My Miserable Life Read Online Free PDF

Only three kids could fit at a time, so the rest of the class lined up, trying to get back in again, except for Joe Knapp, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor reading. He looked up through his dorky glasses for a second and wiggled his fingers in the air at me in what might have been a wave.

    â€œHey, Ben,” Rocko said. “You want a turn? Can I see your mission?”
    I wanted to hide it behind my back. It was a gooey blob. Some of the clay hadn’t stuck to the Popsicle sticks, and they were showing through. I backed away, and the mission slid off the piece of cardboard I’d put it on and fell onto the floor. Ms. Washington helped me pick it up.
    â€œYou did a good job, Ben,” she said while we were crouched on the ground together. She smelled like butter, cocoa powder, and sugar. “I see you made it all by yourself.”
    Unlike some people, I thought.

    I looked up from my broken mission to see Serena Perl; she was ringing the real bell in Rocko’s bell tower.

    When I got home from school, I went into my closet and took out my SECRET BOX . It has all the things that are important to me, like ticket stubs from the Darters baseball games my mom used to take me to before money got tight, my straight-A report cards, and some pictures of me playing baseball and eating ice cream cones with my mom. Those were the good old days, before my mom was stressed out and worried so much. I moved everything aside and took out what I was looking for. It was a red paper heart with puppy stickers and glitter writing (she has always been all about the sparkle) that said I LOVE YOU BEN HUNTER . It was a valentine from Serena Perl from kindergarten.
    There had been a time, before Rocko Hoggen existed to me, before he broke my clavicle and it had to fuse itself back together again (probably unevenly), before I lost my baby curls and got big front teeth, a time when Serena Perl said she loved me. Now it was all over. Forever. My mission had failed.
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    WHAT I AM GRATEFUL FOR
    by Ben Hunter
    I am grateful for many things. Well, some things. Well, three things.
    I am grateful for the Darters because they are a good team, and they are my team, and my mom used to take me to see them play. Because it was a special occasion, my mom let me eat Darter Dogs, frozen lemonade, and ice cream, and I explained each play to her.
    I am grateful for my teacher, Ms. Washington, because she is the best teacher ever. She pays attention, listens, and understands.
    I am grateful for my grandmother for not being afraid to put her hands inside a turkey, for putting marshmallows on yams, for not using the word bad except in extreme situations, and for playing ball with me.
    These are the things I am grateful for.
    But sometimes I forget.
    Dear Ben,
    I’m grateful to have you in my class.

    Happy Thanksgiving,
    Ms. Washington

 
    CHAPTER 7
    GRATEFUL FOR GRANNY

    Thanksgiving is a pretty good holiday. There isn’t an endless supply of candy that you aren’t allowed to eat. There is pumpkin pie, which you can eat because it is technically a vegetable. Best of all, my grandma, Minnie, always comes from Date Palm Oasis to celebrate with us.

    My grandma is super cool. She has more energy than any old person I know, even more energy than my mom. Grandma hikes and swims every day. She never gets mad at me, and she lets me talk to her about sports for hours and doesn’t get bored. She says, “Ben, the way you reel off those Darters statistics is really impressive. I think we have a genius on our hands.”
    One time I got to visit her in Date Palm Oasis all by myself. She lives in a little cabin boat on a lake in the middle of the date palms. You have to walk on a swaying bridge to get to it—so cool! Rabbits play and roadrunners run on the banks of the lake at dawn. My grandma’s house is filled with games that she actually plays with me and a TV and my favorite DVDs, and she makes me breakfast for