The Perfect Score

by Rob Buyea

  I tried to hurry away, because I didn’t want to be around when they opened them, but Chris wasn’t done with me yet. “Bring it over here,” he said. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Yeah, busy, all right. Busy sitting on his fat rear. I picked up one of the cans and stuck it in his face.

  “Open it,” he said.

  There was no getting out of it now. I pulled back on the tab, and the soda exploded. It sprayed everywhere. I dropped the can and turned to run, but before I could get away, Chris grabbed my arm and pulled me into a headlock. He had his forearm wrapped around my neck, so when he squeezed, I couldn’t breathe and I started seeing stars. That’s what happens right before you get choked out. That arm wrapped around your neck pinches off your carotid artery and stops the blood from carrying oxygen to your brain. When there isn’t enough oxygen reaching your brain, your world becomes dark and muffled, you start seeing stars, and then you’re out. I didn’t go out this time, though. Instead, Chris took a pair of Brian’s dirty underwear and rubbed them in my face. He was trying to stuff them in my mouth when I heard someone yelling, “Let him go!”

  It was Mark. He never bothered to knock or ring the doorbell anymore, because he came over almost every day. Mark was an only child, so he got bored at home by himself. He’d picked the right time to show up today.

  “Let him goooooooo,” Chris mimicked in a singsong girly voice. He shoved me into Mark, and I started laughing. “It’s your own fault,” he told me. “You weren’t nice with the sodas.”

  I kept laughing at Chris, and he started turning red in the face.

  “Get out of here, you sissies!” he yelled.

  I left before he grabbed me again—and before any of them saw I had tears in my eyes. I went into my bedroom and pumped out another set of bicep curls. Brian never used the weights after he got them, but I was using them. I was going to get even with those jerks one day. When I finished my last rep, I handed the dumbbells to Mark.

  “It’ll be better when we have practice every day after school,” he said.

  I nodded and he started his set. We didn’t say anything more. It wasn’t fun to talk about getting beat up. We never talked about it.

  It wasn’t often that Jane and I left practice early. As a matter of fact, it had never happened before. Missing practice was the last thing Coach Jane wanted after my disastrous showing at the Halloween Gymnastics Spooktacular. So already she wasn’t in the best of moods. She had hoped to schedule her parent-teacher conference in the morning, before school, but Mrs. Woods was unable to make that work.

  “I can’t believe that old woman is so busy that she can’t find time to meet early in the day,” Jane complained. We were in the car, racing to get back to Lake View Middle. Jane had taken the last time slot of the night, but we were still going to be cutting it close.

  “I don’t know why you feel like you need to have a conference anyway,” I said. “I’m getting all As. There’s nothing to talk about.”

  “I just do. It’s part of being a good parent.”

  And so is yelling at your daughter when she doesn’t win? I thought.

  “Besides, I like to hear your teachers brag about you,” she said.

  Instead of smiling, I felt my body stiffen. Something told me Mrs. Woods wasn’t going to be doing any bragging. My first marking period report card may have had all As, but my current math grade was anything but an A. I had missed several homework assignments and gotten a 72 on my last test. That was the lowest grade I’d ever earned in my whole life. If Mrs. Woods mentioned that to Jane, I’d be hearing about it for the rest of eternity.

  I was hoping for another broken water pipe or a flat tire or anything to make us miss our appointment, but none of that was my destiny. Instead, it was smooth sailing, and we made it to school a few minutes early. I sat next to Jane in the chairs Mrs. Woods had put in the hall for the people waiting.

  The conference ahead of us was just finishing up. I heard them saying their thank-yous. I couldn’t tell who it was, but I knew it wasn’t Gavin’s parents, because they never attended these sorts of things. I was glad it wasn’t Gav, because he was mad at me and I couldn’t handle another person’s anger right now. Jane’s was enough, and she was about to get even angrier once she discovered I wasn’t only falling off the bars but off high honors, too.

  The classroom door opened, and Natalie stepped out with her parents. We glanced at each other. Natalie gave me a small wave, and I did the same back—Gavin wasn’t there to see me.

