Read The Mighty Quinn for Free Online

next to Quinn, on the left. Tay sat behind Sam, next to Neally. Yes, the girl with the coolest name ever was now seated directly in back of him, and Quinn suddenly wondered what he looked like from behind. What if his underwear tag was sticking out?
    Quinn peeked at Sam’s paper. Other than his name, the date, and the title, “The Glorious Holiday Escapades of Samuel Jefferson Washington,” Sam had written nothing. It seemed to Quinn that most of the students were doing what he was doing: staring at the papers of the students nearby, trying to pass the time until morning recess.
    â€œThere’s nothing there.”
    Quinn quickly covered his paper with his hands, but Neally was speaking to Sam, not him.
    â€œYour page is blank,” Neally persisted.
    â€œKinda like his brain,” Tay said.
    â€œInsult alert, insult alert.” Sam sounded like a robot with a sinus infection. “Must hold on to self-esteem.”
    â€œDidn’t you and your family go on a ski trip over the break?” Neally asked. “That should give you a lot to write about.”
    â€œMy mom and dad and sisters like to ski, but I’m not into it,” Sam said. “I can’t think of what to write. Anyway, it’s just busywork. It’s more fun to draw it.”
    â€œYou’re gonna draw your vacation?” Tay yawned. “Another comic strip, how original.”
    Ms. Blakeman was at the front row, leaning over Arturo’s desk. She raised her arm. Click click, click click . “Fifth graders! I’ll allow some leeway on the first day back, but keep the chatter level down to a quiet roar.”
    â€œSamuel Jefferson Washington?” Neally tapped her pencil on Sam’s paper.
    â€œHe signs all his papers that way,” Teena murmured.
    â€œIt’s his name,” added Tay.
    â€œBut everyone calls you Sam,” Neally said to Sam. “Even the teacher.”
    â€œRighty-o,” said Sam.
    â€œThen, why not just write, ‘Sam Washington?’”
    â€œMy parents are history teachers,” Sam said. “Both of them.” He drew the outline of a comic strip on his paper.
    â€œYour parents are history teachers.” Neally’s voice indicated she did not consider that to be a satisfactory explanation. “And your point would be?”
    â€œIt’s a mystery.” Sam drew a picture of a stick man on skis.
    â€œThey want his full name on all his papers,” Tay said. “Every year on Back to School Night they have to explain it to the new teacher. I’m so glad my folks aren’t teachers.”

    â€œI’d never sign my middle name,” Teena declared. “I don’t know why I even have to write my last name; I’m the only Teena in class. How do you sign your name, Neally?”
    â€œFirst and last. But I am considering changing that. New year, new arrangements.” Neally wrote Neally Ray Standwell at the top of her paper.
    â€œI wish my middle name were shorter,” Teena sighed. “What’s ‘Ray’ for?”
    â€œFor me.”
    â€œNo, I mean ...”
    â€œI know what you mean.”
    Neally smiled. “It’s just my middle name. My mom says it was for a stingray she saw when she was snorkeling in the Caribbean. Dad says it’s for a beam of light, like a ray of sunshine. I like the story about the stingray best. Have you ever seen one?”
    â€œOnly in a video,” Teena said. “But I’m going to see a live one someday. I’m going to go to Hawaii and go snorkeling. Jeff said he’d teach me.”
    â€œWho’s Jeff? Your older brother?”
    â€œMy mom’s boyfriend.” Teena’s cheeks turned scarlet, and she got a thinking-hard look on her face. “The last one, I mean. Not the one she has now.”
    Quinn was bewildered by the Neally and Teena conversation. Pasty-faced, toothpick-thin, timid Teena was not normally a talker, with