Part 9 (1/2)
”It is. I'll beat up one of the boys in here if you need me to prove it. I'll do it right now.”
”No, that won't be necessary. Very good, Beverly. Nathan?”
Beverly stuck out her tongue at Nathan as she returned to her desk. Nathan didn't like that at all. Maybe he could use that to delay his public humiliation. He raised his hand. ”Teacher!”
”Yes, Nathan?”
”She stuck her tongue out at me.”
”Beverly, did you stick your tongue out at Nathan?”
Beverly sat down at her desk. ”I sure did.”
”Nathan, do you think that being a tattletale is a path toward a fulfilling life?”
What was she talking about? Why wasn't she sending Beverly to the Corner of Ridicule? What was going on here?
”I asked you a question.”
Was it a trick question? Was he supposed to say that, yes, being a tattletale was a path toward a fulfilling life, at which point she would say ”You're absolutely right!” and give him a gold star?
”No, teacher.”
”That's right. Nathan Pepper needs to worry about what Nathan Pepper is doing, and not expend valuable energy trying to get his cla.s.smates in trouble. Answer me this question, cla.s.s: does anybody like a tattletale?”
”No,” said the children in unison.
”If you behave like a tattletale too often, why, you might grow a real tail! Can you imagine going through life with a tail? Nathan, take over Gordon's s.h.i.+ft in the Corner of Ridicule.”
Nathan got up and sadly walked across the cla.s.sroom. A girl whispered ”Nathan the Tattletale!” and the children around her giggled.
He sat on the stool, feeling more ashamed and embarra.s.sed than he had in his entire life.
And then he threw up.
TEN.
Nathan decided that he hated school. Hated, hated, hated it. It was the worst thing ever to be invented. Only stupid people should have to go to it.
He never did have to say what he wanted to be when he grew up or what he had done over the summer, but that didn't make him feel any better. Nathan the Tattletale! What an awful name! If he'd known that nicknames would be bestowed so quickly, he would have taken action to be known as Nathan the Brave or Nathan the Quick-Witted or Nathan the Rat-Killer. Nathan the Tattletale? Even Fangboy was better!
Mrs. Calmon dismissed them for morning recess, and the other children happily scampered around the playground, playing on slides and teeter-totters and swings. Nathan stood against the brick wall of the school, sulking.
”h.e.l.lo,” said Jamison, leaning against the wall next to him. ”I'm glad you threw up.”
”I'm not.”
”I throw up all the time. I was worried all morning that it would happen in front of everybody, which it did, but at least I wasn't the first.”
”Yeah.”
”What do you think of school so far?” Jamison asked.
”I hate it.”
”Me, too.”
”They can keep me here, but I'm not going to learn anything,” said Nathan.
”Me either. Not a thing.”
”Whatever they teach me, I'll run straight home and forget it!”
”Me, too! Me, too!”
”Why did you spend the summer in the hospital?”
”Because I'm going to die.”
”Are you?”
Jamison nodded. ”I wish I weren't. They don't know when but it won't be long.”
”I've never known anybody who was dying.”
”Now you do. Are those your real teeth?”
”These?” Nathan tapped his front tooth. ”No, these are joke teeth. I never take them out.”
”Where'd you get them?”
”There's a store. I'll take you there someday.”
Nathan the Liar...
”I'm only kidding,” said Nathan. ”They're my real teeth.”
”Seriously?”
”I was born with them. One came out, see?”
”Do you like them?”
”I hate them. They're awful.”
”I bet they make it easier to eat things. When my mother cooks meat it's so tough that you can barely bite through it, but I bet you could finish the meal in half the time.”