Abigail Linwood. The mention of the name irked Drew to his core. Abigail was the best student in the fifth grade. She aced every test. She never forgot her homework. She always raised her hand, and she always knew the answer. In math class, she won the flash card competition. In language arts class, she won the spelling bee. And her project won first place at last month’s science fair. Her name had become synonymous with academic success, so, of course, many of the other students referred to her as “the teacher’s pet.”
Drew sat in language arts class on a Friday afternoon in late April, doodling in his notebook as Mr. Frye introduced a new assignment.
“Write this down …” Mr. Frye said as he thoughtfully stroked his brown goatee.
But Drew was hardly listening. Half of his attention was focused on his doodling, the other half on Abigail. He watched as she sat rigidly upright in her chair and drilled into her binder every word Mr. Frye said.
That binder, white with big yellow polka dots, was rather mysterious. She always used her arm to guard whatever she was writing in it. That wasn’t out of the ordinary, though. Abigail always guarded everything, whether it was notes, a test, or even a simple in-class worksheet. What really made Drew curious was this: the binder had a lock on it. After Abigail would finish writing in it, or after she added important handouts to it, she would zip it closed, then pull a tiny silver key from her pocket and turn it in a lock attached to the zipper. After a brief glance around, she would slide the key back into her pocket. Whatever was in that binder, she didn’t want anyone to see it.
“And definitely write this down …” Mr. Frye said.
He was always telling the students to write things down. He rarely handed out papers at all. Instead, he had the students write everything in their notebooks. He said he had two reasons for doing so: it required the students to pay close attention, and it helped them remember the information better. Drew thought it did help a little, but it was a pain to stay so attentive.
It didn’t seem hard at all for Abigail, though. She relentlessly copied Mr. Frye’s words into her binder. How was she never tempted to steal a glance at the clock? And didn’t she notice that Tommy, sitting right next to her, was chewing gum in class again? Didn’t she wonder if Mr. Frye would catch him? Mr. Frye busted kids for chewing gum more than any other teacher and he had already caught Tommy three times in the past two weeks. But, as Tommy continued to chomp, Abigail continued to write. And Drew continued to ponder how a kid could stay so focused on class when there were so many other things to think about – like TV shows. And movies. And who was pitching for the Pirates that night. And the bee stuck in the ceiling light. And ruined swing sets. And broken windows. And Mystery Artists.
Drew sighed and looked down at his notebook. What had begun as a sketch of a zombie baseball player had deformed into a random series of crooked lines. He realized he better pay attention to Mr. Frye. The new assignment he was explaining was a special one. It was a contest he held every year called “If I Were Principal.” The students would work in groups of three throughout the following week. At the end of the week, one student from each group would deliver a speech in front of the class.
“This really is a great assignment,” Mr. Frye continued. “The winning team will receive a special, secret prize.”
Heads perked up, and a wave of excitement rippled through the room. Ambitious looks were exchanged among friends, and silent plans already seemed to be forming.
“Dr. Linus will be here for the speeches. She listens to them every year. She likes to hear new ideas. When all the speeches are complete, Dr. Linus and I will choose the winner, and that team will receive the secret prize.”
With this announcement, most of the students sunk back down in their seats. It was already likely that Abigail would win the contest – everyone knew that. But now that the principal herself would help choose the winner, it was a guarantee Abigail would win. Abigail was the student Dr. Linus wanted everyone to be like. There was one major way the other students knew this: Dr. Linus knew Abigail’s name. Dr. Linus didn’t know the names of many students. The ones she did know were of the kids who were sent to her office regularly for bad behavior, or the ones like Abigail, who were so exceptional that they demanded to be noticed. It was as if the principal was only familiar with the very best and the very worst students.
When Mr. Frye finished speaking, Abigail gently placed her pencil on her desk. She leaned back slightly with a barely hidden smile on her face, as if she were already plotting the defeat of her classmates. Or perhaps she was already preparing her victory speech and trying to figure out what her newest prize would be. Regardless, it was a foregone conclusion that she would win the contest, and it was likely that everyone in the class had silently accepted it – everyone except Drew. He was tired of Abigail being the best. Although he rarely talked to her and knew little about her beyond her academic success, he simply did not like her.
Perhaps the root of Drew’s friction with Abigail arose last year when he was having a tough time with math class. He and his dad had spent hours studying for everything that could have possibly been on the upcoming test. When the students got their tests back, Drew turned his over and saw an 89%, his best grade in math all year. But the elation of success was snatched away when he turned and caught a glimpse of Abigail’s 103% (she even got the bonus question right!). Seeing Drew’s score, Abigail had said, “That’s good, Drew. B’s are really good for some people.”
Now Abigail’s mere existence taunted Drew. Every trifle of her being – from the freckles on her nose to the way she held her pencil to the way she protected that polka dotted binder – attracted his disdain. Fed up with feeling inferior, Drew decided it was finally time to knock Abigail off her pedestal.
Mr. Frye allowed the students to pick their own groups. As Drew, Jeff, and Tommy got together, Drew told them how much he wanted to beat Abigail and win the contest.
“I dunno, man,” said Tommy. “Seems like a lot of work for nothing, ‘cause Abigail will probably win no matter what.”
He was staring down at his phone, which he had snuck out of his pocket and was hiding under his desk. He didn’t appear to be texting or looking anything up, but rather mindlessly opening and closing apps.
Drew turned to Jeff. “What about you?”
Jeff shrugged. “I dunno.”
