I almost pointed out that if Mitchell had touched it, it was crawling with germs now, but I didn’t because I figured Margaret had been historical enough for one day.
It didn’t matter, though, because just then she figured it out for herself.
“Aaauuurrggghhh!” Margaret screamed. She dropped the booklet and ran into her bathroom, waving her hands like they were on fire. I heard her turn the water on and start scrubbing.
Normally, Margaret and I never leave the other person alone in our rooms. This is because if Margaret is ever alone in my bedroom, her fingers get itchy to organize something.
And if I’m ever alone in her room, my fingers get itchy to mess something up. As soon as Margaret went into her bathroom, I started looking around for what I could mess up.
But this day, I saw something even better to do with my itchy fingers!
I reached under her desk, where her booklet had landed, and pulled it out. Very carefully—so carefully not one single speck of paper-skin came away!—I peeled off the tape.
Margaret came to the bathroom doorway then, patting the fingers of her left hand dry, one by one.
“I have a good idea, Clementine,” she was saying in a voice that sounded a lot calmer than the one she’d run into the bathroom with.
“About how you can get a great booklet, like mine. Give everybody compliments all week. Then they’ll give you some back in your booklet on Friday.”
