Published by

  PEACHTREE PUBLISHING COMPANY INC.

  1700 Chattahoochee Avenue

  Atlanta, Georgia 30318-2112

  PeachtreeBooks.com

  Text © 2022 by Alma Fullerton

  Illustrations © 2022 by Sarah Mensinga

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other—except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the permission of the publisher.

  Cover design by Kate Gartner

  Interior design and typeset by Adela Pons

  Edited by Catherine Frank

  First Edition

  ISBN 9781682633663

  Ebook ISBN 9781682634516

  Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available from the Library of Congress

  a_prh_6.0_140577852_c1_r0

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Full-Day Sunday Practice

  First Lineup

  Lunch Break Homework

  One Step at a Time

  Smarts

  The Biggest Cheerleader

  Second Lineup

  Mom

  Homework

  Early Morning Conditioning

  Knocked Out by Words

  Miss Understood

  First-Name Basis

  Mr. Mckay

  Trying to Read

  Recess

  Dad and Me Time

  Monday after School

  Bethany

  Faking

  How I Know

  Mother-Daughter Time

  Morning Jog

  Love Letter

  Called Out

  Liar Liar

  No Time

  Note to Self

  Kind Words

  Silent Reading

  After School

  Warm-Ups

  Mom and Me

  A Bad Joke

  Accused

  Not Guilty

  Tia and Trish

  Faking It

  Easy

  Tricking Mrs. Rose

  The Long Walk

  Real Trouble

  I Like Books But…

  When I Read

  Mixed Emotions

  During Recess

  Surrounded

  You Will Never Be

  No Labels

  Learning Disabilities

  Some Nerve

  Possibilities

  But If

  Words I Know

  Doors that Slam

  In My Room

  BFF Support

  Awesomeness

  Grounded from Sunday Practice

  Sending Myself to the Office

  Office Help

  Cards

  Feeling is Believing

  No Going Back

  Not Reading with Bethany

  One Letter at a Time

  Asking for Help

  Jogging My Memory

  Terrible Tony

  The Ultimate Threat

  My Life Bites

  I Have to Do More

  Failing at Everything

  The Learning Center

  Reading at Practice

  Back Home

  Omg

  Sunday Practice

  Two Days can Make all the Difference

  More Trouble

  Major Freak-Out

  Hiding

  Sister Support

  Smart People

  The Plan

  Making the List

  Execution

  Monday Phone Call with Dad

  No Flipping Way!

  Confrontation

  Acceptance

  I can Fly

  Silent Reading

  Smackdown

  Full Twist Full Away

  About the Author

  About the Illustrator

  Acknowledgments

  To Mrs. Monds and to all educators who not only understand that every child can learn but go above and beyond to find out how they learn

  —A. F.

  FULL-DAY SUNDAY PRACTICE

  In the gym club

  there’s always someone

  who flies higher

  and works harder

  than everyone else.

  In the gym club

  there’s always someone

  who pushes to be

  number one.

  In the gym club

  there’s always someone

  who can do

  anything.

  When I am

  in the gym club

  that someone

  is me.

  There’s

  no better feeling

  than being number one

  when everywhere else

  you’re last in line.

  FIRST LINEUP

  After an hour of

  conditioning

  Coach Tami has us

  all line up.

  “What do you want to

  work on today?”

  As she goes down the line

  each of us tells her which skills

  we want to work on.

  When it’s my turn

  I say my triple-full on the track

  and my giant pirouette

  full twist full away

  on the bars.

  I’ve never tried a

  triple-full on the track

  but last week I accidentally

  over-rotated on a double

  so why not?

  LUNCH BREAK HOMEWORK

  Emma Lea Donovan.

  She’s been my BFF

  since we were three.

  We met

  in Tumble for Tots.

  She knows all

  my secrets

  and I know hers.

  During our gymnastics lunch break

  Emma Lea helps me

  with my homework.

  We sit in the corner

  book opened.

  Taking my pencil,

  she helps me

  by filling in the right words.

  I say, “I wish I had smarts

  like you.”

  Coach Tami looks up

  from where she’s sitting and says,

  “Claire, you have plenty of smarts.

  You pick up a routine

  faster than anyone.”

  She glances as Emma Lea

  finishes my work.

  “And you can

  trick your friend

  into doing your homework.

  That takes

  real smarts.”

  Hearing Coach Tami

  say I have real smarts

  makes my heart soar higher

  than Simone Biles

  on the uneven bars.

  ONE STEP AT A TIME

  For every skill

  I practice

  I do it

  one

  step

  at a time.

  Perfect the

  giant pirouette.

  Stop.

  Perfect the twist

  with a spotter.

  Stop

  and again.

  Stop

  and again.

  You need to have

  every step perfect

  before you can

  put it all together.

  Otherwise

  there’s a good chance

  you’ll take the bar in the head.

  SMARTS

  No matter how hard

  I try

  I can’t read well

  or write nice

  like Emma Lea.

  Letters

  float, blur

  backward

  forward

  upside down

  all mixed up.

