Middle School: My Brother Is a Big, Fat Liar by James Patterson Page B

Resumes
    W ell, it was nice while it lasted.
    “Rafe!” I screeched as I dug a spoon into my muesli the next morning. “There’s a snail in my cereal!”
    “I thought you liked escargot,” Rafe shot back. “It’s French.”
    Oooooh, I’m going to GET him for this!
I thought, and the thought actually made me kind of… happy.
    It had only been a few hours, but I’d missed the sneak attacks. The tactics. The squealing. The repartee. (Look it up. Merriam-Webster has an online dictionary.)
    Hey, it’s nice when Rafe is being sweet. But it’s more
fun
when he’s being Rafe.



And… I Lost the Bet
    S urprised?
    I wasn’t.
    I didn’t get straight A’s—I got a B+ in English—and the Princesses did NOT get personality transplants and suddenly become my friends.

    Then again, Rafe didn’t win the bet either.
    I DO have friends, and I’m NOT begging to leave HVMS. So I guess it’s what you call a draw.
    Speaking of drawing, I showed my artwork to Rafe, and he helped a little.
    This much:

    So I guess it isn’t so bad being Rafe Khatchadorian’s SISTER.
    It’s much worse.
    (Gotcha, Rafe! It’s so
easy
.)



JAMES PATTERSON was selected by kids across America as the Children’s Choice Book Awards Author of the Year in 2010. He is the internationally bestselling author of the highly praised Middle School books, as well as
I Funny
,
Confessions of a Murder Suspect
, and the Maximum Ride, Witch & Wizard, Daniel X, and Alex Cross series. His books have sold more than 260 million copies worldwide, making him one of the bestselling authors of all time. He lives in Florida.
    LISA PAPADEMETRIOU is the author of the Confectionately Yours series and many other novels for young readers. She lives in Massachusetts with her family.
    NEIL SWAAB is a freelance illustrator, art director, cartoonist, animator, writer, and educator. He lives in Brooklyn, New York.
    For more great reads and free samplers visit:
    www.LBYRDigitalDeals.com

A SLAM-BAM ENDiNG(?) FOR OuR STORY
    L et’s get one thing out of the way here.
    My name is Rafe Khatchadorian, and if you already know me, then you know that trouble tends to follow me around like a bad smell. But if we’ve never met before, I just want to say—it’s not my fault! (Okay, not always.) I hope you can trust me for a little while and give me a chance to explain.
    In fact, I don’t know if this has ever been done, but I’m going to give you the short version of this story—right here, right now—so you know what you’re getting into. It goes like this:
    I went to summer camp. I did some stuff. Some of it, I’m proud of. Some of it… not so much.
    Then, before the full eight weeks of camp was up, things went kind of crazy (okay, a
lot
crazy), and I ended up packing my bags early.
    It might have had something to do with this:

    Or maybe it looked more like this:

    It also could have had something to do with this:

    Or with this:

    And I can tell you for sure that it definitely had something to do with this:

    Somewhere in all of that, there’s an ending to this crazy story. There’s some middle in there too. And yeah, okay, some of it didn’t exactly happen like that. What can I say? I like to keep things interesting.
    But don’t worry. I’ll always steer you straight… eventually.
    The point is, my summer at Camp Wannamorra basically went the same way a lot of my life goes. There were some ups, some downs, some good luck, and a whole lot of bad luck before it all came crashing down around me in a giant ball of flame. (Not a real one—that was my last book.)
    But that’s as much as I’m going to tell you for now. If you want all the gory details, you’re just going to have to read this whole thing.
    Because, as the Booger-Eater always said, getting there is half the fun.

WeLCOMe TO CAMP WANNAMORRA
    Y ou know those regular camps, where kids spend the summer running around in the fresh air, and roasting marshmallows, and swimming in the lake all day? Maybe you’ve