Free Help! Somebody Get Me Out of Fourth Grade by Henry Winkler

friend is, Hank?” Dr. Berger put her hand on my leg to slow down the bouncing. “Maybe I can talk to her and make her feel better.”
    â€œOh, no. I’ll tell her what you said. Thank you so much, Dr. Berger.”
    â€œTell her not to worry,” Dr. Berger said. “I’m confident the school will make the decision that is best for her.”
    All the way back to class, I told myself not to worry. But what was waiting for me in class told me just the opposite. It told me to worry.
    Big time.

CHAPTER 15
    IT WAS JUST AN ENVELOPE. From looking at it, you wouldn’t think it was any big deal—a brown envelope, that’s all. Ms. Adolf was passing one out to everyone in class.
    â€œYou are to give this envelope to your parents,” Ms. Adolf said as she walked up and down the aisles handing one to each student. “It contains some information that we’ll need for the parent-teacher conference.”
    The problem was, mine wasn’t a thin brown envelope like every other kid in class got. Nope, mine was a thick brown envelope, Scotch-taped closed, and about as thick as the short stack of blueberry pancakes I get at the International House of Pancakes.
    Large, thick envelopes are a reason to worry. I know this because the only other kid who got the big, thick envelope was Luke Whitman. That should tell you something. Luke Whitman isn’t exactly the shiniest marble in the pouch. Let me put it another way. When they’re dividing you into reading groups, you don’t want to get put in Luke’s group. It’s not a good sign.
    Naturally, the first person to notice that my envelope was different was Nick McKelty. I’m telling you, that guy has some kind of built-in radar that signals him when you’re feeling your lowest.
    â€œLooks like Zippy Boy got a thick envelope,” Nick the Tick smirked before I could hide the envelope in the bottom of my backpack. “You know what they say, Zippy Boy. The thicker the envelope, the thicker the kid.”
    Usually, I can come up with something to say that puts McKelty in his place, but I was so upset when I saw the envelope that my mind went blank. I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. It felt like there were a million cotton balls stuffed inside there. When I tried to talk, I made a noise that sounded like a cat spitting up a fur ball.
    â€œLay off, McKelty,” Frankie said to him, trying to cover for my fur-ball problem.
    â€œYeah, mind your own beeswax,” Ashley added. In typical Ashley style, she squinched down and got right in his face, putting the bill of her hat next to his hairy unibrow. If he exhaled any of his toxic breath on her, she was going to get blasted into the stratosphere. But she didn’t care. She’s my friend through and through.
    The bell rang. I was still just sitting at my desk staring at the awful brown envelope. I was sure it contained the news that I was dreading.
    Attention, world. Hank Zipzer, loser of all time, is being left back.
    I felt a big lump rise up in my throat, the one that comes just before you’re going to cry.
    I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.
    â€œCome on, let’s get out of here, Zip,” Frankie said.
    Ashley scooped up the envelope from my desk, and Frankie grabbed my backpack. Before I knew it, Frankie had me by one arm, and Ashley had me by the other, and we were on our feet and on our way out the door.
    â€œI got the thick envelope,” I whispered to them as we shoved our way down the stairs to the first floor.
    â€œMe too,” a voice said from behind. It was Luke Whitman. “I already looked inside mine.”
    â€œYou weren’t supposed to do that,” Ashley said to him.
    â€œHey, I already know they’re recommending I repeat fourth grade,” Luke said. “As if they need to prove it, they stuffed this envelope full of my really lousy tests and homework. But I figure I’m pretty