Cover

Title Page

The
Cheat

amy GoLDmaN koss

speak

An Imprint of Penguin Group (USA) Inc

Dedication

To Mr. Hoodie and Ms. Loo

Friday

Sarah

When it all began

I had no idea

anything was beginning.

I just thought it was sweet that a guy I barely knew brought me the midterm answers out of the blue.

Thanks to his gallantry, I wouldn’t have to spend time cramming for the geography exam. Less time memorizing geographic factoids left more time for me to

cure AIDS,

and discover a triple-acting defense

against poverty,

terrorism,

and pizza breath.

Well,

actually,

less time studying

just meant

more time

not studying.

But the gift of free time is nothing to sneeze at. It sure beat flowers, or sickly scented bath salts or other

Gooney

Gifts

Guys

Give

Girls.

Nonetheless, having not the least interest in this boy, I didn’t give his generosity much thought at the time. If anyone had told me that his delivering a piece of paper to me would be the start of anything even the tiniest bit significant in my life,

I would’ve said, “right,”

meaning wrong.

I would have said, “la,”

meaning nah.

Or

I wouldn’t have

bothered

to

grunt.

Katie

Mr. White gave me a squinty look when he handed out the geography exams. Now I feel his eyeballs rolling up and down my neck. Cold, clammy, suspicious eyeballs.

But even if he WERE watching me (which he’s not), all he’d see is a nervous eighth grader getting ready to take her midterm. Nothing peculiar about that, right?

Even if he saw a GUILTY-looking eighth grader (with arrows beaming down at her and the word CHEATER flashing in lights over her head), it STILL wouldn’t prove anything.

And even if he could read my mind (which he can’t), all he’d see would be a list of letters: A, A, C, B, C…

Maybe he’d hear my song: to the tune of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” (sort of).

Animal, animal, cat, boy, cat,

Cat, cat, boy, cat, animal.

Cat, cat, animal, cat, boy, cat,

Animal, animal, boy.

Mr. White the mind-reader would find it pretty suspicious if the same song were running through Sarah’s brain. Good thing she decided not to set hers to music. She said she remembers poems easier than songs.

I don’t know who else she gave the answers to. But even if she handed them out to every kid in class, they can’t ALL be using “Row, Row, Row Your Boat.” Probably “Twinkle, Twinkle” is more popular…or “Three Blind Mice.”

Just sitting here staring at the test is NOT doing me any good. I have got to pick up the pencil and have at it.

Okay, Katie. Let’s go. Mark the first A. (Animal. Animal. Cat. Boy. Cat.)

I cannot believe what a chicken I am.

I feel Mr. White’s eyes—now they’re hot and pointy—burrowing into my skull.

Two, three, four…(I am not going to look at him until I reach ten.)

…Nine. Nope. He’s not even looking in this direction.

How about my dad? Is he watching? I’m embarrassed to even ASK myself such a question, because if heaven is so dull that there’s nothing better to do than watch your kid take a geography test—then why bother to be good enough to go there?

Oh, NOW I’m really sinking into stupidity.

Meanwhile, as I dither away, minutes slip by, and Mr. White is watching the clock.

“KATIE!” I tell myself. “I order you to pick up your pencil and begin cheating at once!”

I wonder what Mr. White would do if he caught me. When Stu Roper was caught with a cheat sheet in the beginning of the year, Mr. White made him take the quiz all by himself after school. That’s not so terrible. I mean, I’d be humiliated to the BONE, but I don’t think I’d have to shoot myself.

That was only a unit quiz, though. Not a midterm. There’s no telling WHAT he’d do to a midterm cheater.

I can’t do it. I can’t do it because: A) I just can’t. B) It’s making me sick. C) It’s making me crazy.

But how do I NOT? The song is right here, unignorable, rowing around in my head. Animal, animal, cat, boy, cat…

I know. I’ll do the problems out of order. Just pick one and answer it. Then jump around and read another one.

Okay. Number five: The La Paz River…

Rob

Must be how it feels to be smart. Answers line up in my mind—like little kids for pony rides. Easy as ABC. Actually, AACB.

Know what to mark without even reading the question. Number one, A. Number two, A again.

