Yes, I was in trouble. She made me come back to class after school.

Outside, rain clouds covered the sky. That made the classroom even darker than before.

Mrs. Hardesty had two tall white candles flickering on her desk. She was leaning over them, whispering to herself, when I dragged myself in.

“Mrs. Hardesty, I’m sorry about the whistle thing,” I said. “But I can’t stay after school.”

She kept whispering for a long while, her eyes shut. The candle smoke floated over her face, but she didn’t seem to mind it.

Finally, she looked up at me. Her skin appeared gray and powdery in the candlelight. “Of course you will stay, Michael.”

“No. Really,” I said. “I can’t. I’ll miss wrestling practice.”

Monster Munroe is the captain of the wrestling team. Who else?

“Sit down, Michael,” Mrs. H said. She pointed to a chair. “I want you to wrestle with your thoughts.”

I let out a groan. “I can’t go to practice?”

She reached into her jar and tossed a little black powder over her shoulder. “Sit down,” she said.

I sat down. I threw my backpack angrily to the floor. I muttered some bad words under my breath.

I had that burning feeling in my chest. The feeling I get when someone is making me really mad.

Mrs. Hardesty blew out the candles. She seemed to inhale the smoke. “Michael, do you think it’s smart to make a fool of your teacher?” she asked.

“I really didn’t have to try!” I blurted out.

OOPS. I did it again. Why can’t I ever shut my trap?

I heard kids burst out laughing in the hall. I knew it was Daisy and DeWayne.

Mrs. Hardesty leaped up from behind her desk. She strode to the classroom door and dragged my two friends in.

DeWayne plopped down next to me, shaking his head.

Daisy didn’t look too happy, either. She never gets in trouble. She has this cute, innocent look. Curly carrot-colored hair, lots of freckles, and dimples in her cheeks even when she isn’t smiling. So everyone thinks she’s totally sweet and adorable.

Of course, I know better. I know she has a wicked-cold sense of humor. She could be a big problem child like me — if she put her mind to it.

“We didn’t do anything,” Daisy told Mrs. Hardesty. “Why do we have to stay?”

The teacher waved for Daisy to sit down. Then she frowned at us one by one.

“You three need an attitude change,” she said. She rubbed her pointed chin. “I think I know what will help.”

“Me, too,” I said. “Wrestling practice will help me. It’ll change my attitude. Really.”

DeWayne grinned at Mrs. Hardesty. “I got an A in Attitude last semester,” he said. “You can check it out.”

Mrs. Hardesty rolled her eyes. “We don’t grade for attitude,” she muttered.

DeWayne squinted at her. “You sure?”

He was goofing on her. But she never got a joke.

“I know what will help you,” Mrs. H repeated. “Some honest work.”

All three of us groaned.

“I’ll give you a choice,” she said. “You can stay two hours after school every day for a week.”

We groaned again, louder.

“Or you can do some community service,” Mrs. H said.

We stared blankly at her. I had a sudden urge to take out my dog whistle and make the shade fly up again.

“I have a project that’s perfect for you three,” Mrs. Hardesty said. “It’s in the lot right by my house. You can come on Saturday.”

“I can’t,” I said. “My dad is taking me to the big computer tech show. I —”

“I can’t,” Daisy said. “I have my tennis lesson, and —”

“Saturday,” Mrs. Hardesty insisted. “No excuses.”

I heard a cough behind us. I turned and saw Mr. Wong step into the room.

Mr. Wong is our new principal. He’s a little weird looking. He’s not old, but he has these sagging cheeks and bulging eyes that make him look like a frog. I’ll bet his nickname was Froggy or Toadboy when he was a kid.

He wears dark pin-striped suits, white shirts, and dark ties. He’s a short dude. But he has a deep, booming voice. Kinda like a bullfrog.

But he’s a good guy.

We never saw our old principal. She never came out of her office. Mr. Wong is always out in the hall, greeting everyone and slapping high fives. He likes hanging out with us.

Mr. Wong pulled Mrs. Hardesty aside and asked what was going on. He kept glancing at the three of us. Mrs. Hardesty had a frown on her face and kept pointing a long bony finger at me.

I couldn’t hear everything they said. But I heard Mr. Wong say, “I think you’re being too hard on them. They were only having a little fun.”

I told you. The Wongster is a good dude.

But Mrs. Hardesty kept shaking her head, making her feathery hair bounce up and down. Finally, Mr. Wong shrugged his shoulders and stepped back. Defeated.

Mrs. Hardesty turned to us. “You three will show up for community service at two o’clock on Saturday. No excuses. We will meet at my house.”

She walked back to her desk and started piling up papers.

Mr. Wong walked up to us. “My house is right down the street from hers,” he whispered. “I’ll come out and check on how you’re doing.”

He turned and left the room.

The three of us started complaining to each other.

“Listen up,” Mrs. Hardesty said. “This is important. Be sure to wear work clothes on Saturday. And you’d better bring nose plugs.”

Huh? Nose plugs?

What did she want us to do on Saturday?