Fish in a Tree

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Authors: Lynda Mullaly Hunt
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cupcake!” Oliver says, flailing about a bit. “Me
love
cupcakes!”
    “You’re such a freak,” Shay says. “That’s Cookie Monster who talks like that.”
    Oliver gets dead serious. Not a single thing on him is moving except his mouth. “If I’m talking like that, then
I’m
the one talking like that. And besides, do you
really
think that Cookie Monster would turn down a cupcake? I mean, it isn’t broccoli or nuclear sludge or something. You could tell him it’s a big, tall cookie with frosting on it. He’d suck it down like a vacuum cleaner. I bet you he would. You want to bet me?
Do
you?”
    Jessica begins to speak, but Shay cuts her off with a look. “No. I won’t bet you. I don’t bet on anything. Ever. And especially not with you.”
    Shay spins on her foot and leaves. Jessica scurries after her.
    It takes three quarters of a second for Oliver to be onto something else. “Wait! That reminds me,” he says. “During our class party, I hid a Halloween cookie somewhere in my desk.”
    “The
Halloween
party?” Keisha asks. “That was
weeks
ago.”
    “Yeah!” He starts digging for it, things falling to the floor as he searches. If it’s there, it’s probably as hard as concrete.
    Keisha turns back to me. “What is it with this class? They lose control over food.” She shakes her head and then pushes the cupcake toward me. “For
you
!”
    “For me?” I ask. Nobody ever brings me anything. Except trouble.
    “Yeah! Of course it’s for you!”
    “Why?”
    “Because I’m still cracking up over what you did with those flowers, that’s why.” She cuts the cupcake in half and shows me that it says
Wow
inside.
    I’m happy.
    Mr. Daniels walks back into the room. “Okay, my Fantasticos! Good news! All homework assignments have been passed in today. That’s worth five extra minutes of snack time.”
    The boys are as excited as if they’ve heard there would be free pizza delivered, too.
    I hear Keisha kind of laughing to herself. I figure it’s because of the boys all going nuts. But then she turns to me and says, “You’ve got guts, Ally. I respect that.”
    I like that, too. But mostly I like that she likes it.
    “Hey,” she says. “You want to sit together at lunch? I’ve been sitting with some people, but I don’t talk to them and they don’t talk to me. And you sit alone, so . . .”
    A mind movie shows us sitting at the table talking and me being happy.
    “Ally? What do you think?”
    “Oh! Yes, that would be great. Thank you.”
    • • •
    After the best lunch and recess I’ve had in a long time, Mr. Daniels waves me up to his desk. He has my homework and my journal. He’s trying to look all happy and light, but I can see the seriousness underneath.
    “Hey, Ally. I’m glad you turned in your homework and it’s more than you usually write. That’s great.”
    I stay quiet.
    “I’m just wondering how long it took you to do your homework. I’m not going to ask you to make changes or anything. I’m just wondering.”
    This feels like a trap. I know it isn’t good, so I wonder if it would be better to say I did it fast on the bus or if I should tell him that I worked really hard.
    “Ally?”
    “It took me . . . kind of a long time, I guess. I mean, I tried to do my best on it.” I look at it. “Is it wrong?”
    “It’s got some good ideas and that’s what the assignment was all about. No worries, okay?”
    No worries? That’s easy for him to say.

CHAPTER 16
    W h a t I ’ v e G o t
    I like Mr. Daniels, but he’s got a thing for reading. Always talking about books and how great they are. Personally, I’d rather have the flu.
    The last thing Mr. Daniels said yesterday was that we were going to write stories today and that it would be our chance to show him what we’ve got.
    The only thing I’ve got is a plan.
    With a big piece of cloth and a safety pin, my writing arm hangs in a sling. How can he ask me to write like this? I’m feeling pretty proud, I

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