2

Tuesday started off pitch black. Something was pressed against Ted’s face. He blinked, eyelashes scraping paper, and realized that he had fallen asleep face-first in his history notes.

Ted sat up, rubbing his sore neck. Light was just beginning to shine through the window shade.

Maybe I still have time to go back to sleep for a little bit, he thought.

Right on cue, his alarm went off.

“Ugghhh.”

He threw on some clothes that smelled clean enough and trudged over to the bathroom, the old wood floor in the hall squeaking in protest under his feet.

You and me both, buddy, Ted thought.

He splashed cool water on his face, brushed his teeth, retrieved his backpack, and went downstairs to meet his mom by the front door.

“Did you get breakfast, Teddy?” she asked, putting on a swipe of pink lipstick in the small entryway mirror.

Ted shook his head. “Nope. No time.”

“Go grab an apple from the kitchen,” said his mom, clicking the lipstick closed. “You can eat it on the way.”

Apple in hand, he climbed into the minivan a moment later.

His mom held the steering wheel with one hand and patted at a wrinkle in her dress with the other. “Shoot. I must have missed this one with the iron. How obvious is it?”

Ted squinted over at her. “I can tell that the dress is wrinkled, but it’s not too bad.”

She sighed. “Thanks, kiddo.” She started the engine and began to pull out of the driveway.

Ted let his eyes close and his head lean against the seat cover. He felt floppy, as if someone had let the air out of him.

“Just so you know,” his mom said, “I’m going to have meetings all day tomorrow, starting pretty early in the day.”

“Earlier than this?” asked Ted.

She shook her head. “You don’t even want to know what time it starts.”

“When?”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“Five thirty.”

“Gross!”

She laughed, pausing to let a mail truck pass them. “Gross indeed. I’m telling you now because it means I won’t be able to drive you to school tomorrow or to pick you up afterward. You’ll need to take the bus.”

Ted grunted in acknowledgement.

“I’ll leave a reminder note and some money on the kitchen table.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

* * *

The rest of Tuesday morning went by in a haze—try to pay attention, doze off, try to pay attention, doodle, and repeat. By the time Ted felt almost awake, it was already lunch. He was sitting against a locker in the math wing of the school, holding a roast beef sandwich halfway between his face and his lap.

“You in, Ted?”

Ted looked up from his sandwich.

Jenn and Adam were both staring at him.

“Sorry, what?”

“After Adam’s piano recital on Thursday night,” Jenn repeated, “a bunch of us are probably going to the diner for burgers and shakes. Are you in?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Ted, putting the sandwich down. “I have to check with my mom first, but count me in.”

Jenn frowned. “Are you all right? You seem really out of it today.”

“Yeah, real ‘Night of the Living Ted’ material,” Adam joked, scooping more salsa onto a tortilla chip. “You alive?”

“Just tired, that’s all. Tomorrow’s history test is really messing with me,” Ted admitted. He ran a hand through his hair. “I tried studying for it last night and fell asleep in my notes.”

“At least you got to study,” said Jenn. “Soccer practice ran late last night and I had a science project due today.”

They both turned to Adam, who had a strange smile on his face.

Jenn put her orange juice down. “What’s that look about?”

Adam put his hands together. “What if I told you guys that you didn’t need to study for the test?”

Ted felt goose bumps up and down his arms. “What do you mean?”

Adam arched an eyebrow. “I mean, Teddy Bear, that something glorious has happened.” He looked up and down the hallway and lowered his voice. “You know how the pencil sharpener in the history room is right by Ms. Stevenson’s desk, and how my dad always buys me those awful old-fashioned, off-brand pencils that I have to spend ages sharpening?

“Well, I was sharpening my pencil in history class this morning,” Adam continued as soon as the juniors were out of earshot, “and I noticed that good old Ms. Stevenson left her purse open on the floor next to her desk. Sticking out of it was—”

“Oh my god,” Jenn said in a hushed voice.

