, who, from his facial expression, seemed to be in deep trouble. Mrs. Abbott pointed to a chair sitting outside the hallway leading to Mr. Villanueva’s office. The boy sat down, hard, which made the chair thump against the wall. His face looked so sour, it was like he was sucking on a hundred lemon drops.

I stepped back to the room’s entrance, closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them quickly.

“What are you doing?” Mrs. Abbott asked.

“She’s finding the focal point,” Olive whispered, like it was a mysterious process that required silence.

“And there it is.” I pointed to the goofy plastic flower on Mrs. Abbott’s desk. It was wearing sunglasses, and dancing, and no one who came into the office could look at anything else.

“The flower?” Olive asked.

Mrs. Abbott reached out and patted it. “So happy, isn’t he?” she said.

“Mmm-hmm,” I replied, forcing a smile. I didn’t want to spring it on her so soon, but that flower was a huge distraction. We’d have to get rid of it.

“Should we take some measurements?” Olive asked. “We don’t need Rakell for that.”

“Good idea, Olive.” I asked Mrs. Abbott, “Do you have a tape measure?” I really should keep my mini tape measure in my backpack from now on, I thought. Never knew when I’d need it.

“No, but I’ve got a ruler.” She handed it to me.

I moved the ruler across the floor from one wall to the other, calling out numbers for Olive to write down in her notebook. It really was not a very big room. And yet, it was a room that had to accomplish many different things. I felt my shoulders start to tense up just thinking about it. Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw some movement in the rectangular window to the side of the outer office door.

It was Rachel, and she was smiling. I felt myself relax.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said, breezing in, notebook in hand. “A kid told me I was excused to come down, but I got distracted, and then I forgot, until I saw your text.” How could she forget about something that quickly?

“I hear you’re going to interview me!” Mrs. Abbott said. She