The Trouble with Mark Hopper Read Online Free PDF Page B

them in their lockers. He wanted to ask someone, but what if giving students personalized binders on the first day was standard ritual at Ivy Road? Though his were awfully mean-spirited. And if no one else did find personalized binders in their lockers, then he’d really sound weird. If they were there on purpose, then that meant he’d need them for class, and he should put some in his backpack. But if it was some sort of mistake, then he should probably leave them there. But they did say his name on them—his full name, with his middle name spelled correctly and everything. Who else’s could they be? He carefully took the black one off its shelf and stuck it in his backpack.
    â€œHey!”
    Mark, startled, slammed his locker door closed and whirled around.
    Jasmina laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to scare you. What homeroom are you in?”
    â€œUm,” Mark said, still trying to figure out the binder mystery and recover from being jolted out of his thought process.
    â€œI figured that since our lockers are close we might have the same homeroom. I’m in room 140.”
    Mark took out the crumpled schedule from his pocket. Sure enough, he was in room 140 as well.
    â€œCool!” said his new friend. “Want to compare the rest of our schedules?”
    â€œWe could,” Mark said, “but it’d kind of be a waste. They messed up my schedule, so I’m getting a new one in homeroom. It’ll probably be all different.”
    â€œOh, well, let’s compare once you get your new one, then. But come on, homeroom’s almost starting.”
    Mark felt his ears turning red as he walked alongside Jasmina toward homeroom.

    In the meantime, Mark Hopper had found his homeroom, room 140, and introduced himself to the teacher, Mrs. Frances. Mrs. Frances had bright orange hair, crunchy-looking red lipstick, and drawn-on eyebrows. When Mark introduced himself and shook her hand, Mrs. Frances handed him Mark Hopper’s new schedule.
    â€œWhat is this?” Mark asked.
    â€œThere was a mistake with your schedule, and this is your new one. That’s what the office told me.”
    Mark looked at it through tight eyelids. His face grew red and his breath heavy. “Art?” he said through gritted teeth. “They put me back in art?”
    â€œIs there a problem?” Mrs. Frances asked. Her smiling red lips angered Mark even more.
    â€œYes, there’s a problem,” he said. “I need to go to the office and correct this.”
    Mrs. Frances wrote him a pass.
    Mark stormed away, barreling through the students entering the room and knocking one of them into the door frame.
    â€œWhoa, hey!” the boy said.
    â€œGet over it,” Mark shot back. He passed Jasmina and Mark Hopper. “Where are you going?” Jasmina called.
    â€œThey screwed up my schedule again!” Mark called back.
    Jasmina shook her head. “I know him,” she told the Mark next to her. “He’s always like that.”
    â€œReally?” said Mark, his eyes round as usual.
    â€œAlways.”
    The two walked into Mrs. Frances’s room. About twenty students were there, standing near desks. A few were talking quietly, but most of them were just looking around. Mark and Jasmina went to neighboring desks and started to sit down.
    â€œDon’t sit down!” yelled Mrs. Frances.
    Mark and Jasmina stopped themselves mid-sit. She had said it with such urgency that Mark was glad he hadn’t sat yet—maybe the chair would have collapsed.
    â€œI’m going to assign you seats,” Mrs. Frances said more calmly.
    â€œSheesh,” whispered Jasmina. “I thought the seats were covered in slime or something.”
    The bell sounded and the few students who had been talking abruptly became silent. Mark stood by the chair on which he’d almost sat, staring at Mrs. Frances with curiosity.
    â€œGood morning!”