“I’m telling you, we can do this,” said Drew. “Abigail is always winning, always trying to prove how smart she is. This can be our chance. We can do this.” He scanned his friends’ faces, hoping to have uplifted their spirits, but Tommy continued to play with his phone, and Jeff was staring down at a blank piece of notebook paper. Drew knew he’d have to find a better way to entice his friends.
“Tommy, you always wanna win prizes. Well, this could be huge! What if it’s tickets to a Pirate game? Huh? What if the winner gets to meet some of the players, and instead of us going, it’s Abigail?”
“Wait!” Tommy shot up, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Do you really think we could meet the players?”
“Sure,” said Drew. “It could be anything.”
“That would be so sweet. What if we got to take batting practice at PNC Park?”
“So are you in?”
“Yeah, I wanna win. Can we, though? We don’t got an idea, and anyways, I can’t be the one to do the speech. Mr. Frye hates me for no reason. He’d never pick me as the winner.”
“Well, it probably shouldn’t be me,” said Drew. “Teachers usually say I go off topic too much.”
Drew and Tommy looked at the non-committal Jeff.
“Me?” he asked.
“It’s gotta be you! You never go off topic like me, and Mr. Frye never yells at you. You’re our best chance to win.”
“Yeah, Drew’s right. And we have to beat Abigail,” said Tommy.
“And everyone would see me beat Abigail,” Jeff said aloud but intended for himself. “Okay, I’ll do it.”
So Jeff wanted the glory, Tommy wanted the prize, and Drew wanted to beat Abigail. But all three agreed on one common goal: win the contest.
****
On Monday, Mr. Frye gave everyone the entire class period to begin working. After the boys had brainstormed for a while, a gleam of light seemed to flash across Jeff’s mind.
“How about this …” he started but then backed away.
“Go ahead,” said Drew.
“Well, okay, what if the idea was to get the businesses around here to give us gift cards? Like, give us donations, ya know?”
“What would be the point of that?” asked Tommy.
“I mean,” Jeff continued, “the school could get gift cards from all the places we go to. You know, restaurants like Rizzo’s, and maybe Melia’s, and places like that. And those could be rewards for kids for perfect attendance and things like that …”
“Yeah,” said Drew, “Mr. Melia is the best. He’d definitely do it.”
“And getting free stuff is sweet,” Tommy added.
“Yeah, and maybe for the places that donate stuff there could be a program where students volunteer at that place,” Drew suggested. “Just to help clean up and stuff. You know, stuff kids can do.”
“Exactly!” said Jeff. “See, it’ll be good for the school because kids will work harder to get the gift cards. And if the school gets better, then all of Emerson gets better. And then more people would want to move here so their kids can go here. And that would mean more customers for the businesses here.”
The boys noticed that Mr. Frye was standing next to them with an impressed smile on his face.
“I like what I hear,” he said, tapping notes into his tablet. “It looks like this might be one of the best contests in a long time.”
After he walked away, the boys noticed that Abigail and her partners, Lexi and Brooke, were looking at them. Tommy quickly guarded the paper on Jeff’s desk and said, “What are you looking at?”
“Nothing –” Abigail began, but Tommy cut her off.
“Just mind your own business, Abby.”
“My name is Abigail, not Abby.”
“Really? I thought your name was Teacher’s Pet,” Tommy shot back.
Abigail sneered and shook her head. The two groups spent the rest of the period glaring at each other out of the corners of their eyes and discussing their ideas in whispers. It was war.
****
The next day, Mr. Frye gave everyone the second half of class to continue working on their ideas and begin preparing their speeches. At the end of the day, while everyone was getting ready to go home, Abigail was at her locker across the hall from Drew, Jeff, and Tommy.
“Time to go home and study for ten hours, right, Abby?” said Tommy.
“My name is not Abby. And it’s not Teacher’s Pet, either. It’s Abigail.”
“You sure?” said Tommy. “Maybe it’s Suck-Up. Or is it Try-Hard?”
Drew and Jeff felt a bit awkward but laughed along nonetheless.
“That’s not even clever,” said Abigail. “You guys are so dumb.”
“Yeah, well –” Tommy was interrupted as Lexi and Brooke came running down the hall.
“Abigail!” yelled Lexi. “We have to go or we’ll be late!”
“Yeah, c’mon.”
“All right, all right,” said Abigail. She slid two books into her book bag and hurried up the hall behind Lexi and Brooke.
“That was weird,” said Drew. “I wonder where they’re going.”
“Who knows,” said Tommy, “and really, who cares?”
Drew and Jeff shrugged. The hallway was just about empty. A boy and a girl had been casually chatting about 20 feet down the hall, but they were slowly making their way to the door. The boys were also about to leave when something caught their eyes. It was as if all three of them saw it at the same time. A strange silence set on the hallway, as if the next move the boys made was of tremendous consequence. They glanced around; not a teacher was in sight. They looked at each other with widened eyes, and there was little question about what would happen next.
****
“Go go go go!”
“No one followed us, right?”
“I don’t think so.”
“And no one saw us back there, right?”
“No – I dunno – just keep going, man!”
The three boys hurried through Jeff’s front door, up the stairs, and into Jeff’s room as if a swarm of zombies were in hungry pursuit. Jeff locked the door and removed from his book bag the item they were so desperately trying to conceal. He examined it intensely, as if he still didn’t believe such a valuable thing could be in his possession. Then he dropped it on his bed, as if he suddenly realized it could be dangerous. Drew and Tommy stood guard at the door.
“Are you sure no one can open this door?” Drew asked.
“Yeah,” said Jeff, trying to catch his breath, “it’s locked.”
Tommy ran his left hand along the surface of the door and wiggled the knob with his right hand. “You sure? How strong is this lock? Your brother isn’t gonna come barging in, is he?”
