“The First Detention Is Always the Hardest”—RAFE K.

I have detention. I, Georgia Khatchadorian, straight-A student and Most Outstanding Effort winner, have detention.

This did not compute, not even when I was sitting in Ms. Donatello’s classroom wondering what fresh torture awaited me. What was Rafe going to say?

Come to think of it, he’d probably be proud. Ugh!

Ms. Donatello sat behind her desk, looking at me and Sam Marks (Sam is Blond Kid, the random guy who tried to help). Rafe used to call her the Dragon Lady, and I guess she does have a sort of dragonish quality. She seems smart and kind of intimidating. But, also according to Rafe, she’s nice.

I guess she falls somewhere between Eragon and… well, Puff the Magic Dragon.

Ms. Donatello interlaced her fingers and looked at me steadily. “Georgia Khatchadorian,” she said, leaning forward slightly. “You’re Rafe Khatchadorian’s sister.”

Wow. She didn’t even use all caps.

“Yes, I am,” I told her. And then, for some unknown reason, I spouted, “Rafe says hi.”

Ms. Donatello smiled. “Hello to him. I understand that you’re so smart you skipped a grade.”

I felt myself blush, and sneaked a look over at Sam, who didn’t seem impressed. “Yeah,” I said. Then I let out a little snort of embarrassment, which made me feel like an even bigger dork.

“Are you an artist?” Ms. Donatello asked.

“Uh, I like to draw,” I said. I flipped open my notebook and showed her one of my drawings. It happened to be a portrait of Rafe and me—Rafe as a giant blob who’s trying to eat me while I fend him off with a sword and a shield.

Ms. Donatello made a little noise as if she were trying to hold back a sneeze. “I see you have a vivid imagination, Georgia,” she said. She was struggling with her mouth, but I could tell she wanted to smile. “Sam has a vivid imagination too.”

“I’m more of a writer,” Sam admitted. “I can’t draw at all.” His ears turned red.

I wanted to ask him what he liked to write about, but the door flew open. Flames spewed into the classroom. A hideous creature slithered up to Ms. Donatello’s desk. “I see you have the perpetrators,” Mrs. Stricker said.

“The students arrived right on time,” Ms. Donatello said. I was starting to see more of her dragon side—the vice principal didn’t intimidate her at all.

“Good,” Mrs. Stricker snapped. “I’ll take over from here.”

“I’m usually in charge of detention, Mrs. Stricker.”

“Not when there’s a Khatchadorian present,” Mrs. Stricker snarled. “I have plans for these two.” She held up something that looked like a cross between a butter knife and a chisel.

“They can scrape the gum off these desks.” Mrs. Stricker smiled. It made her look even scarier than before.