The Perfect Score

by Rob Buyea

  I smiled and my heart hurt.

  “Don’t worry,” Randi said. “Something tells me Eddie won’t let your grandpa get too lonely.”

  Agnes snickered.

  “Okay. I gotta go and help now. See you later,” Scott said.

  “Tell your grandpa if he needs anything to let us know,” Agnes said.

  “He can come and find me even if he doesn’t need anything,” Eddie clarified.

  Agnes huffed and Randi laughed. I was feeling too guilty to even chuckle.

  “I will,” Scott said. He skipped off, but he didn’t make it very far before coming to an abrupt stop. He spun around and hurried back to Randi and me. “I almost forgot,” he whispered. “How did the test go? Is everyone going to be okay?” He was so full of concern, even at a time like this. My stomach knotted again.

  Randi and I looked at each other. “Everything worked out fine,” she told him.

  “Really?”

  “Yes. Don’t even worry about it.”

  “Great!” he said. “Now we’ll finally get recess back.” He skipped off again, this time not stopping.

  I couldn’t move. I’d tried blaming Scott for what I did, and I now realized there was more wrong with that than what I actually did on those dumb CSAs.

  Coach wasn’t out and about in the community hall, so me and Magenta went to see if he was in his room again. I was anxious to find him, ’cause I’d brought him something different today.

  How do you forget about a memory that keeps haunting you? How do the players who lose the Super Bowl move on? They focus on the next season to help take their mind off the hurt. They keep moving forward. Focusing on the surprise I had for Coach was helping me forget about those tests. Little did I know, I was in for a surprise of my own.

  When we got farther down the hall, I started hearing something. It was a voice that I’d recognize anywhere. I glanced at Magenta and could tell she heard it, too. I was confused, but Magenta’s expression was something different. We paused outside Coach’s door and knocked.

  Mrs. Woods stopped reading and looked up from her book. Her face did the same thing as Magenta’s.

  “Mrs. Woods, what’re you doing here?” I said.

  “School hasn’t let me read aloud, Mr. Davids, so I’ve been coming here instead. Coach likes it.”

  “Keep reading!” Coach yelled.

  I laughed. “He sounds like us,” I said.

  Today was the first time Woods had been given the okay to read aloud in class since it had been outlawed. Now that we had those stupid tests out of the way, she picked up Holes and started in right where we left off. When she tried stopping, everybody yelled at her to keep going. If you’ve never had something, then you don’t know what you’re missing. But if you get used to having something and it gets taken away, that’s a different story. We were all so happy to have this part of our day back.

  “What’re you reading?” I asked her.

  “Oh, just a few entries from my journal. Coach likes to hear about the old days.”

  “Keep reading!” Coach yelled again.

  I laughed some more.

  “We’ve got company,” Woods informed him.

  “I don’t know those people. Keep reading!”

  “I didn’t realize your group was coming this afternoon,” Woods said. I couldn’t tell if she was sorry or bothered about us showing up.

  “We haven’t been allowed to visit because of the tests, so we rescheduled for today,” Magenta explained. I couldn’t tell if she was sorry or bothered about Woods being there. They weren’t doing a good job of looking at each other. I guess people who usually talk with notes aren’t good at the face-to-face stuff.

  “Read!” Coach yelled.

  I was ready for Woods to put the old man in his place, but she showed patience that I hadn’t seen in the classroom. “Sorry, Coach. It’s time for me to go.” She patted his arm. “We’ll continue this later. You have company.”

  “Who’re they?” he barked.

  Coach didn’t scare me anymore. I walked over and placed my surprise gift on his table. “I brought this for you,” I said. “It’s a piece of sod from the fifty-yard line.” (Really, it was from my backyard, but I’d played a lot of football on that grass, so I figured it was close enough.)

  Coach picked up the shoe box I had placed the sod in and held it under his nose. The old man had all sorts of memory problems, but he knew exactly what he had in his hands. “Were there seagulls on our field, Valentine?”

