“It helps if you imagine you’re smelling flowers,” a voice said. “Do you like flowers? What’s your favorite flower?”

Gio stole a glance at the new person. It was the kid from the office. “What?” She asked, confused.

“What’s your favorite flower?” the kid asked again.

“I dunno. The purple kind, I guess.” Gio shrugged.

The kid frowned at Gio, clearly displeased with her answer. “The purple kind? That’s a color, not a species or even a family!” He whipped a book out of his back pocket and shoved it under Gio’s nose. “Look! You can just flip through this book and look for it. But, I gotta warn you, it isn’t organized by color.” He shook his head at Gio and frowned.

Gio stood up straight and stared at the kid. “Who are you?”

He stood up taller and squared his shoulders. “Eleanora Priscilla Grant. President of the Environmental Club. Well…I would be president if a certain principal would sign my permission slip authorizing the club.  Ugh!”   The kid stood ramrod straight, just like Gio’s dad always did, and stuck his hand straight out. It was then that Gio noticed the dirt and mud caked under the hot-pink sparkle nail polish. Looking closer, Gio noticed that Eleanora’s hair was a mass of red curls, just like Pippi Longstocking, that she had stuffed under the fisherman’s cap.  

Gio blinked at Eleanora. She took in the mud-caked boots and clothes, the fisherman’s cap, and the dirt-streaked face. Gio had made a mistake. She had made a big mistake. She had thought Eleanora was a boy. Oh no. How embarrassing! So much for Rule number 1: “Keep your head down”.

Gio closed her eyes and slid down to the ground. She wanted the ground to gobble her up and spit her out in Timbuktu. She didn’t know exactly where Timbuktu was, but it sounded like it was really far from here. 

Yeah, that sounded perfect.