MISERABLE

Even though I have a mom who worries too much, a twelve-year-old sister who never stops texting, and a dog named Monkeylad who runs away to steal meat off the neighbors' tables, I really thought things were going to get better for me in fifth grade. But it's the second week, and my life is still pretty miserable.

Things started out okay. This cool kid, Leif Zuniga, who also likes sports and movies and collecting baseball cards, had been having lunch with me every day.

My mom packed me the usual almond-butter-and-organic-fruit-juice-sweetened-jam- on-whole-wheat-bread sandwich, fresh fruit, carrots, and dried seaweed. Leif took one look at it, said, "Aw, man," and shared his chips and cookies with me, which was awesome. Then we played handball at recess, and we even planned some times to hang out on weekends.

I have a teacher named Ms. Washington, who is supposed to be the nicest teacher in the school, and she sure seems that way so far.

I got A's on my spelling and math tests.

Serena Perl, from kindergarten and first, second, third, and fourth grades, is in my class again. Sometimes I stare at the back of her head because she has this perfectly straight part, and I wonder how she or her mother gets it that way every single day. Her hair, which is the same gold color as her skin, must be pretty long when she takes out the braids. Serena Perl even smiled at me a few times. She has dimples.

At home, my sister, Angelina, was still texting. Monkeylad was still trying to escape. Mom was still being excessively safe. But things were good at school with Ms. Washington, Leif Zuniga, and Serena Perl.

Then, at the end of the second week, everything changed. A new kid came into the classroom. He was a pipsqueak with hair like that singer my sister loves, Dustin Peeper. I recognized him from summer camp.

Rocko Hoggen.

* * *

The camp was called 4 Kids Only, so when I first went there, when I was around six, I expected to play with just a few kids. The camp logo even had a picture of just FOUR children. But when Mom dropped me off, there were hundreds of screaming kids.

I told my mom I didn't want to stay because of the false advertising. She asked what I meant, and I told her there were way more than four kids, and she laughed, which made me even madder.

"Don't laugh at me," I said.

"I'm sorry, Ben, but I was laughing with you, not at you."

But I wasn't laughing.

* * *

Last summer I had to go back again. On the morning of the first day, my mom packed me a lunch with an almond butter sandwich, fruit, and seaweed. Then she chased me down, waving her bottle of smelly sunscreen that makes my skin look white and streaky. Monkeylad was leaping along behind her. He loves to lick sunscreen off me about as much as my mom loves to put it on. All I wanted to do was stay home and eat sugar and watch TV, but my sister and I aren't allowed to eat sugar on weekdays, and we don't even have TV, only a DVD player, because my mom is a librarian and doesn't believe in television. She makes us read every night, but I'm usually not that interested in the books she brings home for me.

I think she's kind of hypocritical because she sneaks off to the gym almost every day to run on the treadmill and watch bad reality shows. I know this because one of Angelina's friends' dads owns the gym and told Angelina that my mom watches How to Be a Hottie and America's Next OMG. Without a TV, our house is boring. Which is why, even if I had any friends, they wouldn't come over.

At least I saw someone I knew at camp — Marvin Davis, who was in T-ball with me in kindergarten. He and I hung out at 4 Kids Only and played volleyball, and it was pretty cool.

But the next day, this kid named Rocko Hoggen came to camp. I bet when you hear a name like that, you think big, burly pit-bull-type kid, not a little poodle. Rocko started talking to Marvin right away. I could tell he was trouble.

Later, Marvin and I were playing soccer and I felt a shove. I fell over onto the grass, and it hurt. I couldn't get up, and then the counselor came and helped me, and Marvin helped, too, and the counselor said he was going to call my mom. I tried not to cry by biting my lip, but my arm hurt like a pit bull had taken a bite out of it. A little while later, Mom came running into the nurse's office screaming, "Where's my baaaaaby? What happened?" I was so embarrassed that I forgot about how much pain I was in.

"I think he broke his collarbone," the counselor said.

"He what? He broke his collarbone?" yelled my mom. She speaks in question marks when she's upset.

One of the counselors drove us to the hospital, and they X-rayed me and gave me some kind of medicine that made me feel better but also really weird. My mom told me I was saying some goofy things like "The kid that pushed me is a peeper-squeak," but I don't remember. I got a sling for my arm to take pressure off my collarbone, which is actually called a clavicle. I thought I might be able to get out of 4 Kids Only, with a shattered body part and all, but nooooo! I still had to go to camp, but I couldn't run around or play any sports, which made it even worse.

When I got back to camp, I went looking for Marvin. He was hanging out with the pipsqueak I'd only glimpsed for a second before he'd pushed me down "by accident."

I went up to Marvin to show him my sling, and he said, "Cool," but Rocko didn't say anything. He just tossed his hair like Dustin Peeper and looked away and started humming to himself. Then he said to Marvin, "Come on, let's play handball."

Marvin said, "Do you want to play, Ben?"

But Rocko said, "He can't. He broke his arm, and his bones are fragile."

"Collarbone," I said. I would have said clavicle, but I didn't want to sound like a nerd. (And you actually broke it, pipsqueak.)

They went off to play, and I sat on a bench by myself. At lunchtime I went to eat with Marvin, and there was Rocko again. I sat with them, and Marvin talked to me, but Rocko didn't say anything. I got up to go to the bathroom, and when I came back, my lunch was gone. I hate my miserable lunches, but I had to eat something. I asked Marvin if he had seen my lunch, and he said no, he had gone to throw his away, and when he got back, mine wasn't there. I looked at Rocko. He wouldn't look me in the eye. He tossed his hair like Dustin Peeper and turned away. Marvin gave me an...