The Perfect Score

by Rob Buyea

  “Well, you two have certainly made my day with your enthusiastic reviews of my work,” Mrs. Magenta said.

  “You should try again,” I told her.

  “You should try again,” Gavin repeated.

  “I never tried a first time,” she said.

  “Why?” Gav and I asked together.

  “Oh, it’s complicated.” She sighed. “But I’m glad my work gets to be next to yours, Gavin. Your caterpillar is fantastic. You’ve got talent. You should pursue it.”

  “I don’t know,” Gav mumbled.

  “Mrs. Woods told him the same thing,” I said.

  “Really?” Mrs. Magenta said. I couldn’t tell if she was shocked or pleased to hear that. She was quiet for a moment, then said, “Don’t forget to put your name next to your caterpillar.”

  And with that, she turned and walked away. Gav and I looked at each other.

  “Wonder what that was all about,” he said.

  “Me too. And that isn’t the only thing I’ve been wondering about lately.”

  And with that, I walked away.

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

  ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #13

  October: A Cat Sighting

  It had been a productive afternoon at the library. Randi and I created a flyer to advertise our party, and we posted a blurb about it on the library website. In addition, we found a Thanksgiving craft (paper-plate turkeys) to do with the children and we made plans for snack, all while also enjoying some conversation—and it wasn’t the meaningless gossip that I’d predicted. On the contrary, it was nice—and telling. Randi was dealing with pressure in gymnastics from Coach Jane, and I had the sneaking suspicion it was getting to be too much for her. I was able to make this deduction because of my superb lawyer skills and knack for deciphering body language, but it would take more time and observation before I knew how bad the pressure on her was.

  Aside from our work together, Gavin had added a remarkable drawing to the reading nook—as much as it pains me to admit that—and Scott had stayed out of trouble and out of the way. For our efforts, Mrs. Magenta rewarded us with brownies. All was well until we exited the building.

  “Hey, look!” Scott exclaimed. Bits of brownie fell out of his mouth. He pointed toward the bushes, where he’d spotted a gray kitten. Unable to contain his excitement, he scurried closer and knelt down. “Here, kitty, kitty,” he sang. “C’mon, I won’t hurt you. I’ve got a piece of brownie for you.” He held out his hand.

  Trevor nudged Mark and pointed at Scott. Mark smirked and nodded. Those two couldn’t let an opportunity like this pass by.

  “I think I’ll name you Smoky,” Scott told the kitty. “Come here, Smoky.”

  “Hey, Mark. What do you say we use little Smoky as our football?” Trevor said, walking up behind Scott.

  “Betcha I can cat-punt farther than you,” Mark replied.

  “No! Leave Smoky alone!” Scott cried. He tried to block their way, but they just shoved him aside. “Run, Smoky! Get away!” Scott yelled.

  Trevor and Mark jumped in front of the cat, their knees bent and hands raised, ready to spring the second it moved. Slowly Trevor circled behind Smoky while Mark held his position.

  “Now!” Trevor yelled.

  They dove for the cat, but Smoky was gone. He shot through Mark’s legs and disappeared around the side of the building like a streak of lightning. Those two buffoons didn’t stand a chance against Scott’s kitty.

  “Nice catch,” Trevor said to Mark.

  “Shut up.”

  “Guess Smoky’s too fast for you guys,” Scott said, sounding like a proud owner. “Better keep training.”

  He should’ve kept his mouth shut. Trevor walked over and leaned in his face. “I’ll get your slimy cat. You can count on it,” he promised. He snatched the brownie from Scott’s hand and stuffed it into his own mouth. Mark burst out laughing, and then so did Trevor. I stood there, still missing the humor in all of it, as the two of them sauntered off.

  “Don’t worry,” I told Scott. “They’ll never catch Smoky. That kitty is elusive.”

  “Oh, I’m not worried,” he said. “They’re not going to catch him, because I’m going to rescue him first.”

