The Perfect Score

  “What’s his name?”

  “What?”

  “The boy. What’s his name, Natalie?”

  “Gavin Davids,” I said. “Why?”

  Mother sighed. She removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes and face. “You better sit down, Natalie. I need to tell you a story.”

  “You mean his claim isn’t absurd?!”

  “Please sit down and let me explain,” Mother said again.

  I took a deep breath and sat in the chair opposite her. I placed my folded hands on the table.

  Mother slipped her glasses back on. “The story I’m about to tell you took place several years ago,” she began.

  I nodded.

  “It was late one evening, and an old man by the name of Red was without heat. Something had broken in his house. He didn’t know what to do, so he called the one guy who he knew would help.

  “Temperatures were supposed to drop below zero that night, so the young man getting the phone call never hesitated. There was no way he would ever let Red spend the night in those conditions.

  “Making the drive was the hard part. Once there, the young man didn’t take long to have everything working again. Red didn’t have money to pay, but this was no surprise to the young man; he’d known Red ever since he was a boy, helping his father on the job, and this was how things had always been. Instead of money, Red offered the younger man a beer in appreciation. The younger man didn’t actually want the drink, but he took it so Red wouldn’t feel bad.

  “As fate would have it, on his way home the young man came upon an old lady stranded on the side of the road with a flat tire. Of course the young man stopped and helped—no surprise there. He got the spare on for the old woman, and she was very grateful, thanking him profusely because that was all she could do. She got in her car and he got in his truck. And then the old lady pulled out without looking. She never saw the Mercedes-Benz that came careening around the corner. The car was speeding. It swerved, fishtailed, lost control, and crashed into the man’s truck.”

  Mother stopped.

  I leaned forward. “Did anyone get hurt?”

  “Not right away.”

  I scowled. “I don’t understand.”

  “I was here, in my office, when this obviously wealthy gentleman came in looking for an attorney to handle his lawsuit. He had an easy case, Natalie. He’d been driving his Mercedes just after dark when a truck that was parked alongside the road suddenly pulled out in front of him. The truck was missing a taillight, and there was an empty beer bottle found inside on the floor.”

  “But that’s not what really happened,” I said.

  “I didn’t know that. We sued the man in the truck and won easily. He was ordered to pay for all the damages to my client’s car and for all the medical bills related to his injuries, which were ongoing—and no less made-up.”

  “But that’s not right!” I exclaimed. “How could that happen?”

  “The man in the truck didn’t have a lawyer. He didn’t mention the old lady when he was given the chance to defend himself.”

  “Why? Why would he do that?”

  “Because he’s the good guy in the story, Natalie, except I didn’t know that—not for a long time. Remember your twisty-slide day, earlier this year, when I picked you up and you could tell I was upset about something?”

  Again I nodded.

  “It was on that same day that I happened to run into my old client, in the grocery store of all places. I asked him how he was doing, and he laughed. Then his arrogance got the better of him; he had to brag. The truth came spilling out. He told me exactly what had happened on that fateful night and said something about good guys always finishing last. When he stopped, I felt like I’d been run over by his fancy car. I had to fight the urge to slap him. He walked away, laughing his creepy laugh, and I thought I was going to be sick. I left my cart full of groceries and stumbled outside. I sat in the car, crying, for the next hour.”

  I felt terrible for Mother, but what she said next floored me.

  “Natalie, the good guy in the story was Michael Davids, whom I presume to be Gavin’s father.”

  Those last words sent my world spinning. It was like hearing the judge announce a major verdict not in your favor. Gavin wasn’t lying; Mother had ruined everything for his family. It was too much to comprehend. I pushed back from the table and ran out of the room.

  I’d never been so disappointed in anything. Justice was supposed to prevail in the courtroom, not corruption.

  This thing with the CSAs and eligibility couldn’t happen. I had to be able to play sports. I didn’t care if I had to sit on the bench because of my grades, but I had to be on the team. There was no way I could spend another year going home after school.

  Scott had to come through for me. I would’ve done anything for that kid right then.

  I liked helping people. I was good at helping people, but I’d only ever helped one person at a time before. Now I was going to help everybody. Mark. Trevor. Randi. Gavin. Natalie. Mr. Allen. Everybody.

  I had to do it. Mr. Allen had wished for it, and all my friends were wishing for it. They needed me. So I was patient and careful, and I came up with a genius plan—my best plan ever. It wasn’t hard.

  I hated the CSAs. They were dumb, boring, and easy. Because of them we’d lost birthday parties, Mrs. Magenta’s fun projects, read-aloud time and free reading, and then our recess.

  But all of a sudden, for the very first time in my whole entire life, I was excited for the test. Finding a way to supply the answers without getting caught made the CSAs so much more interesting and challenging—and important. They were no longer Complex Student Abuse. They had become my Communication System for Answers.

  I was ready. This was going to be a piece of cake. And the icing on my cake would be getting my recess back and hearing Mrs. Woods read to us again after the dumb tests were finally over, because Mr. Allen and I had a deal.

  All this time I’d been hoping for a psychic to read my future and tell me my destiny, but instead I was sent a wish-giver. Scott was our very own genie. We’d said the magic words on the bus ride home, and now he was prepared to grant us our wishes.

