Free Set the Record Straight! by Rachel Wise Page B

Neighborhood with Record Tear Fall!
    I hiccupped and tried again. “Mr. Trigg, it’s—” But the crying got me again. Now I was embarrassed on top of it.
    Mr. Trigg said very slowly and nicely, “Okay, whoever this is, just cry for a minute and don’t try to talk. Then, when you’re ready, I’ll still be here waiting. I’m at my computer, so I can keep myself busy until you need me.”
    I cried a little more, with the phone tipped away from my mouth. Then I began to regain control. I took a few deep breaths. I swallowed, wishing Marcy was here with her mints and her Kleenex.
    Finally, I said, “Mr. Trigg. It’s Sam Martone.”
    â€œMs. Martone! Whatever is the matter?” Mr. Trigg’s voice was full of concern.
    â€œMr. Trigg, my . . . my advice backfired, and the person I gave it to is, um, kind of stalking me.”
    â€œStalking you! Whatever do you mean ?” I could hear the alarm in his voice.
    â€œWell, first she sent me some mean letters at the Dear Know-It-All mailbox. Then she sent me a bunch of mean e-mails. Like, forty-two in a row last time I checked . . .”
    â€œForty-two e-mails! That’s outrageous! I’ve been so busy since I got back, I haven’t had a chance to check the Dear Know-It-All e-mails yet.”
    â€œWell, there may be more. I stopped checking a few days ago. But today she posted something on the high school’s Buddybook wall that I should ‘come out, come out, wherever I am.’ I shuddered, just thinking of it again.
    â€œMy goodness!” Mr. Trigg shouted. “You’re being cyberbullied! I’m calling Mr. Pfeiffer, and we’ll get to the bottom of this! Oh, Ms. Martone, I wish you’d told me earlier!”
    â€œBut you were away! I didn’t want to bother you!”
    â€œMs. Martone, this is a very serious matter. This is the very sort of thing you should bother me about! I hope you’ve told your mother!”
    â€œWell . . . now I wish I had, but I thought I could handle it. Then when I knew I couldn’t, I just kind of ignored it. But I guess that only made it grow bigger.”
    â€œOh dear me, deary me! Alrighty, please, by all means, get your mother up to speed. I will speak with Mr. Pfeiffer, and then I will give her a ring on this number. . . . This is her mobile phone, correct?”
    He pronounced it “MO-bye-ul.” I had to smile a tiny bit. “Yes.”
    â€œOh, and Ms. Martone, I am so very, very sorry that this happened to you. I am sorry that your term as Dear Know-It-All was so fraught and so brief. Now let’s both run along. I don’t want youto worry. You’ve done nothing wrong, and we’re going to help fix this.” And he hung up.
    I sat in the hedge, staring at the MO-bye-ul in my hands. Then I realized he had said my term was “brief.” He assumed I was quitting. That I was done with being Dear Know-It-All. Huh. I guessed I was. I waited to feel a huge relief, a weight lifted off my shoulders, but it didn’t come. Maybe later it would, after I’d spoken to my mom and the grown-ups had sorted this out and dealt with it all. I was sure I’d feel better then.
    Right?

    Allie was in the kitchen in a flash when I opened the door. “How did it go?” she asked. Then she stopped dead in her tracks. “Wait! Did he make you cry? That little rat! I’m calling his brothers.” She turned to stomp back up the stairs.
    â€œNo! Stop, Allie! I . . . chickened out. That’s why I’m crying. I just . . . I chickened out.” I shrugged and tried to look forlorn, so she’d feel pity instead of rage. It worked.
    â€œPoor baby,” she said, hugging me again. Wow,between my tears and her hugs, we were breaking all sorts of records around here. “But maybe it’s better. That outfit is all wrong.”
    My mom came in,