Read True (. . . Sort Of) for Free Online Page A

she muttered.
    It wasn’t.
    â€œDelaware, the trouble is chronic.” Ms. McDougal continued. “We’re not sure this school can help you and keep the other children safe, too. We think another placement might be better for everyone.”
    Delly was wondering if that meant Alaska, all day every day, when the principal told her, “We’ve agreed to give you one more chance to succeed here.”
    â€œHuh?” Delly didn’t understand.
    Boomer explained. “If you mess up one more time, it’s over. You go to a new school, for troubled kids.”
    Delly thought about that. Then she asked, “If I went to this other place, would I stop being bad?”
    Ms. McDougal shrugged. “We hope it doesn’t come to that.”
    Nobody’d been watching Clarice, because Clarice wasn’t talking. But sounds were coming out of her now. Delly glanced at her mother.
    Tears were pouring down Clarice’s cheeks, like tiny waterfalls. She was holding in sobs, so they sounded like hiccups.
    Delly’s heart stopped. This was worse than any trouble; it was the world falling apart. Because Clarice Pattison didn’t cry, ever.
    Till today.
    â€œMa,” Delly called, trying to stop it.
    Clarice turned to her. She didn’t speak, but her eyes were asking.
    Delly knew what she wanted: she wanted hope. She wanted her to say, “I’ll be different, I promise.”
    But Delly didn’t know how to be not-Delly. “Sorry,” she whispered.
    Clarice closed her eyes. Her head dropped to her chest. She’d given up on Delly, too.
    Ms. McDougal stood. Boomer and Clarice walked out of the office with Delly behind them.
    They rode in the van without words. When they got home, nobody had to tell Delly to go to her room.

Chapter 17
    D elly lay on her bed. In her head, she made a list of the people who’d given up on her.
    It was a long one. There was Officer Tibbetts, Clayton Fitch, Norma, and all the friends she didn’t have anymore. Just today she’d added Lionel Terwilliger, Ms. McDougal, and Boomer. And Clarice. Making Clarice cry was the worst of it.
    Then Delly added one more name to the list: “Me.”
    â€œIt’d be better if I wasn’t around,” she said out loud, so whatever brought surpresents could take her away.
    There were two rivers of tears backing up behind her eyeballs, but she wouldn’t let them out. She squeezed her eyes tight, till they stopped stinging.
    It was late when RB showed up. He lay down beside her. “Delly,” he asked, “are you going to a different school?”
    She shrugged, and the bed shook a little.
    â€œDon’t go.” His voice was cracking like he’d cry.
    She shrugged again.
    Then RB was shouting, “Just quit getting in trouble. Just quit it!”
    â€œI’m not trying to get in trouble!” she shouted back.
    RB knew that was true. “What are you trying to do?” he asked.
    She thought about it. “Have fun. Do something good. Except when I fight.”
    He said it quietly, so she wouldn’t slug him too hard: “Maybe you should try something different.”
    She didn’t smack him. Instead, she rasped, “I don’t know how to be . . . not me.”
    They both lay there for a while.
    â€œDel?” he said.
    â€œHuh.”
    â€œYou know when I knock on your door and you say, ‘Go away, I’m doing something.’ And I want to say, ‘You’re not doing anything. Let me in!’ But I don’t, I just sit there and wait.”
    Delly didn’t know that.
    â€œOr you know when Galveston says, ‘RB, I’m in charge. Clean up this room,’ and I want to take Ma’s spatula and whap her. But I don’t, I just walk away.”
    Delly didn’t know that, either.
    â€œKnow what I’m doing instead of whapping?”
    â€œWhat?” She turned to him, waiting for the words. Finally, somebody was