Read Paper Things for Free Online Page B

now,” she says, dismissing me, “before someone catches you without a pass.”
    I nod and hurry to the door before she sees my tears. Ever since we left Janna’s, nothing has gone right. It’s starting to feel like the year when Mama died all over again.
    We have a substitute teacher in science class, which is almost like having a snow day. No one bothers to pay attention, to do any real work. Lots of kids are talking, passing notes, even reading, in class. The sub doesn’t seem to care. She just draws a cell diagram on the board and explains what she’s drawing as if every single one of us found the structure of cells more interesting than juicy gossip.
    I put my head down on the desk. The wood feels cool on my cheek.
    “Do you feel all right?” the sub asks as she hands me a sheet of paper.
    I sit up again and shrug. I can’t stop thinking about my next class: social studies. What am I going to tell Mr. O.?
    Maybe I don’t feel OK. Maybe I’m sick. Maybe I should head down to the nurse’s office. I think of lying on the green cot, the white cotton blanket draped over me. In the nurse’s office, there’s nothing more to do than watch the hands on the clock tick around.
    Yes, I’m definitely feeling sick. I gather my courage to say so, but just then, the bell rings and kids swarm like bees out the door and into the hall.
    I let the crowd carry me — all the way to social studies. Mr. O. is standing at his desk.
    “Mr. O’Neil,” I whisper as I approach him. What can I even say? I’m not allowed to make excuses, but if I just tell him I don’t have my assignment — again — he’ll think it’s because I didn’t even try to get it done.
    Mr. O. picks up a piece of paper and waves it at me. “I was very glad to see this on my desk today, Arianna.”
    I look down. He’s holding my bibliography. My bibliography, with my name at the top and the spacing corrected.
    “Now that you have your sources, let’s see if you can’t get the outline to me, too,” he says.
    I keep staring at my bibliography.
    “Ari?”
    “Oh, I have my outline,” I say, reaching into my backpack. “It’s not typed —”
    Mr. O. looks down at my outline and to my amazement nods in approval. “Looks like an interesting paper, Arianna, especially this section on activism. Do you think I might see an introduction soon?”
    “Soon!” I say.
    “Promise?” he asks, a little too loudly.
    “Promise!”
    How did this happen?
I wonder, but I think I know.
    I recall the word cloud we made in computer lab. What were some of the most prominent words?
Togetherness
and
help
and
support.
I decide that I’d also add
kindness.
And another word, which I’d type in ten times to make it stand out bigger and bolder than the rest:
    Daniel.

“So, how is it being patrol leader?” I ask Sasha when I meet up with her after school. What I don’t say is
Ms. Finch caught me in the computer lab and I think I might be in serious trouble
or
Daniel turned in my bibliography and really saved my behind, but I think the only reason he did it is because he feels sorry for me.
    “The best part is getting out of school early,” she says.
    “And the kinders,” I prompt, smiling at the nickname.
    “Yeah, they’re OK,” Sasha says. But she doesn’t sound as excited as she did just yesterday. I wait for her to tell me what’s changed, but she remains quiet.
    “Oh, I almost forgot!” I stop and pull two math sheets out of my backpack. I hand one to Sasha and slip the other one down between my Paper Things folder and my science journal.
    She moans. “Fractions and decimals
again
?”
    “Want some help?”
    “Please! I don’t get them,” she says. “Especially their relationship.”
    “Why don’t I spend the night tomorrow night, and I could help you then?” I suggest, hoping my voice sounds natural, casual. It’s easier on Gage when I stay with Sasha. He can get into Lighthouse without West sneaking him in, and his friends don’t seem to