“Boys, stop that.” Mr. Cohen sounds annoyed.
I put the photos into my knapsack and check to see what’s happening.
Jimmy Russell and Bobby Clifford are dueling with rulers.
They are so immature for people who will be fourth graders in only a few months.
They have scabs on their faces.
Personally, I think that each of them is nothing but a big ugly scab to begin with.
They always tease me, about everything, but especially about my name.
They always say things like “Amber Brown is not a crayon.”
So I don’t mind when they get yelled at.
I hear Jimmy whisper, “What’s he going to do, flunk us? Grades are already turned in.”
Obviously, Mr. Cohen has heard him, too, because he gives Jimmy a look and says, “It’s never too late to change a grade.”
The look does it.
Jimmy and Bobby throw lots of stuff in the garbage and quickly and quietly sit down.
Mr. Cohen is the best teacher in the world . . . or at least, the best teacher I’ve ever had . . . but when he gets mad he gets a look that is pretty scary.
I call it getting “cohened.”
“Finish up, everyone,” Mr. Cohen says.
All that’s left in my desk are my bagel-shaped barrettes and my fuzz balls.
I take the barrettes and leave the fuzz balls.
Soon everyone is sitting down waiting for Mr. Cohen to speak.
I look around the classroom.
Half the people are out sick.
One, Freddie Romano, had to leave early because his dad’s vacation time couldn’t be changed.
Mr. Cohen makes a little speech about how much he’s enjoyed the year with us, how he’s actually going to miss us, how even though we won’t be in his class next year, he would love it if we visited him.
Then he hands out our “passports.” All year long we used them to pretend that we were visiting different countries. “I want you to have these to always remember the journeys we have taken . . . to visit other countries . . . and the ‘journey’ each of you has taken to grow, to learn, to change.”
I look at my passport.
All of the regular stuff is on it.
Mr. Cohen has stamped something new on it.
It says:
VISA—TO ENTER FOURTH GRADE.
And he’s added a note to me:
“Amber—You’ve been a joy in my classroom. I love your sense of humor, your sense of exploration, your willingness to try new things, even when they are hard (like math . . . and like getting used to Justin’s move).
You’ve used this passport well. Have a great time with your ‘real’ passport. Please send me some postcards. Have a great time in London and Paris.”
I look up at Mr. Cohen and grin.
I will send him postcards, for I, Amber Brown, am going to London, England, with my Aunt Pam and then I’m going to Paris, France, to see my father.
It’s a real trip, not a pretend one, and I can’t wait for it to begin.
Amber can’t wait to be Best Child when her mom and Max get married, but planning a wedding comes with lots of headaches. Amber can’t find the right dress, her dad keeps making mean cracks about Max, and everyone is going crazy over how much things cost. Her mother even suggests they go to city hall and skip the party altogether!
Justin and his family are supposed to come for the wedding, and Amber has been looking forward to that for months. Adults sure can be a lot of work, but if Amber can make this wedding work, it will all be worth it.
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Read all the Amber Brown books!
Amber Brown Goes Fourth
Amber Brown Is Feeling Blue
Amber Brown Is Green with Envy
Amber Brown Is Not a Crayon
Amber Brown Is Tickled Pink
Amber Brown Sees Red
Amber Brown Wants Extra Credit
Forever Amber Brown
I, Amber Brown
You Can’t Eat Your Chicken Pox, Amber Brown
Amber Brown Is Not a Crayon Page 4
