pushed me to the console, so I had no choice. “Fine,” I said. “Whatever.” I took the controls, and when Mom started getting giggly about hockey
again—like we’d even care about hockey after the day we’d had—I had Riley roll her eyes and say, “Oh, yeah, that sounds fantastic.” Then Fear got all up in my
grill because I didn’t sound like Joy, but for real—I’m
not
Joy.
I thought that would be it, but Mom didn’t give up. She thought something was wrong with Riley—which, hello, it totally was, but Mom would never understand. She started asking lots
of questions and looking for deep, meaningful answers. I was over it, so I turned the controls to Fear. Let him be Joy and see how it worked for
him
.
In a word? It didn’t. Mom asked how school was and Fear had Riley basically curl up in a ball and hide.
“It was fine, I guess. I don’t know,” she said.
Pretty much
just
like Joy. Not. So then Anger tried to be Joy. That caused a full-on meltdown that got Riley sent to her room without dessert. Complete disaster. Then, a little later that
night, Dad came into her room to try to make things better. He started acting silly and goofy, which normally would start up Goofball Island, but Goofball Island was dark. And you know what happens
when you start up a broken island?
Of course you don’t. I didn’t either. Turns out it crumbles and falls to pieces. We saw it all happen from Headquarters. So that left Riley’s mind filled with what? Rubble.
Rubble in her head. How gross is that?
Clearly
we needed Joy back. She’d know how to de-rubble-ify the place. Without her, we were just winging it, and I don’t do the improv
thing.
Still, we had to try to keep things together. So that night, when Riley’s best friend from home, Meg, called Riley on her laptop, Fear, Anger, and I were ready at the console. I figured it
would be easy girl stuff, nothing too difficult. I mean, Riley and Meg had known each other forever. We could handle a simple conversation.
But then you know what Meg said? Riley asked about the hockey play-offs because she and Meg had been on the same team, and Meg was all, “Oh, we’ve got this new girl on the team.
She’s so cool.”
She was saying that to us for real? How gross is that? Just throw your new BFF in our face, am I right? Anger was furious. Fear was freaking out. I was nauseated, but I tried to keep it under
control because I could see out the window that Friendship Island was having a minor earthquake over the conversation and was in major danger of crumbling.
No use. Meg got Anger too furious. I saw it coming the minute Meg said, “We can pass the puck to each other without even looking. It’s like mind reading.”
“You like to read minds, Meg?” Anger roared. “I got something for you to read, right here!”
“Hey, hey, no!” I yelled. “What are you doing?”
Anger had Riley yell and slam her computer shut…and we lost Friendship Island. More mind rubble.
The next day we had school again. Seriously? Who came up with the whole school-five-days-a-week thing? I mean, it’s overkill. Riley already needed a weekend to decompress. Instead, she had
to trudge through this sea of judging kids. Each one of them stopped to point and gawk at the new kid who cried in class.
Yeah, okay, maybe they didn’t
actually
stop and point, but mentally they did. I could see it in their eyes. Especially the cool girls’ eyes. They had no clue how awesome Riley
really was, and they were never going to give us a chance to prove it. Not anymore.
I couldn’t let Riley deal with that nonsense. I made sure she brought a book along to school. A good book—some giant intimidating-looking thing Mom had brought from home in the
station wagon. I had Riley pull it out before each class and act like she was
way
too engrossed to care that no one wanted to talk to her. It worked for lunch, too. She sat on a bench all by
herself and kept her nose in that book while she
again—like we’d even care about hockey after the day we’d had—I had Riley roll her eyes and say, “Oh, yeah, that sounds fantastic.” Then Fear got all up in my
grill because I didn’t sound like Joy, but for real—I’m
not
Joy.
I thought that would be it, but Mom didn’t give up. She thought something was wrong with Riley—which, hello, it totally was, but Mom would never understand. She started asking lots
of questions and looking for deep, meaningful answers. I was over it, so I turned the controls to Fear. Let him be Joy and see how it worked for
him
.
In a word? It didn’t. Mom asked how school was and Fear had Riley basically curl up in a ball and hide.
“It was fine, I guess. I don’t know,” she said.
Pretty much
just
like Joy. Not. So then Anger tried to be Joy. That caused a full-on meltdown that got Riley sent to her room without dessert. Complete disaster. Then, a little later that
night, Dad came into her room to try to make things better. He started acting silly and goofy, which normally would start up Goofball Island, but Goofball Island was dark. And you know what happens
when you start up a broken island?
Of course you don’t. I didn’t either. Turns out it crumbles and falls to pieces. We saw it all happen from Headquarters. So that left Riley’s mind filled with what? Rubble.
Rubble in her head. How gross is that?
Clearly
we needed Joy back. She’d know how to de-rubble-ify the place. Without her, we were just winging it, and I don’t do the improv
thing.
Still, we had to try to keep things together. So that night, when Riley’s best friend from home, Meg, called Riley on her laptop, Fear, Anger, and I were ready at the console. I figured it
would be easy girl stuff, nothing too difficult. I mean, Riley and Meg had known each other forever. We could handle a simple conversation.
But then you know what Meg said? Riley asked about the hockey play-offs because she and Meg had been on the same team, and Meg was all, “Oh, we’ve got this new girl on the team.
She’s so cool.”
She was saying that to us for real? How gross is that? Just throw your new BFF in our face, am I right? Anger was furious. Fear was freaking out. I was nauseated, but I tried to keep it under
control because I could see out the window that Friendship Island was having a minor earthquake over the conversation and was in major danger of crumbling.
No use. Meg got Anger too furious. I saw it coming the minute Meg said, “We can pass the puck to each other without even looking. It’s like mind reading.”
“You like to read minds, Meg?” Anger roared. “I got something for you to read, right here!”
“Hey, hey, no!” I yelled. “What are you doing?”
Anger had Riley yell and slam her computer shut…and we lost Friendship Island. More mind rubble.
The next day we had school again. Seriously? Who came up with the whole school-five-days-a-week thing? I mean, it’s overkill. Riley already needed a weekend to decompress. Instead, she had
to trudge through this sea of judging kids. Each one of them stopped to point and gawk at the new kid who cried in class.
Yeah, okay, maybe they didn’t
actually
stop and point, but mentally they did. I could see it in their eyes. Especially the cool girls’ eyes. They had no clue how awesome Riley
really was, and they were never going to give us a chance to prove it. Not anymore.
I couldn’t let Riley deal with that nonsense. I made sure she brought a book along to school. A good book—some giant intimidating-looking thing Mom had brought from home in the
station wagon. I had Riley pull it out before each class and act like she was
way
too engrossed to care that no one wanted to talk to her. It worked for lunch, too. She sat on a bench all by
herself and kept her nose in that book while she
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