“EllRay?” Ms. Sanchez says, reminding me that she is still waiting for an answer.
“Sorry,” I mumble, and I get ready to walk the plank.
That’s right. Suddenly I just want to get it over with. I will walk to the end of the plank, take a deep, deep breath, then drop off into the cold dark ocean.
It feels like I don’t even have a choice.
“I guess spilling your water bottle was all my fault,” I say to Ms. Sanchez. “I guess I kind of waved my arms around at Cynthia and Heather, and—”
“Stop right there,” Ms. Sanchez says, holding up her hand. “I must tell you that I heard from another source that the whole unfortunate episode happened in quite a different way.”
Whoa. Fancy words alert. Somebody blabbed?
“And I’m not even talking about my soggy attendance notebook anymore,” Ms. Sanchez says. “Why are you so willing to take the blame, sweetie?” she asks, her voice gentle. “That’s the question.”
Ga-a-ack! This is the second time this semester that Ms. Sanchez has called me “sweetie”! Well, at least there are no other kids in the room this time.
“Why, EllRay?” Ms. Sanchez asks again.
And I can’t think of anything to say, because it’s too hard to explain.
Or maybe I can’t think because I’m starving. Even my brain is empty.
“Look,” Ms. Sanchez says, pointing toward Zip’s still-empty fish bowl, which is sitting on the table behind her desk. “Do you see that?”
“You don’t have to remind me,” I say, wondering when she is gonna take it home, for pete’s sake.
“Do you see the geode?” she asks, being more exact this time. “That’s you, EllRay Jakes.”
Huh? Gee, thanks a lot!
“I’m a rock?” I manage to ask.
“I mean, if people were rocks, I’d say you were that geode,” she explains. “A little rough on the outside, at least lately, but beautiful and precious on the inside.”
Beautiful and precious? And I thought “sweetie” was bad!
“Please don’t tell that to the kids, okay?” I say, mumbling again.
But Ms. Sanchez just laughs. “Being beautiful on the inside is much better than being rough and hard all the way through, the way some people seem to be. At least lately,” she points out.
“It’s not as good as being a crystal all the way through, though,” I say.
“Well, not many people are as good as that,” Ms. Sanchez tells me. “Only a very few, in fact.”
Ms. Sanchez is one of them, I think—but of course I could never tell her that. She’d think I was kissing up to her. Smo-o-o-ch.
YUCK!
“I want you to listen to me, EllRay Jakes,” Ms. Sanchez says, leaning forward. “Your reputation is your most precious possession. You have to protect it. You must fight for it. You cannot surrender it so easily, whatever the reason.”
“But I don’t have a good reputation,” I blurt out. “Not anymore. Not since the dead fish thing, and the book I forgot to bring back. Not to mention sometimes getting in trouble for bothering my neighbor during Sustained Silent Reading, and forgetting to get official permission slips signed, and stuff like that. I’m getting famous for messing up.”
“I’m not saying there isn’t room for improvement,” Ms. Sanchez admits, uttering those dreaded words. “But I am saying you’re a wonderful boy all the same. Just don’t give up on yourself, EllRay. I have great hopes for you, and so do your mom and dad.”
“Okay,” I say, sneaking a look at the wall clock and hoping Ms. Sanchez isn’t going to ask me again who spilled the water—because now, I’m still not sure what I’d tell her.
Grown-ups don’t know how hard it is sometimes to be a kid.
Also, I am hoping there is still time for me to eat my sandwich, because my stomach is actually growling—the way Cynthia did on the playground that day. “May I please be excused?” I ask, as if Ms. Sanchez is my mom, and we’re sitting at the dinner table.
“Yes,” Ms. Sanchez says. “You certainly may. But I’m going to make an announcement at the end of class today.”
“What kind of announcement?” I ask, my heart suddenly bouncing around in my skinny chest like a marble in a shoebox.
“Wait and see,” Ms. Sanchez says.