"Mr. Ziminski," my dad said, reading the papers, "it says here your son is 6'5" and weighs 261 pounds. Is that true?"Mr. Ziminski glared at my dad. "I... true," he replied."Do you really think my son," my dad waved his hand at me, "would be stupid enough to bully your boy? My son weighs 120 pounds, for god's sake."Mr. Ziminski looked like he was ready to explode. "I sue you," he snarled and snatched the papers from my dad's hands and got right in his face. My dad is not much bigger than I am, but. ..I slumped on the sofa near the bathrooms where we sat and tried to listento the conversations around me and not think about what a shambles I'dmade of snow day. Dallas had some art project she was working on andSarah wanted to know all about it. I couldn't really concentrate on thatand when Michelle tried to talk to me about some skates she wanted, Ijust gave her one word answers, my hands shaking and my eyes watery.Every so often either she or Gina would make me laugh, but it soundedkind. More

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