I told Ms. Griggs I left my homework at my dad’s house, and my mom refuses to let me go over there till the weekend. Somehow Ms. Griggs knows my parents aren’t divorced.
“Strike Two,” she says. (Apparently she didn’t believe my grandma died yesterday either.)
Tonight’s homework, stupid as always, is worse than usual. We’re supposed to build a Venn Diagram using Homework and Facebook. Even my dog wouldn’t eat that.
I don’t understand the assignment. I’ll check Facebook first and then get back to my
* * * * *
Next morning, first thing Ms. Griggs does, she collects the homework. It’ll be Strike Three and I’ll be in suspension, so I think quick.
Raise my hand. A cough. “Ms. Griggs, I don’t want to embarrass my mother.”
“Too late for that,” she says.
Not sure what she means, but I plow on. “My mom says—well, we had a disagreement. What I’m trying to say, trying to ask is…will I get in trouble for something I didn’t do?”
She looks perplexed. “Of course not.”
“Whew. Good, because I didn’t do my homework.”
“You’re out,” she says. Not even a Strike Three. It’s my last day in Ms. Griggs’ class.