Kaitlyn and the Competition by D.L. Green

Author:D.L. Green [Green, D. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: D. L. Green; The Babysitter Chronicles; Social Issues/Friendship; Social Issues/New Experieince; Social Issues/ Self Esteem & Self Reliance; Babysitting; money-making projects; Hispanic American families; sisters; 9781496527547; 9781491488614; 9781496527585
Publisher: Capstone
Published: 2015-12-17T00:00:00+00:00

If a babysitter can’t control the children, she should call their parents.

Chapter 7

From my seat in the front row of the detention room, I watched my fellow delinquents trickle in after school. Most of them were boys, many looked angry, and none of them were my friends. A guy with a nose ring, a ripped T-shirt, and a stench of cigarettes sat next to me. Oh, joy.

Mr. Washington, the assistant principal, waved to him and said, “Hello again, Jack. You’ve become quite the regular around here. We must stop meeting like this.” Then Mr. Washington took roll call and told us to keep quiet and stay seated. “I suggest you do homework,” he said, “for once in your lives.”

As I opened my math book, Jack leaned over and asked, “What are you in here for?”

I’d already gotten into enough trouble for talking in school. I put my index finger to my lip.

A minute later, Jack slid a note on my desk. It said, “I got caut smoking behind the scool. What did you do? Your cute.”

I shook my head and stayed silent. The guy should have spent less time smoking and more time learning spelling and grammar.

I stared at my math book, but I couldn’t focus. I looked around. The guy sitting in front of me thumbed through a catalog of tattoos. He flipped past the heart and Mom tattoos, stopping at a page full of swear words.

I stared at my math book again. I couldn’t concentrate on the assigned chapters. I did other types of math in my head. I counted the many things that had gone wrong the last few weeks, calculated the large difference between the money I had and the amount I needed to pay my next phone bill, and estimated how many times my mother would tell me I’d disappointed her.

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