Cheat
Kristin Butcher
orca currents
ORCA BOOK PUBLISHERS
Copyright © 2010 Kristin Butcher
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced
or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording or by any information storage
and retrieval system now known or to be invented, without permission
in writing from the publisher.
Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication
Butcher, Kristin
Cheat / written by Kristin Butcher.
(Orca currents)
Issued also in an electronic format.
ISBN 978-1-55469-275-0 (bound).--ISBN 978-1-55469-274-3 (pbk.)
I. Title. II. Series: Orca currents
PS8553.U6972C44 2010 JC813’.54 C2010-903579-8
First published in the United States, 2010
Library of Congress Control Number: 2010929086
Summary: Laurel investigates a cheating scam at her high school.
Orca Book Publishers is dedicated to preserving the environment and has
printed this book on paper certified by the Forest Stewardship Council.
Orca Book Publishers gratefully acknowledges the support for its publishing
programs provided by the following agencies: the Government of Canada
through the Canada Book Fund and the Canada Council for the Arts,
and the Province of British Columbia through the BC Arts Council
and the Book Publishing Tax Credit.
Cover design by Teresa Bubela
Cover photography by Getty Images
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Printed and bound in Canada.
13 12 11 10 • 4 3 2 1
For Britany, who gave gave
me the bones of the story.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter One
“The homeless man claimed he had been sleeping in the school furnace room for over three months. ‘The weekends were the best,’ he said. ‘There weren’t no one in the school—not even janitors. I even took myself a shower in the boys’ change room a time or two. Slept like a top those nights.’ ”
Tara popped a grape into her mouth and continued reading.
“The man had used a ground-level vent to get into the building. Every night after dark, he removed the covering, lowered himself into the school basement and then pulled the vent back into place behind him. His hiding spot was discovered by accident. The vent cover fell off last week, attracting a curious skunk that decided to take a stroll through the school. When students and teachers started screaming and running for cover, the skunk took off back the way it had come. It was the custodian following behind who discovered the homeless man’s makeshift bed behind the furnace. Police were called in, and the man was apprehended when he entered the building later that night.The skunk made a clean getaway.”
Tara lowered the newspaper. “Well, good for the skunk. I feel bad for the guy though. He wasn’t hurting anybody. He just wanted a place to sleep.”
I waved my fingers at the newspaper. “Keep reading.”
“The school board hasn’t pressed charges. In fact, school trustee Norma Swanson took the story to a city council meeting. She urged members to look into the matter. ‘If there aren’t sufficient shelters and soup kitchens to address the needs of this community’s less fortunate, something needs to be done,’ she told councilors.”
“Let’s hope Ms. Swanson’s voice was heard.” Tara put down the paper, ate another grape and looked at me wide-eyed. “Good story, Laurel!”
“You seem surprised,” I said. I wasn’t ready for The New York Times, but I was capable of stringing a few sentences together.
“I am.”
My mouth dropped open.
“Well, not that you can write a good story,” she backtracked. “It’s just that this is way different from your usual stuff.”
I sighed. “I know. Compared to reports on school dances and who’s getting cosy with who, this story is definitely more meaningful.”
“Exactly,” Tara agreed. “It’s important. It’s news!”
“Right,” I smiled. “Thanks, Tara.”
“You’re welcome, but—” She frowned. “Where did you get it? I mean how’d you find out about it? I knew about the skunk, but not the homeless guy.”
I clucked my tongue and tried to look shocked. “Surely you don’t expect me to reveal my sources?”
“Uh, yeah,” said Tara. “I do.”
I shrugged. “It was a combination of luck and eavesdropping. The day after the skunk incident, Miss Benson sent me to the office to get paper clips. The secretary wasn’t there. While I was waiting for her to come back, I heard Mr. Wiens talking to some woman in his office. The door was wide-open, so the conversation was hard to miss.”
“What were they talking about?”
“The homeless man. Mr. Wiens was telling the woman how he felt bad about kicking the guy out, because he had nowhere else to go.”
“Who was the woman?” Tara asked.
“I’m getting there,” I said. “Just listen.
The woman said she would raise the issue at the next city council meeting.”
Tara chewed on her lip.
“Ah…,” she said. “I bet she’s a trustee.”
“Right.” I nodded. “So anyway, after that I found out when the next city council meeting was, and I went. I had to sit for over an hour listening to half the city complain about streetlights and speed bumps before it was Ms. Swanson’s turn. Talk about boring.”
“Wow. You really did chase down this story. But how did you know about the guy showering in the boys’ change room?” she asked. “Laurel Quinn, you didn’t make that stuff up, did you?”
This time I was shocked for real. “Of course I didn’t! After school I just hung around for a couple of hours. I thought maybe the guy would come back.”