  “Seagulls?”

  “Yes, seagulls. It’s a sign of good luck when there are seagulls on your field before a big game.”

  I didn’t remember ever seeing seagulls in my backyard, but I didn’t tell him that—and this lie didn’t bother me. “Lots of seagulls,” I said.

  “It’s going to be a special one on Saturday,” Coach said. He took a big whiff of the piece of field in his hand. “I can smell it. Thomson High is in trouble.”

  Mrs. Woods ruffled her fingers through my hair and left. I was gonna tell her about Coach’s other memories, but she disappeared before I got the chance, and Magenta was already long gone. Usually she told me when she was leaving. She musta had something to do.

  So me and Coach talked football for the rest of that afternoon. I decided I was gonna bring him to one of my games if I got to play, but I didn’t tell him that, ’cause I didn’t want to let him down if things didn’t work out. Maybe if there really were seagulls in my backyard, I’da been feeling lucky, but I had more experience with bad luck. A lot could happen between now and then.

  My family stuck around and had dinner with Grandpa on his first night in the senior center, but he wasn’t much for talking. Grandpa had the same look as when he was lost in thought, staring out his window. He’d been this way ever since the fire. Grandpa was still more sad than he was happy. So after we finished eating, I took him down to the community hall, because it was game night. I thought we could play a game of chess to make him feel better. When we got there, I introduced Grandpa to my friends Eleanor, Eddie, and Agnes.

  “Welcome,” Eleanor said. “We’re happy to have you here.”

  “Happy,” Eddie repeated.

  “We’re big fans of your grandson,” Eleanor said.

  “Eleanor’s the one who washed my clothes and lent me something to wear,” I told Grandpa.

  He nodded.

  “You let us know if you need anything,” Eleanor added.

  “Anything at all,” Eddie said, batting her eyes.

  Agnes whacked her in the arm.

  “What?”

  I chuckled. Grandpa was going to have his hands full—Eddie hoped with her.

  “Who’s that?” Grandpa asked, pointing to the table by the window.

  “That’s Coach,” Agnes said. “He sits over there every game night and waits for someone to come along and play him in chess. The poor fella is losing his mind, but he can still play that game like nobody’s business.”

  “Ladies,” Grandpa said, nodding. He excused himself and went and sat down across from Coach. Then, without so much as a word, he reached out and moved his white pawn.

  I was more happy than sad leaving the senior center that night, and I was hoping Grandpa would start to feel that way soon. It was a good place.

  Of all the people who deserved to have something bad happen in life, Scott was last on my list. The kid never did anything but try to help. Payback time was here. I got started by giving him a hand with moving his grandpa into the senior center—and that was only the beginning.

  When we got back to school that day, I waited until everyone else was gone and then I asked Mrs. Magenta if I could talk to her. She was sitting at her computer. Mark was with me.

  “Of course,” she said. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I want to do something for Scott’s grandpa,” I said. “The guy lost everything he owned in that fire, so I was thinking we could do some sort of clothing or home stuff drive.”

&n
bsp; Mrs. Magenta stopped typing and looked at me. “Trevor, that is incredibly thoughtful and sweet. Your caring soul is shining. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Don’t hug me,” I said.

  She chuckled.

  “So can we?” I asked.

  “Yes. Absolutely.”

  This project kept Mark and me after school for the next week—an additional bonus. We created a flyer that got sent home, advertising the drive and explaining the cause, and we got signs and boxes organized throughout the school. Woodchuck was right—when the work’s important to you, you want to do it. And I’d have more important work to do before the end.

  The drive was a mega success. Scott was so happy he didn’t know what to say, but that was okay because he didn’t need to say anything. I owed him.

  Trevor and Mark organized this drive for Grandpa, and my whole school donated to it. Seeing all those boxes full of things was better than seeing presents under the Christmas tree. It made Mom cry.

