“Scoot over,” George said. He slid into me, and I slid into Bertie. I wondered why he was making us sit so cram-smashed together, but then I saw the new kid. He was standing smack-dab in the middle of the cafeteria, holding his tray like a skinny statue.

He was staring straight at me, like it wasn’t enough to see me. It was like he was trying to see through me or something. But I didn’t understand why he was looking at me in the first place. There were plenty of other kids to look at.

Then he suddenly turned around and walked out the double doors. I saw Ms. B. standing in the hall, holding her own tray of turkey tetrazzini.

“Never mind. Scoot back,” George said, and he opened up the space between us. “Looks like Dee’s having lunch with Ms. B.”

“No fair,” Bertie whined. “I’d love to have lunch with a teacher. I think they should raffle it off. I’d buy a bunch of tickets. They could make lots of money to give to the polar bears or the whales or the emus. Or they could make it a contest for behavior!” Her eyes got wide as she thought about the idea. “Every time a teacher ‘catches’ you being good”—her fingers did air quotes around catches—“you earn a ticket, and then at the end of the week, they pick the winner. Although it could go wrong, like when a teacher wants so bad to catch a certain kid being good, and they get, like, one ticket, and even though the odds are totally stacked against them, they’re picked. You know what I mean?”

“Yeah,” I said, even though I’d kind of lost track of what we were talking about.

“Like at the beginning of the year”—Bertie was still talking—“Dee called me something bad. And we had to have this whole conversation with Ms. G. and Ms. B. and Ms. Mendoza, and whoa, Nelly.” She made a move like she was pulling back on the reins of a horse.

Bertie’s face didn’t change as she told her story. It was still all twinkly-crinkly and pacific blue braces. She could have been saying it was supposed to rain tomorrow or we had gym on Fridays.

“Sorry,” I said.

“Why are you sorry?” She laughed.

I shrugged. But I’ve had people call me bad stuff before. I know what it feels like.

9. Magenta, Sunglow, Canary, Banana Mania

After lunch, I got Ms. G.’s book out of my desk and sat in the back of the room with Bertie. It was more comfortable than sitting at my desk. I took out my bookmark and opened to chapter four.

I said My name is Austin fifteen times looking at the page on the left. I said My name is Austin fifteen times looking at the page on the right. I turned the page.