Free The Life of Ty: Penguin Problems by Lauren Myracle Page A

“Help!” in a squinchy voice, and the reason why is because his head is stuck between two metal bars.
    I sigh.
    Preschoolers.
    I go through the gate outside the playground, and it clangs when I pull it shut. Price tries to look over, but he can’t, really.
    â€œHold on, Price!” I call. “I’m coming!”
    â€œMy head got stuck!” he cries.
    â€œI know!”
    There are steps leading from the slides to the monkey bars, and by the stairs, there are rails that have metal bars. That’s where Price is stuck. It’s not the first time.

    I walk over, bend at the waist, and put my upside-down face where he can see me.
    â€œTy!” he says happily. He tries to stand, but it doesn’t work. “ Ouch .”
    Boy, I’m glad I’m not a preschooler anymore.
    â€œHave you drawn any more pictures of Cyber Grape?” Price asks.
    Cyber Grape is like Plankton from SpongeBob, only bigger and purple, and I invented him. I drew a picture of him for Price, and now Price wants more and more.
    I also invented Robo-Thing, who is Cyber Grape’s best friend, but without as many superpowers.
    Price doesn’t know about Robo-Thing.
    â€œI haven’t drawn any Cyber Grape pictures this morning, because this morning I’m rescuing you,” I say.
    â€œWill you draw some more soon?”
    â€œMaybe. Now, stay.”
    I tromp up the stairs. I tromp to the railing and kneel beside him. I reach through the bars, grab his head, and twist twist twist, until pop!
    He topples backward and lands on the seat of his jeans, which are the kind with elastic. He presses on his skull like he’s pushing his brain into place. He looks at me with admiration. Like how Robo-Thing looks at Cyber Grape, probably. Huh. I haven’t drawn that picture yet, but I should.
    â€œDon’t stick your head in there again,” I tell Price. “And even so, you’re not supposed to be out here. You’re supposed to be inside.”
    I hold out my hand. His hand is sweaty, but I pull him up anyway. “C’mon. I’ll walk you to your class.”

CHAPTER TWO
    B y the time I get to Mrs. Webber’s room, which is my class, I feel less stomach-jumpy than when I first got to school. I feel more like me. Even so, my hand gives Mrs. Webber a weird wave when I walk through the door. It does this without my permission, because I don’t know the rule for saying hi to Mrs. Webber first thing in the morning.
    Maybe there’s not a rule?
    â€œGood morning, Ty,” Mrs. Webber says. “How’s your baby sister doing?”
    She always asks this. Every day for the last three weeks, she’s asked this.
    â€œShe’s fine,” I tell her, which is what I always say. I think for a moment. “She spit up all over my mom’s shirt this morning.”
    â€œOh dear. No fun.”
    â€œNope.”
    Mrs. Webber clucks. Then she says the other thing she always says, which is, “Well, be sure to help out your mom as much as you can. Babies are precious, but so much work.”
    â€œBabies aren’t precious,” Lexie says, coming up next to me. “Babies are b-o-r-i-n-g boring . Does she have hair yet?”
    â€œNope,” I say. “Still bald.”
    â€œHa. Ugly baldie.” She grabs my arm. “Come on, let’s go.”
    I follow her to the beanbag corner of the room. Teensy Baby Maggie isn’t ugly, I almost tell her as we sit down. But I don’t, and I also don’t tell her that she shouldn’t make fun of bald people in general, which she pretty much is by saying “baldie.”
    Joseph, who’s my real best friend, is a baldie. A temporary baldie, because he has leukemia. He’s going to be okay. But he’s in the hospital for a little while. Not forever, just for a while.
    But telling Lexie not to do something just makes her do it more, except when I’m trying on purpose to trick her. Then she