“Clementine, you need to pay attention,” said Principal Rice. “We need to discuss Margaret’s hair. What are you doing on the floor?”
“Helping you look for ceiling snakes,” I remin-ded her.
“Ceiling snakes? What ceiling snakes?” she asked.
See what I mean? Me—paying attention; everybody else—not. I am amazed they let someone with this problem be the boss of a school.
“All right, now, Clementine,” Principal Rice said in her I’m-trying-to-be-patient-but-it’s-
getting-harder voice. “Why did you cut off Margaret’s hair?”
“I was helping,” I said.
And then I told Principal Rice about how I’d helped her, too. “I answered the phone while you were gone. I ordered some new school pets, and I told the gym teacher we are never going to play dodgeball again, and I made two appointments for you. The phone kept going dead, so I guess it’s busted. But at least I helped you a little.”
That’s what I thought.
There is a look they teach a person to make in principal school that is not very nice.