CHAPTER 11

MOST KIDS COMPLAIN about their classes and say things like:

“Adverbs are the enemy.”

“Who cares what dead people did two hundred years ago?”

“All I need to know about black holes is that my brain is one!”

I don’t get it though. Classes are the safe part of school.

I hate the in-between parts—before school, break time, passing between classes, lunch. All potential land mines that can blow up any second. And when you’re closer to the ground, land mines are more dangerous, much more dangerous.

My next potential land mine—lunch!

I’d brought in lunch so I wouldn’t have to stand in the lunch line the first day—on display for the whole cafeteria to see. Plus who knew what they served in Skenago. Probably squirrel stew or moose mousse or something else made from what they shot in the woods. My lunch in hand, all I needed was an out-of-the-way place to sit and eat. I headed toward the corner table I’d scoped out before school, but . . .

It was already filled with laughing, chitchatting kids. Popular kids.

I put my head down and headed toward the back of the cafeteria, using my peripheral vision to look for an empty table. But I admit a tiny part of me dared to hope for more—that someone from one of my morning classes would flag me down and say, “Hey, aren’t you the new kid in our math class? Don’t be so obtuse. Come sit with us.” Math geeks—yup, I’d be happy eating with math geeks.

No invitations.

And no empty tables.

Finally, I spotted an almost-empty table with two guys who had their noses stuck in books, and I grabbed a seat. The only book I had with me was my math book, so I flipped it open and started reading the chapter assigned for tomorrow.

But I couldn’t concentrate. Our table was so quiet, pieces of conversations from other tables floated by . . . “that him?” . . . “such a squirt” . . . “from Portland” . . . and laughter. Lots of laughter from every direction. Were they laughing at me? I didn’t dare to look. But I could feel their stares like X-ray vision cutting right through me.

“So short” . . . “Daddy’s boy” . . . “Tiny Tim” . . .

Did someone really say Tiny Tim? Did kids already know who I was? I’d always heard there was no keeping secrets from middle schoolers.

Since they were onto me, I wondered whether I should escape from lunch early or wait until the last possible second to avoid them all. Leaving early meant hanging in the hall where the angry boys hung out, so I decided to stay late. Almost everyone was gone when the bell rang and now I had to hurry to history class.

But as I left the cafeteria . . .

“HEY, MINNY! HEY, KEVIN!”

The Jerk. Of course, the Jerk. The last person I wanted to see.

But who was Kevin? I looked behind me and gulp! There was another bruiser—almost as big as Rory. Man, what do they put in the water up here in Skenago? Whatever it is, I’d better start drinking it—gallons of it.

“Wanna join me for lunch, guys?” asked Rory.

BURRRRRRRP! Kevin belched so loud I swear the cafeteria floor shook as if he’d triggered an earthquake.

Rory fist-bumped Kevin to congratulate him on his burp and said, “Oh yeah, I forgot you still have the early lunch this year.”

“I already ate too,” I said.

“That’s right,” Rory snorted. “You eat with the little kids.”

I felt steam coming out of my ears, like an angry cartoon character. I stretched my neck as tall as it would go—to get right in the Jerk’s face (I made it to his lowest rib) and said, “At least I didn’t get sent to the office before the first day of school even started.” I felt like adding, “Take that!” But Rory snorted again and high-fived that Kevin guy. He wasn’t embarrassed about being sent to Dad’s office—he was proud of it.

Then Kevin let out another ground-shaking burp and smiled.

“Get a bib,” I suggested before stomping away.

I went to history class, but really only my body went. My mind was already home, with Maxi. That’s how I was going to make it through the day. I kept telling myself, “Can’t wait to see you, girl. Can’t wait to see you, girl. Can’t wait . . .” It didn’t matter that Maxi couldn’t hear me. It only mattered that I could hear it. I kept my Maxi message playing in my head the rest of the day until Mom picked me up after school and brought me home.

Seems Maxi couldn’t wait to see me either. When I let her out of her crate, she went crazy. She jumped up, knocked me to the floor, and smothered me with kisses—all over, sticking her tongue up my nostrils, in my ears. She even licked inside my belly button. It was like she was trying to kiss me on the inside, where I needed it the most.

• • •

SECRET #11

There’s nothing so bad in the world that dog kisses won’t make it better.