I didn't turn in my sentences again this week.
Why? Because when I handed them to Winter Thursday morning so she could look them over before she left, she read through them and handed them back, saying, "Do you want Social Services knocking on our door?"
No. I didn't. Nobody wanted Social Services knocking on their door. Social Services hated people who lived in trailer parks. It's like they have it on a checklist of things parents can't do if they want their children living with them.
Winter patted my shoulder and said, "You know teachers are mandated reporters, right?"
Yes, I knew. Teachers were always talking to Social Services about kids who had bad parents or filthy houses. Winter and I didn't have either, but teachers and social workers didn't always see it that way.
"Okay, now you want to know what I see in your sentences, if I'm pretending I'm a mandated reporter or some Social Services jerk?"
She told me what my sentences really sounded like:
Sentence 1: Lots of fights happen in the Mackie household, and things get thrown and broken.
Sentence 2: Ms. Mackie can't pay bills.
Sentence 3: The Mackies live in a derelict trailer park.
Sentence 4: The Mackies live among a bunch of junkies.
Sentence 6: The Mackies just really don't live in a very good place, do they?
Sentence 7: The Mackie children think it's okay to play in a dump.
Sentence 8: Ms. Mackie was a single teen mother.
Sentence 9: Ms. Mackie makes her ten-year-old child walk to school by herself.
Sentence 10: The thought of her father makes Star Mackie think about throwing up.
Which meant that sentence 5 was the only good one, but probably only because Winter didn't even know what a katzenjammer was. (I told her my theory that Mr. Savage throws in one weird word every week.) I thanked Winter and traversed my way to school, trying to at least stay in crosswalks instead of jaywalking like I usually do, so that if a Social Services person did come by, it wouldn't look so terrible.
As soon as I got to class, I headed for the trash can to throw my sentences away. And on my way back to my desk I swear someone stuck a foot out, because I tripped where I don't usually trip. Everyone scowled at me, too, even Mr. Savage. Especially after I told him that I didn't have any sentences for him.
He was probably mad that I hadn't even brought last week's sentences, like he'd told me to. I'd spent a lot of last night going over my Winter notebook. Then, after doing one set of sentences, I hadn't really felt like redoing the old set. Especially since I already knew all the words and how to use them in sentences.
I kind of hoped he'd just walk away again, like last time. Maybe tell me to bring them next week. But, instead, what he said was, "They're really not that hard, Star. You should be able to get them done." I hated the way everyone's stares felt after that, like I was too stupid to manage something as simple as sentences. Didn't it even occur to Mr. Savage that I had done them, and I just happened to leave them at home for the second week in a row? Why did he have to suddenly assume that I was a delinquent? Especially since I've turned in everything except the stupid vocabulary sentences.
I thought about retrieving and keeping the sentences as proof that I'd actually done them, but by the time recess came around, I just didn't see the point, so I left them in the trash.
Where they belonged.