  “I’ve invented the perfect system,” he told Natalie and me at lunch. He leaned closer, giddy with excitement. “CSA now stands for my Communication System for Answers.”

  Natalie’s eyes widened and so did mine. Had Scott really come up with a way for us to ace the tests? The bus ride had happened a couple of weeks ago and there was never any talk about it afterward. I guess I just thought it had been one of those times when boys talked a big game but never really did what they said and you never really believed them anyway. Besides, you don’t exactly go around pestering somebody for a plan to cheat, so I’d just assumed Scott had given up on the idea. I couldn’t blame him. Why should he even do this?

  “Scott, have you been working on this system for the last two weeks?” Natalie asked.

  “No! I came up with it in no time,” he said, proud of himself. “That was easy. The hard part’s been waiting to reveal it until we got closer to the test date so no one forgets it.”

  Nothing Scott did should’ve surprised me at this point in the year, but this was different. I had more butterflies swarming in my stomach than showed up before any of my gymnastics meets.

  “This is my signal for ‘A,’ ” he said, scratching the top of his head.

  Again I glanced at Natalie, but she never said a word. What was she thinking? I couldn’t read her mind like I could Gavin’s. I hadn’t known her long enough yet. She never said anything about Scott doing my math, and when I tried asking her if she knew why Gavin had mentioned her mother on the bus, she didn’t say much then, either.

  “I have absolutely no idea,” she said.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, and I don’t feel like talking about it. Rehashing it will only make me upset again.”

  I wasn’t a mind reader, but something told me she suddenly knew
more than she was letting on. For being mortal enemies, she and Gav were a lot more alike than they’d ever care to admit. But whatever was going on, it was between them.

  “Pay attention,” Scott hissed. “I don’t have time to keep going over this with you. I’ve got other people to show.”

  He drilled us and quizzed us over the next several minutes, and then he got up and walked over to Gavin’s table. I wanted Scott’s plan to save us all in the worst way, to make all the bad go away, but I wanted it to help Gavin more than anybody else. Even more than me. My old friend deserved a chance.

  I turned back to the girl sitting next to me. I had another wish. I wished there was a way for me to have both Gavin and Natalie as my friends, but there wasn’t anything our genie could do to make that happen—and that was for reasons I still didn’t understand.

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

  ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #21

  February: Scott’s Plan

  Scott sat down with Randi and me at lunch and unveiled the elaborate cheating scheme that he had masterminded. He fully intended to take the test and secretly share the correct answers with the rest of the class, question by question, using some silent code that he had devised.

  This was wrong—I know the difference between right and wrong—but I wasn’t going to tell on them. I’m not a tattletale—never have been. Additionally, there was no way I could do that to Randi; she needed this. And so did Gavin, like him or not. After what Mother did to his father, the least I could do was turn a blind eye to this matter. I owed him that much.

  In my view, my classmates had good reasons for cheating and I had good reasons for not telling—perhaps the most convincing being the fact that Scott and Randi were my friends. I’d never had friends before, but I was certain one thing you never did was rat on one—did you? (That was precisely why I never said anything when Scott started doing Randi’s math homework.) Besides, the way I saw it, what my classmates were doing was no more wrong than what Lake View Middle was doing. Even Mrs. Woods had declared our school’s approach to the CSAs harmful.

  This test conspiracy most certainly wasn’t anything I was going to participate in, so I simply stayed out of it. The problem was, I couldn’t shake one burning question: Was I doing something wrong by allowing this to happen?

  I didn’t want the answer. That scared me.

  I was eating lunch with Mark and Gavin when Scott waltzed over and plopped down at our table.

  “Pay attention,” he said. “We need to do this fast so no one gets suspicious.”

  “What are you talk—”

  “Shh!” he snapped, cutting Mark off. “Watch.” He scratched the top of his head. “That’s the signal for ‘A.’ ” Next he tugged his earlobe. “That’s ‘B.’ ”

  He showed us the signal for “C” and “D” and his sneaky way of helping us keep track of what question number we were on. Then he ran through the whole thing again and quizzed us a few times.

  “Got it?” he asked.

  “Got it,” I said.

  “Any questions?”

  We shook our heads.

  “Good.” Scott glanced around the cafeteria, making sure he wasn’t being watched, and then he started to get up.

  “Wait,” I said.

  He stopped and looked back at me.

  “Thanks.”

  “That’s what friends are for,” he said. He scurried off to Alex and Corey’s table. After that he went and sat with Connor and Adam.

  “We can’t talk about this with anyone else,” Gavin said. “Not now. Not ever. If this gets out—”

  “Don’t worry. Mum’s the word,” I said.

  “Mum’s the word,” Mark repeated.

  “Good. Let’s just hope Kurtsman keeps her big mouth shut,” Gavin said.

  Natalie had already stuck her neck out for Scott more than once, so there was no way she was going to throw him under the bus now. Anyway, I let Gavin worry about her. I had other things on my mind.

  Mom had dinner ready. We were just waiting on my old man to get home from his last plumbing call. He did a lot of late-afternoon and early-evening appointments, ’cause it was easier for working people to schedule those times.

