Samantha Hansen Has Rocks in Her Head by Nancy Viau

Samantha Hansen Has Rocks in Her Head by Nancy Viau

Author:Nancy Viau
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amulet Books
Published: 2008-09-15T00:00:00+00:00


WHEN WE GET HOME, Mom walks me to my room. She tells me I cannot come out until I write an apology letter to Richard and Principal Tancredi. I hear her mumble something about “self-control” and “short fuses” and “lid on my temper.” I’m supposed to think about these things.

I’m glad I’m not suspended for three days like the bad kids. Or expelled like the really bad kids. But it still feels weird to be home in the middle of a school day. I sit at my desk and wonder what Mrs. Montemore is teaching. We’re almost done with our unit called The Living Earth, and the chapter “Rocks and Minerals.” Soon we’ll be on the next chapter, called “Volcanoes and Earthquakes.” Mrs. Montemore shows a movie at the start of a new chapter, and I don’t want to miss that. For a minute, I feel very sorry for myself. My eyes leak and tears plop on my homework.

I need to make Mom see I’m not a bad kid. The surprise birthday party will help. A party puts everybody in a cheery mood. I’ll make a cake and everything. Mom’s “we’ll see” will turn into a “yes” this time. I hope. That hope stops the leak in my eyes.

I take out my rock collection and wrap it in yellow polka-dotted tissues—the clean ones, not the soggy ones I just used. I don’t have any tape, and I can’t borrow Mom’s because I can’t leave my room. So I use some Band-Aids to hold her present together. I write Happy birthday, Mom!!! on the front, and that reminds me: I have to start working on those apology letters.

I know exactly what to put in Principal Tancredi’s letter. I am not as afraid of her in writing as I am face-to-face.

Dear Principal Tancredi,

I am sorry I got in trouble today. It won’t happen again.

Sincerely,

Samantha Hansen,

The good student who sits in the back of Mrs. Montemore’s classroom

P.S. It was That Kid Richard Frey’s fault. I hope you sent him home, too.

Now I need to write a letter to Richard. I don’t want to apologize to That Kid. And I can think of a list of reasons why I don’t want to write to him.

WHY I DON’T WANT TO WRITE

THE HARDEST LETTER OF MY LIFE

1. It wasn’t my fault.

2. I don’t want to be nice to Richard.

3. Richard won’t understand my apology letter because Richard is in the stinky-reader group.

4. Writing a letter isn’t nearly as much fun as making notes in my green spiral notebook.

5. A letter is a pain-in-the-butt homework type of thing.

6. I am very well-behaved at all times most of the time, and good girls shouldn’t have to write apology letters.

I’m not getting out of this chore anytime soon. Mom will come in and ask to see my letters. I’m thinking she spends fifty-fortieths of her life checking up on me. I plop on my bed and write hard and fast:

Dear Really Mean Richard Frey,

I am NOT sorry I ran on the soccer field when I was playing Chase-and-Capture.



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