Finally!

The last day of school should be the best day of the year, but it’s a disaster. Ms. Williams can’t get the DVD player to work, so she points to everything in the room and makes us spell it like we’re back in kindergarten. When she points to a photo of Mr. Demetri, I spell T-H-E W-O-R-S-T P-R-I-N-C-I-P-A-L W-E H-A-V-E E-V-E-R H-A-D instead. I thought I did a great job with all that spelling, but Ms. Williams is not amused and makes me write out the multiplication tables for punishment. No one appreciates a good joke anymore, that’s the problem.

When I get to my locker, Joe Brennan is waiting for me. Joe used to be one of the smallest kids in our school, but he had a growth spurt last fall and now he’s the biggest. Joe isn’t smart enough to use his new size to shake down kids for lunch money. Instead, his favorite trick is getting in your face with his junk-food breath and making you listen to his lame made-up stories. Trust me, losing your cash is a hundred times better than his fantasy tales about talking gerbils and magic turtles.

I lean against my locker to escape his foul breath. From the orange crumbs nesting between his teeth, I assume he’s been eating Cheetos.

“Hey, Derek,” he says, “are you around this summer? I’m working on a great story about a cat with wings who’s afraid of heights.”

“Sounds interesting.” I tell him another lie—that I’ll be in skateboard camp in Venice Beach and won’t be around.

He doesn’t buy it. “You’ll be hanging around the neighborhood with that stupid old mutt retriever of yours, same as every summer.”

“My dog might be old and a mutt, but he’s not stupid.” I can feel the handle of the locker pressing into my back as I lean away from the orange-y crumbs shooting out of Joe’s mouth.

When I burp in his face, Joe finally lets go of my T-shirt. I hurry back to the classroom and run smack into Ms. Williams.

She places a book in my hand. “Consider this an end-of-school present.”

It’s one of the books from our reading list.

“Since it’s not a library or classroom book,” she continues, “you can write in it. I made you some notes in the margins. I hope you find them helpful.”

“You’re giving me a used book?”

She ignores me. “And don’t forget to keep drawing your vocabulary words.”

Ms. Williams obviously doesn’t realize I’m trying to escape because she continues to block the door. We move side to side in the doorway like two old people dancing. As if on cue, Carly appears beside me. She smiles sweetly to Ms. Williams, then shoots me the evil eye to stop blocking the entrance to her precious classroom.

I move out of the way and thank Ms. Williams for the book. When Carly realizes the teacher gave me a present and not her, she lets out a pathetic noise that sounds as if she’s been punched in the gut.

“Carly, are you ready to take Ginger home?” Ms. Williams asks.

Carly volunteered—of course—to watch the class hedgehog for the summer. She stands near Ginger’s crate like a Secret Service agent guarding the president. Maybe she’ll fall asleep with Ginger on her lap this summer and wake up with marks on her legs from Ginger’s quills.

When the bell rings at the end of the day, most of the girls hug each other good-bye at the lockers, milking every last second of school time until next September. I vault over the hedge near the school entrance and skid to a halt in front of the crossing guard. When she tells me to have a nice summer, I shout back that I intend to. At home, I throw my backpack onto the porch and let out Bodi. I think about grabbing his leash but decide against it. We’re finally free!