Read Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar for Free Online

ONCE? I ACCIDENTALLY STUFFED MY SKIRT INTO MY UNDERPANTS AND…”
    She kept talking all the way down the hall.
    Like I said, she just can’t help herself.

Stop, Book Thief!
    A miracle!
    I sat in homeroom for fifteen minutes, and NOTHING horrible happened.
    Mr. Grank didn’t even mention my hair, which made me wonder if he’s color-blind. It would definitely explain some of his outfits.

    Then the bell rang for first period. It was about time for something horrible to happen, right? I was three steps from the door when Mini-Miller swiped my book right out from under my arm.
    “That’s what you get for walking so slow, Peg Leg.” He grinned his dumb grin at me.
    “Do you even read?”
    Mini-Miller shrugged his enormous shoulders. “No.”
    I planted my hands on my hips. “So, what are you going to do with a copy of
The Book Thief
?”
    Mini-Miller snorted. “Duh,” he said. “Sell it on eBay.”
    Great. Mini-Miller will probably be the next Internet millionaire, thanks to me.

    I sighed and watched Mini-Miller lope down the hallway. I couldn’t believe my copy of
The Book Thief
was stolen by a real book thief. Could this day get any worse?
    Yes, it could!
    Because just at the moment Mini-Miller turned the corner, Mrs. Stricker swooped past him going in the other direction—toward
me
.
    The minute she saw my hair, her face lit up. I could tell I’d just made her day. Not in a good way.
    “Green hair, Rafe Khatchadorian’s SISTER?!” she screeched. “That’s a violation of our dress code! I’ll see you in detention!”
    And she took off down the hallway, gleefully passing out a stack of brand-new
HVMS Code of Conduct
booklets.

My Six Favorite Books This Year (So Far)
    W ho wants to give the first oral book report?”
    Before the question was out of Mr. Mahoney’s mouth, my hand shot into the air. Teachers are always impressed when you show enthusiasm—and I wanted to prove that I was no Rafe Khatchadorian! Mrs. Stricker might have just accused me of a genetic relationship, but none of my
real
teachers had called me Rafe in more than a week. By the time I finished my oral report, that name would be wiped from everyone’s memory—permanently.

    “Does anyone
else
wish to go first?” Mr. Mahoney asked. “Anyone?”
    I left my hand in the air and looked around. Nobody else was moving.
    Mr. Mahoney let out a huge sigh. “All right, Ms. Khatchadorian,” he said. “You may proceed.”
    I carried my stack of books (minus one) to thefront of the room and cleared my throat. “I know we’re only supposed to give a report on one book,” I said with a smile, “but I couldn’t decide which was my favorite, so I narrowed it down to my top six….”
    “You have only five books,” Mr. Mahoney pointed out.
    “One of them was stolen,” I explained. “
The Book Thief
.”
    Mr. Mahoney frowned. “Is that a joke? Are you trying to be funny, Ms. Khatchadorian?”
    “Um, no. Unfortunately.” This wasn’t going well. I decided to switch gears. “I’d like to start my report by reciting a poem that’s in
The Outsiders
. It’s by Robert Frost.” I knelt down and stuck out my arms to look like flower petals. “ ‘Nature’s first green is gold,’ ” I quoted. “ ‘Her hardest hue to’—”
    Mr. Mahoney interrupted me. “Did you dye your hair green for this presentation? To go with that poem?”
    “Um, yes?” I heard a few snickers, but I didn’t mind. I’d rather have people think I dyed my hair to get an A in English than have people think I was the victim of a prank. Or think I did it to be cool. Because it definitely
wasn’t
cool.
    “I’ve heard enough,” Mr. Mahoney said. “Sit down.”
    “What?” I blinked in surprise.
Does he mean my report is so amazing I don’t even need to finish?
    “You Khatchadorians think you can turn everything into a big joke,” Mr. Mahoney growled. He scribbled in his notebook. “Your grade is a D.”
    For a moment I couldn’t move. D. He gave me a