The Perfect Score

  Ms. Speer’s eyebrows jumped. “What is your name, young lady?” she asked.

  “Ms. Kurtsman,” I said, looking her in the eye the way Mother had trained me to do. A good lawyer knows how to make a person on the stand squirm, how to melt a juror with just her gaze.

  “Kurtsman? Why do I know that name?”

  “My parents are accomplished lawyers. Let’s go have a chat, shall we? Counselor to counselor.”

  My tactic worked. The lady in black saw she wasn’t getting anywhere with the rest of my class. Their lips were sealed—even Scott’s. She followed me out of the classroom.

  Great! But now what?

  I had no idea.

  Talk about connecting with a book, like teachers were always harping about. The kid in Nothing But the Truth gets buried under a lie that snowballs out of his control, and he fails to do the one thing that can help his situation—tell the truth. No one is better off in the end.

  Woods finished reading that story to us on a Monday morning, but we never got a chance to talk about it, ’cause in walked Mr. Allen, Magenta, and a couple other people looking for answers—for the truth!

  I’m not gonna lie. I was scared. All of us were, except maybe Scott, ’cause he didn’t know any better—and Kurtsman. If she was scared, she didn’t show it. She went toe-to-toe with that dragon lady in black and lured her away with some fancy lawyer talk. We had one last shot at a Hail Mary pass before time ran out, and Kurtsman was our quarterback. But was she playing for our team or theirs? Was she trying to protect us or save her own skin? I still didn’t trust her, but none of that mattered. Sooner or later I’d have to come clean with the guy in the glass.

  At the bigger gymnastics competitions, you can feel the tension in the air, especially when the scores are close. You spend hours sitting on pins and needles. It’s nerve-racking and exciting, but as soon as you learn you’ve lost, the feeling changes. Your body tingles with disappointment as that realization sinks in.

  I’d experienced these emotions and sensations many times, but never were they as strong as when the suits showed up and took my teacher. My body tingled all over, but not with disappointment. My worst fears were coming true. What was going to happen when Jane found out? I’d dealt with her after tough losses, but this was going to be way worse. Not only was my transcript going to be ruined, but there’d be a big red flag on it for the rest of my life. I didn’t need a psychic or crystal ball to see my future. I could kiss all those great colleges and scholarships goodbye. No one would ever want a cheat—including Jane.

  After Natalie left with that Ms. Speer woman, I looked over at my collage. My mean old farting teacher sketch was still hanging there. I got out of my seat and walked over and tore that picture and my collage off the wall.

  Mrs. Woods was my teacher—and I liked her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. We had.

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

  ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #27

  May: Affidavits

  “I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth…”

  This sentence is recited by every person who takes the stand, but that is not the only time or place it matters. It also counts when giving an affidavit. An affidavit is a written statement detailing the history of a certain event. Your statement is a sworn testimony, which means you give it under oath and sign your name to it. There are penalties for giving a false affidavit. For lying. That is called perjury. You can go to jail for perjury.

  I should mention that you’re never asked to give an affidavit for some wonderful occurrence. You’re only asked to give your version of the story when something bad has transpired, when there is an investigation and your testimony is part of that investigation.

  I explained all this to my classmates, and then we were moved to separate locations to prepare our statements. It was time to do the right thing. But what about my friends? What if my story contradicted theirs? I had to believe they would do the right thing as well. This had gone on long enough.

  I took all day to compose my affidavit. It began, “This is my sworn testimony. Everything hereafter is the truth, as best as I can remember it….”

  There was much to tell leading up to the tests, and I included everything. It was one of the bravest things I’ve ever done.

  Here’s how my statement went:

  To the Mean People in Black Suits:

  Natalie says an affidavit is you telling the truth about what happened. That no matter how scary or painful it is to tell the truth, that’s what you’ve got to do, because if you’re caught lying, you will be in big trouble. We’re talking trouble with the police and maybe even time in the slammer.

  I’ll tell you the truth, because I want to help fix the mess I created. And I’ll write it all down for you even though I don’t write—ever. I hate writing. It’s hard. But Mrs. Woods said I’d write when it was important to me, and this is important.

  So here’s what happened. And it’s the truth. If I could swear it on my favorite dead dog’s grave, I would (but I can’t, because Mom never let me have a dog). So I’ll swear it on my grandpa’s old house, because that’s important in this story….

  These lawyer people were ready to pin the whole thing on Mrs. Woods unless they got answers. Not long ago I would’ve thought that was cool. But not now. Things had changed. I wasn’t that same kid anymore. I couldn’t let this go down. I had to do something. I had to tell them something.

  I never mentioned Natalie’s name or anyone else’s, and I didn’t say anything about being a mistake, but I told them why I cheated. I told them all about Brian and his goons. I wrote it all down.

  And the truth…

  …shall set you free.

  Mr. Allen contacted our parents to tell them about our cheating scandal. He told our moms and dads that he’d be holding a meeting in the near future, at which time he would answer questions and share more information. After making those calls, he stopped by our classroom.