  When we got back from the library, I remembered I had something to show Mrs. Magenta. I would’ve shown her sooner, but I’d lost my work and had to redo it.

  “Mrs. Magenta, I know where to sit.” She gave me a confused look. “I know where to sit at King Arthur’s table.”

  “Really?”

  I pulled the wrinkled paper out of my backpack and smoothed it flat on her desk. “If there’s seven knights at the table, you want to sit in chair seven, but if there’s ten knights, you should sit in chair five.” I showed her a bunch of my calculations. “It’s a pattern,” I said. “Once you know the pattern, you can figure out where to sit no matter how many knights are at the table. If there are thirty knights, you want to sit in chair twenty-nine. See?” I explained my formula to her.

  “Scott Mason, I’m impressed. That brain of yours is good at solving problems.”

  “Mrs. Magenta, I don’t think King Arthur should kill the knights who sit in the wrong chairs, because then the new king won’t have any people left in his kingdom. He should keep them alive so they can have a party and then the new king won’t be lonely and everyone will be happy.”

  Mrs. Magenta smiled at me. “Scott, that was my favorite part of your solution. You have such a big heart.”

  “This was a lot of fun. It was hard, but I really liked it. When can we do another problem like this?”

  Mrs. Magenta’s face went from happy to sad, and I didn’t understand.

  “Later,” she said.

  “How much later?”

  She sighed. “Not until after the CSAs, I’m afraid. I’ve been told to stop taking up class time with these challenges and to focus more on CSA work.”

  My shoulders dropped. “That stinks.”

  “I’m sorry, Scott. Please don’t leave upset. Today was great. I’m so excited for our party.”

  “The children’s room won’t be lonely anymore,” I said.

  “No, it won’t. And that’s thanks to your great brain and big heart again.”

  “Bye, Mrs. Magenta. Thank you.”

  “Bye, Scott. I’ll see you tomorrow. And thank you.”

  I did like Mrs. Magenta said and didn’t leave upset. That was because my best idea of the day wasn’t the one about our library party, but the one I’d come up with so my grandpa didn’t have to be lonely anymore.

  I told Meggie I had a surprise for her, but she didn’t believe me.

  “You’re lying.”

  I shook my head.

  “What is it?”

  “You have to wait until bedtime,” I told her.

  “That’s because you’re lying.”

  “You’ll see,” I said.

  Later that night I took The Very Hungry Caterpillar and walked into her room.

  “Surprise!” she yelled, throwing her balled-up dirty socks at me. She hit me square in the numbers. My little sister could make a solid quarterback.

  “That’s what I get for bringing you a present?”

  “What is it? What is it?” she asked, bouncing on her bed.

  I sat down next to her. “I thought I’d read you a book,” I said.

  Meggie’s face beamed. “Really? I get a bedtime story?”

  “Really,” I said.

  I opened the pages and introduced Meggie to the hungry caterpillar. Even though sounding out words doesn’t come easy for me, once I know them, I’m pretty good at bringing them to life. It’s like when I’m outside and throwing the football to all my pretend teammates and scrambling away from the imaginary defenses. The whole while I’m doing that, I’m screaming and yelling like the play-by-play broadcasters. Mom says you’d think there was a stadium of people in our backyard, the way I carry on. I read The Very Hungry Caterpill
ar with my same excited voices. When I finished, I closed the book and looked up. Mom was standing in the doorway, smiling. My old man was there with his arm around her. He squeezed her tight when she started wiping her eyes.

  “Read it again, Gavvy,” Meggie said.

  I opened the cover and my little sister snuggled close to me. Mom and Dad listened for a while longer, and then they left us alone. I read the book five times that night. When I was done, I tucked Meggie in and turned out her lights.

  “Gavvy,” she said, stopping me before I made it out of her room.

  “Yeah?”

  “Will you read it to me for bedtime again tomorrow night?”

  “Okay,” I said.

  I walked to my room, feeling like the best big brother in the whole wide world, and it was because of a hungry caterpillar. I put my pajamas on, and then I took the audiobook and paperback copy of Crash that Mrs. Magenta had given me and decided to give it a shot.

