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“Tell her about the field trip,” said Gary.
“Well—” began Miss Turbone.
“Mr. Bone is going to take our class on a field trip to the aquarium and she said you can come, too.”
For the first time Angeline turned away from the fish tank. “Let’s go,” she said. “Right now! Can we? Right after recess?”
“No,” said Miss Turbone, “you know that. You have to plan ahead. And of course you’ll have to check with your teacher to see if you can go with us.”
Angeline looked back at the fish tank. Mrs. Hardlick would never let her go. She didn’t even want to think about Mrs. Hardlick. She concentrated on the fish. As she watched the rainbow fish peacefully swim around, she pretended she was in the middle of the ocean.
“Can we go to the ocean too?” she asked.
“Maybe,” said Miss Turbone. “First the aquarium.”
“Did you ask your father how come he’s never taken you to the beach?” Gary asked.
“He just won’t,” said Angeline. “I don’t know why, but he won’t. He won’t even take me on his garbage truck.”
Miss Turbone turned her head around and looked peculiarly at Angeline. She wondered what the ocean had to do with a garbage truck.
“You know why you never get hungry at the beach?” Gary asked.
“Why?” asked Angeline.
“Because of all the sand-which-is there!”
Angeline laughed. She thought it was the funniest joke she’d ever heard. But then her laughter suddenly stopped as she heard the bell ring.
Eleven
Mrs. Hardlick’s Triumph
Angeline was scared as she walked back to Mrs. Hardlick’s room. She considered going home, but she figured that that would only make matters worse. Mrs. Hardlick would call her father, and, most of all, Angeline didn’t want to disappoint him. She knew that he had such high expectations of her.
She tried to think of some explanation to give to Mrs. Hardlick, but was unable to come up with one. The truth was that she didn’t even know herself why she’d done what she’d done. “It’s because they’re killing the whales,” she thought. “It affects everything.”
She took a breath, then boldly opened the door to the classroom. Immediately she burst into tears as she saw the mess she had made. She took a couple of steps, then stopped as Mrs. Hardlick coldly stared at her. It was as if Mrs. Hardlick’s silent stare prevented her from going any farther.
The rest of the class were all in their seats except for Nelson Ford, whose desk Angeline had turned over. He was standing next to it, trying not to laugh. Mrs. Hardlick had evidently told everyone to leave everything exactly as it was.
Angeline wished that Mrs. Hardlick would say what she had to say and get it over with. The silence was killing her.
All the other sixth-graders tried their best to be quiet but she could hear a few muffled snickers. “The freak freaked out,” someone whispered. Then someone else, thinking it was funny, copied the same joke. “The freak freaked out,” she heard again.
“You did this!” shouted Mrs. Hardlick. “You can’t fool me! You did it, didn’t you?”
Angeline wasn’t trying to fool anyone. If she hadn’t done it, she wouldn’t be standing there crying.
“Well, young lady, what have you got to say for yourself?” Mrs. Hardlick demanded.
Angeline sniffled back some tears. “I wish to resign as Secretary of Trash.”
Mrs. Hardlick looked furious. “Oh, you think you are so smart, don’t you?” she said. “Smarter than everybody else in the class—even me!” She snorted. “Well you’re not! This wasn’t so smart now, was it? You don’t belong in the sixth grade. A sixth-grader doesn’t throw a temper tantrum when there is nobody else around. A sixth-grader doesn’t rip down other people’s compositions just because they got a better grade. A sixth-grader doesn’t suck her thumb or cry at the drop of a hat! Babies do that! Maybe you’re not as smart as you thought you were.”
Angeline stood trembling and crying, waiting for Mrs. Hardlick to finish. Mrs. Hardlick had loved it when Angeline sucked her thumb and cried, but she loved this the most.
“Look at poor Nelson,” Mrs. Hardlick continued. “He doesn’t have a place to sit.”