“No, this morning my mom said they were going to the store or something after school. And I’m pretty sure a six-year-old can’t break down a locked door.”
Tommy nodded. He and Drew stepped away from the door and stood on each side of Jeff. Jeff hadn’t taken his eyes off the item on the bed. The three of them huddled next to each other in silence, staring down at the brightly-colored binder that seemed to stare right back. In bold, black letters on the front of the binder were these words: PROPERTY OF ABIGAIL LINWOOD. DO NOT OPEN.
****
“What the heck are we waiting for?” said Tommy. “Let’s open it.”
But as Tommy reached for the binder, Drew grabbed his arm.
“Wait,” he said, “are we sure we wanna do this?”
Tommy switched his eyes from the binder to Drew and stared at him in disbelief.
“What do you mean? Why wouldn’t we?”
“Because it’s cheating, isn’t it?”
“Oh, come on,” Tommy scoffed. “It’s not like we stole the binder. We just, you know, saw it sitting there. It’s not our fault stupid Abigail left her locker hanging open.”
“But how can we open it anyway?” Jeff asked. “It has that lock on it.”
“That lock is nothing,” said Tommy. “We can just bust it open with a hammer. Your dad probably has one in the garage, right?” He began scanning around the room. “Unless there’s something in here we can use …”
“Hold on,” said Drew. Everything had happened so fast that he barely realized where he was. The last several minutes were a blur. “I don’t think we should open it. We wouldn’t want them to look at our notes if they found them, right?”
“Right,” said Tommy, “but they would look.”
“I dunno,” said Drew.
“I guarantee they’d look,” Tommy quickly added. “You saw how jealous they got when Mr. Frye said he liked our idea.”
“Then why do we even need to look? We already have a good idea – Jeff’s idea.”
“Dude, why are you scared to open it?” Tommy asked.
“I’m not scared,” said Drew. “I just don’t think we should.”
“You’re thinking about this too much,” said Tommy. “We got Abigail’s binder right here in front of us. You’re the one who wanted to beat Abigail so bad in the first place, right? All we gotta do is open the binder and steal – um, I mean use her ideas.”
Drew looked from Tommy, to Jeff, to the binder, and then back to Jeff and asked what he thought.
“I dunno, I mean, I guess Tommy’s right. It’s not like we planned on taking the binder. It was just … there.”
“Exactly!” Tommy burst, his hands flailing in the air. “Sorry, Drew, but that’s two versus one.”
“Wait,” said Drew, turning to Jeff. “We don’t need to open it. We already spent so much time preparing. The idea you came up with is good. I think you’re gonna win, and we don’t have to cheat to do it. But if we do break that lock and look in the binder … well, we will be cheating.”
“But no one will even know! So what difference does it make?” Tommy said, almost yelling.
“Well,” said Jeff, “Drew might have a point. I don’t wanna be a cheater.”
“Whoa,” said Tommy, his voice taking on a defensive tone and his eyes darting back and forth between the two other boys. “We’re not cheaters. Why would you say that?”
“We would be cheaters if we look in the binder,” said Drew.
“No, this is different. Cheaters are people who are unfair and, like, do bad things on purpose. This is different. We just … look, this is Abigail we’re talking about. You were the one who wanted to win so bad anyways, Drew. You wanted to beat Abigail, remember? Why should we care about her? Do you think she feels bad for us when we get in trouble, or get a bad grade, or get called on when we don’t know the answer?”
“Maybe he’s right,” said Jeff, gazing at the yellow polka-dotted binder with wistful yet cautious eyes.
“Yeah, Drew,” Tommy continued. “Think about how many times Abigail has done stuff to us. Like when she tells on me for chewing gum in Language Arts. Or when a teacher calls on somebody to read and they aren’t paying attention, her arm shoots up and she’s all like, ‘Oh, I can read, I know exactly where we are.’”
“He’s right, Drew,” said Jeff. “She did that to you in Mr. Sawyer’s class last week.”
Drew seethed at the thought of Abigail’s insult.
“See!” said Tommy. “Exactly my point.” He turned to Jeff. “Didn’t she do something to you once?”
“Yeah,” said Jeff, gritting his teeth and shaking his head. “She bumped into me at recess and was like, ‘Sorry, Jake.’ And when Drew said, ‘Uh, that’s Jeff, not Jake,’ she was just like, ‘Oh, whatever your name is.’”
Drew sat on the edge of the bed and tried to think. Was Tommy right? Did Abigail deserve to be cheated? Or was there more to Abigail? He thought back to Trevor and how wrong they were about him. He remembered one of the lessons it taught him: don’t judge a book by its cover.
Abigail probably doesn’t judge books by their covers, he thought. She probably reads every single word of every book (even the words in parentheses).
“What if someone found out?” Jeff suddenly asked.
Tommy looked confused. “How would they? I closed Abigail’s locker after I took the binder.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. I took it and put it in your book bag, then I made sure I closed the locker. So she probably won’t even realize she left it open. The only way someone would find out would be if one of us told somebody. And I definitely wouldn’t tell anyone. Would you?”
“Well, no, of course not,” said Jeff, a bit defensively.
Tommy turned to Drew. “And would you tell anyone if we open the binder?”
Drew paused. A part of him wanted to say he would tell. Maybe then they would just decide not to open it. But he could sense that the three of them were losing trust in each other, and he knew friendship was nothing without trust.
“Look, I know none of us would ever tell anyone, but that’s not the point.”
He thought back again to what his dad had told him about baseball players using steroids, and how victories always felt better when you truly earned them.
