She lifts her eyes. “If you were here, I bet you’d tell them off.”
I move my face closer to the screen. “Tell who off?”
“You can be scary sometimes, Raven. I bet you’d scare them away. It sucks to have a big sister who’s not around.”
My heart rate starts to gallop and dread turns my blood cold. “Robbie, are kids bothering you at school?”
She lowers her eyes again, and I can tell she’s kicking her shoe against the floor. “Maybe.”
I curse under my breath.
Robin’s face snaps up with a shocked expression. “Hey! You owe me a quarter.”
“Are kids really bullying you, Robin?”
“It’s not a big deal,” she says. “They’re just being stupid. They pick on everyone who’s not part of their group.”
“And teachers don’t say anything?”
She gives me a look. “Don’t you know teachers are always so clueless?”
“Middle school sucks, little bug. I remember that age well. The kids at my school were brutal. Do you want to tell Mom or Dad?”
“And look like a baby? Or a narc? No way.”
“Telling an adult that a kid is bullying you is not a babyish thing to do. It actually shows maturity.”
“Would you tell Mom or Dad if kids were picking on you?” she throws at me.
“Well…”
“See? It’s easy to tell me to tell a parent when you’re not involved in the whole thing. In reality, it’s not so easy.”
“You’re right, Robin. These things are never easy. But I hate seeing you so upset, and it kills me that I can’t do anything from here.”
“That’s okay. It’s not like they’re being physical or anything. They mostly just pick on my shoes.”
“What’s wrong with your shoes?”
Her face lights up. “I just bought them a few weeks ago. Ilovethem.” She lowers her phone to her shoes so I can see them. They’re bright pink sneakers with neon green shoelaces. I admitthey’re a bit too noisy for me, but they match Robin’s full-of-life personality. They suit herperfectly.
“They’re awesome.”
“Thanks.” She beams down at them proudly. “I had to like bribe Mom to buy them for me. I’m now the dish pig of the family. I made the dealbeforethe dishwasher broke. Just my luck, right? I’m scrubbing like a freakin’ slave.”
I laugh. “It’s a labor of love.”
“Totally.” The smile vanishes from her face. “Valerie and her friends think my shoes are weird. They call them an arts and crafts project gone wrong.”
“I know this is easier said than done, but ignore them. They’re obviously jealous of you.”
Her brows shoot up. “Why would they be jealous of me?”
“You wear those shoes because you love them. You don’t care what other people think.”
“I do care,” she insists. “But I’ll still wear them.”
“See? That’s a confidence most people don’t have. And they’re jealous of that.”
