Read Brendan Buckley's Sixth-Grade Experiment for Free Online

him that I’d spent a night in the woods with her. Or that I’d promised to hang around with her at school.
    â€œWhy was she talking to you like you’re her best friend?”
    I shrugged and kept walking, but I felt like a slug trailing slime. I started to run. When I got to the fence, I glanced back. She was gone.

    When we got to homeroom, Morgan wasn’t there. My shoulders relaxed with relief. I wasn’t trying to be mean. It was just that Morgan was like this wiry, bouncy, talking paper clip. And I was a giant magnet. I didn’t want atalking paper clip stuck to my backside my whole first year of middle school. Hopefully she’d find some
girls
to be friends with and wouldn’t want to be around me so much. Problem solved.
    The final bell rang and Ms. Manley called us to attention. “Okay, listen up. You are currently in Room 6E. Look at your class schedule and make sure you’re in the right place. This is where you’ll come at the start of each day for roll call and advisory. We’ll work on the skills you need to make the best possible transition to the new and exciting world of middle school.” She didn’t sound too excited. “If you’re in pre-algebra, you’ll stay with me for first period as well. Got it?”
    Several people nodded, including me. This woman was serious.
    Khal smacked his gum. The teacher eyed him, lifted the garbage can, and walked to our row. She didn’t say anything—just held the can in front of Khal’s face. Her biceps were nearly as big as Dad’s. Khal spit his gum out.
    While she was taking roll, the door opened. I expected it to be an adult with some kind of message, but it wasn’t. It was a short kid with a buzz cut wearing camouflage pants, a brown T-shirt, and a military dog tag around his neck. His skin was brown, but he didn’t look black, exactly. His eyes were shaped like footballs and were black as coal.
    Behind him was Morgan. The rims of her eyes looked pink and watery, and her face was splotchy.
    I shriveled like an ant under a magnifying glass in the sun.
    â€œShe was lost,” the boy announced, “but I found her.” He led her to Ms. Manley’s desk.
    â€œThank you, Mister …” Ms. Manley waited for the boy to tell her his name.
    â€œDel Santos. Dwight David!” The boy threw back his shoulders, clicked his heels, and saluted the class. Some of the kids laughed. Was he joking? Or did he really think school was like the army? Ms. Manley sure enough could’ve been a drill sergeant.
    â€œThank you, Mr. Del Santos. Have a seat.”
    The boy marched to an empty chair, spun a one-eighty, did another salute, and sat. Definitely joking. More kids laughed, including Khal and me. Ms. Manley gave the class a sharp look and we all shut our mouths. She turned to Morgan. “And you are?”
    â€œMorgan,” she said quietly. She pointed to her name on Ms. Manley’s list.
    â€œThank you, Miss Belcher.”
    â€œBelcher?”
Khalfani practically shouted.
    Cordé Wilkins, who’d been known throughout our elementary school for his crazy-loud burps, must have seen his chance to establish a reputation at Eastmont. He let out the longest, juiciest belch I’d ever heard.
    â€œEwwww!” Both girls
and
boys were grossed out.
    Khal waved his hand in front of his nose. “Man, Cordé! What’d you have for breakfast? Chili dogs?”
    When people laughed this time, I bit the side of my cheek. Morgan had turned about as pink as a flamingo.
    â€œThat’s enough!” Ms. Manley commanded. She glared at Cordé. “Young man, I’m confident you don’t want to spend the first hour of your first day of middle school in the principal’s office. Am I right?”
    Cordé looked genuinely scared. I didn’t blame him. Ms. Manley wasn’t taking any mess.
    Welcome to middle school
.

Turned out Morgan and I not