“And did he?”
I nodded. “He didn’t try to get in, but he did come back. At first I wasn’t sure it was him. But how many scruffy-looking guys stand outside a school for ten minutes staring at a vent? It had to be the squatter. So I went to talk to him.”
“Weren’t you scared?” Tara said.
“I mean he could have attacked you or something.”
“Ooh, I never even thought of that.
Nothing happened though. The guy was actually pretty nice. He answered all my questions. All I had with me was five dollars, but I gave it to him. Hopefully he got something hot to eat. He sure needed it. He looked cold, and he was skinny as anything.”
Tara straightened in her chair. “I guess you are a reporter. But isn’t it going to kill to go back to writing about volleyball games and school debates?”
The bell rang, so I didn’t have a chance to answer. I was definitely thinking about what Tara had said though. Reporting on normal school activities would be pretty tame now that I’d had a taste of real journalism.
Chapter Two
The paper had just come out at lunch, but it seemed l
ike everyone had read my article by the time we went back to class. Walking to my locker was like strolling the red carpet. Every few steps, somebody would congratulate me—even kids I didn’t know.
“Great story, Laurel.”
“Super article.”
“Good stuff.”
I couldn’t quit smiling. People had read my article and liked it. Even Jack complimented me on the story.
I thought I was seeing things. We might be brother and sister, but at school Jack barely acknowledges I exist. But there he was leaning on my locker door and grinning at me.
“Nice work, sis.” He bopped my head with the rolled-up newspaper. “Good story. I liked the human-interest angle.
Clever.”
“Thanks,” I said. Then, because it just wouldn’t be normal if I didn’t give him a hard time, I added, “Who knew you could read?”
He shot me a sour look. “Funny. Do you think half the colleges in the States would be recruiting me if I wasn’t a brain?”
I rolled my eyes. “They don’t care if you even have a brain, just as long as you can shoot a basketball. Let me guess—you saw the article Dean wrote about you.” I snatched the newspaper from his hand and unrolled it. “Aha! I knew it.” I smacked the page with the back of my hand. Then I read the headline. Barton High Senior Destined for Greatness. I clucked my tongue. “Don’t believe everything you read, brother dearest. Dean tends to exaggerate.”
“What are you talking about?” Jack frowned and grabbed the paper back. “Everything in here is true. I am being recruited by a half-dozen NCAA colleges. They’ve all offered me a free ride. Arizona, Oregon, Washington, Oklahoma—I just have to decide which one deserves me.”
I rolled my eyes again. “Believe me—none of them deserves you. But by the time they realize it, it will be too late. You’ll already be there.”
“Was that a shot?”
“If you can’t tell, I rest my case.” I gave him a shove. “Now get out of here before someone sees us and figures out we’re related. I don’t want you wrecking my reputation.”
He snorted and swaggered away.
Though he’s a tough act to follow, I am proud of my brother. I would never tell him that to his face, but it’s true. He is really smart. He gets almost straight As, and of course he’s an amazing basketball player. Everybody likes him, including just about every girl in school.
So it is my duty to razz him whenever I can. Otherwise, he’d have such a swelled head, he’d have to find T-shirts with zippers.
At that moment, though, I was the one with the swelled head. I’d written an article that actually mattered, and people were reading it. That was pretty cool, considering the only reason I joined the newspaper was to do something Jack hadn’t.
It’s tough carving out a corner for yourself when you’re related to a school legend. Almost anything I thought about trying, Jack had already done—in champion style. But now, after months of meaningless articles about nothing, I’d made a breakthrough. I was so pumped, my feet weren’t touching the ground. I floated through the afternoon.
Mom’s car wasn’t in the driveway when I got home, but the front door was unlocked. That could mean only one thing—Jack had beat me home. I should say Jack and Sean had beat me home. Sean Leger doesn’t actually live with us, but he and Jack have been best buds forever. If they’re not playing basketball, they’re sprawled in front of the television in our family room. I swear Sean spends more time at our house than he does at his own.
The two of them were all wrapped up in an air-hockey game, so they didn’t see me come in. I could have walked off with the furniture, and they wouldn’t have noticed.
“Where’s Mom?” I shouted over their hooting and hollering.
“Drugstore,” Jack yelled back as he made a shot. “He shoots, he scores!”
He threw up his arms and did a victory dance.
Sean shook his head in disgust.
“You got horseshoes up your butt, man.”
Jack laughed as he flopped on the couch. “It’s skills, pal. Skills. Eat your heart out.”
Sean scratched his stomach. “Speaking of eating, whatcha got to chow on?” He headed for the fridge, messing my hair on the way by.
“Bug off,” I said, giving him a hip check.
