I left my hand in the air and looked around. Nobody else was moving.

Mr. Mahoney let out a huge sigh. “All right, Ms. Khatchadorian,” he said. “You may proceed.”

I carried my stack of books (minus one) to the front of the room and cleared my throat. “I know we’re only supposed to give a report on one book,” I said with a smile, “but I couldn’t decide which was my favorite, so I narrowed it down to my top six….”

“You have only five books,” Mr. Mahoney pointed out.

“One of them was stolen,” I explained. “The Book Thief.”

Mr. Mahoney frowned. “Is that a joke? Are you trying to be funny, Ms. Khatchadorian?”

“Um, no. Unfortunately.” This wasn’t going well. I decided to switch gears. “I’d like to start my report by reciting a poem that’s in The Outsiders. It’s by Robert Frost.” I knelt down and stuck out my arms to look like flower petals. “ ‘Nature’s first green is gold,’ ” I quoted. “ ‘Her hardest hue to’—”

Mr. Mahoney interrupted me. “Did you dye your hair green for this presentation? To go with that poem?”

“Um, yes?” I heard a few snickers, but I didn’t mind. I’d rather have people think I dyed my hair to get an A in English than have people think I was the victim of a prank. Or think I did it to be cool. Because it definitely wasn’t cool.

“I’ve heard enough,” Mr. Mahoney said. “Sit down.”

“What?” I blinked in surprise. Does he mean my report is so amazing I don’t even need to finish?

“You Khatchadorians think you can turn everything into a big joke,” Mr. Mahoney growled. He scribbled in his notebook. “Your grade is a D.”

For a moment I couldn’t move. D. He gave me a D. I’d never gotten below a B+ in my entire life!

“Please sit down, Ms. Khatchadorian,” he repeated.

“But you haven’t even heard my report,” I said.

“Sit. Down.”

I didn’t have much choice. So I took my books and sat down.

I’d tried to erase Rafe’s name from everyone’s memory, but I’d only managed to carve it deeper in stone. Somehow, I was able to keep from crying. That was the only thing that went right that morning.

The Truth About Jeanne Galletta

After school Mrs. Stricker sent me to the cafeteria for detention, where Mr. Adell, the janitor, was waiting with a bucket full of bacteria and a sponge.

“You’re supposed to wipe down the tables,” he said, handing me the sponge.

“What’s in there?” I asked, looking at the bucket.

“Water and disinfectant,” Mr. Adell said.

That wasn’t what it smelled like, but I had to take his word for it. I started in on the tables. They were even grosser than the desks had been. Did you know that ketchup can get stuck to a table like glue? Did you realize that a spilled smoothie turns into an oozy jelly? Or that chocolate milk will become a solid if left out all day? Neither did I!