And that’s when the worried feeling—as if somebody were scribbling with a big black crayon—started up in my brains.My teacher kept on going with the cooperative group list.
The scribbling got harder and faster and spread down into my stomach. I knew what this meant.
I raised my hand.
"Yes, Clementine? Would you like to be in the cooperative group for refreshments?"
"No, thank you," I said, extra politely. "What I’d like is to go to Mrs. Rice’s office."
"Clementine, you don’t need to go see the principal," my teacher said. "You’re not in any trouble."
"Well, it’s just a matter of time," I told him.
My teacher looked at me as if he suddenly had no idea how I’d gotten into his classroom. But then he gave a big sigh and said, "All right," so I got up.
As I left, the O’Malley twins gave me the thumbs-up sign, which made me feel like I wasn’t alone. But they were wearing their "Thank goodness it’s not me" faces, which made me know that I was.
I walked down the hall on worried legs and knocked on the door with worried knuckles.
"Come in," Principal Rice said. When she saw it was me, she held out her hand for the note from my teacher that would tell her what kind of a little chat we should have. We have done this a lot.
