Trading Faces Read Online Free

past that one.
    â€œPayton, keep up with me!” I turned and looked at her. She had slowed down. She was tugging at her hoodie again. Hurry up! Why was she wiggling and squirming and writhing and holding me up on our first day of school? Was Payton sick?
    â€œAre you having a seizure?” I asked her.
    Now I was concerned. My sister wouldn’t risk making a scene in school unless there was an emergency.
    â€œDon’t make a scene, but there’s an emergency,” Payton whispered. “My tank-top strap broke.”
    Oh. I spotted a closet.
    â€Quick, Payton! Inside!”
    She went in and pulled the door closed. I stood outside the door, blocking it so no one could try to go in.
    No one was trying to go in. They were all going where they were supposed to. Except me, just standing there like a statue.
    La la la . I tried to look casual, like I was doing this on purpose. I opened up my backpack and looked inside. Ahhh, the scent of fresh school supplies. I’d alphabetized my folders: English, math, science . . . everything was perfect.
    Tap, tap. Tap . Payton was knocking on the closet door. She peeked out.
    â€œWhat?” I stuck my head in. Whew. Pungent .
    â€œI can’t get my tank-top strap to stay tied!” Payton said.
    Hmm . . . I could take care of that. I pushed the door closed and felt around in the “supplies” compartment of my backpack. There it was! Duct tape!
    I opened the closet door and tossed it in. I began explaining the wonders of duct tape, but Payton yelled at me to shut the door. I shut the door. Fine. Some people didn’t appreciate good trivia.
    â€œDo you need some help finding your way?” A woman’s voice boomed loudly through the halls.
    I looked up into the face of a teacher. Like all theadults in the building, she had a security ID tag dangling from her neck. I quickly scanned it: MRS. BURKLE. FACULTY. ENGLISH DEPARTMENT.
    â€œUm, er, no,” I stammered. “I’m okay.” Please leave, please leave , I thought. I leaned against the closet door so Payton wouldn’t pop out unexpectedly.
    â€œDo you need help with directions?” the teacher asked, so loudly that people turned around to look at us.
    Need help with directions? Me? I was the one who’d memorized the map and had every hallway timed to the second. Payton was the one who needed help. Even getting dressed. What was taking her so long?
    â€œNo, thank you,” I said. “I’m, uh, just resting.”
    â€œResting!” Mrs. Burkle said. “You’re already tired on the first day of school? This is why I think daily about retiring! Students today have no motivation! It’s a disgrace! Young lady, I implore you to think about the importance of not being . . . what do you young people call it these days? A slacker!”
    A slacker? She thinks I’m a slacker? Me? A teacher thinks Emma Mills, spelling-bee champion/mathlete/science-fair winner/straight-A student/teacher’s pet, could possibly be a slacker?
    She peered at me closely.
    â€œIf you’re in my class this year, I hope you improve your attitude,” the teacher said.
    Emergency! A teacher has a negative first impression of me!
    â€œHello! It’s nice to meet you!” I said, in a desperate attempt to improve my image. “I’m—”
    â€œEw.” Mrs. Burkle wrinkled her nose.
    What?
    â€œSomething smells horrible,” she said, backing away as if it were me. “I must get to my classroom.”
    Augh! I slumped back against the closet door and—
    Ew. Something did smell awful. The smell was coming from inside the closet. What was in there anyway? I stepped back and saw a sign I hadn’t noticed before: JANITOR .
    Uh-oh! Payton was in the janitor’s closet? She wasn’t going to be too happy about this. PU, that was some stench. I stepped away from the door to get some fresh air, and— boom! I