floor. The math teacher said, âIs any of this making sense to you?â
Greg shrugged. âSure. I guess so.â
âThen I think all this adds up to one thing.â Mr. Z paused, waiting for Greg to look him in the face. It didnât happen, so he said. âGreg, you need to apologize to Maura.â
Gregâs head jerked up. âApologize? Me? No. No way.â
Maura knew how stubborn Greg was, and sheâd liked the talk theyâd been having before the teacher had arrived. She quickly said, âItâs okay, Mr. Z. He doesnât have to apologize.â
Mr. Z said, âYes, he does. First he has to apologize to you, and then he has to apologize to me for making a huge disturbance in myroom and wasting precious class time. And all because of a comic book.â
Greg felt the fury rising in his chest. He wanted to tip his head back and howl like Creon. He wanted to get up close to this manâs huge nose and shout, â Iâm the guy with the black eye here. Iâm the one whoâs had his idea ripped off. Apologize? That is so stupid âno, actually, youâre stupid!â Greg felt his face getting red, felt his heart pounding.
And then, for the second time in one day, Greg felt his nose begin to bleed. Only this time it was a real gusher. Blood streamed out his left nostril, over his lips, and dripped off his chin, spattering his shirt and the desk.
Mr. Z put one hand over his mouth and with the other, he pointed a shaky finger, his eyes wide. âOh . . . oh. Your nose. Itâs . . . itâs . . .â But he couldnât say the b word.
Mr. Zâs face went pale as paper. Sweat stood out on his forehead, and behind the hand still covering his mouth, his breath came in gasps.
Earlier, Greg hadnât noticed Mr. Zâs reaction to blood. This time he couldnât miss it. And he decided to enjoy it.
Greg leaned forward and nodded at Mr. Z,making no effort to stop the flow. âYes, my nose is bloody, very bloody. Itâs bleeding, and blood is getting all over the placeâbloody, bloody, blood.â
Mr. Z turned away, almost throwing up.
âGreg!â Maura snapped. â Stop it! Thatâs mean. â Sheâd already grabbed the tissues from the teacherâs desk. âHere.â And she pushed the box into Gregâs hands.
Turning to Mr. Z, she said, âCan I get you something . . . some water?â
Mr. Z shook his head. âI . . . just need to . . . lie down.â And with Maura to steady him, he eased out of the desk and onto the floor, flat on his back, eyes closed.
âNow you,â Maura said to Greg. âSit on the floor and lean forward. And squeeze your nose. Hard.â Greg followed orders, but then decided heâd be more comfortable lying down.
Maura said, âIâll get the nurse. And a cold packâtwo cold packs.â
And she left Greg and Mr. Z littering the floor of room 27.
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Chapter 9
APOLOGIES
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Greg lay on his back, completely still. Even with one nostril plugged, he picked up the oily scent left over from last nightâs dust mopping. He watched the second hand on the big wall clock and listened to Mr. Zâs deep breaths. His math teacher was also stretched out on the floor, about ten feet away.
And Greg thought, Now Iâm completely sunk. This guy is gonna ruin me. And then another, deeper voice said, Yeah, and I deserve it. And Greg knew that second voice was telling the truth.
He said, âMr. Z?â
In a voice so weak it was hard to hear, Mr. Z said, âYes?â
âIâm sorry, about the blood stuffâafter I saw it made you sick. Mauraâs right . . . it was mean. So Iâm sorry.â
Mr. Z was quiet, and then he said, âI knowitâs irrational, my reaction to . . . that. Itâs only a liquid . . . and only a word. But seeing it, and hearing that word, and thinking about itâit gets me, every
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