I don't know why the girls in middle school are so mean to me. You'd think they'd like a circus kid. I mean, everybody loves circuses, right? The roar of the greasepaint, smell of the crowd. The trapeze artists, the jugglers, the promenading poodles in pink tutus. Maybe it's because they expected me to be funny, like my dad the clown, or lithe and flexible like my mom the contortionist. Unfortunately I was more like my pet cat, Galleycat-chubby and furry with whiskers. Mom and Dad said it was some latent circus people gene.
"Hey Catgirl,"Monica Myers yelled at me across the science room. "Your mother wears Army boots!"The other girls snickered. Monica is such a snark. It was too bad I didn't have claws.
I looked up from feeding the class terrapin. "So what? She's patriotic. And she has bunions from walking the trapeze.”
The girls laughed at me again. Luckily, that's when Mr. Segundo walked in. I doodled my teacher's name all over my notebook all different ways. Mr. Segundo. Mr. Bat Segundo. Mr. B. Segundo.
"Ms. Jefferies?"I heard him calling my name. Oh, no. Everyone was staring at me. What a muddle.
"Ms. Jefferies, it is clear that you haven't been listening. Drop everything and give me ten . . . books.”
I felt tears welling in my eyes and a hairball rising in my throat. My hopes of being Teacher's Pet were now nothing but will of the wisp.
Miss Snark reaches for her lace hankie to wipe away a tear!
Scoring to come.