  Things were better after we got Grandpa settled. There was less for Mom to do now, so she wasn’t as tired.

  “Happy wife, happy life,” Dad told me.

  Funny how a bad thing can turn into a good thing.

  And things were better in school, too. Mrs. Woods was back to reading aloud, and we had recess again!

  The last book Woods finished, Holes, had curses and kids revolting and destiny (which had me missing Randi even more) and rotten luck all mixed in. I thought that book had everything to do with us, but the next one Woods picked up gave me the chills.

  It was written by some person named Avi, and it was called Nothing But the Truth. There was only one “b” in that title, but it still scared the heck out of me. What did Mrs. Woods have to go and pick that story for? Was everybody else in my class wondering the same thing? You coulda heard a pin drop when she started reading those words.

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

  ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #25

  April: The Fat Lady

  I had tricked my brain into believing our cheating wasn’t bad. Rather, it was necessary. I mean, it was going to make everything better—for a lot of people. Yet, deep down, I knew if I ever landed in court because of this, my only defense would be temporary insanity. My lawyer would have to convince the jury that I was delusional, because there was simply no way cheating wasn’t bad.

  In the days and weeks following the test, we tried resuming a normal routine at Lake View Middle School, which included Mrs. Woods picking up with her read-alouds and the reinstatement of recess. I was more than happy to have the former back but could’ve done without the latter. I hadn’t missed recess one iota, but the boys were crazy excited to have it in their lives again. Scott ran around the football field in a frenzy. I got Randi to play so she could be his personal protector. I convinced her she wasn’t disobeying Coach Jane if she was looking out for Scott more than she was actually playing the game. What I didn’t tell Randi was that I was also secretly hoping to see her and Gavin reconnect; the football field provided the best chance for that to happen. I didn’t want to lose Randi, but someplace inside of me there was a soft spot growing for Gavin—despite the fact that I didn’t like it.

  I stood on the side each day, watching, waiting for something bad to happen, but it never did—not out there. On the contrary, many positives took place. To begin with, Trevor and Mark weren’t the same big jerks anymore. Something had changed. Believe it or not, those two jokesters had gone ahead and got together with Mrs. Magenta and started a clothing and basic goods drive for Scott’s grandpa. The drive was a huge success, but it was the way they started treating Scott on the field that was the biggest surprise: they were actually being cool with him—to put it in Trevor’s language. It took a while, but those two had obviously realized that Scott was much more than just a dork. I had to give credit where credit was due. Trevor and Mark did have brains and hearts. I’m not saying they were big, but they were growing.

  Eventually, just as I was hoping, Randi and Gavin wound up on the same team, and when that happened, they were unstoppable. Gavin had a way of knowing where Randi was going to be before she even got there. He’d throw the ball to an empty spot on the field, and Randi would arrive to catch it in the nick of time. It seemed like they could read each other’s minds. I hoped they were telling each other sorry.

  The two of them produced many highlights, but undoubtedly most exciting was the day of Scott’s spectacular play. In reality, it was an accident. While running around and waving his arms in the air, Scott inadvertently knocked a pass to the ground. The boys went nuts whooping and cheering. I didn’t understand, because I thought the idea was to catch the ball, but they were chanting about defense. Apparently Scott’s play was awesome. I was confused. It wasn’t like he scored a home run, but what did I care. It was a wonderful scene. I couldn’t stop smiling.

  This sounds absurd, but recess and this barbaric game of football became the thing I most looked forward to in my school day. Everyone and everything was coming together, and just in time for when we’d need it most, because, unfortunately, the fat lady—please excuse my rudeness—wasn’t singing quite yet.

  I felt Gav and me growing closer again with each touchdown pass, and as much as I wanted that, it wasn’t making everything better. All I did was worry that our bulletproof plan was still going to backfire and what we had done was going to come out. But I only worried for me. I never thought about Mrs. Woods, or Natalie, or Scott, or my old best friend. Just me.

