us, and we both started to laugh.
We still were laughing when we walked back into Ms. Drake’s room. She gave us one of her dragon looks so we tried to pull it together, but when Tom made a sniffy, snorty, snobby noise as we walked by, it set us off all over again.
When I finally made it into my seat, I could hear Becky’s whispers and see from the corner of my eye that Tom was glaring at us, but it didn’t bother me. Much.
You know how sometimes things aren’t really all that funny, but something about it strikes you as hilarious and so you end up smiling all day about nothing and looking sort of freakish but you can’t stop doing it? That’s how the rest of my day went.
I had a stupid happy smile plastered to my face all day, even though it meant that Tom, Becky and Henry had to work twice as hard to be jerks. They even got some people who aren’t quite popular but not quite dorks to join the Everyone Hates Lucy Club. I guess seeing me happy was to blame for the recruiting effort.
When Amanda Frankston waited in the hallway bus line with her arms tightly crossed and her face grimacing, I didn’t think it had anything to do with me. Amanda’s always angry, and I was still smiling, imagining a pack of scrawny scapegoat wolves. Plus, I was trying really hard to ignore Henry, who was in the bus line next to us. I angled my body away from him, which also put my back to Amanda. So it took me awhile to tune into her grumbling behind me.
Amanda was about a foot taller and wider than anyone else in fourth grade, and her frizzy, too-thick hair made her head look like a little mushroom on top of a boulder body. She was talking to April, who, when I finally caught on and glanced behind me, looked like a rabbit cornered by a dog. April is tall, but in this stretched-out-taffy thin way. Standing next to Amanda, even April seemed dainty, small, and more than a little scared. While Amanda never had actually broken bones or punched someone’s face in, the potential always was there, just under the surface of her too-broad, always-clenched fists.
So there I stood, smiling to myself about imaginary wolves, taking way too long to realize that Henry was laughing in his mean, not-really-funny-actually-just-mean sort of way and everyone in my bus line and his were staring at my stupid smiley face.
Amanda’s voice rose. “What’s wrong with her hair? That chunk at the top of her pony tail is standing straight up!” Amanda’s laugh was meaner than Henry’s. “Didn’t you know you’re supposed to wash all your hair, Chunk Head?”
Henry joined in next. “What’s all over her shirt? Is that snot?”
“Maybe she forgot to put on clean clothes?” Amanda huffed. “Hey, Chunk Head, wearing jeans that are too small isn’t the same as wearing capris!”
I probably should’ve spouted back a comment about Amanda’s own fashion sense, which was, to put it kindly, challenged. She was wearing black mesh sport shorts and a black T-shirt. At least she matched. And at least her clothes were clean.
I thought of Molly, sweet and smiling this morning in her new outfit. I thought of Mom trying to smooth out my hair but being distracted by Molly smiling. Then I thought of Molly spitting up all over my shirt. For a second, I was so mad. So mad at both of them.
Very softly I heard another voice behind me. “I think her hair’s pretty. And I like her T-shirt.” I knew how hard it had to be for April to stick up for me. How much easier it would’ve been not to.
“What do you know? You think boogers are a tasty treat,” Amanda practically shouted, and everyone in both lines laughed.
“Yeah,” came a nasally, pitchy laugh. “Lucy looks like a Corythosaurus!”
“Shut up, Sheldon,” Amanda snapped.
But Sheldon is incapable of not sharing his dino facts, I guess, even when faced with our class’ T-Rex. “They’re called the helmet lizard, for this fin-like lumpy crest on top of their heads. Their faces are duck-billed
We still were laughing when we walked back into Ms. Drake’s room. She gave us one of her dragon looks so we tried to pull it together, but when Tom made a sniffy, snorty, snobby noise as we walked by, it set us off all over again.
When I finally made it into my seat, I could hear Becky’s whispers and see from the corner of my eye that Tom was glaring at us, but it didn’t bother me. Much.
You know how sometimes things aren’t really all that funny, but something about it strikes you as hilarious and so you end up smiling all day about nothing and looking sort of freakish but you can’t stop doing it? That’s how the rest of my day went.
I had a stupid happy smile plastered to my face all day, even though it meant that Tom, Becky and Henry had to work twice as hard to be jerks. They even got some people who aren’t quite popular but not quite dorks to join the Everyone Hates Lucy Club. I guess seeing me happy was to blame for the recruiting effort.
When Amanda Frankston waited in the hallway bus line with her arms tightly crossed and her face grimacing, I didn’t think it had anything to do with me. Amanda’s always angry, and I was still smiling, imagining a pack of scrawny scapegoat wolves. Plus, I was trying really hard to ignore Henry, who was in the bus line next to us. I angled my body away from him, which also put my back to Amanda. So it took me awhile to tune into her grumbling behind me.
Amanda was about a foot taller and wider than anyone else in fourth grade, and her frizzy, too-thick hair made her head look like a little mushroom on top of a boulder body. She was talking to April, who, when I finally caught on and glanced behind me, looked like a rabbit cornered by a dog. April is tall, but in this stretched-out-taffy thin way. Standing next to Amanda, even April seemed dainty, small, and more than a little scared. While Amanda never had actually broken bones or punched someone’s face in, the potential always was there, just under the surface of her too-broad, always-clenched fists.
So there I stood, smiling to myself about imaginary wolves, taking way too long to realize that Henry was laughing in his mean, not-really-funny-actually-just-mean sort of way and everyone in my bus line and his were staring at my stupid smiley face.
Amanda’s voice rose. “What’s wrong with her hair? That chunk at the top of her pony tail is standing straight up!” Amanda’s laugh was meaner than Henry’s. “Didn’t you know you’re supposed to wash all your hair, Chunk Head?”
Henry joined in next. “What’s all over her shirt? Is that snot?”
“Maybe she forgot to put on clean clothes?” Amanda huffed. “Hey, Chunk Head, wearing jeans that are too small isn’t the same as wearing capris!”
I probably should’ve spouted back a comment about Amanda’s own fashion sense, which was, to put it kindly, challenged. She was wearing black mesh sport shorts and a black T-shirt. At least she matched. And at least her clothes were clean.
I thought of Molly, sweet and smiling this morning in her new outfit. I thought of Mom trying to smooth out my hair but being distracted by Molly smiling. Then I thought of Molly spitting up all over my shirt. For a second, I was so mad. So mad at both of them.
Very softly I heard another voice behind me. “I think her hair’s pretty. And I like her T-shirt.” I knew how hard it had to be for April to stick up for me. How much easier it would’ve been not to.
“What do you know? You think boogers are a tasty treat,” Amanda practically shouted, and everyone in both lines laughed.
“Yeah,” came a nasally, pitchy laugh. “Lucy looks like a Corythosaurus!”
“Shut up, Sheldon,” Amanda snapped.
But Sheldon is incapable of not sharing his dino facts, I guess, even when faced with our class’ T-Rex. “They’re called the helmet lizard, for this fin-like lumpy crest on top of their heads. Their faces are duck-billed
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