Previously on the story


Donut Trumpet has only one wish: to be king.

After devouring 101 hamburgers, the Trumpet boy blacked out—only to wake up and find the girl he hates most in the world, his classmate Lib Holstein, standing over him.

Burgers and time-leaps are the rungs that will carry Donut up the ladder to the throne!

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What the hell is going on?


I should've choked to death on that Big Pack a little while ago.


But here I am again, sprawled on the music-room floor, and staring down at me is the girl I hate most in the world — Lib Holstein — her glasses flashing as she looks me up and down.


Which means —


"You hit me again!"


"Again?"


"Don't play dumb. I nearly died at Pakdonald and got carted to the hospital. My memory's fuzzy from the shock, but if I'm back at school now it means I woke up, came to class, and sat through lessons — and then you went and hit me again. Probably for some stupid reason, too."


"So your crazy head just got crazier."


"Shut up, Lib. You rib-cage lady. Skinny as your name, not a speck of sexy on you."


"You're still way better off than an empty-headed Donut."


Lib spat that out and marched out of the music room.


I grabbed one of my lackeys — the kid who'd been watching my spar with Lib with wide eyes but who'd pretended not to see me the moment our gazes met.


"Why'd Lib hit me again?"


"'Cause you tried to sock the teacher. You went for Lib who stepped in to stop you, and you ended up getting walloped instead."


"That was yesterday's thing, right?"


"You got hit yesterday too?"


I was stunned — you don't remember?


— but telling some clod the humiliating details of my life didn't seem very kingly, so I shut up instead of pressing him.


$ $ $


"Donut, we're going to Pakdonald tonight."


When I got home, Dad said it like he was proud of himself, all sure I'd be thrilled. I felt sick.


"Dad, I ate so many Big Packs yesterday I nearly died. I can't do it again. I'm totally over it."


"You were the one who said you wanted to go last night."


"No way I said that. I seriously can't."


Dad's face went stone-serious.


"Listen. I left work early today — for you. For your sake."


Once Dad gets that look, nothing's going to change his mind. He never backs down until he gets his way. And if a workaholic like him left work early, well, I was already beaten.


I was dragged off to Pakdonald, feeling like the calf in the old folk song Donna Donna — hauled onto the wagon and taken to market.