“The answer key to tomorrow’s unit test,” said Adam, grinning. He took a swig of his soda, smacking his lips.

Jenn tilted her head back against the wall of lockers, watching him. “Did you do what I think you did?”

Ted held his breath.

Adam laughed. “I did.” He fished his cell phone out of his pocket, tapped on the screen, and held it up for them to see. “Lady and gentleman, I present to you a picture of the answer key.”

“You evil genius,” squealed Jenn, clasping her hands together. “You’re officially my favorite person. Text it to me!”

“Coming right up,” said Adam. “Ted, do you want it too?”

Ted swallowed. “I . . . I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?” demanded Jenn.

“Isn’t that, uh . . .” Ted paused, feeling clammy in his sweatshirt. “Cheating?”

“I mean, technically, yes,” said Adam. “But I like to think of it as a shortcut to your grade. You could get there the long way, by spending the rest of tonight studying, or you could get there the short way with the answer key.”

“Also, my mom says that tests and grades can’t capture the human spirit,” Jenn added.

“Yeah, that too,” said Adam. “Besides, it’s kind of Ms. Stevenson’s fault for leaving the answer key visible like that.” He frowned down at his phone. “The service is terrible down here. My text isn’t going through. I’ll just write them out for you later, Jenn. I was going to make a paper cheat sheet for myself anyway. If I make them small enough, we can fold them up in the palms of our hands to sneak into the test.”

“Amazing,” said Jenn. “Thank you!”

“No sweat,” Adam replied.

Ted wiped at his sticky forehead. “Aren’t you guys worried about getting in trouble?”

Jenn rolled her eyes. “If Ms. Stevenson didn’t notice that the answers were sticking out of her bag, do you think she’ll notice anything else? Besides, what she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.”

The bell rang again, ending lunch.

“Look, Ted, we’re not going to make you take the answers,” said Adam. “It’s up to you.” He stood up.

Ted took a deep breath and smiled thinly up at him. “I think I’m going to pass. Thanks, though.”

Adam shrugged. “Your loss, dude.” He turned to Jenn. “Ready for Spanish?”

Jenn nodded. She stood and swung her backpack onto one shoulder. “See you, Ted.”

Ted stayed where he was sitting and watched them walk away. He looked down, realizing he was still holding his roast beef sandwich. He wasn’t even hungry anymore. Guess I’ll be studying on my own for this one, he thought.

* * *

Ted sat in a third-row desk in English class, next to a pair of theater kids, Fred and Rosie. They were too busy comparing their notes in the margins of The Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet to care that Ted wasn’t contributing to the group activity again.

“I’m just saying, I think that Juliet’s mom would have picked up on that here,” said Fred.

“Lady Capulet had no idea what she was dealing with,” Rosie shot back. “You can’t expect her to see what the audience sees.”

Fred rolled his eyes.

If I cheated on that test, thought Ted, would my mom be able to tell? Would Ms. Stevenson?

In his notebook, Ted drew a stick figure woman with a wrinkled dress, like his mom’s, and two arching lines for arms flung up in a shrug as if to say, “You tell me, kiddo.”

He added two circles and a line to her face, giving his drawing a pair of glasses. He went to add dots for her eyes but then hesitated, his pencil hovering above the paper.

It didn’t matter. He had made a good call by not taking the answers. It would have been the wrong thing to do. Ted knew that, even as he pictured the history test sitting blankly in front of him the next morning, on a desk just like this one. He had made the right choice.

Right?

“Either way, it ends badly,” Ted mumbled.

“It sure does,” said Fred, flipping through the pages of the play.

* * *

That night, Ted sat at his desk again and stared down at his study guide, history textbook, and notes. He’d hoped that, somehow, everything he needed for the test tomorrow was just stuck in his brain and that by now some of it would have shaken loose.

It hadn’t. Ted sighed and rubbed his neck, feeling just as unprepared as he had the day before. Ted didn’t know much about the California gold rush, but he did know two things for sure: he wasn’t ready for this test, and he was running out of time.