Free Pinned (9780545469845) by Sharon Flake Page B

think. On Thursday I found the word fickle . Rhymes with pickle . That made it easy to spell. Laughing, I look up at Mr. E.
    â€œGlad you think math is fun.” He stop in front of Peaches. “It is … fun.” He winks. “Easier to do than losing weight.” His hands hold on to his belly, giving it a little shake. “I’m thinking … maybe … surgery.”
    Stopping in front of Jaxxon, he say, “You like zeroes, I take it, Mr. Teagarden.”
    Jaxxon taking his hat off. I’m looking at Mr. E.’s stomach. Jaxxon yawns and goes down again. Mr. E. clap his hands like they are cymbals. When he yell at Jaxxon, I’m thinking it’s the diet talking. “What do you do at night, Mr. Teagarden? Why … is your head always in the snooze position?”
    Jaxxon jumps up, mouthing off about working late. “Doing real work. Not teaching … talking about eating lettuce all the time!”
    Pushing past Mr. E., knocking papers outta his hand, Jaxxon leave, asking what we all looking at.
    Mr. E. looks down, like the papers are rocks too heavy for him to carry.
    I never seen him embarrassed before. Beating A’Destiny to the front, I pick up all I can. We all do.
    Thanking me, handing out papers, Mr. E. ask me how many wins. I thought I’d have a perfect season. But I ain’t disappointed. “Eighteen wins. Five loses. One forfeit. I’m doing good and the season just getting going.”
    At her house, Peaches got a book with the dates, schools, and names of the guys I went up against. She want me to take pictures, since she stuck at home stillnot able to go to my matches. We working on a scrap-book. Got three already, with our cooking stuff in it.
    I ask Mr. E. if we get a chance before final grades go in to earn a little extra credit. The answer is no. Lately I been thinking — there’s a special ed boy who ride the bus with me. What if I end up in a class like that? With kids who read like kindergartners.
    â€œMiss Knight. Get busy.”
    It’s hard paying attention to a test when your teacher up front looking worried about something. Surgery. He don’t need to do that. Guess everybody fighting something.
    In the middle of the test, Peaches’s hands open like a book sitting in her lap. Her eyes go up. Down. Up. Down. Spying on Mr. E. His feet stay crossed on top of his desk. Suspenders holding tight.
    Miss Pattie didn’t like what Peaches did, not coming to talk to her in class the other day. Plus missing out on those extra-credit points on her last two tests. Maybe Peaches figured cheating was easier than studying hard, and getting chewed out anyhow.
    I try to catch her eye. To let her know she don’t need to do this. I’m checking on Mr. E., too. Wondering. Do he know? He don’t got to do it, either, get stapled or cut. Diet day and night. Not for us.

W hile Autumn saunters into the media center, the Nazis break down Anne’s door. Rounding the families all up. Sending them off to concentration camps.
    â€œAdonis. I —”
    â€œShhh.” Making her wait, I read to the bottom of the page. I’ve read The Diary of Anne Frank before. It’s one of my favorite books.
    â€œBut —”
    Autumn gets so close to my face, her pink lips almost touch the corner of my mouth. The feather in her hair tickles me. “Quit that, Autumn.” I’m at the front desk. It’s slow. I’m reading. But she only cares about what’s important to her.
    â€œI brought you something. Be nice.” An envelope sits in both her hands. “Open it.” She drew the smiley faces on herself, she explains. The envelope is blue. The smiley faces are lime green. The exact same color as her dress.
    Thank you for you know what. I appreciate it. I wouldn’t have figured her to have nice handwriting. I pull out a movie ticket. There’s a smiley face drawn on it, too. The first gift a girl has