The One and Only Zoe Lama by Tish Cohen

in the first place. But today is different. My brain still hasn’t stoppedstomping its feet about pink folders. “I was just saying I’ve very recently discovered a new word that I hope to use in a sentence one day.” I question-smile at Mrs. Patinkin. “With your permission, I’d like to try.”
    Mrs. Patinkin nearly levitates with excitement. She holds her stump of chalk up to the board so she can write down my word as fast as spit. “Go ahead, Zoë,” she says with her breath.

    I stand up. “The word I’ve discovered is usurp. It means to seize. Or to steal.” I turn slightly to my left so I can see Devon out of the corner of my hair. “To dethrone or eject. And if one were to use it in a sentence, he—or she—might say, ‘To help out is human, but to usurp is going to get your precious toes stomped on by very small, but very furious boots.’” I sit and fold my hands on my desk. Mrs. Patinkin’s face clouds over. She really wants to reward my effort but she can’t figure out how. My bet is she’ll fake it.
    I’m right. “Yes. Good. Yes. Nice…sentence, Zoë.” She writes usurp on the board and turns around to face us. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, you should all take Zoë’s sentence asinspiration to reap the bounty of words that surround you. Now, everyone come over to the back carpet and sit cross-legged. I have a wonderful surprise for the entire class.”
    By the time the Fronties get to the carpet, most of the spots are taken except for a big empty circle around Smartin. With our noses begging us to sit anywhere else, Susannah and Laurel and I have no choice but to plop down beside him. We’re mortally disgusted to see he’s coloring his entire right arm and hand with blue highlighter. Even Laurel isn’t impressed.
    He nudges me with his inky arm. “Come on, Costello. Wanna hold hands?”
    “You’d have to chop it off, sterilize it, and sew it onto someone else’s body first.”
    “For you, I’ll do it.” He starts to lick the highlighter off his skin. Everyone falls over, groaning in toxic horror. Vile!
    “Martin Seth Granitstein,” says Mrs. Patinkin. “If you can refrain from swallowing your own tissue, I won’t keep you in for recess. When you’re outside in the field, under the playground monitor’s care, I invite you to consume whatever you like. In my class, however, I ask that you swear off human flesh.”
    Martin shrugs—“Okay”—pops the lid off his highlighter,and bites off the felt tip. Blue drool oozes from the corner of his mouth as he swallows.
    Mrs. Patinkin screeches, “Martin! To the office. And have the nurse examine you while you’re there.”
    He stands up and points at me with a blue finger. “Can I have an escort? Sometimes I get lost.”
    I bury my head in my hands and squeeze my eyes shut. Please say no! Please!
    “No!”
    Once his sorry carcass is out of sight, Mrs. Patinkin closes her eyes for a moment, then smiles like she’s never seen or smelled Smartin in her life. “I have very exciting news. The entire school is going to participate in a political-science experiment. Each class will be developing an imaginary island and will be holding mock leadership elections. Students in every class will be divided into two political parties, each with their own name and belief system. And each party will elect a leader.”
    Devon’s hand shoots up. She doesn’t wave, just holds it up with her fingers flagpole straight, pointed at the ceiling. When Patinkin nods, she chirps, “I hope to be a leader because my father always says me and my sister should strive to be number one in every endeavor.”
    I try not to groan out loud and Mrs. Patinkin says, “Hurry, Brianna. Go write endeavor on the board.” She smiles at Devon. “That will be our final vocabulary word for the week.”
    Tall Paul puts up his hand. “Does that mean we don’t have to speak in full sentences until Monday?”
    Mrs. Patinkin closes her eyes, then opens them.