  “I’m home,” he called, coming through the front door. “What’s for supper? It smells delicious.”

  “It’s ready,” Mom said. “Come to the table.”

  Dad washed his hands and joined us. “I’ll tell you what, puttin’ in an honest day’s work sure makes you hungry. I’m starvin’.”

  Why did he have to go and say that dumb word? He loved that dumb word—“honest.”

  “You might not be born with much, you might not have much, but you can be honest,” Meggie said, repeating one of Dad’s favorite sayings.

  That was when I lost my appetite. “I’m not feeling too great,” I said. “May I be excused from the table?”

  “Niño, are you all right?” Mom asked.

  “Yes. I just want to lie down.”

  “Okay.”

  As hard as I tried to have Dad’s talk go in one ear and out the other, that didn’t always work. After hearing someone say something enough times, it sorta gets stuck in your head, whether you like it or not, including that piece of wisdom that Meggie had just spouted off. Deep down I knew my old man was right—even if he was a high school dropout.

  The only time my father hadn’t been all the way honest was in court. He didn’t lie, but he also never mentioned the old lady when he had the chance. That was nice of him, but it made my life miserable. Well, enough was enough. My time had finally come. I’d paid my dues. It was my turn to play football, to have my chance to be a hero and a leader on the field, so it wasn’t fair for some dumb test to mess that up. I needed to pass this thing. If I didn’t, then I wasn’t gonna amount to anything. I’d be a nobody for the rest of my life—like my old man.

  Was I gonna do this? You betcha. I was done wrestling with that question. It wasn’t something me and Randi would be proud of, but I knew from the look she gave me in school that we were in it together—and that felt good.

  I had my mind made up—but I couldn’t tell the guy in the glass.

  I wasn’t worried about me. I was willing to do more than cheat on a lousy test to make sure I wasn’t stuck with my brother and his goons again next year. It was a no-brainer. But it was a different story for Mark. I’d been worrying about him ever since Scott made it real. Mark was my best friend, but he wasn’t like me. If he ever got caught, or if his father found out, it would mean huge trouble.

  “Are you really going to do this thing Scott’s got planned?” I asked him the day before the test. It was only the two of us at lunch. Gavin hadn’t joined us yet.

  “Yeah, I’m doing it. What’re you even talking about?”

  “I know it’s different for you with your dad being on the board, that’s all. I’d understand if you said you were out.”

  “Dude, do you think I’m a wimp or something? Of course I’m doing it. We’re in this together. You joined Mrs. Magenta’s program for me, and now I’m doing this thing with you. We always have each other’s back.”

  That sounded fair, but we both knew I didn’t join that program for him. And Mark was in this because he knew what was at stake for me, and somehow that made me feel even worse.

  The other person I couldn’t stop worrying about was Scott. The only reason that kid was even doing this was to help us—and for what? We hadn’t even been nice to him—at least, I hadn’t. I didn’t know why, but when I got around Scott, I acted a lot like Chris—and I hated Chris. I definitely wouldn’t be excited to help Chris—not with anything. So what did Scott want to help me for? I was the last person he should’ve been helping—but he was, so I was going to make it up to him. I didn’t know how, but I was good at paybacks. I’d figure something out, because I owed him.

  It was the night before the CSAs, and I was sitting in bed, getting ready to turn my light off
. Jane walked in. “I just wanted to tell you good luck on the tests tomorrow,” she said. “I know you’ll ace them.”

  “Thanks.”

  She patted my knee. “Good night.”

  “Good night,” I said.

  What was that all about? Was she trying to be nice? Why did she have to say that about acing the tests? If she was trying to help me relax, that didn’t work. I felt so confused that not even a crystal ball could’ve helped me sort things out.

  When I finally lay back and closed my eyes, I was greeted by the worst night of sleep I’d ever had. Even worse than the night before last year’s state championships, when I tossed and turned and saw Jane every time I dozed. She stared at me from the stands, from across the floor, and from behind the judges’ table. She was in my dreams again tonight, standing over my desk, waiting for me to bubble in my answer. She stood there twirling her thumbs, running out of patience. I glanced across the room to where Scott was sitting. I got his signal and darkened in answer choice “B.” Jane smiled and patted me on the back.

  Anything, just as long as I landed in the advanced group. You do whatever it takes to make it to the top. That shouldn’t even be a question. You don’t even need to think about it. No need for a signal when it comes to that. But I heard one.

  The sound of an alarm rang through the dark. It was fuzzy and faraway in my sleepy world, but it grew closer and louder. I rubbed my eyes and sat up in bed. The fogginess in my brain lifted as the wail of the sirens faded. The noise had been real. Was destiny sending me a warning?

  I always have a hard time falling asleep on Christmas Eve. I can’t wait to see what’s under the tree. I know that’s not the meaning of Christmas, but there’s no way to shake the thought of presents—and frosted cookies!

  Tonight was like Christmas Eve all over again, except it was my turn to play Santa Claus. I was the one bringing the big present to class tomorrow. I was going to make a lot of people happy. I was so excited that when I finally fell asleep, I did it with a smile on my face.