StungPete smiled as he watched Mrs. Fischer pull out of the driveway. “I got straight Bs. Isn’t that great? And I don’t have to do that horrible summer project. Woohoo!”
“Well, good for you,” his mother snapped. She opened the front door and slammed it. “Thanks a lot for siding with her over me.”
“What do you mean?” Pete expected her to be overjoyed at his great report card.
“You let her find fault with that wonderful suit!”
“But she wasn’t insulting you. She was trashing the outfit,” Pete said. “It’s like I told you: tight and dorky is out. Grunge is in.”
“It’s not polite to mock your mother’s taste in clothes.” Mrs. Plain turned her back on Pete and stomped off to the kitchen.
Pete didn’t understand why she was so upset, and he was too afraid to ask. She could be picky about clothe
