Excerpt from One Word, Six Letters by Adib Khorram, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

"Take one and keep your mouth shut," he says instead. "You're in enough trouble as it is."

So you do, and the plastic crinkles so loudly as you pop it open. The embossed lettering on the top of the mint scratches the roof of your mouth, and the Wint-O-Green flavor makes your tongue tingle.

Then you're stuck again, waiting for Dr. Matthews to show up and pronounce your fate.

* * *

You're not sure how long you wait. Dr. Matthews doesn't have a clock in his office, at least not one you can see from your chair. You don't have a watch (though maybe you should start wearing one, now that you're in high school). You reach for your phone to check the time, but Mr. Clemens reminds you, "I said no phone."

"Sorry." You swallow.

It must've been at least thirty minutes, though. The bell rang twice, once to dismiss second hour, again to start third. You're missing German, and you wonder if Frau will know where you are. If she heard about what you did.

Hot shame bubbles in your stomach. You didn't mean it, after all. It was just a joke. Reggie's idea. One word, six letters.

You didn't think it would be such a big deal.

But you should've known better. You realize that now.

Has Frau heard? You hope not. You really like her. She's probably your favorite teacher. Maybe it's because for some weird reason you're actually kind of good at German, even though you've never managed better than a B-minus in English. Or maybe it's because she calls you by your real name, Dayton, instead of making you (and everyone else in class) pick fake German names, so you don't have to go by Jörgen all year. Or maybe it's just that she seems happy to see you in class every day, when most teachers are somewhere between annoyed and indifferent.

You're not a bad kid, but you're not a teacher's pet, either. You do your homework, you try your best. Sometimes you do okay, sometimes not. It's not like your parents have time to help you. Marshall's always too busy with his friends, and even if he wasn't, he's always been smart, taking AP classes. It's not like he remembers what it was like to be a freshman trying to figure out high school when no one gives you a manual.

You really do miss recess.

And you could honestly use some time to run around a yard right now, because you keep wanting to jiggle your leg, but every time you do, Mr. Clemens clears his throat and you go still again. But it has to have been at least an hour, right?

Your stomach growls. You really could've used that twenty. And those Pop-Tarts. Even if they were out of the good ones and you had to get a mid flavor, like unfrosted strawberry. Worse, that mint made you even thirstier. Plus your mouth is fuzzy now.

Last year in social studies you did a whole unit on the Bill of Rights, and you're pretty sure this is against the Eighth Amendment. That was the cruel and unusual punishment one, you're pretty sure.

It was a while ago.

The door finally swings open, and you sit up straighter in the weird chair, which makes you itch again. Or maybe you're imagining it.

You can't stop yourself from looking over your shoulder, and—Crap.

Crap.

No wonder it took so long.

Dr. Matthews called your dad.

Your dad's in his usual work uniform—a faded band T-shirt, Nirvana in this case, and jeans that are a bit too big, but at least he put on actual shoes instead of going out in his Crocs again. Not that you have anything against Crocs, but camo? Really?

He works from home, though, so what can anyone expect? He didn't always—he used to work in an office, and you think you remember him wishing you a good day and hugging you goodbye as he left in the morning, back when you were really little—but it's been this way for a long time. Which is great, you guess. Except now, when he has to come into school. And it's not because you vomited in the middle of math class. It's because you messed up, big-time.

Excerpted from One Word, Six Letters by Adib Khorram. Copyright © 2026 by Adib Khorram. Excerpted by permission of Henry Holt and Company. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.