He grinned. “Is that any way for a big reporter to talk?”
“Yeah, right,” I mumbled, trying not to smile.
“No, seriously. That was a good article,” he said. “I liked it.”
“Next stop, The Globe and Mail,” Jack teased. “I almost forgot—there’s a message for you. Not The Globe and Mail, but some guy from the Islander.”
“Nice try,” I retorted. I know my brother. There was no way I was going to let him suck me in.
“Really. I’m not kidding,” Jack insisted, picking up the phone and punching in the message code. He held it out to me. “Listen for yourself.”
I still didn’t believe him, but I took the phone. I was all set to hear a dial tone, but there really was a message from someone at the Islander. The editor. He said his daughter was a Barton High student and had brought the paper home at lunch. He’d read my story and wanted to talk to me about it.
I quickly jotted down the phone number and took off to my room to return the call.
As I hung up the phone, I was numb. The Islander wanted to print my story about the squatter! It was going to run in Friday’s paper. I was even going to get money for it. Just $25, but that still made me a paid reporter. Even better, the editor said he’d be interested in seeing future articles too.
I was so excited. I wanted to get writing that very second. The only problem was I had nothing to write about.
Chapter Three
By Monday morning, I was a celebrity. Everybody had seen the article in the Islander. Mr. Wiens even mentioned it during the morning announcements. It was embarrassing and thrilling at the same time. I didn’t know how to look or what to say.
So I was actually grateful to have a math test after lunch. It took my mind off all the attention I was suddenly getting. I hadn’t studied, so I should have been nervous. The way I look at it, though, you either know math or you don’t. I was pretty sure I was okay with it.
My heart always speeds up before a test, but once I get started, I’m fine. I calm down and focus on what I’m doing. I just have to make it through those first few minutes of panic.
“Write your name on the answer sheet, and leave your test papers facedown until I tell you to begin,” said Mrs. Abernathy as she handed out the tests. “You may use your calculators and scrap paper to work out your answers. In pencil, completely fill in the bubble of the correct answer for each question. Do not—I repeat—do not write on the test paper itself. Are there any questions?”
Her gaze swept the room. No one raised their hand. We all knew the drill.
“Good,” Mrs. Abernathy said. “You will have the entire period to complete the test.”
Which was getting shorter all the time. I glanced up at the clock. Just thirty-five minutes left.
“You may begin.”
Twenty-five test papers flipped over. Right away I zipped to the last page. There were thirty questions, which meant just over a minute per question. Thank goodness the test was multiple guess. Teachers call it multiple choice, but let’s be honest. For a lot of kids, it comes down to guessing. It seems to me tests would be more useful if students had to come up with answers from their brains. But that would mean teachers would actually have to mark them. With multiple-choice tests, they just scan the answer sheets, and the marking is done for them.
I have a system for tests. First I skim the whole thing to see what kind of questions there are. That helps me know how to use my time. Then I quickly do the questions I know I can answer. After all, a mark is a mark. Bottom line: get as many as you can. Some kids spend so long on one question that they don’t finish. That’s just plain dumb. I leave the hard questions for the end. And when in doubt—I guess.
My eyes were open, but I wasn’t really seeing anything—at least not at first. But then I became aware of something fluttering in the bottom left-hand corner of my field of vision. I zoomed in on it.
It was a hand—Dale Pearson’s hand. He held it at seat level, up tight to his body. His thumb was tucked up and four fingers were extended. As I watched, he closed his hand into a fist and then opened it again. Now just one finger was showing. He held his hand like that for a few seconds before closing his fist again. When he opened it next, all five of his fingers were extended.
This clearly wasn’t a case of writer’s cramp. Dale was sending somebody a message.
I looked around. Two seats behind, Jarod Bailey had his eye on Dale’s hand too. Every time Dale changed the position of his fingers, Jarod marked his answer sheet.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Bells started ringing in my head. Jarod was a solid D student. Dale got Bs. They were best friends. They were obviously cheating. There was no doubt in my mind.
It didn’t take a genius to figure out the code they were using. A single finger told Jarod to fill in A, two was for B, and so on. Five fingers would be E.
I couldn’t believe it. I knew kids cheated, but I’d never actually seen it before.
“One minute, people,” Mrs. Abernathy announced in a robotic voice.
One minute! There was no time for me to finish the test now. All I could do was hope I was a good guesser. I wasn’t too worried though. Two missed answers wasn’t going to hurt me. I’d still pass.
Besides, the lost marks were worth it. Now I had a topic for my next article.
Chapter Four
The article on cheating almost wrote itself. That always happens when I’m fired up. My brain bubbles over, and the words spill out. I couldn’t wait to see my story in print.
Cheat Page 1
