Cheating for the Chicken Man by Priscilla Cummings Read Free Book Online Page B

iron because she was always burning herself on it. Plus it took too long. She should have made a ponytail. Anything would have been better than nothing.
    Tucking her hair behind one ear, Kate scanned the handout, her eyes lighting on the book list. She recognized some of the titles like
To Kill a Mockingbir
d
,
The Scarlet Lette
r
,
Romeo and Juliet
. But others were new to her and had interesting titles like
I Know Why the Cag
ed Bird Sings
by Maya Angelou. She was going to love the reading.
    â€œCell phones and iPods are a distraction in class. They are
not allowed
! All of your electronic devices should be in your locker during the day.” Mrs. Langley’s voice hammered out the warning: “Rest assured, people, that I will confiscate these devices if I see them being used!”
    Kate glanced at the girl across the aisle and recognized Glenda Newbie from eighth grade. Glenda looked really tan. But Kate wondered why she’d put on so much black eyeliner. Other than lip gloss, Kate still didn’t use any makeup. Like Jess, she believed true beauty was natural, not something fake you painted on your face. When they made eye contact, Kate started to smile and widen her eyes, as in,
Can you beli
eve this teacher?
But Glenda swung her head around and turned away as she shook back her long, straight-as-a-broom blond hair.
    In fact, the eye makeup made Glenda Newbie look like a raccoon, Kate decided.
    From the corner of her eyes, Kate watched Glenda cross her legs. Glenda had on cute leather sandals and what appeared to be fresh black nail polish that made her toes look bruised.
    Kate pulled in her sneakered feet. What a dork she must look like in her
o
ff-brand
sneakers, her loose-fitting jeans, and her plain pink T-shirt that hung on her lean frame. Next time she did the wash, she would throw everything in the dryer for an extra ten minutes to see if they’d shrink.
    Or
not
! Why should she? Just because most girls wore snug tops and short skirts didn’t mean she had to do it, too.
    Did it?
    Confused, and suddenly panicked, Kate stared down at the syllabus in her hands. She gritted her teeth. There was somuch for her to get used to—the clothes, the makeup, the way older kids acted, the block schedule with ninety minutes per class, which seemed so long. It was a huge mistake for her to be in high school, wasn’t it? She was only thirteen. She should have been in the eighth grade, not the ninth! The year she had skipped back in fifth grade when she entered public school had messed her up now!
    â€œYou need to listen. You need to participate,” Mrs. Langley told them.
    Listen
 . . .
parti
cipate
 . . . Kate blinked and bit a fingernail and tried to focus, but already her mind was straying again. She couldn’t help it. She had imagined the first day of high school so many times over the summer—it almost glittered like a distant star in her mind. New classes, new friends—a new beginning! It had been almost a year since her father had died. J.T. had been home for three months. It was way past time for a new start. But the first day was here, and it was far from the heavenly new chapter in her life that she had imagined for herself—or for her brother, because no one had sat with him on the bus that morning.
    â€œNumber eight!” Mrs. Langley called out as she tossed something into the wastebasket that made a heavy thud. “No food and drink allowed in this room!”
    Number eight? Kate licked her lips and glanced around. She must have spaced out again. She did not want to start out this way, not listening. She swallowed hard and stretched her eyes.
    Mrs. Langley continued: “Cheating.
Susp
ected
cheating. Or
a
ttempted
cheating will result in a zero on the assignment and disciplinary action. . . .”
    Kate frowned. Why would a teacher have to even say this?
    When a buzzer finally sounded, Kate was glad. She and the others in her class