Knowing that I actually have something—a disorder, or as my moms always say, a difference—has only made me dread school more than ever. Because now I have to go to the Resource Room after lunch every Tuesday and Thursday. When everyone else is in class getting free time, I have to complete extra lessons in math—which doesn’t seem fair. I can’t help but feel like I’m being punished.

But that’s not why I take my time getting to the bus stop every day. I always try to time my arrival so I don’t have to stand there with the other kids from my school. The bus stop is this weird in-between space that’s not home and not school. Without parents or teachers, it’s like there are no rules about how you’re supposed to act—or, at least, people pretend there aren’t.

Today, I pace myself, whistling into the woods on my way, calling for the dog. I stop every so often to peer between the trees with my bird-watching binoculars, but I don’t see any sign of her.

I blame the bus for the carnival of suckage that fifth grade has become. It started on the very first day of the year, before school even started, before I got my IEP and had to start going to the Resource Room.

After all, it was on the bus that first morning of the year when I became the archenemy of the meanest kid at school. Her name is Macy, also known as “Mean Machine” for two reasons: The first is that her last name is MacHine, which looks like “machine,” even though it’s not pronounced that way. The second reason is because everyone remembers how last year, she got into two different fights with kids who were older than us. Macy is always glaring at everyone, like she’s looking for the poor sorry soul who will become her next victim.

Unfortunately, this year, that poor sorry soul is me.

It was an accident. On the first day of school, I stepped on the back of Macy’s sneaker as we were walking onto the bus. Which wouldn’t have been that bad, except that when I stepped on her shoe it came right off. Which also wouldn’t have been that bad, if she hadn’t tripped and fallen down in front of everyone on the bus. I thought she might scream or push me or even punch me, but she turned around and growled at me. Growled. Somehow, that felt worse.