It’s the longest week of my life. Denis and I play BOT DUCK MAN so much, my elbows are sore. But good things are happening.

On Tuesday after school, Denis and Marci come to my house and we hang out in the now-empty garage. Denis tells me I should fix my bike so we can ride the new bike trails together. Then Marci asks if she can put music on and she puts on Patti Smith, which is punk rock. Grandad comes upstairs and pretends to yell at us for playing the music so loud, but really he came upstairs to dance with us. We thrash around in the space left from Dad’s spaceship … also known as the car he stole.

As Patti Smith sings “Free Money,” Denis tells us he’s going to the dance on Friday as friends with Hoa, and Marci and I admit we’re relieved because we didn’t want to be there without him.

On Tuesday night, the school board announces there’s going to be an emergency board meeting next Tuesday. Apparently the local paper isn’t the only place people have been arguing about the black rectangles.

At lit circle on Wednesday, Aaron tells us his dad is going to go to the meeting and speak. Then Hoa says her parents are coming to the board meeting. I say I’m positive my mom and grandad will come with me, too.

Aaron asks, “What about your dad?” Looks right at me.

I shake my head.

“What?” Aaron says, sensing something off in my response. “Did your dad die or something?”

“Aaron, that’s mean,” Marci says.

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just curious.”

“Well, some people’s dads do actually die, so maybe you could be nicer about it,” Marci says. “Seriously.”

“I don’t know where he is,” I manage.

“I did not know this.” Aaron’s face gets stuck in thought. I try to ignore him and read the book, but I can feel a comment coming any second.

The comment doesn’t come until right after recess on Thursday.

We all bring jackets now that it’s not so hot, and when we come in from recess and I put mine on my hook in my cubby, Aaron says to the kid he’s talking to, “See that kid there? His dad didn’t even want him.”

I turn around and say, “Shut up, Aaron.”

“Well, it’s true,” he says. “He probably left because you—” This is when Ms. Sett steps in and tugs on Aaron’s sweatshirt sleeve. She pulls him out of the classroom and comes back by herself about four minutes later.

The thing is, I want to know what he was going to say next. I want to know the reason he was going to give for my dad doing what he did. Because frankly, I’d really like some ideas.

When lit circle starts, Ms. Sett asks me to come out to the hallway with her.

She says, “I’m sorry for what was said to you today after recess. I’ve removed Aaron from your group, and you and he will talk during club block later.”

“Talk?” I ask.

“Well, he’ll apologize,” she says.

I nod.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Sure,” I say.

“Mac. Seriously. You don’t stick up for yourself. Why?”

I shrug.

“Has he done it before?” she asks. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

I shake my head. I’m not sure what to do with Ms. Sett being nice. I can’t find words.

“You’re a smart kid. You have a lot to say. You’re doing great. I know home is a bit complicated, but that’s no reason to stop believing in yourself,” she says. “You’re not the same person as you were only a few weeks ago.”

“Okay,” I manage.

“You’re one of our strongest voices. I saw you at that school board meeting. You did so well,” she says.

This seems weird because I was speaking against her. I must look confused, because she smiles and laughs a little.

“It’s rare to be someone with something to say, Mac. Remember how special you are. Let me know if Aaron bullies you again. And don’t forget to have some fun before middle school, okay? If you’re serious all the time, that can be hard on your brain.”

“Okay,” I say. “Thanks.”

“I mean it,” she says.

“Okay,” I say again.

She ruffles my hair on our way into the room.

Thirty minutes later, I’m in Dr. McKenny’s office and Aaron James is in front of her desk apologizing to me and I just keep thinking about how Ms. Sett said that I was special and how I had something to say.

“So, I’m sorry. It was rude and I’m sorry about your dad, too,” Aaron says.

I let silence gallop by for a moment.

“He’s a complicated guy, so it’s kinda better this way,” I say.

Dr. McKenny does that tilt-nod-impressed-smirk move adults do.

“Yeah, but it’s hard to be without a dad,” Aaron says.

“It is. I have my grandad, though. He’s great.”

“That’s good.”

We both look at Dr. McKenny.

She tells us to go back to Ms. Sett’s room, and when we do, we see that Ms. Sett has moved Aaron’s desk out of the pod and off on its own, next to our cubbies.

By Friday, with the dance ten hours away, it feels like time is standing still. We all just lived the longest week of our lives. The only thing that saves us from going time-crazy is reading the last chapter of The Devil’s Arithmetic.

But here’s what I see: Aaron James, still sitting at a desk of his own over by the coat cubbies, has tears in his eyes. I’m glad Ms. Sett made him think about what he did and apologize, but I also wish he’d been able to do the final day of reading in lit circle with us, not at an isolated desk.

Maybe this makes me too nice. So what? Then I’m too nice. Maybe it makes me a pushover. Whatever. Then I’m a pushover. If I got rid of all my feelings so I could be a mean person, I don’t think I could ever forgive myself.