Confessions from the Principal's Kid by Robin Mellom

Author:Robin Mellom
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

Above It All

At lunch, I wave at Chloe. She glances at me while she’s midconversation with Andrea. She doesn’t wave back, but she doesn’t look away, either. So on my way to my regular corner seat by the stage, I stop by her table.

“I can come to your house today. Mom’s going to drop me off—​which is sort of a miracle.”

Andrea giggles.

Chloe glares at her. “Why are you laughing?”

“Because parents dropping off their kids is a pretty normal thing. Not exactly a miracle.” She air-quotes miracle.

This makes me feel stupid. But then it hits me that my mom can’t drive me everywhere because of her job. She’s the boss. Which is pretty . . . boss.

“She’s the principal,” I say, matter-of-fact.

Andrea huffs. “It just sounded funny, that’s all.”

Chloe looks up at me, grinning. “See you at four.”

I float over to my seat, feeling a little bit lighter. Chloe Alvarez practically defended me.

I spot Graham on the other side of the room and hope he’ll look my way. This light, happy feeling is something I want to share. Maybe I’ll sneak him a thumbs-up or a goofy smile. But he appears busy, in a corner chair at a table by himself. His lunch tray is full of chicken nuggets, and he’s busy stacking them into a complex structure.

I wish I could fix this for him—​this being an outsider. Graham has it so much worse than I do.

He used to be teased for his hair that was never combed and his pants that were always too short. Good ol’ third grade meanness. But then the trading card obsession happened and suddenly Graham wasn’t teased anymore. He was respected. But now that it’s over, he has gone back to being told, “Scram, Graham!” Which is so dumb. Kids think they’re being witty for simply rhyming two words.

As I head to my chair, I hear a commotion.

Joel Webber is pacing around his table of boys, all laughing. Something is in his hand, and it’s not a spitball. This is entirely different. I can tell by the look on his face.

He looks around, then quiets his friends down, even though they’re about to fall out of their seats trying to choke back their laughs. I follow Joel’s line of sight. He’s aiming at the trashcan.

What a weirdo. Why is it cool and funny to throw things across a room and try to make them land in cans? Did man evolve just to do this ridiculous act in school cafeterias? I hardly think we have opposable thumbs for that. I turn away and head straight for my regular table, where the Jennas are already speed-reading and speed-eating.

“Hey,” I say.

No response. So I dig into my dessert first: blackberry cobbler. It was my begging that got Ms. Jean to order the cobbler. She was worried the kids wouldn’t eat a dessert that wasn’t chocolate and/or pudding. Turns out, everyone loves cobbler. It’s my anonymous gift to this school.

My legacy.

It’s possible I should have bigger goals.

As I ponder this idea, I hear a SPLOOSH! Then another.

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