The good news is that nobody cared about my backpack. The bad news is that Rafe was right—HVMS is like prison. My crime? Mistaken identity.
It wasn’t bad at first. I didn’t really mind that the school bus smelled like an armpit. I didn’t even mind that all the kids seemed to know one another already.
Then I got to homeroom. I’d never had to change classes before, so I was nervously trying to memorize my schedule while the teacher, Mr. Grank, called roll. He suddenly said, “Georgia Khatchadorian? You’re Rafe Khatchadorian’s SISTER?!” Yup, he said it just like that, in all-capital letters, with an exclamation point at the end.
The class went silent. Then everyone started whispering to one another.
I felt myself blush. “Um… yeah?” I said, hesitating.
“You don’t know?” Mr. Grank growled.
“Well, sir… I was just hoping, maybe we could keep that, um, little piece of trivia just between me, you, and these four walls?”
I grinned nervously, but Mr. Grank was all “Don’t get smart with me, Ms. Khatchadorian.”
Someone in the class said, “Ooooh, trivia…” and I felt everyone looking at me, like I was showing off some big, fancy vocabulary word or something. Actually, it was more like they thought I was going to take off all my clothes and streak through the hallway. (Which Rafe actually did once.) So I slumped down in my chair until the bell rang.
Now, normally we would’ve gone to a Big School Assembly next to learn about the school rules and stuff. But for some reason—(ahem, Rafe)—there wasn’t one this year. The Code of Conduct was being “reworked.” So we went straight to our classes.
Anyone want to guess why—(cough, cough, Rafe)—the teacher gave me a “special welcome” in English? And math? And French? And gym?