Chapter 22

22

The students filed back into the classroom pretty quickly after the lunch break, and as usual, they were led by Melissa, who took her usual seat, the first seat by the door in the first row.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Abraham,” she said, with even more of a perk in her speech than normal. “It is so good to see you again after a nice lunch break.”

“It is good to see you, Melissa, and your classmates here,” “Mr. Abraham” replied. “We have plenty to do this afternoon, so let’s dive right into it.”

Melissa nodded over to another student seated next to her, and whispered, “Sure, he is going to be taking a dive, all right.” The other student smiled, nodding in agreement.

“Mr. Abraham” began the afternoon lessons, and the day went quickly for Abraham Lincoln Panim, as the clock quickly got closer to the 3 p.m. end of the school day time.

During the arithmetic part of the lesson, “Mr. Abraham” turned to the class as he finished writing on the blackboard.

“Does everyone understand this?” he asked, looking around the room. “It is getting late in the day, we only have a few minutes left, so if there is anyone not understanding this, we need to talk about it—“

“I’m not sure about it,” said Melissa as she raised her hand to get “Mr. Abraham’s attention. Responding to her plea for help, Abraham Lincoln Panim walked over to her, anticipating her questions.

“What seems to be the matter, what’s the problem?” he asked, as he bent down to see Melissa’s work.

“I don’t know, what is the problem?” Melissa asked, as she yanked on Abraham Lincoln Panim’s scarf, which went from being held tightly around his face to falling on the floor, revealing his secret to the entire class.

“My brother said it was you!” Melissa screeched “You are that rat-faced guy that my brother told me about. You have a rat face! And you hate cheese!”

The class laughed, and Abraham Lincoln Panim bent to the floor to quickly retrieve his pulled-off scarf.

And as he was doing this, he realized … Melissa Hartung was Brandon Hartung’s younger sister, the very person who had terrorized him when he was in nursery school and when he was in college.

“Not only did my brother warn me about you, but Mr. Sedall said you were the rat-faced guy!” Melissa bragged to the class. “They both knew what they were talking about—you are a rat face!”

“Rat face! Rat face! Rat face!” the class yelled almost in unison, and Abraham Lincoln Panim was only saved by the 3:00 p.m. bell that rang.

The class filed past him as he was still on the floor, trying to cover his face with his scarf.

He sat there as the last child filed out of the room.