In my school, if you are never tardy and raise your hand when you speak, and if your teacher nominates you, you get to be milk monitor for a week and you are paid in free milk. I’ve been milk monitor twice this year so far. You stand behind the cart and take the dimes and hand out the little milk cartons. This week Missy Moore is milk monitor. Today when I was in line, I saw Missy take the new girl’s dime and not give her any milk. Missy grinned, and the new girl looked at the cafeteria floor with tears in her eyes. When I saw that, I marched up to the front of the milk line and shook my fist in Missy’s face. I made her hand over the new girl’s dime, plus two free milks.

Thank you, the new girl said to me, as we walked away from the milk cart with our little cartons of milk. You are very kind.

Why do you talk like that I asked.

Because I am British. I am Gwen, Duchess of London, but I live here now.

That’s true. Really! She said that. It made sense, too. Now I got why the new girl, the Duchess, dresses up so much. Today she wore a blouse and skirt and saddle shoes with little white socks. She made me hate my ripped jeans and dirty sneakers, and I vowed to do better in the future.

Your highness...

You may call me Gwen.
...