  That was the first night in a long, long time that I fell asleep to a story.

  Straight leg. Point your toes. Spin.

  I wobbled.

  The Halloween Gymnastics Spooktacular was that weekend. I was supposed to be at my best, but I wasn’t. Now was not the time for flawed steps. These were basic techniques on the beam. What was my problem?

  “C’mon, Randi. You’ve got this,” encouraged Coach Andrea.

  Split jump. Now!

  I wobbled again. Bad. I was bent in half, waving my arms to regain balance and keep from falling. Jane’s glare was burning a hole in me, and I didn’t need to look at her to feel it. Most of the moms didn’t even watch practice, just spent the hours gossiping. Not Coach Jane. She sat outside that large window we had on one wall of the gym, scrutinizing my every move.

  Focus. You can do this. Back arch. Reach. Straight leg. Point.

  My feet landed on the beam but not centered. I tried to straighten, but I lost it this time. I fell. That would’ve been a huge deduction. With a mistake like that I could kiss any medal goodbye. “It’s okay, Randi. Hop up there and do it again.” Coach Andrea tried to keep me positive, but I could hear Jane yelling in my head. Our parents were kept out of the gym to eliminate distractions, but that wall didn’t stop Jane from getting to me—and the worst was yet to come. There was no place for me to hide during our car ride home.

  “I don’t even know why I try,” Jane started. “This weekend is supposed to be a warm-up meet. You’ll be lucky if you win that, never mind Regionals. You won’t even make it that far. You were terrible tonight. What’s wrong with you?”

  I flinched at her words, but I didn’t say anything. I just stared out my window, searching for the psychic’s white house.

  “Have you forgotten how to stay on the beam? Maybe I just need to stop caring so much. Accept the fact that you’ll never get a scholarship. At least I tried.”

  I was getting used to the put-downs, but it still hurts to hear your mother say those things about you. Coach Andrea never hesitated to tell me when I’d done something well, and Mrs. Magenta always had nice things to say about our work in the library, but positive reinforcement or complimenting was not something Jane knew how to do. I had to remind myself that she only wanted the best for me and that was why she was pushing me. She didn’t really mean those awful things she said. I tried not to let it bother me, but it wasn’t easy. If you want to know the truth, I was getting sick of it.

  I took a quick shower and went to bed as soon as we got home. I didn’t even bother with my math homework. What did it matter?

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

  ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #14

  November: An Empty—but Smelly—Backpack

  Today marked our final trip to the public library. We would be starting on a new project following winter break. What? I had no clue. I suspected that Mrs. Magenta also had no clue. Planning ahead wasn’t exactly part of the free-spirit DNA, but she had proven herself a very capable teacher, and I happened to like her—despite her wardrobe. After all, it was thanks to her program that I actually felt like I was doing something important. (I had yet to accomplish anything that qualified as brave, but there was still time.)

  I should’ve known Scott was up to something when he arrived at the art room with an empty backpack. He had crammed his daily pile of papers into our class recycling bin that morning, but I hadn’t realized his bag was otherwise empty until now. All his usual garbage and grossness were missing. Well, except for the smell; that rotten odor lingered.

  Now, a lawyer needs to be good at analyzing people’s routines and habits. That’s simple detective work. When a person veers from his normal tendencies, that’s almost always a key piece of information. What you do with that information is critical. That’s the next step.

  I’ll admit, I should’ve questioned him. I intended to later, but his pack reeked. For the record: I wasn’t being lazy. I was procrastinating.

  “Gavvy, can you bring home more stories?” Meggie had been asking me that ever since I read her The Very Hungry Caterpillar.

  “I’ll try,” I promised.

  I wanted more Meggie books, and I wanted another audiobook, too. I finished the one Magenta had given me, and she was right. Crash was a terrific story, and that person doing the reading had a voice that took me away, just like Woods.