“Because here’s the thing,” said Drew, standing back up, “if we look at this binder and then we win, the win wouldn’t be, you know, authentic. I mean it wouldn’t be a real win. Like in baseball, or any sport, you wanna win, but you wanna win on your own.”
He was proud to have connected that idea to the current situation. He looked at Tommy and Jeff, expecting them to finally understand what to do. Instead, Tommy was looking at him like he had been speaking a different language.
“What are you talking about, man? This is about Abigail and the language arts contest. Why are you talking about baseball?”
“I … never mind.”
Tommy didn’t understand, and Jeff still looked confused. Drew realized it was pointless to continue. Apparently he wasn’t able to explain it the way his dad had.
A few moments of frustrated silence passed. Tommy fidgeted with a few quarters on Jeff’s dresser, spinning them on their sides and sliding them around. All three boys periodically glanced at the white binder with yellow polka dots lying on the bed. Drew continued to search his brain for a way to convince his friends that they shouldn’t open the binder. He wished his baseball analogy had worked, but suddenly he had another idea.
“Wait,” he said. “What if Abigail wanted us to take the binder?”
“Huh?”
“What do you mean?”
“Think about it. Tommy, you said it’s Abigail’s own fault for leaving her locker open, but does that really sound like something Abigail would do? Since when does she make mistakes?”
“You might be right,” said Jeff. “It does seem like something a girl would do. You know, act like they don’t want you to look when really they do.”
“Okay,” said Tommy, “Drew might be right. But Abigail was in a hurry, remember? So if we can prove that this is her real binder …” He walked over to the bed and grabbed it. A slight chill went down Drew’s spine. “… then don’t you think we should look in it and guarantee you win?”
“Well …” Jeff paused for a moment.
Watching him think, Drew felt bad that he had put him in such an awkward position. Drew and Tommy had been playing tug of war with his allegiance, and the pressure was clearly weighing on him.
“It’s up to you,” Drew said. “It’s your speech, so we’ll go with whatever you say.” He turned to Tommy. “Right?”
“Um, yeah, of course,” said Tommy, setting the binder back down on the bed.
Jeff took a deep breath. “Okay, here’s what we can do. We’ll see if Abigail has a binder in school tomorrow. If she does, then this one is fake. If she doesn’t, then we’ll know this one is real.”
“And if it is real?” Tommy asked eagerly.
Jeff thought for a moment then slightly nodded a few times, as if he had convinced himself he found an answer. “Then we’ll bust it open.”
Drew sighed, Tommy smiled, and Jeff buried the potential treasure under his bed.
****
The next morning, Abigail did not have her binder with her. The boys figured she could be keeping it in her locker until language arts class, so they waited until then to be sure. Mr. Frye told the class to work on their speeches, which were now just two days away. Drew, Jeff, and Tommy watched as Abigail, Lexi, and Brooke pushed their desks together. Abigail did not have her binder. In fact, she looked very distressed.
Mr. Frye walked over to Abigail and asked her what was wrong. A moment later he made an announcement.
“Listen up, everyone. Abigail’s folder is missing. If anyone –”
“No,” said Abigail. “It is not a folder, it is a binder. It is white with yellow polka dots, and it has a black zipper. And it has my name written on the outside.”
“Okay,” said Mr. Frye. “If anyone finds that, return it to her right away.”
Eventually, Mr. Frye made his way over to Drew, Jeff, and Tommy.
“So how are things going in this group?” he asked. “You’re going to talk about getting local businesses involved with the school, right, Jeff?”
“Um, yeah, we –” Jeff’s words were halted as Tommy nudged at him under his desk.
“Actually,” Tommy interjected, “we’re thinking about going in a different direction. We just have some newer ideas we’re trying to figure out. That’s okay, right?”
“Well, yes, that’s okay, but I think you guys were on the right track before. Are you sure you want to change?”
“We just wanna change a couple things, that’s all,” said Tommy.
“All right, I do want you to keep improving on your ideas. But remember, the speeches are on Friday. You have to be ready.”
“We’ll be ready,” said Tommy. “I mean Jeff will be ready. Right, Jeff?”
Jeff nodded. Mr. Frye eyed the boys somewhat suspiciously before turning his attention to a different group. Drew leaned over toward Tommy.
“What was that?” he asked in an angry whisper.
“That was us getting ready to win the contest.”
****
Hundreds of emotions flowed through the boys as they walked home.
“This is perfect,” said Tommy, hopping in front of Drew and Jeff to walk backwards while he talked. “We got Abigail’s binder. Her actual, stupid, polka-dotted, girly binder. And she has no idea! All we gotta do is take all her ideas and say them before she does. The order for the speeches is already set. Abigail goes last, right?”
“Yeah,” said Jeff. “Mr. Frye probably thinks he’s saving the best for last.”
“Then he’s gonna be in for a surprise,” said Tommy. “I wonder what our prize is gonna be. Maybe Pirate tickets … or Kennywood tickets … or free ice cream in the cafeteria for the rest of the year …” He pulled out his phone as he continued to speculate.
How did all this happen? Drew wondered. All he wanted to do was defeat Abigail and win the contest. But everything had spiraled out of control – certainly out of his control.