  “Good evening, Ms. Cunningham. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Pearl Woods.”

  “Please, call me Jane,” Mom said, shaking my teacher’s hand.

  I saw the look on Natalie’s face. She’d just discovered Coach Jane’s secret identity.

  “Hello, Randi,” Mrs. Woods said.

  I smiled but I didn’t shake her hand. My hands were all sweaty and gross from where I’d been picking at my calluses. I went to sit back down, but Mrs. Woods stopped me.

  “Randi, I’d like you to come in with your mother,” she said. “I think it’s important for my students to hear what I have to say.”

  I gulped. Then I turned around and gave Mrs. Woods another one of my forced smiles. Could she see how nervous I was? Had I known what was coming, I would’ve made up an excuse and hidden in the bathroom. I wasn’t prepared—and neither was Coach Jane.

  We followed Mrs. Woods into the classroom and sat across from her at our front table. Jane didn’t waste any time.

  “Mrs. Woods, before you begin, and before I forget, I wanted to ask you about the CSAs that the kids will be taking this spring. I understand the scores are really more of a grade for the school, but are they used for anything else?”

  “The scores will be used to help us form groups for seventh grade,” Mrs. Woods explained. “They’re not the only thing we look at, but they’re something we consider.”

  “In other words, Randi’s scores will determine whether she gets placed in the advanced group or not?” Jane asked for clarification.

  “It’s one piece in the equation, yes,” Mrs. Woods said.

  “Randi needs to be in the top group.”

  “You must be pleased about her top-effort grades, then.”

  “Yes,” Jane said. “I always tell her, as long as she’s giving her best effort and working her hardest, I’ll be happy.”

  That was a lie.

  “Even if she’s not in the top group?” Mrs. Woods asked.

  Jane didn’t respond. Mrs. Woods was on to her.

  “It’s funny you bring up tests, Ms. Cunningham.”

  I tried to swallow, but my throat had gone dry.

  “Did you happen to see Randi’s last math test?”

  “I see all her papers.”

  “So you’re aware she got a 72 on last week’s test?”

  “What?!”

  “Must be you missed that one somehow,” Mrs. Woods said, glancing my way.

  Was my teacher trying to ruin my life? Jane turned and glared at me. Once she had me alone, I’d be getting a major earful.

  “We’re starting to deal with more challenging material in all subject areas, and we’re moving fast,” Mrs. Woods continued. “It’s the only way we can have the children ready for those tests you’re concerned about.” She smiled at Jane, but Jane didn’t smile back. “I suspect Randi would be fine if she just had a little more time for her homework and studying. Maybe one less day of gymnastics, or shorter practices, would help,” Mrs. Woods suggested.

  “I’m afraid that’s not an option,” Coach Jane said. “Randi has some very important meets coming up, high-level competitions, and she must prepare for them. She needs to do well, because her last one didn’t go as we had hoped.”

  “But no matter the result, you’ll be happy as long as she does her best, isn’t that right, Ms. Cunningham?”

  “Yes, of course,” Jane said through gritted teeth. “And since she’s my daughter, I know that her best means she’
ll win. Randi’s performance at these competitions could help her earn a college scholarship, Mrs. Woods.”

  “Ms. Cunningham, let’s be realistic. No college coach is going to look at Randi’s sixth-grade results. The pressure you’re putting on her is not healthy, nor is it good for your relationship.”

  “Excuse me?!” Jane snapped. If she were a dog, all her hair would’ve been standing on end. She looked ready to bite my teacher. “Mrs. Woods, are you really going to talk to me about parenting, because your job is to be the teacher, and from what I see by Randi’s lack of production, it looks like you’re failing in that role. So please do not try to talk to me about my parenting.”

  “Ms. Cunningham, I’ve experienced much in my lifetime, and I’m simply trying to help by sharing some of what I’ve learned along the way. I know you want the best for your daughter out of love, but the pressure you’re putting on her is going to burn her out and ruin your relationship.”

  Jane turned to me. “Randi, please go wait in the hall. I need to talk to Mrs. Woods in private. And close the door behind you.”

