As if to say, “Perhaps they want to give me an award,

a shiny trophy with a cash prize,

and a chance to appear

on a game show!”

As if to say, “Called to the office? Me? Oh dear!

I hope my family and pets are all right.

I hope no one’s dead!”

Rob

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no. Hands shake so bad, fumble my book. Can’t shove it into my pack. Papers spill. Pen rolls away.

Drag my sorry self. Long hall. Floor designed to camouflage mud and puke. Dan coming from the other way. Open the office door. Sarah’s already there.

Mr. White says, “Sit down.”

Last time on this bench I’d sliced myself open on the table-saw in shop. Forty-seven stitches. This is worse.

Mr. White asks if we have anything to say.

I don’t. Sarah doesn’t.

Dan says, “Say about what? I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. Why’d you call me down here?”

Mr. White holds up our test papers. Mine’s ragged. “Does this help jog your memory, Daniel?” he asks.

Dan still plays dumb. “Is that my test? What about it?”

Mr. White shakes his head. Says, “Anyone want to tell me how you got your hands on last year’s exam?”

Dan says, “Huh?”

Sarah and I don’t say squat.

All I can think is: My father’s gonna kill me.

Mr. White gives the tests to the secretary. Tells us Principal Chen will deal with us. Leaves.

There are offices within offices. Mr. Chen’s door is closed. I don’t know if he’s in there or not.

We wait.

Wait for him to declare our punishment. Order our execution.

If I could redo yesterday I’d ride down Hillhurst instead. Wouldn’t see Sarah on her porch. Wouldn’t swerve up her driveway. She wouldn’t tell me about some kid giving her the midterm answer sheet. She wouldn’t wave it in my face.

But at the time I felt like I won the lottery. Thought it was my turn for easy street. Had those answers in my pocket. Had Sarah Collier breaking rules with me. Felt like a million.

Idiot. Shoulda known it’s never my turn for a break.

Too late now. It’s all over. Unless I can talk Mr. Chen out of calling my house.

Tell him I’ll stay after school for the rest of my life. Clean all the bathrooms, anything. Take fifty tests. Donate my organs. Just please don’t tell my old man.

Jake