Eighth Grade Bites Read Online Free PDF

beside his desk, sat down with a weary sigh. Whoever had decided that school should start so early in the morning and last all day long needed to be hunted down and forced to watch hours of educational television without the aid of caffeine.
    Meredith entered the room, brightening Vlad’s day with the endearing smile on her face. She was chatting with Kara Metley, one of her two best friends. Melissa Hart was the missing link today. They were normally an inseparable trio, but Melissa had been placed in Mr. Crumble’s class this year, with Henry—an arrangement that suited Henry perfectly, as he had developed a secret crush on Melissa at last year’s Snow Ball, when she slapped a boy for trying to kiss her.
    Henry was a strange boy.
    Meredith glanced at Vlad, who shrank back in his seat and hoped she hadn’t noticed he’d been watching her, and then sat at her desk. As if on cue, Kara sauntered over to his desk and dropped a note in front of him with a smile. She turned and took her place behind Meredith.
    Vlad’s heart took up residence in his throat. He unfolded the sheet of paper with what he considered to be casual grace and tried his best to decipher Kara’s scrolling, feminine handwriting. The note’s single question drove a large splinter into Vlad’s self-esteem. It was short, sharp, and caused Vlad great pain.
    Does Henry like Meredith?
    Ouch.
    And there was a tiny heart over the i in Meredith’s name.
    Double ouch.
    He folded the paper back up and slipped it into the front pocket of his backpack. He’d answer it later when he had a clearer head and a lighter heart. Or . . . maybe he’d just forget he ever saw it.
    The door to the classroom swung open, and seconds later a tall, thin man wearing a rumpled purple top hat and a three-piece suit walked in. Under his black jacket he wore a pewter-colored vest over a crisp white shirt. Hanging from the vest’s pocket was a gold pocket-watch chain. In his hand he carried an old leather doctor’s bag.
    After dropping his bag on the teacher’s desk, he turned to the class with a bright smile. His blue eyes twinkled. “Good morning, class. I’m Mr. Otis, and I will be substituting for Mr. Craig during his absence. As my first name is the same as my last, you may call me by either, providing the obligatory title ‘mister’ precedes your choice.”
    Mr. Otis looked about the classroom, as if waiting for someone to interrupt him. When no one did, he cleared his throat and continued. “It’s unfortunate that we’ve been brought together under these circumstances, as Mr. Craig was . . .” He made a clucking sound with his tongue and sat on the corner of the desk. “. . . is . . . such a fine and clearly admired teacher. But as regrettable as the situation is, I will do my best to inform and educate you in an entertaining manner.”
    Ever curious, Kara raised her hand. She didn’t wait to be called on, but rather made her presence known with a question. “Do you know Mr. Craig?”
    Mr. Otis paused for a moment, wet his lips, and said, “I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure.”
    Kara wasn’t quite done with her assault and, with a toss of her hair, asked, “How long have you been a teacher?”
    â€œA long time.” He turned his back to the class and began rummaging through his bag. When he turned back, his smiled had eased. He was holding what looked like a seating chart—a checkerboard of students’ names. “Very long indeed. Most recently I was a full-time mythology teacher at Stokerton High, but I’ve taught a variety of subjects all over the world.”
    Out of curiosity, Vlad raised his hand, but before he could lift it more than a few inches above his desk, Mr. Otis nodded to him. Vlad dropped his hand. “So you teach English, too?”
    â€œNo. Well, that is to say, not until today.” He reached into