The Best School Year Ever: Chapters 8–9

“If they ever did have something contagious, they wouldn’t stay home. They’d come here and breathe on everybody.”

Right away Alice wrote this down on a piece of paper, as if she had so many important engagements that she had to write them all down.

He had made it a major rule that anybody at the Woodrow Wilson School could sign up for anything they wanted to, no exceptions, and he had made another rule that everybody had to sign up for something whether they wanted to or not.

Lonnie Hutchison was the other alternate, and he said he had to quit because of his asthma.
“Nice try, Lonnie,” Mr. Crabtree said, “but you don’t have asthma. I know who all has asthma. I know who has pinkeye and poison ivy and athlete’s foot, also coughs and colds and nervous stomachs.”

The newspaper reporter got it all wrong, too. “MOCK FIRE STAGED TO HIGHLIGHT FIRE PREVENTION DAY,” he wrote.

This turned out to be the general opinion, and so many people called the newspaper to complain that they printed another story—“WOODROW WILSON SCHOOL, DESPITE CHICKEN POX EPIDEMIC, WINS SPEED AND SAFETY AWARD,” which my father said was better than nothing, but not much.

One year everybody brought their collections. There were baseball cards and Cracker Jack prizes and bubble-gum wrappers...and belly-button lint.
The belly-button lint came from Imogene Herdman, but she said she wouldn’t recommend it as a hobby. “I don’t even collect it anymore,” she said. “This is left over from when I used to collect it.” I guess that was the last straw—old belly-button lint—because we never did that again.

The name I drew was Imogene Herdman, and I had used up the one and only compliment I finally thought of for Imogene—patriotic.

Maxine Cooper asked me how to spell cooperative and enthusiastic, so obviously she had a terrific list.

“What do you think of that?” Mother asked my father that night. “She buttered his head!”
“I think it was resourceful,” my father said. “Messy, but resourceful.”
“That’s like a compliment, isn’t it?” I asked my father. “It’s good to be resourceful?”

“I put down that you’re patriotic,” I told Imogene, “and brave and resourceful...and cunning and shrewd and creative, and enterprising and sharp and inventive...”

“I put down that you’re patriotic,” I told Imogene, “and brave and resourceful...and cunning and shrewd and creative, and enterprising and sharp and inventive...”

“I put down that you’re patriotic,” I told Imogene, “and brave and resourceful...and cunning and shrewd and creative, and enterprising and sharp and inventive...”

“I put down that you’re patriotic,” I told Imogene, “and brave and resourceful...and cunning and shrewd and creative, and enterprising and sharp and inventive...”