  All I see is

  a stupid jungle of letters.

  THE BIGGEST CHEERLEADER

  Over the music

  I can always hear

  one voice

  above the others

  cheering on everyone.

  “Come on, you got it, Willow.”

  “Yeeeaah, Ali!”

  “Awesome job, Dar.”

 

; “Woo-hoo! Claire!”

  Over everything else

  we can all hear

  our team

  cheerleader.

  So when she lands

  her Tsuk pike

  on the vault

  the first time

  we all yell

  “Good job, Emma Lea!”

  I’m so lucky she’s

  my best friend.

  SECOND LINEUP

  At the end of practice

  Coach Tami goes down the line

  again.

  We’re supposed to tell her which skills

  we’ve improved on.

  She never asks

  what we perfected

  because all we

  need to know

  is how we

  improved.

  MOM

  “Coach Tami said

  I can pick up a routine

  faster than anyone.”

  “Amazing,” Mom says.

  “I totally nailed my beam routine,” I tell her.

  “Fantastic. I would love to have seen it.”

  “She says if I keep it up

  I’ll get to the state championships

  no problem.”

  Mom wraps her arms around me

  and holds me tight.

  “Of course you will.

  You are amazing.

  But right now

  get upstairs to finish

  your homework so you can

  get past fifth grade.”

  “Ugh.”

  I still have to

  write a poem

  and writing

  is almost as bad

  as reading.

  HOMEWORK

  Mrs. Rose told me

  to take my time.

  So when I write

  my poem

  I take my time.

  I sit in my room

  slowly shaping

  each letter so they all fit

  between the lines.

  After a billion tries

  and a mountain of

  crumpled paper

  I do it

  without eraser marks.

  I carefully slide

  my perfect poem

  into my binder

  so it doesn’t get too crinkled.

  I don’t even have time

  to switch on the TV

  and Mom is yelling

  bedtime.

  EARLY MORNING CONDITIONING

  5:30 a.m. comes fast

  the morning after a full day

  of practice.

  The rain hitting

  my window

  makes me want to

  curl up tighter

  under my blankets.

  I roll out of bed

  grab a bagel

  and wait for Coach Tami

  to pick me up

  for some one-on-one

  training.

  There’s no sleep for

  gymnasts pushing

  to go all the way

  to the Olympics

  someday.

  KNOCKED OUT BY WORDS

  By 8:00 I’m sitting

  right beside Emma Lea

  at school.

  I smooth my poem

  out on my desk

  and wait for Mrs. Rose to say

  “Good job, Claire.”

  But Mrs. Rose only frowns

  when she sees

  my poem.

  “Claire, apparently you didn’t

  pay attention

  to our chat,” she says.

  “It’s obvious you didn’t

  understand

  when I told you to

  take your time.”

  Her words

  knock the wind out of me

  faster than missing the bar

  and landing flat on your stomach.

  Before tears

  well up in my eyes

  that defeated feeling

  flips into anger

  and sails across the room

  on my crumpled-up

  poem.

  MISS UNDERSTOOD

  When my paper hits Melanie Watson

  I don’t say sorry

  even though

  I am.

  Instead I stand

  and yell, “I am all about

  understanding,

  Mrs. Rose!

  I totally understood you.

  I am Miss Understood.”

  Mrs. Rose’s eyes scrunch

  until they are such little slits.

  I doubt she can see me

  copycatting her.

  But when the class laughs

  her eyes pop open

  as wide as jumbo marbles.

  “Well, Miss Understood, you

  can march yourself over to see

  the vice principal right now.”

  FIRST-NAME BASIS

  The office people and I

  have been old friends

  since I was in kindergarten.

  “Good morning, Judith,” I say.

  “I’m here to chat with Mr. McKay.”

  Judith rolls her eyes

  and presses her button.

  “Mr. McKay, Claire is here

  to see you.”

  There are twelve Claires

  in our school.

  But he knows

  it’s me.

  MR. McKAY

  “What brings you here today, Claire?”

  Mr. McKay

  Edward, Eddie, Ed

  Mr. Ed looks bored

  when I step into his office.

  I grab a piece of pizza

  from the box they keep there

  for hungry kids.

  And I am hungry.

  5:30 breakfast

  was hours ago.

  I’m in early enough today that

  the pizza is still hot.

  The chair whooshes

  when I plunk myself

  into it.

  My butt fits perfectly into

  the memory foam.

  “It’s Mrs. Rose, Mr. McKay.

  She’s picking on me again

  and making me angry.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, she’s saying I didn’t

  take my time writing my poem

  when I did.”

  “You were sent here

  because of that?” Mr. McKay asks.

  “I worked really hard

  at making it all neat and tidy.

  She said I didn’t understand our talk.

  But I understood everything.

  She’s the one who doesn’t

  understand

  so I crumpled up the poem

  and threw it at Melanie Watson.

  BY ACCIDENT.

  It was with this hand

  —the right or is this left?” I ask.

  “Right,” he says.

  “Right. I’m not so good at aiming

 

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