As the boys made their way home, Drew tried to get a read on Jeff’s thoughts, and he began to understand why it meant so much to gain the recognition that would come with winning the contest. Jeff often went unnoticed by people. He was a solid baseball player, but he never made the All-Star team. In school, he got B’s on almost every test, whether he studied or not. He didn’t raise his hand enough to reach “teacher’s pet” status, but he wasn’t quiet enough or “bad” enough to warrant any real concern from the teachers. In fact, a few weeks ago Mr. Frye forgot Jeff’s name and replaced it with a hesitant point of his finger that must have poked at Jeff’s self-esteem. But if Jeff’s speech won first place, even Dr. Linus would be forced to know his name. And, perhaps most impressive, Jeff would be the kid who finally handed Abigail her first taste of academic defeat. Doing so would lift him from the shadows and transform him from average kid to legendary champion at Emerson Elementary. Still, Drew didn’t think he had to resort to cheating.
“Anyways,” said Tommy as he put his phone back in his pocket, “you guys ready to go open that binder?” The boys had reached the end of Jeff’s street.
“Now?” asked Jeff.
“Yeah.”
“Hold on,” said Drew. He yet again found himself trying to slow things down. Then he realized he actually had a reason to stall. “I can’t do it now. I have to get home because my mom is taking me over to my dad’s.”
“Is your dad taking you to our game tonight?” asked Jeff.
“Yeah,” said Drew, “so I have to get all the homework done early, ‘cause my dad wants to catch for a little before we leave. And we all wanna open the binder together, right?”
“Yeah,” Jeff nodded.
Tommy paused for just a second before agreeing. The boys would wait until tomorrow, after Melia’s, to open the binder. Once they viewed its contents, Jeff would spend the evening memorizing all of Abigail’s plans for his speech.
The ball game was a nice distraction for Drew. His team won, he had three hits, and, while playing catcher during the second half of the game, he threw out two runners trying to steal second base. But as soon as the final out was called, his attention shifted back to the binder.
Normally, Drew spent the night at his dad’s after a baseball game. He loved reliving the game, inning by inning, with him. But he decided to stay with his mom so he could stop at Jeff’s house in the morning. He would swing by early and take the binder. He didn’t know what he would do with it – maybe he could find a way to get it back to Abigail without her knowing who had taken it. He also didn’t know how he would explain its absence to Jeff and Tommy, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
****
Drew got up early Thursday morning. When he got to Jeff’s, he knocked twice, but there was no answer. This was not uncommon for the Gray family. The door had been unlocked, as it was every morning. He opened the screen door and waltzed in through the living room and into the kitchen.
“Hey, it’s me,” he announced.
Mrs. Gray was facing the counter, assembling the lunches for the day.
“Kelsey!” she yelled. “Do you want ham, turkey, or both?”
She turned to Drew and nodded toward the table with a smile. “Hi, Drew. Did you eat yet? There’s fruit on the table.”
“Turkey with spinach and no cheese!” The request came as a muffled shout from Kelsey’s room upstairs.
Mrs. Gray listened to the response then nodded her head toward the cupboard next to the fridge.
“And I think there are Pop Tarts in the cabinet there,” she said as she threw down slices of turkey and a handful of spinach leaves onto a piece of bread, then neatly arranged the items into a tidy sandwich.
A small football rolled into the kitchen past Drew’s feet and wobbled to a stop. Zane came running in after it, wearing pajama pants and draped in Jeff’s baseball jersey from last year.
“Hi, Drew,” the little six-year-old said as he brushed past Drew and headed to the fridge, abandoning whatever game he was playing with the football. He reached in and pulled out a can of pop.
“Hey, Zane,” said Drew.
“Milk or orange juice, Zane,” Mrs. Gray said at the sound of the fridge opening.
He reluctantly put the pop back in the fridge and reached in with both hands to get the big jug of orange juice. He turned and, with all his might, hoisted it up onto the table. Mrs. Gray grabbed a cup from the cabinet above her head.
“Here. Don’t spill,” she said, extending the cup behind her.
Zane took the cup from her hand to the table and set it down. His eyes switched back and forth from the cup to the full gallon of orange juice. Just as he was about to attempt to pour it, Mr. Gray came into the kitchen.
“Careful there, big guy,” he said, steadying the jug and helping Zane pour the juice.
Zane picked up the glass and chugged. Then he darted over to the cupboard, stood on his toes, reached up with an outstretched arm, and removed a pack of Pop Tarts.
“Hi there, Drew. I bet mornings are a lot calmer at your house, huh?” Mr. Gray said with a smile. Then, to Mrs. Gray he said, “All right, hon, I’m leaving.” After the two exchanged a quick kiss, Mr. Gray told Zane to “be good” and headed out the door.
“Jeff!” Mrs. Gray yelled. “Five minutes! Let’s go!”
Jeff came running down the stairs, and Zane zipped up them, bumping into Jeff on his way.
“Watch it.”
“Sorry, Jeff!”
“You need to get dressed, too, Zane!” Mrs. Gray shouted to the little boy scrambling up the stairs.
“What’s up?” Jeff greeted Drew.
“Just stopping by. Got up early this morning for some reason.”
“Oh, cool. Hey, Mom, did you make –”
“It’s right here,” she said as she handed Jeff a brown paper bag.
“Thanks, Mom.”
“You have all your homework done, right?” she asked.
“Pretty sure,” Jeff answered, reaching into the cupboard. “I thought we had Pop Tarts … Wait a minute … Zane!”
Footsteps rumbled down the stairs, but they weren’t Zane’s.
“Bye, Mom, I’m leaving,” said Kelsey as she headed for the door.
“Don’t forget your lunch,” said Mrs. Gray. She handed it to Drew, who passed it along to Kelsey.
“Thanks,” said Kelsey, smiling.
Drew smiled back. It felt nice to temporarily be a part of the chaotic Gray family assembly line. “You’re welcome.”
