Frankie: What are you, your brother now? Why aren't you ready for school?
Brick: I'm taking a personal day. [whispers] Personal day.
Frankie: Come on. You love school. Get up.
Brick: Please don't make me go. I don't like my new teacher.
Frankie: Why not?
Brick: Everything was going great, but then, all of a sudden, she drags my desk to the front of the class. I like sitting in the back. I read my book, and I sip my juice box. I'm back by the sharpener. It's all good.
Frankie: Maybe Mrs. Rinsky's taken a special interest in you. Doesn't that make you feel well cared for and understood... and, you know, loved?
Brick: No. I feel like she's watching me all the time. And she won't let me whisper to myself. [whispers] Whisper to myself. I hate school.