Free Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar by James Patterson Page B

Principalzilla asked.
    I blinked, and Rafe disappeared.
    You knew he was never really there in the first place, right? I mean, why would he be at my school in the middle of the day?
    Still… it was a cool thought.

Crime and Punishment
    W hat makes you think I did it?” I asked.
    The Lizard King opened a drawer and pulled out a toad. “We have witnesses, Ms. Khatchadorian,” he said, popping the toad into his mouth. I could see the bulge in his throat when he swallowed.
    “Oh,” I said.
    I should’ve known. Bethany and Brittany were in the bathroom too. I guess they had noticed me after all.
    “You’ll serve a week of detention, of course,” the Lizard King said. “And I’m requiring a visit with Ms. Jordan.”
    “The headshrinker?” I asked.



“The school psychologist, yes.” The Lizard King’s forked tongue flicked in and out. “She knows your family history.”
    “Oh, good, maybe she can help me with my genealogy report,” I said. (Not really. I said that in my head. Would
you
get sarcastic with a giant lizard?)
    The Lizard King leaned forward. His breath smelled like August garbage during a sanitation-worker strike. “The next time you visit my office, Ms. Khatchadorian, I won’t hesitate to expel you,” he snarled. “I’ve had it up to the gills with the Khatchadorians.”
    Well, I’ve had it up to here with this school
, I wanted to shout back. But like I said, you don’t mess with a hungry giant lizard.
    “You’ll be heading to Ms. Jordan now, Ms. Khatchadorian. And remember, next time I won’t let you off so easily.”
    I stood shakily and fled from his lair, glad to be alive. But who knew what awaited me in the next den of despair?

Shrinkology
    T he minute I sat down in the chair across from hers, the school shrink gave me a warm welcome.

    “Please don’t say it like that,” I told her.
    Ms. Jordan leaned back in her chair and studied me. “Don’t say it like what?” she asked.
    “With all capital letters and an exclamation mark at the end.” I sat on my hands. “Rafe and I aren’t the same person. And besides, he’s not as bad as everyone around here thinks.”
    I thought about how he’d helped out at the garage sale and defended me to the Lizard King—even though that hadn’t really happened—and I got a warm, fuzzy feeling.
    “Hmm.” Ms. Jordan picked up a pencil and bounced it off the table a few times. “So—what brings you here, Georgia?”
    Um, royal command of the Lizard King?
    “It’s a long story.”
    “I have a lot of time on my hands,” Ms. Jordan said.
    I sighed. Clearly, I wasn’t going to escape until I’d delivered my autobiography.
    I tried to give her the condensed version.





“I’m wondering if you can speed this story up a bit,” Ms. Jordan said.
    “I spilled pudding on Missy Trillin’s head while she was taking a pee.”
    “I see.” Ms. Jordan nodded. “Now I think we’re getting somewhere.”

More Shrinkology
    S o, you spilled pudding on Missy’s head,” Ms. Jordan said. She poked her flabby cheek with the eraser end of her pencil. “How did that make you feel?”
    “Horrible,” I said.
    Ms. Jordan lifted her eyebrows.
    “It was actually kind of great,” I admitted.

    “I assume you had reasons for pouring pudding on Missy Trillin,” Ms. Jordan said. She tucked the pencil behind her ear.
    “Good reasons,” I replied. “Missy’s a bully.”
    Ms. Jordan pursed her lips as if she doubted my statement. “I’ve seen your permanent record. You’re a good student, Georgia. Or you were. Until you came to HVMS.”
    I shrug.
    “Are you at all worried about how your mother will react when she hears what happened?”
    I flushed red and hot, like a giant pimple. I meant to say “no way,” but it came out in a whisper as “yes.”
    “Hmm.” Ms. Jordan pulled the pencil out from behind her ear and scratched her scalp with it. “But your brother, Rafe, breaks rules all the time, doesn’t he?”
    “So?”
    The edge of