“Hey, Jeff,” Kelsey said, walking out the door, “I heard you had a big hit last night. First double of the year, right?”
“Right.”
Drew turned back to the kitchen. Zane had come back down the steps without Drew even noticing. He had changed into jeans and a green t-shirt with a cartoon character on it that Drew didn’t recognize. He stood next to Jeff while Jeff split a Pop Tart in half.
“Which half do you want?” he asked his little brother.
Zane considered his options, pointed, and Jeff handed him the chosen half.
“Zane, do you have your shoes on?” Mrs. Gray asked.
Zane looked down at his feet and frowned.
“No,” he murmured.
Jeff rolled his eyes and shoved the last of his Pop Tart in his mouth. “C’mon, Zane, I’ll help you.”
Zane smiled and ran to get his shoes.
“I gotta help him, then brush my teeth, then we can go,” Jeff said to Drew.
Drew saw his opportunity. “I’ll come up with you guys.”
While Jeff helped Zane tie his shoes, Drew set his book bag on the floor and sat down on the bed, directly above where Jeff had slid Abigail’s binder Tuesday afternoon. When Zane went downstairs and Jeff went across the hall to brush his teeth, Drew reached under the bed for the binder. It wasn’t there. He stuck his head under the bed. All he saw was a pile of action figures. No polka-dotted binder. For a second, Drew felt a sense of relief, as if the binder weren’t there because it never had been – as if they had never taken it in the first place, and it had all been a bad dream. But he snapped out of that daydream when Jeff reentered the room and saw him looking under the bed.
“Where’s the binder?”
“Um, Tommy has it,” Jeff murmured.
“What? Why? When did … Why?”
“He said he was worried Zane would find it. He thought it would be safer at his house. I dunno, man. He called me yesterday and asked for a ride to the game. He came over here first and he took it. I didn’t know what – I wasn’t sure if he should take it, but I didn’t wanna make a big deal, ya know?”
“Why didn’t you say no?” asked Drew.
“I dunno. If I said no, he’d think I don’t trust him or something.”
“Do you trust him?” As soon as the question left Drew’s lips, he regretted asking it. He wasn’t even sure what he expected Jeff’s answer to be, because he didn’t know how he would answer the question himself. “Never mind. But, wait, he took the binder before our game? He had it at the field?”
“In his bat bag,” said Jeff.
Drew could only shake his head. He couldn’t believe Tommy would actually take the stolen binder out in public.
“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know what to do,” said Jeff.
“Do you still wanna open the binder?”
“I just want to win. Just this one time, I want to win.”
****
Drew hoped Tommy would mention the binder as soon as they saw each other at school, but he didn’t. Drew figured he would wait until recess. If Tommy hadn’t brought it up by then, he would.
The morning classes flew by without mention of the binder. Out on the playground during recess, Trevor invited Drew, Jeff, and Tommy into a game of rundown. They accepted, but first Drew pulled Tommy aside.
“Hey, why’d you take Abigail’s binder?”
Tommy seemed slightly annoyed. “It’s safer at my house, that’s all. I got my own room, Jeff doesn’t.”
“But taking it to our baseball game where anyone could open up your bat bag and see it? Is that safer than in Jeff’s room under his bed?”
“Yeah,” Tommy said with a simple nod, as if it were actually true. “Nobody goes in my bat bag. Look, rundown’s starting. Caleb’s playing, too. Let’s go,” he added, dashing off before Drew could muster a response.
After the game of rundown had gone on for a while, Drew, Tommy, Caleb, and Danny were standing to the side. Caleb was reminiscing about a hit he had in last night’s game, reinventing most of the details.
“You shoulda seen it, Danny. I crushed it. It was my second at-bat. I walked my first time up …”
Drew remembered that Caleb had actually struck out his first time up, but he didn’t interrupt his story.
“… and I crushed a double over the left fielder’s head.”
Drew spoke up at this fabrication. “It went through the left fielder’s legs, actually.”
“What? Right, yeah, ‘cause I hit it so hard.”
Drew shrugged. “If you say so.”
“Yeah,” Caleb continued. “The only reason I struck – I mean the only reason I walked my first time up instead of getting a hit was ‘cause of the bat I was using. I used Tommy’s bat when I hit my double. Can I use it again next game?”
“Yeah,” said Tommy.
“Sweet. Oh, I almost forgot, did you find a hammer? If not, I got one at home.”
“A hammer for what?” Drew asked before Tommy had a chance to answer. “A hammer for what?”
“Relax, Drew,” said Caleb. “It’s to help you guys open the you-know-what.”
Drew’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
“I got one,” Tommy said to Caleb.
“Okay. Hey, me and Danny are gonna go spy on those girls over there. You guys wanna come?”
“No,” said Drew, “we have to talk about something.”
After Caleb and Danny walked away, Drew burst out, “You told Caleb?”
“I knew you’d act like it was a big deal,” said Tommy.
“It is a big deal!”
“No, it’s really not.”
“Yes it is!”
“Why?”
“Because it just is,” said Drew. “Caleb’s not in our group.”
“So?”
“What if he tells someone?”
“He’s not gonna tell anyone. He’s not even in our language arts class.”
“He probably already told Danny.”
“Just relax, dude. This is why I had to tell him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Nothing. Are you gonna come over my house to open it with me and Jeff, or are we doin’ it without you?”
Despite not wanting anything to do with the binder anymore, and despite regretting ever taking it in the first place, Drew agreed to be there. Frankly, he was surprised Tommy hadn’t already opened it. He realized that he was no longer mad about Tommy taking the binder – after all, he had tried to do the same thing himself. But he still couldn’t believe Tommy would let Caleb in on it. Drew, Tommy, and Jeff were supposed to stick together and trust each other no matter what. Since when did they need someone like Caleb?
