Outside the Lines Read Online Free PDF Page B

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    At the bell, the door pushes open and students start to filter in. Most of the seats are full by the time a big boy with blond hair and freckles walks in like he owns the place. He seriously looks like he must have been held back a grade or two, because he’s easily a head taller than anyone else in the class—which means he matches my five foot four. He stalks right up to Sherm. “Hey, dickhead. Get out of my seat.”
    â€œHey!” I sweep around my desk. “I put him in this seat. There’s a free desk over there,” I say, pointing to a desk in the back, two rows over.
    â€œThen he can take it,” the kid says, shoving Sherm’s shoulder.
    I take a deep breath and count to ten, praying for my inner teacher to show herself. This is exactly the kind of thing I was afraid of. I have no idea how to handle something like this. Do I make an example of him? Do I let it go?
    Mom? Are you there? Help me out here.
    Nothing. God, I miss her.
    I glance at the new boy and the only thing I know for sure is that I have to get him out of the middle of this.
    â€œWhat do you think, Sherm?” I ask with a nudge of my head toward the desk in the back.
    He shrugs.
    â€œOkay, cool. How about we move you over there? You can take the shark jaw, okay?”
    He nods and slides out of the seat. Once we get him settled at his new desk, I come back to the front of the room.
    â€œWhat is your name?” I ask the bully.
    â€œJason.”
    I go to the desktop computer and pull up the roll. “Jason Harkin?” I ask.
    He nods.
    â€œFabulous, Jason. I’ve just made you a date with Principal Richmond. He’ll be expecting you in his office for first recess.”
    But by the end of the day, it’s clear Jason’s trip to the principal’s office didn’t have the desired effect. Despite moving desks, Jason and two of his fifth-grade buddies make it a point to knock into Sherm every chance they get, including when he’s eating, spilling his chocolate milk down the front of him. Sherm puts up a brave front, bless the scrawny little thing, but I pretty much want to die.
    And he still hasn’t said a word.
    Despite desperately wanting to know why Sherm isn’t speaking, I decide going on the offensive with a guy like Big Brother isn’t likely to get me very far. Especially since I don’t really know what questions I should be asking yet. Instead, I make myself busy with another student when his brother comes to pick him up at the end of the day and just watch their interaction.
    But I can’t keep my eyes off Big Brother’s remarkable form, and I know he catches me staring when he glances over his shoulder as he’s ushering Sherm out the door.
    When they’re gone, I shake his formidable image out of my mind and pull the lesson plans for the week toward me. I thumb through them. Mrs. Martin has everything for the next few weeks sorted for me, but I have to figure out how to teach it all without just reading from the textbook. It’s late before I feel like I’ve got anything that will keep the kids interested.
    When I get home, Dad’s cruiser is already in the driveway. The second the front door swings open, I’m hit in the face with the smell of burning . . . everything.
    â€œDad?” I call.
    He pokes his head around the corner of the kitchen door. “Adrianna! There you are! I decided to surprise you and cook dinner.”
    â€œWhat are you making?” I ask, checking that the fire extinguisher is still in the holder near back the door on my way by.
    â€œWell . . . it was going to be spaghetti and meatballs,” he says, gesturing to an empty skillet with an oily black film at the bottom, “but I realized about halfway in that meatballs are more than just balls of meat, and then I burnt them when I was trying to make garlic bread. So now it’s just spaghetti, which is difficult to