Junie B., First Grader: Cheater Pants (3 page)

Mr. Scary took a big breath. He said we would talk more at recess.

Then he gave me a tissue from his pocket. And I wiped my tears.

After that, we went back into the room.

I sat down at my desk very slumping.

’Cause what do you know?

I didn't luck out after all.

Mr. Scary was writing at his desk.

He looked up and called my name.

“Junie B.?” he said. “I'm ready for you
now. Could you bring your chair up here, please?”

My stomach flipped and flopped. ’Cause here came the yelling part, that's why.

I did some deep breaths.

Then I pulled my chair to the front of the room. And I sat down next to him.

Mr. Scary took my homework paper out of his drawer. He set it in front of me very serious.

“I want you to explain this, Junie B.,” he said. “I want you to tell me exactly why you copied May's homework this morning.”

I tried to swallow, but nothing went down.

“Um, well, let's see … the reason I copied was … was …”

I tapped on my chin.

Then, all of a sudden … I thought of it!

“Daddy!” I said. “It was my daddy's fault!”

My teacher looked surprised at that answer.

“Your daddy?” he said. “Your
daddy
told you to copy May's homework?”

“Yes,” I said. “I mean, no. I mean, last night I wanted to stay up late to do my homework. But Daddy turned out my light. And so he is the reason that I had to come to school without it.”

“Ohhhh …
I
see,” said my teacher. “Your daddy wouldn't let you stay up. So
that's
what forced you to copy May's paper.”

I nodded real fast. “Yes,” I said. “That's exactly it.”

Mr. Scary raised his eyebrows. “So did
May actually
give
you her paper to copy?” he asked next.

I rolled my eyes at that crazy question.

“No, silly. May would never be
that
nice,” I said. “It's just that this morning she kept on bragging about how her homework is always an A+. And then she left the paper on top of her desk when she went to the office. And that is just
asking
for trouble, mister.”

Mr. Scary leaned back in his chair.

“Ah,” he said. “So when May left for the office, you saw her paper and you just decided to—”

“
Borrow
it,” I said. “I decided to borrow it to copy.”

My teacher did a frown. “
Borrow?
” he said. “No, Junie B. I'm sorry. But
borrow
is not the right word here at all. When you
copy someone else's paper, that's called
cheating.
”

My eyes got big and shocked at that word. ’Cause what was he even talking about?

“
No
, Mr. Scary.
No.
I didn't cheat. I didn't,” I said. “Cheating is when you steal answers off of someone's
test.
But homework isn't a test. Homework doesn't even count, hardly.”

“Oh, but homework
does
count, Junie B.,” he said back. “Cheating is not just about stealing
test
answers. Cheating is anytime you take someone else's work and you present it as your own.”

He looked at me.

“When you cheated this morning, you broke my trust in you, Junie B.,” he said. “We have a rule about this in Room One.

We keep our eyes on our own papers. You've heard me say that a hundred times, I bet.”

I felt surprised at that information.

“That's a rule?” I said. “No kidding? I always thought that was … well, you know … just a
suggestion.
”

Mr. Scary rolled his eyes. “No, Junie B. It's not a suggestion. It's definitely a rule,” he said. “And it's an important rule, too.”

I drummed my fingers on the desk.

“Well, I'll be darned,” I said.

After a while, I did a deep breath.

“I'm sorry,” I said real soft.

Mr. Scary smiled a little bit. “I'm sorry, too, Junie B.,” he said. “But at least now I think we understand each other better. I will not put up with cheaters in my classroom.”

I did a wince. “Yeah, only I wish you wouldn't keep saying that
cheater
word,” I said. “’Cause I didn't even know I was cheating, hardly. Plus I don't like cheaters, either, Mr. Scary. On account of my daddy cheated me at Old Maid last week. And I am still not over that terrible experience.”

Mr. Scary wrinkled his eyebrows. “Your daddy cheated?” he said.

I did a sigh. “Yes,” I said. “Daddy raised the Old Maid way high in his hand so I would pick her. And then I did. And so what kind of sneaky trick was that?”

Mr. Scary covered his mouth.

He was shocked, I believe.

I leaned closer to him. “And Daddy is not the
only
cheater pants in my family, either,” I said very quiet. “On account of my grampa Frank Miller is supposed to be
on a diet. But yesterday, my grandma found an empty pie pan in his closet. And all that was left was a little bit of crust and a plastic fork.”

I thought for a second. “No wonder I cheated,” I said. “Cheating is in my blood, apparently.”

Mr. Scary did a chuckle. “Well, nobody's perfect,” he said. “Everyone cheats on a diet once in a while, I think. But cheating at school is a
very
different matter, Junie B. Cheating in school is serious business. Are we clear on that now?”

I nodded real fast. “Clear,” I said.

After that, both of us shook hands. And Mr. Scary carried my chair back to my desk.

After I sat down, he took an envelope out of his pocket. And he handed it to me.

“I wrote a note to your parents explaining what happened this morning,” he said. “I would like them to read it and sign it, okay? You can bring it back to me in the morning.”

I did a gasp at that thing.

“No, Mr. Scary.
Not
okay,” I said. “Please, don't make me take a note home. Please. I really, really don't want to take a note.”

Mr. Scary thought for a second. Then he took the note back.

“Well, okay,” he said. “If you feel that strongly, I won't make you take it.”

He started walking back to his desk.

“I'll just call them tonight instead,” he said.

I did a loud groan. ’Cause what kind of dumb choice is
that?

I stomped to his desk and I grabbed back the note.

Then I stuffed it into my backpack.

And I sat down at my desk.

And I wrote in my journal one more time.

That night at dinner, I couldn't swallow my meatball. ’Cause how can you swallow a meatball when there's a note from your teacher in your pocket?

Mother kept on looking at my plate.

“What's the trouble with you tonight, honey?” she asked. “You love spaghetti and meatballs.”

I picked up my fork real slow.

Then I put it right down again.

“Is something wrong, Junie B.?” asked Daddy. “Are you sick?”

I got down from my chair. And I stood by the table.

Then I hanged my head. And very slow, I took the note out of my pocket.

“I did something bad at school today,” I said real glum. “And so there's something I have to give you.”

I rocked back and forth on my feet for a minute.