That song “If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all”? Well, taking this test is changing my luck.

Done before practically everyone. Don’t want to look suspicious. Usually I’m one of the last. Or I’m the kid who has to have the test ripped out from under him. Not today. Feeling good. Stretch, yawn, look around at the poor fools still sweating away.

Kill time, pretend to check my work. Then I read: The La Paz River runs between A) Nepal and India, B) El Salvador and Guatemala, C) Iraq and Iran.

Trickle of ice water down my spine. Don’t know squat about geography, but do know the Rio de la Paz runs between El Salvador and Guatemala. Ought to know—that’s where my dad was stationed in the Army.

Why’d I mark C instead of B?

Quickly correct the river answer. But if that answer’s wrong, how many others are? Ice water turns to icicles—brain freezes. Read the other questions. Test translates into some bizarre language. Jumbled alphabet makes no sense. Gouge at the paper, scrub out random answers, erase so hard, the paper rips. Then change the answers back.

Panic. Do I turn this in and flunk? Crumple it up? Tell Mr. White I’m sick?

Yes! Go to the nurse. Study like mad over the weekend, retest next week.

But Mr. White clears his throat. Too late. The gig is up.

Ruby

Well, last night Danny was such a pain that I was all, “Fine. Leave. Whatever.”

I mean, did he think I was about to…what? Beg?

But he goes, “No, no, really, man, I’m sorry.” (Can you stand that he calls me man?) He says something about having a huge, like, geography test tomorrow and he hasn’t studied, and I’m thinking, “Excuse me, but whose fault is that?” He had as much time to study for it as anybody else in his class. Am I right?

Then I guess he notices I’m not exactly gushing with, like, sympathy, so he stops whining and tries to act semi-human. But still, you’d have to be, like, in a coma not to see that he was, I don’t know, mad or whatever. And it was embarrassing. I mean, there we were, supposedly helping and it was supposed to be romantic and all like that, and there’s Danny, the grump, just sort of moving chairs around, with a fish face.

Actually, my sister was so, like, out there that she probably didn’t notice Danny, because it’s her engagement party and her everything: her guests, her seating arrangements…

And my parents are, like, “Will the caterers screw up?” “Will the weather stink?” “Will the centerpieces look stupid?” So maybe no one noticed Danny being so, you know, whatever. But I sure noticed, and ask me if I liked it.

Then, finally I, like, repeat, “Okay, just leave then, Danny,” figuring he’ll get it that I’m seriously ticked.

But he starts nodding and backing away and, like, thanking me, and says he’s really gotta study for that test or whatever.

And I go, “So who’s stopping you?” (Never mind that he promised like a million weeks ago that he’d help us set up.)

So he just left! Like, actually left! Good-bye!

And I’m all, like, “Fine,” and thinking, in that case, he might as well just forget my sister’s party, too!

*   *   *

Okay, so then I see Danny this morning before school and he’s all, like, friendly. Saying he’s sorry for being in such a snit last night. Now he’s all smiles, and I’m, like—not.

So he goes, “Don’t be mad,” and I can tell he’s practically dying to tell me something. But I’m, like, not playing.

This drives him bonkers so he’s all, “Wanna know why I’m not dead tired from studying all night?”

So I go, like, “No.”

And he says something about Sarah helping him out, or Sarah saving his butt, or whatever. And I think, Sarah? Excuse me? Sarah Collier??? He left me dragging chairs around while he went to study with Sarah Collier? And I’m, what? Supposed to be happy for him?

So I spin around to split and I say, “Fine,” or whatever. But my heart’s goin’ nuts and my face is probably, like, beet red.

I just cannot believe he broke up with me like that! With that stupid grin on his face. The day before my sister’s engagement luncheon when my whole entire family thinks he’s coming and that he’s, like, my date and boyfriend. And they’re going to ask me, “Where’s Danny? Why isn’t Danny here?” And I’m supposed to say…what? That he dumped me for Sarah???

So I’m walking away and he grabs my arm and goes, “What are you getting all bent about?”

And I go, like…I don’t say anything.

And the bell rings and I leave, and he’s all like, “Huh?”

And I am totally not crying, but it takes every drop of my strength.

