In middle school, popularity is power—and in this modern spin on a Robin Hood tale, Coco Sherwood is bringing justice to the social scene. At Briar Green Middle School, you are either a Somebody, a Sorta-body, or a Nobody. Twelve-year-old Coco Sherwood falls directly in the Nobody category—the kids who are considered the misfits and outcasts of the school. It’s not fair. It’s not right. And it’s time to even the score. With clever planning and sneaky tactics, Coco becomes the Robin Hood of Briar Green. Girls who never thought they had a chance to be noticed are now making cheer squad and turning into beauty queens. But when Coco takes on the ultimate challenge—taking down Popular Girl #1 Dijon Randle—her dream of equality on the middle-school social ladder may turn into a nightmare. Can Coco and the rest of the Nobodies triumph in a world where popularity is power? Or will the Somebodies win—again? Trudi Trueit knew she’d found her life’s passion after writing (and directing) her first play in fourth grade. Since then, she’s been a newspaper journalist, television news reporter and anchor, media specialist, freelance writer, and is now a children’s book author. She has published more than forty fiction and nonfiction titles for young readers and lives near Seattle, Washington. Stealing Popular One By the time I got to Briar Green Middle School in the spring of seventh grade, I was a master magician. I could create a force field around me strong enough to deflect the meanest insult. I could make it rain silver glitter each time a teacher mispronounced, misspelled, or forgot my name. But my greatest trick? I could dissolve into mist the moment a popular person entered the room. Poof! That’s what happens when you go to five schools in seven years. You create illusions. It’s how you survive. My magic was working perfectly, too, until the first day of eighth grade. That’s the day I began to reappear. It happened in D wing in front of an ordinary, orange corner locker with a boomerang-shaped dent and a blue dragonfly sticker. The locker wasn’t even mine. It was Fawn’s—well, the one she was supposed to have. At Briar Green Middle School we’re assigned lockers based on gender and alphabetical last name. You are not supposed to trade, move in with someone else, or be reassigned, even if your locker isn’t in the same galaxy as any of your classes. I have no idea why. It’s a rule, and rules are sacred here, including the dumb ones. You’d think the way Mrs. Gisborne, our head counselor, freaks out, one little locker swap is going to create a black hole that will suck Briar Green Middle School (a.k.a. BGMS) into a massive vortex of death. Yes, I am aware of my school’s unfortunate initials. Our mascot is the St. Bernard, which, unfortunately, makes me a Big Mess St. Bernard. Fawn’s last name is Ralston, so, naturally, when assigning lockers for the new school year, the computer paired her up with the next girl on the list: Dijon Randle. Now, there was a big mess. Dijon and her friends—Venice Wasserman, Truffle Tompkins, and Évian James—were royalty. Seriously. Every Friday they wore fake diamond tiaras to school. Big Mess—with its peeling orange walls, leaky ceilings, and dead plants in the courtyard—was their kingdom. The Royal Court would happily tell you what to think and what to say, how to act and how to dress, whom to love and whom to hate—all for a Starbucks gift card. And your soul. Not that I let it get to me. Bossy girls existed at every school I’d ever been to. My parents are divorced, and my dad’s in the navy, so we move a lot. I live with my dad at the Eagle’s Nest apartments (no one seems to know why there’s a seagull on the sign out front). It didn’t take me long to figure out how things worked at Big Mess: Any girl named after a gourmet food, fancy water, or a city was a Somebody. Top athletes and elected student leaders were Sortabodies. Everybody else was a Nobody. Somebodies could associate with Sortabodies, but only in public and for no longer than ten minutes. Sortabodies could talk to Nobodies, but could not eat, study, or become friends with them for fear of being seen by a Somebody and being demoted to a Nobody. Nobodies were not allowed within a five-foot radius of a Somebody, unless verbally invited into the inner circle by the aforementioned Somebody. In the case of Dijon, which was both a gourmet food and a city, verbal permission and a gift card were required. I was a Nobody (surprise!). So were my friends, Fawn Ralston and Adair Clarke. It feels weird saying that. I’d never had any actual friends before I came to Big Mess (not counting my hamster, Dash). If you’re a kid, the military pretty much torpedoes your social life. At my other schools I knew of people. And people knew of me. I was the girl who always had her head in her sketchbook, doodling pictures she never showed to anyone. But no one ever really got to know me. And I never really got to know anyone. I sup