He’s dead wrong about one thing, though: He doesn’t have no extra thirteen pounds of flab. More like an extra thirty-five.

I feel myself inflate, fill up the entire car. Feel great.

Then less great: My old man is just an out of shape bully-turned-coward afraid of payback time. I’d dreamed of this, but now that it’s here, it almost makes me sad. I practically pity the old guy—but not quite.

Get home. Go to my room. Don’t bother to lock the door.

Little brother comes in, asks why everyone’s acting all weird.

Tell him about the geography test.

He gets scared for me. “Dad know?”

I say, “Yeah.”

“He mad?”

I shrug. “He’ll get over it,” I say.

My brother looks at me like I’m the biggest, toughest dude in town. I say to him, “Whoever it was said, ‘If you ain’t cheatin’, you ain’t tryin’…”

My brother nods. Listens hard, like I’m someone.

“Guy’s wrong,” I say. “He thought if you want something bad enough you’ll do whatever it takes to get it. But that’s stupid, ’cause then if you get it—it’s not you who got it. It’s some made-up, fake you, and the real you got nothing. Diddly. Zip. Know what I mean?”

My brother nods his head off, but who knows what he got. Then he follows me back down to the kitchen. Watches me eat.

Nothing tastes like clay. I swallow fine.

Sarah

Punishment Poem Continued

I spent the evening overeating,
That was my way of retreating.
I knew that this was self-defeating,
But the guilt was only fleeting.

Then there came a stranger’s greeting
And an accidental meeting
Leading to a last-ditch cheating
For which I now receive this beating.

And who is it that’s beating me:
My teacher or my family?
Who punishes my villainy?
And remedies this tragedy?

Just me. And my own gluttony,
My personal catastrophe.
There’s none to thank and none to spank.
There’s no one here but ME.

Monday

Rob

Dig my grungy-looking test out of my pack. Slide it across the breakfast table.

“It’s wrong to cheat,” Ma whispers.

I say, “I know, Ma.”

She looks at me with sad eyes.

“It’s not going to happen again,” I say. “I swear.” Hand her a pen. Point to the red line Mr. Chen drew across the bottom.

“I worry about you,” she says.

“No need,” I say, and give her a pat.

Then my brother comes, so Ma quickly signs it, pushes it toward me.

“The kid already knows,” I tell her.

She sighs.

My old man doesn’t show for breakfast. Wonder if he’s sleeping off a late night. But Ma says he left early. Had some things to attend to.

Fine, good. It’s all good.

Dan

CHEATING ESSAY:

Dear Sirs, Mr. Chen and Mr. White,