Ask me if I need this.

Rob

Grab Dan in the hall. Say, “We’re totally screwed.” But he thinks I’m just paranoid. Says, “Lighten up and enjoy!”

Enjoy what? Flunking?

Tell him that when my old man has a few beers he starts on the Rio de la Paz stories. So I know the river answer’s dead wrong. Dan interrupts, says it’s brilliant to have a few wrong answers. Makes it seem more natural. He says everything’s cool.

Sarah

I was minding my own business in American Lit. when the intercom hissed and the school secretary’s voice quackled into the room.

“Would Sawa Colliea, Wobbit King, and Daniel Bwand pwease wepowt to the pwincipal’s office?”

Her Elmer Fudd thing usually cracks me up. But not today. Today’s cracks, hearing her string my name with theirs, were the chipping and shattering, not the tee-hee kind.

“Run!” said the little brain.

“Run! Hide! Deny!”

“Too late,” said the bigger brain.

“Too late to even try.”

Everyone turned to watch me gather my books. Getting my breathing under control took a beat, but when I was sure my knees wouldn’t knock, I got up and swanned down the row of desks. Neck arched, wings poised. (Ugly feet hidden underwater.)

I even put a smile on my beak on the way out:

As if to say, “I wonder what this could be about?”

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

First of all, in my own defense, Sarah Collier is one of the most beautiful girls not just in this school, or city, but possibly in the universe. Not that I expect that makes a huge amount of difference, but picture this. No wait, first you have to know that I do not have a lot of what you’d call “friends” in school. Or, to be honest, out of school either.

And girls do not, as a rule, throw themselves at me. They more like throw themselves away from me. Or throw up at the sight of me. Anyway, you get the idea. So imagine how I felt when Sarah Collier plopped her books down on the table next to me at the library and flashed me her gorgeous toothpaste-ad smile.

It’s true there were no other seats open, so it’s not like she necessarily chose to sit next to me, but that didn’t make me feel any less lucky. Like how you feel when a butterfly lands on you. Even though it’s an accident, you take it personally.

Luck or fate or accident or whatever—I’d dreamed about what I would do or say if Sarah Collier ever noticed I was alive. And now here she was, opening her books, digging in her purse for a pen. I offered her mine and she smiled at me again! That’s two Sarah Collier smiles. And the next thing I knew, we were talking. Just a little. About school. About midterms…

How it got from borrowing a pen to my planning to loot my sister’s room to supply Sarah with Beth’s answers to the geography midterm, I do not know. And that’s the truth.

How Sarah knew that I had a sister, or that said sister took geography with Mr. White last year, or furthermore that said sister was the type to keep and file old exams, I also do not know. Nor am I sure that she did know this. Maybe she said something about geography and I offered the rest.

Maybe I was mindlessly blabbing in an effort to make conversation. I don’t remember. If it comes to a judge and jury, I’ll plead temporary insanity. I’ll throw myself on the mercy of the court. I’ll…

But no one knows I was involved. That is, unless Sarah is selling me down the river. And really, why wouldn’t she? No doubt she’s telling Mr. Chen about me right now. Blaming me. Telling him I gave her the answers because I was trying to impress her. Claiming that I was trying to buy her affections. And of course, Chen and everyone else will believe her.

But it wasn’t like that, at least not the way it sounds. I was just trying to help, just being nice. And if it comes to that, I’ll tell Mr. Chen to take a good look at Sarah and put himself in my position. He was a guy himself once. And he’s not blind. I’ll ask him what he would have done if he were me. And he’ll understand.

Sarah

Yesterday I was a hero. Today they think I’m scum. Well, la. That’s how it goes.

Yesterday it was, “Oh heavenly Sarah! So generous and kind!” It was, “Oh sainted Sarah, who hath saved my scrawny rear!”

Now it’s, “Sarah! You slime! Look what you made me do!”

See Dan. See Dan sulk.
See Dan convince himself
That I put a gun
To his empty head
And made him cheat.
See Dan’s red face
Ready to kill someone,
Probably me.
Which figures.
Like they say:
“No good deed
Shall go unpunished.”

It’s my own fault. What was I thinking, sharing those answers with that worthless jock?

