Junie B., First Grader_ Cheater Pants - Barbara Park [3]
“Okay. Done,” I said.
After that, I quick sat down. And I stuffed the paper back into my desk.
Mr. Scary came back to where I sit.
He said could he please see my paper?
I felt shaky and sickish inside.
Very slow, I took out my paper again. And I handed it over.
After he read it, he shook his head.
Then he took my hand. And he walked me into the hall.
“It seems that you and May had very similar weekends. Doesn't it, Junie B.?” he said.
I did a gulp. “Yes,” I said. “It does.”
Mr. Scary read my paper once more.
“So … you take a pottery class, do you?” he said.
I rocked back and forth on my feet.
“Yup, yup. I do,” I said. “I take a pottery class. And I make little … well, you know … pots.”
Mr. Scary breathed real deep.
“And let's see, you take a ballet class, too, huh?” he said. “And gee, what a coincidence … on Saturday your teacher said you danced like a—”
“Gazill,” I said very fast.
“Gazelle,” said Mr. Scary.
“Whatever,” I said.
My teacher sucked in his cheeks and looked at the paper again.
“And you were punctual, too,” he said. “That's amazing, isn't it?”
I looked up at him.
“Well, you know … not if you get an early start,” I said real soft.
Mr. Scary bent down next to me. His face was not jolly.
“Junie B. Jones, do you have any idea how disappointed I am in you right now?”
Just then, tears came in my eyes. And I didn't even expect that trouble.
I quick hanged my head so he couldn't see.
“Sorry,” I said. “Sorry you're disappointed.”
Mr. Scary took a big breath. He said we would talk more at recess.
Then he gave me a tissue from his pocket. And I wiped my tears.
After that, we went back into the room.
I sat down at my desk very slumping.
’Cause what do you know?
I didn't luck out after all.
Mr. Scary was writing at his desk.
He looked up and called my name.
“Junie B.?” he said. “I'm ready for you now. Could you bring your chair up here, please?”
My stomach flipped and flopped. ’Cause here came the yelling part, that's why.
I did some deep breaths.
Then I pulled my chair to the front of the room. And I sat down next to him.
Mr. Scary took my homework paper out of his drawer. He set it in front of me very serious.
“I want you to explain this, Junie B.,” he said. “I want you to tell me exactly why you copied May's homework this morning.”
I tried to swallow, but nothing went down.
“Um, well, let's see … the reason I copied was … was …”
I tapped on my chin.
Then, all of a sudden … I thought of it!
“Daddy!” I said. “It was my daddy's fault!”
My teacher looked surprised at that answer.
“Your daddy?” he said. “Your daddy told you to copy May's homework?”
“Yes,” I said. “I mean, no. I mean, last night I wanted to stay up late to do my homework. But Daddy turned out my light. And so he is the reason that I had to come to school without it.”
“Ohhhh … I see,” said my teacher. “Your daddy wouldn't let you stay up. So that's what forced you to copy May's paper.”
I nodded real fast. “Yes,” I said. “That's exactly it.”
Mr. Scary raised his eyebrows. “So did May actually give you her paper to copy?” he asked next.
I rolled my eyes at that crazy question.
“No, silly. May would never be that nice,” I said. “It's just that this morning she kept on bragging about how her homework is always an A+. And then she left the paper on top of her desk when she went to the office. And that is just asking for trouble, mister.”
Mr. Scary leaned back in his chair.
“Ah,” he said. “So when May left for the office, you saw her paper and you just decided to—”
“Borrow it,” I said. “I decided to borrow it to copy.”
My teacher did a frown. “Borrow?” he said. “No, Junie B. I'm sorry. But borrow is not the right word here at all. When you copy someone else's paper, that's called cheating.”
My eyes got big and shocked at that word. ’Cause what was he even talking about?
“No, Mr. Scary. No. I didn't cheat. I didn't,” I said. “Cheating is when you steal answers off of someone's test. But homework isn't a test. Homework doesn't even count, hardly.”
“Oh, but homework does count, Junie B.,” he said