The Naked Mole-Rat Letters Read Free Page A

radio he would have done a better job. And why was he in such a good mood this morning anyway?
    With horror I realized that he was acting like someone in love. Was he in a good mood because he assumed Ratlady was going to e-mail him back?
    Would Ratlady ignore my message and e-mail him anyway? Maybe she already did and he read it before I woke up. Maybe that’s why he was in such a good mood.
    The bell rang and Mr. Peters stopped droning and dismissed class. Now I wasn’t going to have enough time to get the curlers out and get to my next class on time.
    There was only one thing to do: ditch. I’d never committed a school-related crime before.I had to do it—for my hair and my family. I went to my locker, put on my coat, and started walking to the front door. I realized that my heart must have started up again because it was beating like crazy. No teachers in sight. Five more steps and I’d be at the door. Five, four, three, two—
    The Troll stepped in front of the door. Her name is Ms. Trolly, and she’s the new guidance counselor. She pronounces her name like “troll” with a “y,” and she looks like one, too, which is why everybody calls her The Troll.
    â€œPass?” she asked.
    â€œYes, I’d like to pass, thank you.”
    â€œThat is not what I meant. I’m on hall duty. I need to see your pass.”
    â€œPass?”
    â€œA note from the office that says you have permission to leave the building,” she explained.
    â€œOh, a
pass
,” I said, and started fumbling around in my pockets as if I had one. “I just had it. . . .”
    â€œYour name is?”
    â€œFrankie Wallop.”
    â€œWallop!” The Troll exclaimed. “I’ve heard about you.” From the way her face cracked into a smile, I knew that she had heard good things about me. Could I use my straight-A reputation to ditch school? What kind of person would that make me?
    â€œYour father owns Heartstrings, that music shop, doesn’t he?” She pressed her clipboard against her chest.
    â€œYes. He directs the Presbyterian Church choir, too,” I added. “And I sing in it, of course. Every Sunday.” I smiled angelically. “I’m supposed to go to the dentist, and I’m really late.” From the depths of my pocket, my fingers grabbed a piece of paper, the bathroom pass from Mr. Peter. I pulled it out and waved it with straight-A confidence.
    â€œFine,” she said, and opened the door.
    Before she could look at the paper more closely, I stuffed it into my pocket and hustled out. What an amazing discovery. Somebody like Johnny Nye would need a letter signed by God to get out of school in the middle of the day, whereas I could probably waltz out by flashing a gum wrapper.
    Still I wasn’t home free. I had to get home without being seen by anyone who would tell Dad. I tried to make myself invisible as I walked past the gas station and the post office by looking straight ahead and taking smooth, steady steps. My town, Pepper Blossom, seems like a particularly small and very highly populated town when you’re ditching school. I took the side road, avoiding Main Street where Dad would be working in the shop, and cut through the church lot. The minister’s car was the only thing there. I walked quickly, feeling as naked as that emperor who had no clothes. It felt like every window had a face in it, staring at me as I walked by. This must be how criminals like Johnny Nye feel all the time. I couldn’t believe I was actually doing it.
    The hardest part would be getting past our next-door neighbor’s house. Mrs. Holmes sees all and tells all. When I got to our street, I realized why I felt so naked. I had left my backpack at school. With my house key. There was only one way to get in: Ask Mrs. Holmes for our spare key.
    As I walked up the path to her house, I reminded myself that the Frankie Wallop she knows would