Amber Brown Wants Extra Credit Read Online Free

that I didn’t get my homework done.
    Mrs. Holt is calling out everyone in the class by name to take attendance and to have that person bring up the book report.
    “Amber Brown.” Mrs. Holt gets to my name.
    Very softly, I say, “I’m here but my book report isn’t. I’ll bring it in tomorrow.”
    Someone goes, “Dun-di-dun-dun . . . . dun.”
    Someone else goes, “Not-done-di-done . . . . done.”
    Hannah Burton looks at me and smirks. “It figures.”
    I cross my eyes at Hannah Burton.
    Mrs. Holt writes something in the marking book and calls out the next name.
    It’s just my luck that it’s not a regular written-on-a-piece-of-paper report that can be passed up to the front without everyone knowing that you didn’t do your work. But it’s a book report that is supposed to be shaped to look like a cereal box.
    I really did start mine. It was called
Anastasia Krupnik Krunchies
(it was about one of Lois Lowry’s books). I’d already done the book summary that was supposed to go on the back, along with:
    NUTRITION FACTS
    Character Development    100%
    Adventure    50%
    Interest    100%
    Personalities    100%
    Dialogue    100%
    Pictures    80%
    Anastasia Krupnik Krunchies contains the ingredients found only in the best food for thought.

    I knew what I was going to do for the front cover . . . . . . draw a picture of Anastasia and show that inside the box would be an author trading card. I was going to make up one about Lois Lowry, with facts and a Xeroxed picture.
    So I did have a lot done, but I scrunched it up when I was mad and then never finished the report.
    I read the book and loved it.
    I did most of the work.
    It’s only a book report.
    So what’s the big deal?

Chapter
Nine

    “I can’t believe you didn’t do your book report. Amber, what’s going on? You’ve been acting so weird.” Brandi puts a tuna fish sandwich on her tray.
    I take a sandwich and a bowl of red Jell-O.
    I, Amber Brown, love red Jell-O. I love the way it squishes through my teeth while I’m eating it.

    I, however, don’t feel good about having to talk about why I’m acting so weird.
    I try to make a joke about it. “People have always said that I’m weird.”
    Putting my tray down on the counter, I grab my ponytails and pretend they are motorcycle handlebars, and make engine noises.
    Usually this makes her laugh.
    This time it doesn’t.
    She does smile, though, and says, “That kind of weird is what I like about you . . . . This is a different kind of weird.”
    We continue to go through the line.
    “You’re in a lousy mood sometimes, and you’re not as much fun as you used to be . . . . . and you won’t talk about what’s bothering you.”
    I pretend to have trouble making up my mind about whether to choose chocolate milk or regular milk.
    Brandi sighs.
    We pay for our food and sit down.
    At the table on the right, some of the sixth graders are blowing straw wrappers at one another.
    At the table on the left, some of the third graders are having a competition to see if they can make milk come out of their noses.
    I unwrap my peanut butter, jelly, and banana sandwich and add some potato chips to it.
    Naomi and Alicia join us.
    So does Hannah Burton.
    Having to sit next to Hannah Burton is enough to make me lose my lunch . . . and I’m not talking about misplacing it.
    She takes out her lunch, which she’s brought from home.
    It’s Chinese food, probably leftovers.
    I love Chinese food.
    But I would never ask Hannah to share it.
    Hannah takes out a pair of chopsticks and starts using them.
    She’s such a show-off.
    I love Chinese food but I hate chopsticks.
    The only way that I don’t drop everything when I use them is if I spear the food.
    “Nice work, Amber. I can’t believe that you didn’t do your book report. Couldn’t you find a book to match your interests? Did the library lend out the last copy of
Where’s Spot?”
She picks up some cold