Perfect. Natasha Friend

      1

      APRIL USED TO BE MY SISTER. She used to be nine and charming. She used to respect the two most important laws of sisterhood: Thou shalt not spy and Thou shalt not report thy sister’s crimes to the authorities.

      Now Ape Face is ten and everything’s different. She is evil, and she must be destroyed.

      Here’s how it happened: The week before school started, my ex-sister burst through the closed door of the bathroom we share and found me. On my knees. With my head in the toilet.

      “Euwww,” she said. “Naaasty.”

      I removed my fingers from my throat and swallowed. “Don’t tell Mom.”

      “Don’t tell Mom what?” she said.

      “That I have the flu, April. Obviously. I don’t want her to worry.”

      “Ohhh. Is that what it is? The flu?”

      I wanted to call her the worst name I could think of—something I heard Jason Gullo call Ryan James in gym. But with Ape Face, you have to choose your words carefully. “You’d better not tell her.”

      Ape Face raised one eyebrow. “Or what?”

      “Or else. That’s all I’m saying.”

      “Oooo.” She waggled her fingers at me. “Scary.”

      Here is our business arrangement in times of crisis: bribery. Of the items I own, here is what April wants: everything.

      We stepped into my office, which doubles as a bedroom, and shut the door. As if shutting doors means anything around here.

      “My rhinestone barrettes,” I said.

      Ape Face wrinkled her nose. She has no taste. She wears a leotard to school, if that tells you anything. And anyway, just as a good batter never swings at the first pitch, Ape Face never takes the first offer. She likes me to throw some heat.

      I went over to my bureau and pulled out my pink tank top. There was a time when Ape Face would have gnawed off her own arm for this shirt. That is, before there was a gigantic ravioli stain on the front.

      “Right,” said Ape Face, and made a move toward the door.

      I had to say something. Anything. “My Wonderbra?”

      Ape Face said, “That’s very funny, Isabelle. You should be a comedian.”

      “I’m serious. It makes you look like you have something on top even when you don’t.”

      Ape Face narrowed her eyes at me. “Do you know that you are exactly ten seconds away from being grounded for life?”