  “I don’t know how all your parents will handle this news,” he said. “I want you to be prepared when you get home.”

  I was definitely not prepared. I was scared. I steadied myself, expecting to find the worst Jane I’d ever seen, but she didn’t say one word about it. She never brought it up. Not on that day or any day. This wasn’t the silent treatment—we’d been there and done that. If anything, Jane was talking to me more, just not about the big stuff. We were beginning to have conversations during our car rides to and from gymnastics, but we managed to talk without saying anything important.

  “How was school?” It was nice to have her asking me that, but I never gave her much for an answer.

  “It was good.”

  “That’s nice. I was thinking of making grilled chicken salads for dinner tonight.”

  “Okay.”

  “Have a good workout.”

  “Okay.”

  We needed to practice talking to each other like I needed to practice gymnastics. This was how things went until the night before Mr. Allen’s special meeting. We’d barely gotten back from the gym when I walked into the kitchen to get a drink. Jane had picked up the mail and was reading a letter. She had her back to me, so she didn’t know I was there. I stood silently, waiting until she finished. I watched the letter fall to the ground, her hands cover her face, and her body begin to rock and shake in sobs.

  “Are you all right?” I rushed over to her.

  She threw her arms around me and squeezed.

  “Mom?” I barely whispered.

  She squeezed harder, and then she let go and ran up the stairs.

  I picked the letter up off the floor and looked at it. It was a copy of my affidavit, the one where I wrote about the suffocating pressure I felt at home, and how it was because of Jane that I made an unconscionable decision. Everything I’d ever wanted to say but never had was written in my statement—and Jane had just read it all. I wasn’t relieved. I felt dizzy and sick to my
stomach.

  I threw my letter in the trash and walked back upstairs. Jane was locked in her room. I wanted to knock on her door, but I didn’t.

  She was still locked in there when I left for school the next day.

  They told Woods to take a break while they did their investigating. That made me sick, ’cause she had nothing to do with any of this mess. It didn’t look good for her, though, ’cause of that argument she’d had with Mr. Allen. So we got stuck with a sub covering our class, sorta like a backup QB who’s thrown in at the end of a game ’cause his team is getting blown away. It’s a toss-up who gets sacked more, backup QBs or substitute teachers, but we took it easy on our sub this time around. We were already in enough trouble. How much? We were about to find out.

  My old man decided to attend Mr. Allen’s special meeting. He’d never gone to a school event of mine before—he was usually working, and this wasn’t his sorta thing—but tonight was different. This was a big deal. Even Mrs. Woods showed up, and I wasn’t sure she was supposed to be there. I hoped that meant they were done with their investigation and had decided she was innocent.

  I sat next to Dad, staring at the cafeteria floor, thinking that this was probably the first time most of these people had seen my old man, the high school dropout plumber guy sitting in the middle of all these fancy clothes and college degrees. I was relieved when Mr. Allen finally got things started. At least then I knew all those eyes were on him and not us.

  “Good evening,” Mr. Allen said. “Thank you for coming tonight. Thank you for your patience and understanding while we conducted our investigation and collected information. We had plenty to sort through.”

  It’s hard to listen when your brain won’t slow down. I kept replaying it all—the tests, cheating, the suits showing up, my interview, everything—over and over in my head. What I did. What I shoulda done. What I shoulda said. It was all on continuous replay. I was a coach analyzing where his team had gone wrong. If I coulda taken it back, I woulda, but this was real life, not some fairy tale. I heard Mr. Allen when he first started talking, but then I didn’t hear another word—not until someone different spoke.

  “Mr. Allen,” Dad said, rising from his chair. “My name’s Mike Davids. I’m Gavin’s father. I was hopin’ to share a few thoughts.”

  “The floor is yours,” Mr. Allen said.

  What in the world was my old man gonna say? Didn’t he realize he was surrounded by smarter people than him?

  “I agree, our children did somethin’ terribly wrong, and for that there needs to be a consequence. But I also believe they did somethin’ important. They got us here talkin’ about what needs to be talked about. We should all be askin’ ourselves who’s really at fault in all of this. Do we mean it when we say give us your best and we’ll be happy?

  “The people behind these all-important CSAs don’t ask for effort grades, Mr. Allen. They don’t care if everyone is tryin’ their best, perseverin’, and improvin’. They’re only interested in one score, and judgin’ any kid or teacher or school on one test score is wrong. Plain and simple. So our kids gave them what they wanted. What we as parents wanted. What you wanted.

  “Readin’ didn’t come easy for me, and it hasn’t come easy for Gavin. There are plenty of things I can teach my son, but readin’ isn’t one of them. I still don’t read all that well, and his mother, who isn’t from this country, can’t read much English, but Gavin hasn’t given up.”

  Why did he have to say that about Mom? What were all these people thinking of her now? So what if she couldn’t read much English? I bet Randi woulda taken my mother over her own.

