Read Online Lessons I Never Learned at Meadowbrook Academy by Liz Maccie - Free Book Online

yellow fluorescent death sentence out of my grip. As she touched my hand, it surprised me that her skin felt warm this time.
    â€œMay I tell you a funny story, Miss Romano?” she asked.
    I nodded.
    â€œWhen I was your age, my mother made me wear a string of fake plastic pearls to school each and every day. She thought they made me look elegant.” Twiggy sat with her memory for a moment. “It’s not what’s on the outside that counts. It never is. Be lucky enough to understand that now.”
    I had managed to stop crying and I looked at her. A soft pink flushed her cheeks, and instead of her pale blues eyes looking cold and empty, they now seemed tender and…full. She didn’t look severe or horrible or even mean anymore.
    I wanted to tell her that I was scared and how much I deep down hated myself for being embarrassed about my family. I wanted to tell her that I felt different, and ugly, and that she was right…I didn’t belong at Meadowbrook.
    â€œOkay,” I said. And that’s all that came out.
    â€œDon’t give up an opportunity just because it’s challenging. The greatest obstacles often yield the most splendid gifts.” Twiggy’s tone was soft and comforting. “What’s your next class?” she asked.
    â€œGym.”
    The second bell rang. Third period had started.
    Twiggy put the bus pass on her lap and took out a small pad from her blazer pocket. She grabbed the felt-tip pen off her desk and scribbled a note. “Give this to Ms. Dalton, the gym teacher. It will keep you out of trouble.”
    I took the note and hesitated before I asked, “Do I absolutely have to use that?” I pointed to the yellow pass on her lap.
    Twiggy took the pass and ripped it in half, sending relief throughout my entire body. “I’ll inform the monitor that you will be on board today. Just make sure you get on the West Orange/Livingston bus.”
    I nodded.
    â€œAll right, then. Get going to gym.”
    I stood up and headed toward the door, but stopped. “Ummm…I just…thanks.”
    Twiggy smiled. “You’re welcome.”
    â€œAnd I’m sorry you had to wear fake plastic pearls. That must have sucked.”
    â€œOnly temporarily,” she said.
    â€œOh, good. That’s good to know.” I opened the door.
    â€œNow, don’t forget, Miss Romano, you still have detention today, 3:15 p.m. sharp in the study hall room. Don’t be late.” Twiggy stood up, her hands neatly folded against her skirt. “And one more thing.” She took a few steps toward me. “You’ll do fine, Roberta. Just fine.”
    Twiggy called me Roberta instead of Miss Romano, and I don’t know why, but in that moment, I really did feel like everything was going to be okay.

A Perpetual War Zone
10:18 a.m.
    On my way to gym, through the half-opened nurse’s door, I saw Mervin. He was slumped over like a sack of potatoes, holding his stomach. His gigantic green backpack was on the floor next to him. I already had a note excusing my lateness, so I stopped in to see what was going on.
    â€œHey, Mervin,” I said as I opened the door and walked in. “You okay?”
    Mervin sat up. There were large, red, puffy blotches scattered across his neck.
    â€œI’m just waiting for some medicine.”
    â€œWhat happened to your neck?” I sat down on a chair next to him.
    â€œNumber two pencil.”
    â€œExcuse me?”
    â€œNumber two pencil…I’m deathly allergic. If a number two comes in contact with my skin, I develop a shortness of breath, severe hives, and digestional complications. It’s no joke.”
    The puffy red welts did look horrible. And painful. “That sucks.”
    â€œWe’ve all got problems.”
    I thought about it for a second. “Aren’t all pencils number two?”
    â€œStatistically speaking, yes…unless you’re an artist, then