Revenge of the Bully Read Online Free Page A

first day of school. As I drifted off to sleep I thought about the one important lesson I had learned. Escargot is French for gross and never, ever order sweetbreads!

Chapter 3
    TWIN PROBLEMS
    â€œYou there. You paying attention?”
    It was Mr. Scab, my wood shop teacher. I had been staring at the clock on the wall for half the class, hoping against hope I could slow down time. It was the last period. Football practice was just minutes away.
    Mr. Scab banged on my desk. “What’s your name?”
    â€œUm, Rodney.”
    â€œWell, Um-Rodney, I once chose not to pay attention during wood shop. Do you know what happened?”
    â€œNo,” I squeaked.
    â€œThis!” He held up his hand. I swallowed as I looked at his missing pinky. “Think that’s bad?” he continued. “Want me to remove my glass eye?”
    I was trying to decide if he was serious when the bell rang. I headed down the hall, relieved that Mr. Scab hadn’t lost any body parts while talking to me. Unfortunately, my relief was short-lived. I was heading to football practice. My stomach gurgled louder and louder with each step. It was the second day of school and I would soon be helmet-to-helmet with Trevor and his buddies. I rounded the corner. Coach Laimbardi was standing in the crowded hallway outside the gym arguing with a woman. He motioned for me to come over.
    â€œRodney, I got some bad news. The nurse says you need to have your parents fill out a permission slip and bring in a record of your physical. Sorry, but it looks like you won’t be able to make practice.”
    No practice? I almost jumped up and down. Finally, some good luck. I let out a deep breath.
    â€œRodney!” a man’s voice shouted from down the hallway. “ There you are!”
    I turned around—along with every other student—to see my dad waving his arms and heading my way. I sort of waved back thinking, Please go away .
    â€œYoung man, do you know that person?” the nurse asked.
    A crowd of kids began to gather. Great, they would all know I was the one with the weirdo dad. “He’s my father,” I eventually admitted.
    â€œExcellent!” Coach Laimbardi hollered.
    â€œRodney,” my dad called out as he approached us, “I thought I’d come down and watch your first practice.”
    â€œSo you’re my new star’s dad? I’m Head Coach Laimbardi.” I watched the two shake hands. “You know, now that you’re here, you could sign Rodney’s release and he’ll be able to prac—”
    â€œHe will still need a copy of his physical,” the nurse interrupted. I was beginning to like this nurse.
    â€œDon’t worry,” my dad offered, “now that I have a little more time on my hands I was able to go on the district website and read all the requirements to play interscholastic sports. I got the physical right here! I got his mouthpiece and jock strap, too. You know where this goes, son?” He held up the jock strap.
    â€œDad, I know where it goes ,” I whispered. By now all I heard was the sound of kids laughing. I couldn’t bear to look up.
    â€œWell done, Mr. Rathbone!” yelled Laimbardi. “Active parents make all the difference. Now Rodney, go see Assistant Coach Manuel and get fitted for your pads. I’ll see you out on the field. Mr. Rathbone, it was a pleasure meeting you.”
    â€œThank you, coach. And Rodney, I’ll pick you up after practice.”
    â€œWhatever,” I muttered as I walked off to get fitted.
    â€œWait,” my dad suddenly shouted from down the hall. “You forgot something.” Please no , I thought, but sure enough I turned around to see my father waving the jock strap high above his head. Luckily, only about two hundred other kids seemed to notice.

    Twenty minutes later I found myself walking out of the tunnel under the gym toward the football practice field. It was my