  “Gavin’s struggled, but he’s kept workin’,” my old man went on. “And now he’s made readin’ a part of our house for the first time by sharin’ books with his little sister every night. This has happened because of Mrs. Woods and because of Mrs. Magenta’s amazin’ after-school program—not the CSAs.

  “Mr. Allen, I read my son’s affidavit, and I can’t even begin to tell you how proud I am of him. It takes an honest person and a strong person to admit when he’s made a mistake. It’s not an easy thing to do, especially when the truth hurts, but our children have spoken, and now we need to listen. I hope the people behind these tests and the rest of us can admit where we’ve gone wrong, too, and start makin’ changes.”

  My old man finished his piece and sat back down. No one said a word. The cafeteria was silent. He’d given these people something to think about. Then Mrs. Kurtsman got to her feet and started clapping, and soon everyone else joined in. The room filled with applause. I saw Mrs. Woods smiling at her former student, but I didn’t see anything after that. I had to wipe my eyes.

  My father isn’t a nobody. He’s a leader. He’s the smartest man I know….I hope I can be like him someday.

  “I hope your principal can give us some answers tonight,” Dad said. We were getting ready for the special meeting. Dad had been upset ever since Mom first told him about Mr. Allen’s phone call. “Someone’s to blame for this, and I’d like to know who.”

  I had the answers but I was too scared to tell him and he didn’t bother to ask. I wasn’t in school to take the CSAs when everyone else did. I took the make-up exams on my own, so Dad didn’t think I had anything to do with the cheating. He should’ve known by now that I was the best at making messes, not avoiding them.

  “Good evening, gentlemen,” Mrs. Woods said to Dad and me when we walked into the cafeteria.

  I smiled. I was glad to see my teacher. Dad nodded.

  “I thought you’d like to see this,” Mrs. Woods said. She handed my father a stapled packet.

  “What’s this?” he said.

  “Your son’s written statement.”

  “His what?”

  “They mailed the others, but I asked Mr. Allen to hang on to Scott’s so that I could be the one to give it to you. I know you’ll be pleased. I’m very proud of him.”

  “You wrote this?” Dad asked, turning to me.

  I nodded.

  When he flipped through the pages, there was no hiding his surprise. Dad’s wide eyes and raised eyebrows gave him away. “You wrote all this?!”

  “It was important to him,” Mrs. Woods said, winking at me. I winked back.

  Dad and I found a place to sit, and he began reading. I worried he was going to get upset with me the more he read, because I did all truth-telling in my affidavit like Natalie told me I needed to. But before Dad got done, Mr. Allen started the meeting, and before Mr. Allen finished, Gavin’s father stood up and said a bunch of smart stuff that made everyone clap.

  That was when Dad leaned closer and wrapped his arm around my shoulders and gave me a firm squeeze. “What you did was wrong, you know that?” he said.

  I gulped and nodded.

  “But if the world had more hearts like yours in it, we’d be a much better place. I love you, son. I’m proud of you.”

  I didn’t think I could feel any better, but then Mr. Allen finished things off in the best way possible.

  “Again, I’d like to thank all of you for coming tonight,” he said. “Within the next few weeks I should learn what penalties have been given to Lake View Middle School. I’ll share that information as soon as it becomes available.

  “As for our students, it is up to me to find an appropriate consequence, and we all agree that there needs to be a consequence. I’ve thought long and hard about this and have decided to mandate enrollment in Mrs. Magenta’s program starting this summer and continuing throughout the next school year. I realize this might mean canceled trips, vacations, and camps for some of you, and I apologize for that, but this was no small wrongdoing, so that warrants a response that is both meaningful and of significance.”

  I had to hold my breath to keep from cheering. Others may have been upset, but I wasn’t. This meant I got to spend my summer with my friends. Mr. Allen winked at me, and I gave him two thumbs-up and a big smile. He had a deal!

  NATALIE KURTSMAN

 
ASPIRING LAWYER

  Kurtsman Law Offices

  BRIEF #28

  May: What?!

  Mother was speed-walking across the parking lot, and I hadn’t a clue why, but I did my best to keep up with her. It reminded me of that time when I left Scott in the dust on our way to the office all those months ago. Boy, how things change.

  “Mike,” Mother called. “Mike!”

  Gavin’s father stopped and turned around. So did Gavin. We caught up to them.

  “Hi, Gloria,” Gavin’s father said.

  “What you said in there,” Mother started, “it was…You’re a special man, Mike.”

  “You’re not so bad yourself.”

  The two of them stepped closer and hugged. What?! Gavin and I looked at each other, searching for an answer. There was no glaring or staring, only shock and bewilderment on our faces. Did we miss something? What just happened? Our two parents let go and stepped back. I noted the disgusted expression Gavin wore now.

  “Good night,” Mother said.

  “Good night, Gloria.”

  They went their way and we went ours. It all happened so fast. I was simply dumbfounded. Clearly Mother had more to tell me when we got in the car, so I hoped she was prepared to do some explaining.

  All it took was one hug in the parking lot, and I went from thinking my old man was the best to thinking he was an idiot. I climbed in our truck and slammed the door behind me.