to kiss me?
âSo, whatâs she like?â Adam asked.
âMy mother, Tiffany?â
âOf course not.â Even his laugh was cute. âI know sheâs tutored you a lot. You probably know her better than any of us.â
It hit me like a bare foot in a cold puddle. âProfessor Wigglesmith?â
Adam fumbled with his backpack. âYeah.â
If my eyelids had opened any wider, the eyeballs would have popped out and rolled down the street. âDo you like her or something?â
âNo,â said Adam. âI mean, yes. I mean, not like that. Iâm just really glad that sheâs my teacher.â
âBecause if you like her, that would be gross, maybe even illegal. I donât think youâre allowed to like your teacher, even if she is your age.â
âDonât make a major deal out of it,â he said. âI just think itâs cool that she believes in us. Thatâs all. Whatâs wrong with that?â
âBesides, sheâs not even pretty.â
âSheâs not?â
I was getting really heated. Why was he going on about Professor Wigglesmith when I was standing there waiting for him to kiss me? âYouâre completely clueless,â I told him.
âWhere did that come from?â
âYou want to know what I think of Professor Wigglesmith?â I asked. âHereâs what I think: sheâs a total egghead and a complete geek. She thinks sheâs so smart, running around doing equations like a head with its chicken cut off. But she must be stupid, because only a total idiot would waste her time teaching bonehead math.â
âThe expression is âa chicken with its head cut off,â â Adam said. âAnd thatâs the difference between her and you; she would never call you stupid.â
He turned and walked away. My big mouth had done it again. I wished someone would invent a vacuum cleaner that people could turn on to suck back words that they said in anger but didnât really mean. They could call it the Mindy-Did-It-Again-Vac, since I would be its number-one customer.
âWait!â I said. âI can explain. Come back!â
He kept walking.
âOkay.â I yelled. âIâve got to go in now. See you tomorrow.â
I reached for the doorknob while keeping my gaze on him. I wanted to see if he would steal a glance back to make sure I was okay, but he didnât.
11
Aphrodite Takes Aim at the Problem
J ust because a person is a rocket scientist, that doesnât mean he knows how to sew a button on his underwear. Yet there are people who think geniuses always know what theyâre doing. Principal DeGuy was like that with me. I could wear a kangaroo on my head and heâd assume the extra pocket made it a wise fashion choice. No matter what my suggestion, he always gave me thumbs up.
âDid I hear right?â Miss Snipal asked. âYouâre taking your math class on a field trip to a pool hall?â
I nodded. I was working on mathematical theory for the Navier-Stokes problems in my diary over lunch. But there were so many teachers in the lounge it was hard to concentrate.
âLetting those students go on a field trip is a big mistake,â said Mr. Green.
âYouâd better bring plenty of chaperones,â added Mrs. Underwood. âAnd make sure the schoolâs liability insurance will cover it, too.â
âHave you ever been to a pool hall?â asked Mr. Ripple from his stuffed chair near the door. âDo you know what kind of people frequent pool halls?â
As usual, heâd brought potato chips and was making a crunchy mess. Romeo and Juliet, the tarantulas, hadnât been caught, and I couldnât help imagining that they were living off Mr. Rippleâs droppings.
âA field trip should relate to what students are learning,â said Mrs. Underwood. âWhatever do you hope to accomplish at a pool hall?â
I