Free Treading Water by Laurie Halse Anderson

posted. I find:
    T UESDAY 3:10P HOTOGRAPH Y C LUB R OOM 224
    Seriously? Practically right where I’d come from. I race back upstairs. It’s hard to move fast carrying all my stuff.
    When I walk into the room, it’s pretty noisy. Nobody notices me, and I’m not sure which one the leader, Najla, is. So I just go to the front of the room and put my computer down on the teacher’s desk. The students are in small groups around the room. Some are looking at photos spread across tables. Others look over each other’s shoulders—probably looking at digital pictures. A few kids in the corner laugh as one student salutes and pretends to fall down. What should I do?
    I decide to set up. I turn on my computer and look around the room to try to figure out who’s in charge. I wish there was a faculty adviser, at least. I’d know to ask the adult where and how to set up, anyway. My hands are shaking as I pull open my portfolio and spread it out. I wonder where the screen is? How can I project my photos without a screen to project them upon? For that matter, where is the projector? On the phone, Najla told me I didn’t need to bring one, but I don’t see one anywhere. This is a nightmare.
    The group laughing in the corner finally spots me and comes over.
    â€œSome people left because they thought you weren’t coming,” says a girl who might be Najla.
    â€œI was told room two fourteen,” I say.
    â€œYeah, they moved us without any notice,” the girl says. None of the others seem particularly concerned. I guess they can’t tell that I’m a little upset. I don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.
    â€œIs this where you want me to set up?” I ask. My voice sounds funny. My stomach still hurts.
    â€œOh no. That’s not good,” the girl says. “The computer is back here. Give me your thumb drive, and I’ll plug it in for you.”
    Thumb drive? I didn’t bring a thumb drive. That’s not what the Outdoor Club had me do for them. They told me to bring my computer, and I did. I take a moment to think this through.
    â€œWhen I presented to the Outdoor Club last week, we just hooked my computer up to the projector. Can’t we just do that again?” My stomach is doing little flips, and I might have to go to the bathroom, too.
    â€œWe don’t have that kind of projector,” the gesturing boy says. “This is a Smart Room. The projector is built into the computer back there, and your stuff will appear on the screen over here. It works great.” He points to what I thought was a dry-erase board.
    I bet it would work great—if they had told me to bring a thumb drive. And I guess I didn’t have to haul my computer around all day at school and then over here. My eyes sting. I do not want to cry in front of everyone, but I feel embarrassed and mad. Why didn’t anyone tell me anything?
    I take a deep breath and say to the one girl, “Are you Najla?”
    She nods, and I continue.
    â€œSo here’s the problem. I didn’t bring a thumb drive because you didn’t tell me to. I don’t know how I can do my presentation unless we can borrow the projector the Outdoor Club used. And I have to use the bathroom. Can someone tell me where it is?”
    Najla eyes widen, and her mouth purses. “Well, I just assumed you would know. How should I know what the Outdoor Club uses? We do presentations all the time in Photography Club, and we always use the Smart system.”
    The boy looks at Najla, and I can tell he is as surprised by her tone of voice as I am. He says, “Wait a sec.” He tilts his chin to the ceiling and furrows his brow. Then he says, “E-mail. Just e-mail your presentation to us, and we can run it through the system.”
    I breathe again. Since my computer is on and ready, I quickly e-mail my presentation file to the address he types in. As soon as he receives it