The boys stopped at Melia’s after school. Jeff had forgotten to bring money, but Mr. Melia said he could pick something out and pay him back next week.
After getting their snacks, they went to Tommy’s. Tommy reached under his bed and pulled out the fateful binder, which was now covered with dirt. He reached under a second time and removed a hammer. Because Drew’s dad worked with his hands, hammers had been around the house for as long as he could remember. But it was as if Tommy were holding an object Drew had never seen before. This was no tool for building; this was a tool for breaking.
Tommy tossed the binder onto his bed and extended the hammer toward Jeff. “It’s your speech. You wanna do the honors?”
Jeff reluctantly accepted the hammer. He seemed to study it the same way he had studied the binder the first time he held it. He looked down at the binder and paused.
“Come on, just do it,” Tommy urged.
As the hammer smashed down on the lock, all Drew could think about was how he never wanted to take something that didn’t belong to him ever again. He scanned his friends’ faces. Jeff’s cheeks were pale and his nostrils flared, a sign of heavy breathing. Tommy wore an excited grin, as if he relished the moment. He pulled out his phone and began texting as soon as the lock was broken.
Inside the binder, the boys found notes from social studies class, a handout from Spanish class, and a few papers filled with words so big that the boys gave up on trying to figure out what they were. And then there were the papers for the “If I Were Principal” contest, brimming with detailed ideas.
“This is it. It’s all here,” said Jeff.
“This is perfect,” Tommy gushed.
The boys had in their possession the exact words to Abigail’s speech. She had even written “Pause for effect” at certain points.
The boys decided that Jeff would spend the night doing his best to memorize those words – Abigail’s words. His idea about involving local businesses with the school was a distant memory.
****
It was Friday. The students filtered into Mr. Frye’s classroom, bringing with them the bustling action from the hallway. All the clatter came to an abrupt halt, though, as soon as they saw that Dr. Linus was sitting in a seat in the front row sorting some papers on the desk. She didn’t look up as the room began to fill, but she didn’t need to – her presence alone could drown all the noise from the kids and turn the room into a sanctuary of well-behaved scholars.
When the bell rang, Dr. Linus made her way to the podium in the front of the room.
“Hello, class. Thank you for having me here on this exciting day. The ‘If I Were Principal’ contest has been going on for six years and is one of the most popular competitions we have here at Emerson Elementary.”
As she talked about the importance of the project, Drew realized he didn’t know much about his principal. In fact, this was the most he had ever heard her talk. When she walked through the halls, Dr. Linus silently patrolled with a sharp glare and a finger point – no words were needed.
“And finally,” she continued, “this presentation is an opportunity for you to use all that knowledge you have gained all year, and put it into action with your own ideas.”
Her final words rang in Drew’s head: “your own ideas.” It was as though they were carefully constructed to eat at Drew’s conscience.
The first speaker was Mitchell. He dragged his feet to the front of the room, looking like he had just rolled out of bed, even though it was sixth period. He had remnants of his lunch on his shirt, cheeks, and, somehow, his forehead. He rambled for a minute or so about why students should be allowed to play video games in every class, and then returned to his seat.
Next was Erin. It was obvious that she had drawn the short straw in her group. Though she was a good student, her speech wasn’t very convincing. She suggested that students should be allowed to wear pajamas to school, but she failed to offer any valid reasons.
Jonathan then waddled to the podium and made the claim that recess should be longer so the kids could get more fresh air and exercise.
Next Jake made his case that kids should be allowed to carry their book bags around all day instead of having to leave them in their lockers, but he talked so quietly that most of his speech was unheard by anyone not in the front row.
The fifth speaker was Mary Beth. She suggested that students should always have off school the day after Halloween. She added that students should be allowed to wear Halloween costumes to school any day in October. Zobby was in Mary Beth’s group, and Drew could see her imprint all over the speech. Halloween was Zobby’s favorite holiday.
Finally it was Jeff’s turn. He looked to Drew and Tommy for a last bit of assurance as he stepped to the podium. Tommy nodded with a slight smirk on his face. Drew also nodded, but with a hint of disappointment he couldn’t hide. But as he watched Jeff settle in behind the podium, he still found himself rooting for him. He knew how much a win would mean for Jeff.
Jeff began his speech with Abigail’s first idea: The Abolition of Homework at Emerson Elementary.
“Kids already work so hard during school that we are exhausted when we get home. Also, we need time after school for other activities, like sports and clubs. Kids who play sports and join clubs become more well-rounded individuals, and everyone knows this. To allow for this, homework should be abolished.”
Drew cringed. He could tell by the way he said it that Jeff didn’t even know what “abolished” meant.
Using the pattern Abigail had laid out, Jeff moved on to part two of the plans from her binder. Drew wanted to watch Abigail as Jeff spoke to see her reaction, but she was in the back of the room. It was her seat in which Dr. Linus was sitting.
“Now, there is one item on the lunch menu that every kid loves: pizza,” Jeff was saying. “If pizza was available to us every day instead of just once a week, kids would be happier and have fuller …” He paused. Two, three, four quiet seconds passed. Then he continued abruptly: “stomachs. This way there will be no growling stomachs in the afternoon, and also all the kids will be happy, and happy kids are more willing to learn. And some people don’t know, but pizza contains all the major food groups, so it is good for you …”
As Jeff finished his speech, Drew felt that he had done a good job (minus that awkward pause), but something about him just wasn’t right. Even though Jeff was standing up there, it was like he wasn’t really there.
