Page 95 of Troublemaker: The Big Picture Edition
“I mean, I don’t think it’s a problem. But sometimes when other people—like other kids in your class or their parents—find out that the teacher is hanging out with the parent of one of the students… They might think that Miss Stiles is going to give you special treatment in class. Or they might think that she’s not taking her teaching job seriously enough. Which isn’t true. But sometimes people get the wrong idea.”
“But she definitely does not give me special treatment. She should. But she doesn’t. And she’stooserious.”
“I know. But here’s the thing—Miss Stiles is worried that there’s going to be a problem like that if she keeps hanging out with us after school. So she isn’t going to for a while.”
“Why?”
“Because she got called to the principal’s office. Did you tell Cheyenne about us? About Miss Stiles coming to our house?”
I watch as he processes twenty different thoughts and emotions, and he ends up with guilt, and that’s what kills me.
“I told her to keep it a secret. Did she tell someone? I won’t be friends with her anymore if she did!”
“She didn’t tell anyone. I don’t think. Someone overheard you guys talking. Anyway. That’s not the point. The point is—you and I are having pizza tonight. Just the two of us.”
He scrubs his little face, same as he’s seen me do. “Am I in trouble?”
“No.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“Not exactly.”
“Is Miss Stiles?”
“Not really. We just can’t hang out together for a while. Until the end of the school year.”
“How long is that?”
“It’s the end of January now. This semester is over in June. Count it out.”
He counts out on his fingers. “February, March, April, May, June. That’s forever!”
“I know. It feels like it. But it’s not.”
“It’s not fair.”
“I know.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No.”
“Is Miss Stiles?”
“No. Nobody’s mad at you.”
“Are you sad?”
“Yeah. I am.”
“I’mmad.”
“Don’t be mad at Cheyenne.”
His lower lip is quivering, and I already know the next thing he says is going to break my heart. “I’m mad at me.” He runs off.
He’ll go to his room and lie facedown on his bed and cry. I’ll order pizza and go sit with him for half an hour until he realizes how hungry he is. We’ll eat in front of the TV, and he won’t want to talk about this anymore. But he’ll still be mad and sad.
