Free Teacher's Pet by Laurie Halse Anderson Page B

at, what’s hard. How school was fun when I was a little kid but got worse when I got older. How it makes Gran sad that I don’t like to read, and how she worries about my grades. About the way Zoe flies through her homework and Sunita does extra credit for fun. How I got grounded from the clinic last year and about my tutor and all the work I put in to bring my grades up before the final report card last year.
    Mr. Carlson listens carefully. He asks a few questions, but mostly he lets me ramble.
    I talk about feeling lost in middle school and how everyone seems bigger and smarter than me—how they all have it together and I’m falling apart.
    â€œWhen I was seven years old, I climbed too high in the oak tree that grows in our backyard,” I say. “I slipped and caught hold of a branch. I hung there for ages, screaming my head off, worried that I would slip and fall. I could feel my fingers going numb. I was going to let go and fall. I knew I’d break a leg. That’s what middle school feels like. I’m just barely hanging on, and I’m going to crash.”
    Mr. Carlson strokes his beard. “I know exactly what that feels like. And a young friend convinced me to hold on tight, that things would get easier if I kept working. Remember the map you offered to make for me yesterday, the tactile map?”
    I blush. “I’m sorry, I haven’t had a chance—”
    He cuts me off. “No, don’t worry, I understand. It’s just that I was thinking about maps. You need one. A map to get you through middle school.”
    â€œYou aren’t talking about a map made out of toothpicks, are you?”
    He shakes his head. “No, I’m talking about a plan. You need a plan, a map, customized for Maggie MacKenzie. You’re right. Things are only going to get more complicated from here on out. Your teachers will expect you to do more work and do it faster. And I suspect you’ll want some free time to work at the clinic and play sports.”
    â€œYou’ve got that right.”
    Mr. Carlson picks up the guide-dog harness and slips it over Scout’s head. “Some kids make the adjustment to middle school with no problems. They make it look easy. But most of the kids I know stumble over something. They lose friends, they get cut from a team, or they run up against a tough subject for the first time. There are all kinds of obstacles. You need some help learning to get around them.”
    He buckles on the harness. Scout is back on the job.
    â€œI’ d like to meet with your grandmother and your guidance counselor,” he says. “You should be there, too. Together we can put together a map for you. We’ll do whatever it takes—arrange for extra help during study hall, help you with study skills, test your reading skills. You aren’t stupid, Maggie. You just need a guide.”
    Scout wags his tail, brushing it against my leg. This is making sense.
    â€œLet me ask you a question,” Mr. Carlson says as he stands. “What happened the day you dangled from the branch of the oak tree?”
    I ball up the tissues in my hand. “Gran heard me. She ran out into the backyard and got there just as I let go of the branch. I wound up crashing into her instead of the ground.”
    â€œShe caught you?”
    â€œShe caught me,” I agree.
    â€œWe’re here to catch you, Maggie. Your grandmother, me, Scout, your other teachers, your friends—we won’t let you fall, or fail. But it’s up to you, too. You have to make an effort. You can’t quit.”
    I look at him out of the corner of my eye. I toss the tissue ball at the wastebasket. It goes in. A good start.
    â€œOK. I promise, I’ll try.”

Chapter Eleven
    I am sleepy when Gran drives me to school the next morning. Sleepy, but proud. I had a busy day yesterday.
    Einstein, Galileo, and the rest of Carlson’s Critters are stowed in a carrying