  I loved all the football stuff there was in Crash, but it didn’t take long before I saw there was more to it than that. There were characters in that story who reminded me of me and Scott and Trevor and Mark, just like there were in some of those other ones Woods had read to us. I was hoping for more audiobooks like that, ’cause I was gonna start using them in school during our silent reading time now. Woods came up with that idea. All this stuff she was doing was helping me. I was getting better at reading, even she said so. And I was holding up my end of the bargain by working hard.

  “Where is everyone?” Scott asked when we got to the children’s room and found it empty. “This place is still lonely.” He sounded upset.

  “Not for long,” Magenta said. “Our little friends should be arriving in ten minutes, so we need to get ready. Natalie, can you and Randi organize the Community Room? After story time that’s where the children will be doing their craft project and having snack.”

  “Snack?” Scott repeated.

  “Yes,” Magenta said.

  He didn’t waste another second. The kid took off to see what there was.

  “We’d better go with him before there’s another spill,” Randi said.

  “We’ll take care of everything, Mrs. Magenta. Don’t worry,” Kurtsman said.

  I watched her and Randi hurry after Scott, but I stayed back. “Mrs. Magenta, where do I put these things?” I asked, showing her the items I was returning.

  “Oh, I’ll take them,” she said. “How was the audiobook?”

  “It was great!”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. We need to get you more. Mrs. Woods left another note in my box asking me to help you again.”

  I didn’t say anything, but I sure was wondering why those two had to pass notes and couldn’t talk. I followed Magenta to a different area, where there was a wall of audiobooks, but I had no idea which to pick. I didn’t know any of these stories. I stared at all the titles. There were so many.

  “Would you like me to help you choose a few?” Magenta asked.

  “A few?”

  “Yes. You need more than one. And how about your sister? I saw that you also returned The Very Hungry Caterpillar. Did she like it?”

  “She loved it. I read it to her so many times that I didn’t even need to look at the words anymore.”

  Magenta laughed. “I’m going to grab you a library bag we can fill up. I’ll be right back.”

  When we got done, I had a pile of Eric Carle books—that’s the same guy who wrote The Very Hungry Caterpillar—a few of Magenta’s favorites, some Henry and Mudge books that she thought Meggie would like, and thr
ee other audiobooks with the paperback copies to follow along in. I couldn’t wait to show Meggie. Reading little-kid books in school always made me feel dumb, but sharing these stories with her didn’t. I felt something else.

  Mrs. Magenta checked all the items out and put them in some canvas library bag covered in butterflies. Then we went to see how things were going in the Community Room. I didn’t want the bag—I looked ridiculous carrying it—but I thanked Magenta, ’cause I didn’t want to hurt her feelings or make it seem like I didn’t appreciate her help.

  Little did I know that when we got close to the Community Room, it was my feelings that would get hurt—and I’m no wimp.

  It was just Natalie and me in the Community Room. Scott had disappeared, and Gavin and Mrs. Magenta hadn’t joined us yet.

  “Not much of a party with only two of the Recruits here,” Natalie said.

  “No, I guess it’s not,” I agreed.

  “I’m not so sure everyone thinks of us as a team anyway.”

  I glanced at her. Was she just referring to Gavin? What about me? I hadn’t put my name under the rug, either.

  “How did everything go at the Halloween competition?” she asked.

  “Fine,” I lied. Truthfully, it had been a disaster. I fell off the beam, then fell again during my bars routine, which was supposed to be my best event. I ended up losing to girls I’d beaten before. Jane had an argument with Coach Andrea and still wasn’t talking to me.

  “That’s great,” Natalie said. “When’s the next one?”

  “Whenever Coach Jane decides,” I said.

  “Oh.” She looked down and continued organizing the craft materials.

  My best friend hadn’t even asked me about the meet, but the girl I wasn’t supposed to like just did. That made me hate gymnastics even more, but Natalie was only trying to be nice, and here I was being short with her. I felt bad. My problems weren’t her fault.