Junie B., First Grader_ Cheater Pants - Barbara Park [4]
He looked at me.
“When you cheated this morning, you broke my trust in you, Junie B.,” he said. “We have a rule about this in Room One.
We keep our eyes on our own papers. You've heard me say that a hundred times, I bet.”
I felt surprised at that information.
“That's a rule?” I said. “No kidding? I always thought that was … well, you know … just a suggestion.”
Mr. Scary rolled his eyes. “No, Junie B. It's not a suggestion. It's definitely a rule,” he said. “And it's an important rule, too.”
I drummed my fingers on the desk.
“Well, I'll be darned,” I said.
After a while, I did a deep breath.
“I'm sorry,” I said real soft.
Mr. Scary smiled a little bit. “I'm sorry, too, Junie B.,” he said. “But at least now I think we understand each other better. I will not put up with cheaters in my classroom.”
I did a wince. “Yeah, only I wish you wouldn't keep saying that cheater word,” I said. “’Cause I didn't even know I was cheating, hardly. Plus I don't like cheaters, either, Mr. Scary. On account of my daddy cheated me at Old Maid last week. And I am still not over that terrible experience.”
Mr. Scary wrinkled his eyebrows. “Your daddy cheated?” he said.
I did a sigh. “Yes,” I said. “Daddy raised the Old Maid way high in his hand so I would pick her. And then I did. And so what kind of sneaky trick was that?”
Mr. Scary covered his mouth.
He was shocked, I believe.
I leaned closer to him. “And Daddy is not the only cheater pants in my family, either,” I said very quiet. “On account of my grampa Frank Miller is supposed to be on a diet. But yesterday, my grandma found an empty pie pan in his closet. And all that was left was a little bit of crust and a plastic fork.”
I thought for a second. “No wonder I cheated,” I said. “Cheating is in my blood, apparently.”
Mr. Scary did a chuckle. “Well, nobody's perfect,” he said. “Everyone cheats on a diet once in a while, I think. But cheating at school is a very different matter, Junie B. Cheating in school is serious business. Are we clear on that now?”
I nodded real fast. “Clear,” I said.
After that, both of us shook hands. And Mr. Scary carried my chair back to my desk.
After I sat down, he took an envelope out of his pocket. And he handed it to me.
“I wrote a note to your parents explaining what happened this morning,” he said. “I would like them to read it and sign it, okay? You can bring it back to me in the morning.”
I did a gasp at that thing.
“No, Mr. Scary. Not okay,” I said. “Please, don't make me take a note home. Please. I really, really don't want to take a note.”
Mr. Scary thought for a second. Then he took the note back.
“Well, okay,” he said. “If you feel that strongly, I won't make you take it.”
He started walking back to his desk.
“I'll just call them tonight instead,” he said.
I did a loud groan. ’Cause what kind of dumb choice is that?
I stomped to his desk and I grabbed back the note.
Then I stuffed it into my backpack.
And I sat down at my desk.
And I wrote in my journal one more time.
That night at dinner, I couldn't swallow my meatball. ’Cause how can you swallow a meatball when there's a note from your teacher in your pocket?
Mother kept on looking at my plate.
“What's the trouble with you tonight, honey?” she asked. “You love spaghetti and meatballs.”
I picked up my fork real slow.
Then I put it right down again.
“Is something wrong, Junie B.?” asked Daddy. “Are you sick?”
I got down from my chair. And I stood by the table.
Then I hanged my head. And very slow, I took the note out of my pocket.
“I did something bad at school today,” I said real glum. “And so there's something I have to give you.”
I rocked back and forth on my feet for a minute.
Then I quick threw the note on the table.
And I ran to my room as fast as I could!
I shut the door real hard.
Then I ran around and around in circles. ’Cause I didn't actually have a plan, that's why.
My stuffed animals looked shocked