Mr. Frye thanked Jeff and announced that it was Abigail’s turn to speak. Drew, Jeff, and Tommy stared as she slowly made her way to the front of the room. They half-expected her to walk right past the podium and run through the doorway and out of the building, crying all the way. But as she approached the podium, Drew saw that her stride was guided by confidence, not fear. She didn’t seem rattled at all. The expression on her face was that of someone who had held a secret and was ready to reveal it.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Before I begin, I would like to thank Dr. Linus for being here. I would also like to thank Mr. Frye for allowing me this opportunity to speak in front of you today.”
Drew, Jeff, and Tommy exchanged bewildered looks. What was she possibly going to say?
“Interestingly enough, the topics of my speech are similar to those of the previous speaker. My ideas, however, are a bit different. First, we all know that most students don’t enjoy homework. However, we also know that homework is imperative to the learning process, for it helps us to develop positive study skills and habits that will benefit us greatly in the future. I would like to suggest a compromise: the teachers should be allowed to reward students with homework passes. When a student completes ten consecutive homework assignments in a class, he or she would be rewarded with one homework pass for that class. Thus, students would strive to complete all their homework and still receive an occasional break. And if students are completing ten out of eleven homework assignments, that would be roughly ninety-one percent, which is higher than the school’s average homework completion rate as it stands now. And although many of us have other activities after school, having homework to complete as well teaches us how to balance activities and manage our time, which, in the long run, will truly help us develop into well-rounded individuals.
“Secondly …”
At this point, Tommy’s fists were clenched upon his desk, and Jeff couldn’t hide the redness that had rushed to his face and ears. It was as if the boys had dug their own graves by opening that binder, and Abigail was shoveling dirt over their coffins with each word she spoke.
“I’m sure everyone here is familiar with the phrase ‘too much of a good thing.’ Well, that phrase certainly would apply if, as was mentioned by the previous speaker, we had pizza for lunch every single day. I have an idea that involves the lunch menu, but it revolves around variety instead of monotony …”
The three boys were too shocked and angry to hear the rest of Abigail’s speech. All they could do was sit in disbelief that she had actually set them up. Drew had been right. They had stolen a fake binder, a decoy.
After Abigail’s speech, Mr. Frye and Dr. Linus convened by the doorway for a few minutes, whispering to each other and pointing to notes they had taken during the speeches. The class sat and waited for them to announce their decision, but they all knew exactly what they had known from the beginning: Abigail would be the winner. Their ears only remained attentive so they could find out what the secret prize was.
“There were several good ideas presented today,” Mr. Frye said. “And every speaker should be very proud of his or her self. But there can be only one winner …”
Dr. Linus picked up where Mr. Frye left off. “Yes, I was very impressed with what I heard today. There were a lot of creative ideas. Maybe some of you will become principals someday …”
Just get it over with already, Drew thought.
“But there can only be one winner today,” the principal continued, “and the winner is … the team of Abigail, Brooke, and Lexi.”
The rest of the students offered unenthused applause and waited to hear what the secret prize would be.
“And for their prize, they will each receive a twenty-five-dollar gift card to Melia’s Market.”
****
When the school day ended, Drew went straight to Abigail’s locker. He didn’t want to confront her or yell at her about tricking the boys. He just had one question to ask her. As he approached her, she was inserting her binder – her real, white binder with the yellow polka dots – into her book bag. Drew could see now that the binder they stole was pristine, while Abigail’s actual secret binder showed signs of wear.
“Abigail –”
She turned from her locker. “Please do not say I did anything wrong. You were the ones who took my binder.”
“I know, I know. But that’s what I wanna ask you about.”
“Oh. What?”
“Well, you set us up, I get that. You left that fake binder in your locker for us to see, but how did you know we would take it? And how’d you know we’d open it?”
“Honestly,” said Abigail, “I wasn’t sure if you would. And I wasn’t sure if Jeff would. But I knew Tommy would.”
Without Drew saying anything, she continued. It seemed like she felt the need to say more.
“I didn’t even want to do it. It was Lexi’s idea, and she convinced Brooke to do it. So I had to go along with it. But I didn’t think I needed to. No offense, but I was confident I could win on my own.”
“Well, the plan did work, and you did win.”
“I know, but …” she stopped and shook her head. Drew realized she didn’t look as proud, or as satisfied, as he thought she would. In a way, she looked like she was the one who had lost.
“But what?” Drew asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve won things before, and it always feels good to win. I work really hard.”
Drew nodded. Despite the fact that some things came easier to Abigail, he had to admit she worked hard.
“And this win just doesn’t feel as good,” she said.
She shrugged at him in a sort of apologetic way and then left. Drew walked down the steps to where he, Jeff, and Tommy usually met at the end of the day. Jeff stood there with his hands plunged into his pockets and his head hanging low.
“I’m sorry, man,” said Jeff. “I blew it.”
“It’s okay,” said Drew. “So we didn’t beat Abigail, and we didn’t win the prize, but now you know that your original idea was actually really good.”
Jeff lifted his head. “Yeah, I guess so. I guess we shoulda stuck with it. And we never shoulda taken that stupid binder.”
Tommy came stomping toward them, shaking his head. He said he hated Abigail more than ever and he was going to burn the fake binder he had at his house. Then he said he didn’t even care about the prize anymore because he could still go to Melia’s whenever he wanted. He spotted Caleb about 20 feet away and said he had to go because he was going over Caleb’s house. He strode toward Caleb, and the two of them took off down the sidewalk. Drew and Jeff watched as they drifted farther and farther then disappeared.