’”“Don’t get lippy with me, young woman! How’d you like to be in the ninth grade next year. Then you wouldn’t have Sarah to copy from.” ...e was thinking fast. She’d end up over his lap, but she should play at being forced to it.“Aren’t you ending a sentence with a preposition Mr. Brown?”“On the other hand, you could be in the eighth grade next year.” Okay. That was the way they’d play it. She’d be a ninth-grade girl in a one-room school. Still, it would take a lot of suspension of disbelief to. Becausethe material was made of slick artificial fibers I couldn't even roll upthe legs, they just wouldn't stay. And the pants wouldn't stay upanyway.The jersey was the exact opposite: It was so small, that I couldn'tsqueeze into it.After the job of getting out of the costume, now this flop! I couldn'tgo in my linen bodyshaper and woolen underpants out on the street!I went through all the lockers again. Nothing. There was just one morepossibility: The girls' locker room. Maybe there was. More

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