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They haunted me out of the cellar. I guess I needed more practice in Diplomacy.

The next morning was the kind of day only Water Folk and ducks could love. By the time I got to school, my sneakers were soggy and squelchy and my black coat smelled like wet dog. For the first time, I didn’t mind putting on my Inside Sweater.

Basic Manners was a disaster. Even Peony, who was usually so well behaved I wanted to pinch her to see if she was real, had trouble keeping her pleasant expression cultivated. Fortran, whose manners were pretty basic to begin with, was a total demon. He jittered in his chair and tapped on the desk with his pencil. And when the Diplomat was showing us how to set a table for a formal dinner, he licked a dessert spoon and hung it off his nose.

We all collapsed into helpless giggles. Even Peony.

The Diplomat silenced us with a granite glare. “I’m deeply disappointed in each and every one of you. Lightbulb and Sweater, bring me the beans and rice, if you please.”

In Diplomat-speak, deeply disappointed was about as bad as it could get. Lightbulb and Sweater scrambled to the corner cabinet and got the ritual bowls. The Diplomat upended the small, hard kernels of raw rice and dried black beans over the floor, where they spread into a crunchy, slippery carpet.

“Girls take the beans. Boys take the rice. Smile while you work. And meditate on the importance of self-control. Fortran, another peep out of you and I’ll send to Talismans for a Cone of Isolation.”

Everybody was relieved when the horn blew for lunch.

Our table had been filling up since the beginning of school. Two other Village changelings had followed Stonewall, plus a couple of Danskin’s friends from Lincoln Center. Espresso had made friends with the sari-girl I’d seen in Talismans—Mukuti, from Little India. She had wavy black hair down to her waist and at least three protective amulets around her neck at all times. Her magic bag was made of embroidered silk and produced wonderful spicy-smelling dishes that burned my mouth.

I took a seat next to Espresso. “Hey there, Neefer-bear,” she said. “What did you do to Tiffany, man? That’s some hairy eyeball she’s giving you.”

I turned. Tiffany narrowed her sapphire eyes at me. I narrowed mine back. Tiffany mouthed “Wild Child” and bared her perfect teeth. Her fellow East Siders burst into giggles.

I lowered my eyes to my lunch. “I’m sick of cheese. Anybody want to trade?”

Espresso offered me a spoonful of what looked like pebbles floating in milk. “Granola?”

I shook my head.

Fortran fished around in Backpack, brought out a glass of thick orange stuff. “Mango batido,” he said. “Try it. You’ll like it.”

It was sweet and cold and creamy. I drank it all.

During talismans, I had to get permission for a trip to the bathroom.

I was disappointed, but not surprised, when I opened the bathroom door to see Tiffany and her sidekicks, Best and Bergdorf, posing in front of the mirror. The girls’ bathroom on the third floor boasted the only mirror in Miss Van Loon’s. It wasn’t magical, but the bigger girls spent a lot of time looking at themselves in it. Especially the East Siders.

Bergdorf was standing sideways and frowning at her skinny reflection in the mirror. “. . . gigantically fat,” I heard her say. “If I want an elf lord to dance with me at Midwinter, I’m going to have to do something extreme.”

“Stop eating.” Tiffany sounded bored.

Bergdorf saw me watching in the mirror and blushed painfully.

Tiffany sneered. “Oh, look. It’s the Wild Child. Need a sandbox, Wild Child?”

Best gave me a haughty look. She wasn’t as good at it as Tiffany. “Yeah, go find a sandbox. This bathroom is for civilized mortals only.”

The diplomatic thing to do was to go to the bathroom downstairs. I wasn’t in a diplomatic mood. “Then what are you doing here?” I snapped, and headed for the stalls.

Tiffany blocked me. “You heard Best. Get lost, ugly girl.” “Go soak your head in the toilet,” I said, and tried to push past her.

Tiffany grabbed my shoulder and shoved me back into the door. “Temper, temper,” she cautioned.