"Claudia?" said Mrs. Hall.

"Yes?" (Was she just trying to get my attention or had she asked me some question?)

"Can you help us out here?" (I guess she'd asked a question.) I could feel the blood rising to my face. I looked down at my notebook in

which I'd been doodling pictures of some of the kids I baby-sit for. "Urn, with what?" I replied.

Mrs. Hall sighed. "Claudia Kishi." (This was not a good sign. Mrs. Hall hardly ever uses our last names.) "Would you please pay attention?"

I nodded. "Yes," I managed to reply.

Mrs. Hall shook her head sadly. I wanted to add, "Sorry for ruining your day," because that's just what she looked like — a person whose day had been ruined. By me! I felt kind of powerful, although I wasn't proud of it. Imagine being able to ruin a grown-up's entire day single-handedly.

Mrs. Hall took my boredom pretty hard. "Class, please close your books and take out a fresh piece of paper. I want to give you a spelling check." ("Check" is Mrs. Hall's term for "surprise quiz.")

The class groaned. A few kids directed murderous glances at me, as if this whole thing were my fault. Well, I bet I hadn't been the only one watching that fly and doodling in my notebook.

"The words," Mrs. Hall went on, "will be taken from chapters seven and eight of Mixed-up Files, which you should have read last night."

"Should have" is right, I thought.

"The first word/' Mrs. Hall said, "is 'pha-raoh/ "

I waited for her to use it in a sentence (not that it would do me any good). Mrs. Hall always uses spelling words in sentences, and she pronounces the sentences very carefully, with lots of emphasis.

"The children are studying a famous Egyptian pha-raoh."

Ah-ha! I thought. Mrs. Hall was giving us a hidden clue. She used "famous" and "pha-raoh" in the same sentence. They must begin with the same letter. Now, I'm a terrible speller, but I do know that "famous" begins with an "f." Very slowly, I printed "f-a-r-o" on my paper. Then, thoughtfully, I erased the "o" and added another "r." At the last moment, I tacked a "w" onto the end. That looked pretty good. Farrow. I was proud of myself for thinking to add one of those killer silent letters to the word. Who invented them, anyway? They're such a waste.