  This was bigger than just me. More than my destiny alone was at stake.

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

  ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #26

  May: Black Suits Arrive

  The man and woman wearing black suits arrived on a Monday morning. I knew it wasn’t good from the moment they set foot in our classroom, on account of two reasons. First, it was the color of their attire: people dress in black for funerals. Second, it was the way they wore their clothes: whereas Mr. Proctor’s notoriously wrinkled shirts had refused to stay tucked over his doughnut belly and Miss Cohan’s slips were longer than her skirts—such sloppiness that prevented us from taking them seriously—the man and woman in black were different. These people meant business. They wore their suits like lawyers.

  Mr. Allen accompanied our surprise visitors, yet another sign that this was serious. Miss Jenkins, our lunch monitor, and Mrs. Magenta were also with him. So many people in our classroom all at once.

  “Is Mrs. Woods getting an award?” Scott asked.

  “No, Scott. I’m afraid not,” Mr. Allen said. “We need Mrs. Woods to come with us so we can talk to her for a few minutes, that’s all. Miss Jenkins will be staying with your class in the meantime.”

  “Are you with the FBI?” Scott asked the suits.

  Their blank faces never changed.

  “It’s not nice to ignore people, especially when they ask you a question. Didn’t your mothers teach you that?” Scott wasn’t slowing down. “It’s not nice to show up and never say hi, either.”

  “Scott, that’s enough,” Mr. Allen snapped. “These people aren’t here to socialize.” Turning to our teacher, Mr. Allen urged, “Mrs. Woods, please.”

  Mrs. Woods gathered her belongings and walked toward the door, followed by Mr. Allen and the man in black. I had the feeling she would be gone for longer than a few minutes. What happened next made me catch my breath. Mrs. Magenta reached out and touched Mrs. Woods on the shoulder when she came close. I watched them look at each other for the first time all year, and there was something different in both of their faces. It was a brief moment, and then Mrs. Woods left without saying a word or even passing a glance our way. My eyes welled with tears—and I’m not a crybaby.

  The lady with the power slacks and power heels stepped forward. She dressed, walked, and acted like Mother did whenever she had someone on the stand. We were in trouble. It was time to t
oughen up. I wiped my eyes, and I saw Mrs. Magenta do the same.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Ms. Speer,” the woman in black began. “I’m here to ask you a few questions about the CSAs you recently completed. We have reason to believe your tests were not administered correctly or—”

  “Not more about those tests,” Scott blurted. “I thought—”

  “Scott,” I snapped, cutting him off. “You heard Mr. Allen. That’s enough. Be quiet and let Ms. Speer talk.” I glared at him in a way that made it clear I wasn’t fooling around. He knew I meant business—even without a suit.

  “As I was saying,” Ms. Speer continued, keeping her eye on Scott now. “We have reason to believe your tests were not administered correctly. There were none of the usual erasure marks on any of your answer sheets. On top of that, you all received perfect scores.”

  “Whoa! You guys did it without me! That’s awesome!” Scott cheered.

  “Shhh!” I hissed, warning him.

  I watched his face turn from excitement to puzzlement. “But then why are you here?” he asked Ms. Speer.

  “Because we find it hard to believe your class could achieve these results without someone supplying the answers—someone like Mrs. Woods, perhaps?”

  She was fishing—and Scott took the bait. “You’ve got it all wrong,” he explained. “Mrs. Woods wasn’t going to give everyone the answers—I was! But I wasn’t here, so—”

  “Excuse me?” Ms. Speer interrupted.

  “Scott, that’s enough,” I said, slapping my desktop and rising to my feet. The boy could help others, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to be stopped. “You need to remain silent. Everything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” I turned and faced Ms. Speer. “These are my clients,” I said, gesturing to my classmates. “I will be representing them. You can ask me your questions, but you may not speak to anyone else until I’ve had a chance to meet with them in private. Have I been clear?”