54 - Don't Go To Sleep Read Free Page B

teacher commanded.
    Robertson took her book back from me and started reading out loud. I tried to
follow the story. It was something about people going to balls and some guys
wanting to marry Princess Kitty. Girl stuff. I yawned.
    “Bored, Amsterdam?” the teacher asked. “Maybe I can wake you up a bit. Why
don’t you tell us what this passage means?”
    “Means?” I echoed. “You mean, what does it mean?”
    “That’s what I said.”
    I tried to stall for time. When would this stupid class be over, anyway?
    “Um—mean? What does it mean,” I murmured to myself, as if I were thinking
really hard. “Like, what is the meaning of it? Wow, that’s a tough one—”
    All the other kids turned in their seats and stared at me.
    The teacher tapped his foot. “We’re waiting.”
    What could I do? I had no idea what was going on. I went for the foolproof
escape.
    “I have to go to the bathroom,” I said.
    Everybody laughed except the teacher. He rolled his eyes.
    “Go ahead,” he said. “And stop by the principal’s office on your way back.”
    “What?”
    “You heard me,” the teacher said. “You’ve got a date with the principal. Now
get out of my class.”
    I jumped up and ran out of the room. Man! High-school teachers were mean!
    Even though I was being punished, I was glad to get out of there.
    I never thought I’d say this, ever. But I wanted to go back to junior high! I
wished everything would go back to normal.
    I wandered through the hall, looking for the principal’s office. I found a
door with a frosted-glass window. Letters on the window said, MRS. MCNAB, PRINCIPAL.
    Should I go in? I wondered. Why should I? She’s only going to yell at me.
    I was about to turn around and leave. But someone was coming toward me down
the hall.
    Someone I didn’t want to see.
    “There you are, you little creep!” It was the big guy from this morning. “I’m
going to pound your face into the ground!”

 
 
5
     
     
    Gulp.
    Suddenly the principal’s office didn’t seem so scary. This guy—whoever he
was—would never hurt me in the principal’s office.
    “You’ll be needing plastic surgery when I’m finished with you!” the guy
yelled.
    I opened the principal’s door and slipped inside.
    A big woman with steely gray hair sat behind a desk, writing something.
    “Yes?” she said. “What is it?”
    I paused to catch my breath. Why was I there again?
    Oh, yeah. English class.
    “My English teacher sent me,” I explained. “I guess I’m in trouble.”
    “Sit down, Matt.” She offered me a chair. She seemed kind of nice. She didn’t
raise her voice. “What’s the problem?”
    “There’s been some kind of mistake,” I began. “I don’t belong here. I’m not supposed to be in high school!”
    She frowned. “What on earth are you talking about?”
    “I’m twelve years old!” I cried. “I’m a seventh grader! I can’t do this high
school work. I’m supposed to be in middle school!”
    She looked confused. She reached out and pressed the back of her hand to my
forehead.
    She’s checking to see if I have a fever, I realized. I must sound like a
maniac.
    She spoke slowly and clearly. “Matt, you’re in eleventh grade. Not seventh
grade. Can you understand me?”
    “I know I look like an eleventh grader,” I said. “I can’t do the work!
Just now, in English class? They were reading a big, fat book called Anna something. I couldn’t read the first sentence!”
    “Calm down, Matt.” She stood up and went to a file cabinet. “You can do the work. I’ll prove it to you.”
    She pulled out a file and opened it. I stared at it. It was a school record,
with grades and comments.
    My name was written at the top of the chart. And there were my grades, for
seventh grade, eighth grade, ninth grade, tenth grade, and the first half of
eleventh.
    “You see?” Mrs. McNab said. “You can do the work. You’ve gotten mostly B’s,
every year.”
    There were even a few