"He's found us!"
That's not what eleven-year-old Trevor Tate expects his mom to say when she gets his third suspension noticed in three months. He doesn't expect a robotic tentacle to shoot out of the bathtub and drag her through an otherworldly por...
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The vice principal had candy on her desk.
I always stared at the candy. I don't know why. Maybe it was because I knew I'd never get any. Mom says some things are like watching a train wreck, because they're so horrible we can't look away. That candy was like a train wreck. It was always peanut butter cups. It's like Vice Principal Tearvey knew those were my favorite and put them there just to torture me.
I wouldn't put it past her.
"What am I going to do with you, Trevor Tate?" She said.She always sounded chokey and stuffed up, like she wanted to sneeze out marshmallows.
I glanced at her, then back at the candy. I shrugged. "I don't know. What do you usually do with me?"
"Look at me, Trevor."
I did. Her puckery face wasn't as train-wrecky as the candy,but it was close.
"What?"
"Your mother says you are a wonderful child. I'm sure she's right, but for the life of me I can't understand why you feel the need to try my patience every week."
I shrugged. "It's a game I play. What can I say?"
Her brown eyes narrowed. "Somehow I doubt Arthur Kamps enjoys your game very much."
"Arthur Kamps is a jerk," I said without thinking.I say a lot of stuff without thinking. Sometimes it gets me into trouble, but this time I was already in trouble so it didn't really matter.
Tearvey sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. "I don't expect all my students to get along, Trevor. I'm not n unreasonable person. You may dislike Arthur all you want. But as I have told you numerous times, we do not allow bullying at Lewis Elementary."
"I'm not a bully," I said, trying not to get mad. As usual, it was hard. I hate being called a bully more than almost anything.
"You punched poor Arthur in the mouth," Tearvey said."That is what we call bullying."
For once I held back the reply that wanted to spew out of my mouth. It would have been something like 'he started it'. But stuff like that never worked with the Vice Principal, even if it was true.
She leaned in, pursing her lips like a sloth. An angry, rabid sloth. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"
I tried to think of something to say that would make her understand, but then I realized it was pointless. So what if I'd heard Arthur picking on Amanda Byer at recess? So what if her crying had made me so mad I felt hot all over? So what if, when he laughed at her, my anger became impossible to control? So what if the only way I could think of to make him stop was to punch his stupid jerk-face?I wasn't the bully. Arthur was. But if I said that, Tearvey would just ask me why I didn't tell the recess teacher and let her handle it. Again. And I wouldn't be able to convince her that my brain stopped working when I got mad.Again.