  The closed door did little to drown out the yelling and shouting that Jane was doing. I sat in the chair with my knees pulled close to my chest. Mrs. Woods was right about the pressure I was feeling, but I’d never been able to tell that to Coach Jane. My teacher wasn’t trying to throw me under any bus. She was trying to protect me—but wasn’t that a mother’s job?

  “Randi?”

  I wiped my eyes and looked up. Natalie was standing there.

  “I forgot my notebook in my locker,” she said. “I came back to get it.” She held it up to show me.

  I sniffed and nodded, and then the classroom door flung open and Jane stormed out. “Let’s go!” she said. “Our conference is over.”

  I sprang from my seat and followed her stomping feet down the hall, my eyes cast on the floor. I glanced back when we turned the corner, and I saw Mrs. Woods and Natalie watching me with pained expressions. I wanted to tell them not to waste their time feeling sorry for me. It wasn’t going to make any difference. I used to think that if rocks could change, so could people—but not anymore. Jane was harder than any rock.

  I loved Mom’s tacos, but the best thing she made was Thanksgiving dinner. She whipped up this glaze for the turkey and a corn dish that was amazing. The only thing I wasn’t crazy about at Thanksgiving was when my old man made us go around the table saying what we were thankful for. He didn’t want me and Meggie to be spoiled kids, feeling bad about what we didn’t have, ’cause in his view we had what was most important.

  “I’ll go first,” Mom said. “I’m so thankful for my beautiful children and the man who came to fix a leaky toilet.”

  Dad reached over and took Mom’s hand. “And I’m thankful for the woman who was cleanin’ the house with the leaky toilet and for our remarkable children.”

  “How about you, mija? What are you thankful for?” Mom asked Meggie.

  “I’m thankful for Gavvy reading to me,” she said.

  Mom and Dad smiled at me.

  “I’m thankful for my family, our health, and our house,” I said. I gave a canned response, ’cause the truth was, I wasn’t feeling real thankful, not with the way things had been going with Randi and Kurtsman. And nothing got better when I went back to school after Thanksgiving.

  —

  The first thing that happened was our school big shots up and decided they needed to take something else away from us. Guess they weren’t in the giving spirit, even with Christmas being right around the corner. This time they announced there’d be no more reading aloud in any of our classrooms. Woods was told to stop. Those extra minutes were to be used for more CSA prep now.

  “Is the Grinch on that school board?” Scott yelled. “This is the worst decision ever! You better break that rule, Mrs. Woods. We love when you read to us.”

  Woods didn’t say anything. You could see that this news hurt her, too.

  It was one thing for those morons to come up with a stupid idea, but a stupid idea that took away one of the few parts of school that I liked stunk worse than throwing a pick-six. In case you don’t know, that’s an interception that gets returned for a touchdown. It’s the worst thing that can happen to a quarterback. Scott was right: this was a terrible decision. But it still wasn’t the worst of what happened.

  When I walked into the caf and spotted Randi sitting with Kurtsman that first time, I almost got sick. They sat together every day now. I hadn’t thought Randi would ever stoop to Kurtsman’s level, but I was wrong. She threw away our friendship for that snobby girl.

  I’d lost my best friend. How much uglier could things possibly get? The answer to that question turned out to be a lot.

  Jane had a freak-out after her conference with Mrs. Woods and banned me from going to Gavin’s house. “That boy is not helping you to reach your potential. You will not turn out to be some lowlife, like his parents.”

  That was what she said. She had to blame someone for my shortcomings. I hoped she didn’t mean it and that she only said those things because she was upset, but she didn’t take it back. Apologizing wasn’t exactly Jane’s strong point.

  She never said sorry, but she also wasn’t saying much else. We always had a quiet holiday season, because it was just the two of us, but it was quiet for more reasons than that this year. Jane had resumed the silent treatment. There was never any telling how long it would last, but I could handle it. More concerning was the fact that she wasn’t the only one not talking to me.

