Hello, Sisters

Something else you need to know about—and it’s a big one—is that we had our meeting with Mrs. Stricker and Mrs. Stonecase on the Friday before school started.

Mom brought my completion certificate from The Program, so there couldn’t be any funny business about not letting me back into HVMS.

“I’d like to have this placed in Rafe’s file,” Mom said. She gave a copy of it to Stricker (no way were we giving up the original), and I was all for that. Because I don’t want to get all the way to the end of this book without saying—GUESS WHAT?

So at least I was going to be re-enrolled at HVMS. That was good… ish. But we weren’t done yet.

“Mrs. Khatchadorian,” Stonecase started in. “There is still the matter of Rafe’s academic adjustment to discuss before the school year begins.”

“Excuse me?” Mom said. “His academic… adjustment?”

I think I felt my eye twitch. Stricker may not have been happy to see me, but there was something about this she liked. I could just tell. It was like the old instinct kicking in.

And right now, she was looking at me the way a heavyweight champ looks at a skinny little kid who wandered into the wrong gym.

“Based on Rafe’s transcripts before and after he left HVMS,” Stricker said, “we’ll need to enroll him in some repeat and special classes.”

“Repeat?” I said. “Special?”

“We need to be certain he’s ready to tackle his grade level before we can actually let him proceed,” Stonecase said.

“Proceed?” I said. I didn’t like the sound of any of those words.

“Believe me, Rafe,” Stricker said slowly, “I want you to… succeed here just as badly as you want it.”

Well, I knew what that meant. She wanted me out of her middle school just as fast as possible. It was the one thing in the universe that Ida P. Stricker and I had in common.

“But,” Stricker said, “that may not happen as quickly as we might have liked.”

“In other words, Rafe,” Stonecase said, “now that you’ve made your way back into Hills Village Middle School, there’s really no knowing how long it’s going to take you to finish. That part will be up to you.”

“And… up to me,” Stricker said. The way she almost-but-not-quite smiled told me everything. If I was going to make her life miserable, she was going to return the favor—and then some.

I was back, all right.

Way back.