Rob hasn’t blamed me yet, though. He just looks totally flipped, pale as a ghost, muttering that his old man’s going to kill him.

And Jake? Yesterday he practically begged me to let him give me the answers. “Midterm’s the same every year,” he said. And I believed him.

“No problem,” he said.
“Sneak into my big sister’s room?
Snoop through her drawers?
Steal her answer sheet from last year?
Ride my bike to your house and hand deliver it?
No sweat,” he said.
“Glad to help,” he said.
“Happy to be of service!”

But that was yesterday.

He just now creepy-crept in here to the office on sticky bug feet, his eyes darting around. When he decided the coast was clear, he crept even closer.

“Please don’t tell,” he bug-squeaked. “Please, please, please, please. Don’t tell on me.”

Spineless cockroach.

As if I’d tattle. As if I’m a snitch looking to bring everyone down with me. As if that’s just who I am.

*   *   *

Hey! Where’s Katie? Her answers must’ve been wrong, too. Why isn’t she here, sweating it out on this splintery bench?

Hmmmm. Could Katie be the one who tipped off Mr. Teacher?

Maybe Mr. White heard her clippity-clop-clippity-clopping over his bridge. Maybe he gnashed his evil troll teeth, and said he was going to eat her up for his evil troll dinner. Crush her bones to make his bread. Fee fi fo fum.

And she cried, “Oh no, Mr. Teacher-Troll! I’m just a short scrawny goat with dry stringy meat! Save your appetite for my big fat classmates:

“The delicious Daniel Goat Gruff! Yumm!

“The tasty Robert Goat Gruff! Double yumm!

“And the delectable Sarah Goat Gruff! Yumm yumm yumm!”

Would Katie do that? No way. Tell on us to save her own hide? No. I couldn’t stand that. Not my Katie Potatie!

So where is she?

*   *   *

Mr. Principal’s door swung open. He looked at me, curled his finger. “Ladies first,” he said. “Sarah, will you step in here, please?”

Jake

I wish I hadn’t done that. I shouldn’t have gone down there and asked Sarah not to tell Chen about me. That wasn’t very heroic.

If I were a nobler person, I suppose I would’ve dashed into the office and saved her. Maybe I would’ve told Chen that I’d tricked Sarah into using my sister’s answers. A better man than I would have insisted that the entire cheating scam had been my idea…which, come to think of it, maybe it was.

I wish I hadn’t crawled in there, low as a worm, on my belly. Now I’m cringing and wincing and I hate myself and I make myself sick. Feeling like mud is no worse than I deserve.

But it’s not too late. I could go back down to the office right now. I could walk in there with my chin up, shoulders back, and I could save the damsel in distress.

It probably wouldn’t make Sarah fall into my arms with gratitude, though. It would just make me the joke of the school.

“Jake Broder can’t even cheat right! Can’t even hide behind his genius sister without screwing up. Pathetic!”

And I deserve to be a laughingstock. For all I know, Sarah masterminded the whole thing. Stalked me. Followed me into the library and pretended to take the chair next to me by accident. I walked right into it like the biggest fool.

Who was I kidding? What were the chances, really, of a girl like Sarah Collier sitting next to me and flashing all those smiles at me for no reason? What are the odds that after never noticing me before she just suddenly gets so friendly out of nowhere?

I can’t believe what a sucker I was, falling for the whole thing. I was duped. Tricked. Taken advantage of. Used. She must’ve been laughing at me the whole time.

And she never said anything about sharing my sister’s test with other kids. Other boys. I thought this was just between us. I wouldn’t have had any part in it if I’d known she was going to spread it around. Especially to Dan and Rob, neither of whom would stop to piss on me if I was on fire.

I bet that’s how she got caught: because of them. If she’d kept the answers to herself, she wouldn’t be sitting in the principal’s office right now. So, really, Sarah created this mess. And she has no one to blame but herself.

Dan

The Story Continues on BooksBarbecue!

Enjoyed this preview? ❤️ Do not stop here!

Read the complete book free online → 🔗

Continue reading now on BooksBarbecue and discover every page!

Love reading? Bookmark BooksBarbecue.com for more amazing books!

Happy Reading!