  I would never tell Gav what Jane had said, but I wished I could tell him why I wasn’t coming over anymore. That just wasn’t going to happen, though. The only chance I had to talk to Gav was at lunch—and there was the problem. The day after we returned from Thanksgiving break, Natalie and Scott sat with me in the cafeteria. It happened fast, and out of the clear blue.

  “Hey, teammate. Can we join you?” Scott asked, taking me by surprise, as he was so good at doing. I looked up from my lunch. Natalie was by his side. I was sitting alone, waiting for Gav to join me. What was I supposed to say? I’m not a mean person.

  “Sure. Okay,” I said.

  When Gav spotted me sitting with them—at our table—that was the last straw. We didn’t have a fight or any sort of blowup. That wasn’t necessary. Gav wanted nothing to do with the Recruits—and now he wanted nothing to do with me.

  It was that simple. Gav stopped talking to me, and Scott and Natalie started sitting with me. That’s how Gavin dealt with things, but it didn’t keep me from knowing what he was thinking and feeling—we’d been best friends for a long time. The only thing I still didn’t understand was his hatred for Natalie. I was happy to have Scott and Natalie with me—but I missed my best friend.

  “How’s math going?” Natalie asked. I swallowed the bite of apple I had in my mouth and looked over at her. I knew she wasn’t really asking about math. I shrugged.

  “I can give you a hand with your math,” Scott said. I shouldn’t have been surprised. Scott was always wanting to help.

  “That’s nice of you,” I said, “but I don’t know when we’d find the time.”

  “Right now.”

  I looked over at Natalie again. She shrugged.

  “Are you sure?” I said.

  “Yeah. Go and get it.”

  I never ate much at lunch anyway because of the special diet Jane had me following, which was supposed to keep me lean and strong. Unfortunately, it also left me hungry, but since I was done eating, I went and got my homework.

  Scott tried his best to explain fraction rules and what those letters showing up in math problems meant, and I tried my best to understand what he was telling me, but his brain was wired different than mine and I just wasn’t getting it.

  I sighed. “We have to go soon,” I said. Our lunch period was almost over. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get this done, but thanks for your help.”

  “Just give it here,” Scott said, taking the paper from me
.

  I let him take it. When he said he’d give me a hand, I didn’t realize that meant his hand would end up doing all the work for me. Letting him do it wasn’t going to help me learn the material. I should have said no. But it was just one homework assignment. And it was going to help me keep Jane happy.

  School had turned into the most boring thing in the universe. We weren’t even allowed to have classroom holiday parties—and we always had classroom holiday parties!

  “Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve been told we need to take a practice CSA this morning,” Mrs. Woods announced.

  “No!” I yelled.

  “Mr. Mason, need I remind you that life isn’t always fair? These aren’t my decisions, but this is what we have to do.”

  “If I was Santa Claus, I’d be leaving zero presents and lots of coal for whoever is making these awful decisions.”

  Mrs. Woods didn’t tell me that was a bad idea. She passed out our tests, and we didn’t say anything else, but I did do a lot of hot breathing.

  It’s a good thing I still had my recess and Mrs. Magenta’s program, because without those two things I would’ve been ready to quit school. Mrs. Magenta always had something exciting planned for us. Even with the little bit of time we had left before winter break, we were going to make the most of it. She wasn’t slowing down.

  “Welcome, my harmonious bunch. The winter months can be lonely for the elderly, and the holiday season even lonelier.” She was right about that. Grandpa was always sad around Christmas. “So we’re going to put our warm hearts together and bring melodies to the Senior Center.”

  “What do you mean, melodies?” Trevor asked.

  “We’ll be caroling,” Mrs. Magenta clarified.

  “You mean singing?” Mark said.

  “Yes.”

  “Can we sing Ozzy Osbourne?” Trevor asked.

  “Yeah,” Mark agreed. “ ‘Crazy Train.’ All aboooard. Hahahaha! Ay Ay Ay Ay.”

  “Thanks for that rendition, Mark, but I’m not sure that’s the best choice for this occasion,” Mrs. Magenta said. “I’m happy to listen to any other suggestions you might have later, but first we need to get started preparing. We’ll spend today making ornaments and decorations to bring with us, and then we’ll practice our songs.”