Words That Start With B Read Online Free Page B

Try as I might, I can’t find even the slightest trace of Miss Ross.
    I don’t know anything about this Mr. Campbell. Does he like whales? Does he write his own skits with parts for every student for the Christmas assembly? Does he play the guitar and hold singalongs in class? Does he know that everyone at Ferndale Public School counts down the days till grade seven, when they get to be in Miss Ross’s class, and that he has gone and ruined that?
    ***
    At lunchtime everyone discusses Mr. Campbell and whether or not he is married with kids. Well, not everyone. Mostly Mattie Cohen and her friends, but they’re so loud it feels like the whole room is talking about it.
    “He’s pretty cute. Don’t you think he’s cute?”
    “For a teacher.”
    “Well, I think he’s cute. I bet he has a nice wife and a baby.”
    I could care less about stupid Mr. Campbell and his stupid wife and baby. He is not Miss Ross and that is all that counts.
    ***
    When the world’s longest school day is finally over, I practically run through the halls and out the door. Ah, freedom. I take a deep breath. It still smells like summer.
    “Wait up!” Benji gets caught behind a group of grade eight boys. They move together forming a wall of solid jerk and laugh as he tries to find a way around them.
    “What’s the rush?” one of them jeers.
    “Yeah, where’s the fire?”
    They push him around a bit and one of them horks loudly, aiming dangerously close to Benji’s shoe. Finally he manages to squeeze through them and runs to catch up. His cheeks are pink and he’s breathing pretty hard.
    “Jerks,” I mutter. “Come on, I need a Slurpee.”
    We walk in silence to the 7-Eleven. I’m afraid I might cry if I open my mouth, and Benji knows better than to bring it up, but we’re both thinking the same thing. It’s going to be a long year. Other kids go by, laughing and shouting, but I can’t bring myself to join in. I can’t stop thinking of the year I had planned, all the awards and gold stars I was going to receive.
    Not even an extra-large blue raspberry Slurpee makes me feel any better. I gulp down as much as I can before the brain freeze kicks in and I have to stop because it hurts too much.
    “Nerds?” Benji offers.
    I put out my hand and he taps the box: a pile of neon green candy falls into my palm. I dump it into my Slurpee and watch as the neon green stains the Slurpee a dark, muddy colour.
    “Gross,” Benji says.
    “It looks almost as bad as I feel,” I say.
    We keep walking in silence until Benji says, “If we hurry we can still watch
Full House
.” I snort. Like that will make me feel better.
    Benji’s all-time favourite TV show is this old series he discovered in reruns called
Full House.
He loves the idea of all those people living together. Not me. I’d go crazy with all those uncles and sisters around. Especially that Michelle Tanner. She is my least favourite character. People are always forgiving her because she’s so cute. If you ask me, that Michelle Tanner knows she is cute and uses it to get away with things. They show a full hour of
Full House
at four o’clock. I would rather watch one of those real-life rescue shows, but Benji says they give him nightmares and my mother says the sound of all the sirens and screaming upsets her clients. So, I lose. At least Uncle Jesse is pretty funny.
    ***
    “We’re home!”
    Mom says something back, but I can tell she’s with a client. Benji and I drop our backpacks in the kitchen, grab some cookies and head down to the basement. Down thestairs and immediately to the left is the Hair Emporium. Straight ahead is the den. Mom usually schedules ten minutes between clients, so there’s rarely a time when someone has to wait, but just in case, she lugged two of our dining room chairs downstairs to create a waiting area outside the salon. Between the chairs is a coffee table stacked high with magazines; most of them are hair magazines, but we also get subscriptions