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

doesn’t fall for it. Like, if I say, “Don’t give me your cheese puffs or I will be so mad,” she shrugs and says, “Okay.” And doesn’t give me her cheese puffs.
    Also, Lexie herself has really pretty hair. It’s dark brown and shiny, and it swishes.
    She bumps me with her shoulder and says, “Look what I learned to do. It’s awesome.”
    She wiggles a rubber band off her wrist. She’s wearing zillions of them. She holds the rubber band in one hand, and with her other hand, she makes a gun shape.
    â€œLexie?” I say.
    She loops the rubber band around her thumb and the tip of the pointed finger. The rubber band slips off, but she gets it back on. Then, with her other hand, she pulls down the bottom of the rubber band, stretches it tight, and uses the leftover fingers on her gun hand to lock it in place.
    My stomach knots up like it did at morning drop-off. “Lexie . . .”
    She lets go, and the rubber band sails off her finger and thwacks the wall.
    â€œSweet!” she says. “Wasn’t that sweet? Tomorrow, you need to bring lots of rubber bands so we can have a war, ’kay?”

    She pulls another rubber band off her wrist. This time she aims it at Taylor—a boy Taylor—but before she can do anything, Mrs. Webber rings her cowbell and calls, “Room break!”
    My muscles relax. I like saving people. I don’t like shooting them.
    Some of the kids in our class don’t like Lexie because she’s wild. Like, sometimes she kicks them or pokes them with sharp pencils. Sometimes, she kicks and pokes me . Sometimes I have to use my stern voice and say, “Lexie, stop.”
    But Lexie is big and loud. She does whatever she wants.
    Sometimes—not all the time, but some times—I wonder if I should be wild. Or at least a little wild. Or at least a little . . . something that’s more wild and less stomach-clenchy.
    Right now, I’m glad it’s time for morning meeting.
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    â€œAll right, kids,” Mrs. Webber says once we’re sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor in front of her. Taylor isn’t allowed to sit next to Chase, but I can sit next to anybody, so I sit next to Lexie. Breezie sits next to Lexie, too. On Lexie’s other side.
    I would sit next to Joseph, but yeah . . . Joseph’s in the hospital. I on purpose don’t sit next to Taylor, because he’s even wilder than Lexie, and he gets in trouble all the time. Also, he always wants to do puny-arm fights.
    â€œOn Thursday, we have our field trip to the Georgia Aquarium,” Mrs. Webber says.
    Everyone claps and says, “Yay!”
    I can’t wait to go to the aquarium. We’ll get to touch sharks and real live starfish and see two beluga whales who are friends and who drift like pale gigantoid marshmallows through the water. Mrs. Webber told us about them. That’s how I know.
    â€œPlease bring in your permission slip if you haven’t already,” Mrs. Webber says. “And a sack lunch, so we can throw our trash away when we’re done.”
    Lexie raises her hand. “Can we bring money for the gift shop?”
    â€œYou cannot bring money for the gift shop. That would be too complicated with the whole grade there.”
    â€œ Wah, ” Lexie says.
    Taylor raises his hand.
    â€œYes, Taylor?” Mrs. Webber says.
    â€œI have a question,” Taylor says.
    â€œDoes your question have to do with our field trip?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œThen go ahead. But stay on topic.”
    â€œWell, it’s just that the only black shirt I have is ripped, and so I can’t wear it, and so I can’t dress up as my favorite fish, the black phantom.”
    â€œTaylor? Did I at any point say that you should dress up as your favorite fish for our field trip?”
    â€œI had a black phantom once in my aquarium. Then I got a kissing fish,