Things Are Gonna Get Ugly Read Online Free PDF Page A

wrote in iambic pentameter in curly calligraphy, saying how we were as dry and as superficial as Cheetos. Petra and I finally got her back. We wrote fake love e-mails to her from Tyler. She totally bought it because, the next day, Olivia taped milk-chocolate hearts and a poem about purple falcons to his locker. Last I checked falcons are NOT a big turn-on item for guys.
    As Mr. Dribble glares at me, Olivia stands up, shaking her skinny arms so that her peasant blouse billows like it might fill up and carry her away like a hot-air balloon. I wish it would. She squints her medieval eyes at me and then smiles at her dorky, community-activist friend Ninai Levine, who’s actually wearing her girl scout uniform—white shirt, khaki pants, and a sash. Does she understand this is eighth grade, which is practically high school, which is almost college?
    I glower at Olivia as she grins and pushes all of her bracelets up her arm, jingling. Really, if I were cadaver-pale and wore tentlike peasant clothing, I don’t think I’d wear jangly jewelry to call attention to myself!
    Petra and Caylin give me looks of sympathy. Gracefully, I throw a basketball up in the air as a final punctuation mark to the moment. The ball spins in the net, rattles the hoop, and bounces out of the basket. Blahh! Outside one of the gym windows, I stare at the fields, which are permanently green, even in the summer, because of the extensive watering system donated by the very generous La Cambia Parents Club.
    Dribble smiles so big you can, unfortunately, seehis yellow teeth, and his bushy mustache wriggles like a guinea pig. “I’m waiting, Ms. Smith. Collect your things and let’s go back to the classroom. Now .” Patting down his comb-over, he folds his arms across his chest and taps his foot.
    â€œI’ve heard he’s kicked out five kids from school just this year,” says Petra under her breath.
    â€œHe’s such a meanster ,” Caylin whispers, then gives me a half smile. “Don’t worry, we’ve got your back.”
    A Fresh Start
    Mr. Dribble bites into his sandwich and holds up two papers. One has my name on it. The other, Winslow’s. “Can you explain this?”
    The room smells like Spam and Dr Pepper. “Look, I’m so sorry. It’s just that my birthday’s coming up and I was planning—” I can barely choke out the words. There are no words. When you cheat, the school rule is that you go on N.P. (no privileges), which means you can’t attend any school functions such as dances, which means no Winterfest!
    Mr. Dribble pulls a pickle out of a jar on his desk. He crunches down onto the green, pimpled spear, and juice runs down his chin.
    I start to cry now. Chest heaving. Tears streaming.Room spinning. “All of my friends will be there. I rented a limo. We’re going to Benihana. We’re going. Oh. I—just tell me what you’re going to do.”
    Chugging from a Dr Pepper, Dribble paces in front of his desk, which is cluttered with Ziploc bags from his lunch and tissues. “You know what you need? A CYT file.” He takes a bite out of his sandwich.
    I’m so confused. A file? CYT? What was the man talking about? “A CYT file? What’s that? Are they down in the office?”
    Dribble laughs so hard he snorts and a bit of sandwich flies out. Ewwwwwww!
    â€œWant to know what a CYT file is?” he asks. “It’s a Cover Your Tracks file. Lots of folks don’t know about it.”
    I try to figure out what all of this means. What is he talking about?
    Aha!
    Dribble inhales another bite of his sandwich. He chews on the left side of his mouth and makes a popping sound. “There’s lots of folks who are real smart and educated but they’ll leave their hot ashes in a double paper bag and set it on their woodendeck and wonder why their house catches on fire. It’s called common sense.”
    He gazes out the