7

The next morning, Ted was up and dressed before his alarm went off.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had been this awake this early. He felt like he was seeing the world through a morning person’s eyes for the first time in his life. The pens and papers were splayed across his desk the way he had left them the night before, and the floorboards still squeaked the way they always did when he went to brush his teeth, but the light coming in through the windows was paler, and the world was quiet. Peaceful.

On the ride to school, Ted held his backpack in his lap with what he had finished the night before tucked inside.

His mom bobbed her head to the music playing over the car radio.

Thankfully, this time it was some song Ted didn’t know. They must have hired someone new at the radio station.

“I didn’t hear you go to bed last night,” his mom said after the last chorus had ended. “How late did you stay up?”

“I don’t really know,” Ted admitted. “It was pretty late, though.”

“My kid?” his mom asked, surprised. She turned the radio off. “Up late and then up early?”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” said Ted, shrugging. “I was pretty much just in the zone until I finished my project.”

“So it would seem,” his mom said, raising her eyebrows as they reached a red light. “Are you going to let me see this mystery project of yours?”

Ted paused, then nodded. He unzipped his backpack, pulled the project out, and handed it to her.

His mom took it, carefully. The minivan engine hummed as she flipped through each of the pages.

“Oh, Teddy.”

Ted looked up at her and saw her face brightening with the first real smile he’d seen in days.

“Is that a good ‘oh, Teddy’ or a bad ‘oh, Teddy?’” he asked.

“It’s good. You’ve done an incredible job.”

She handed Ted back his project, and he put it back in his bag as the light turned green again.

“Do you think she’ll like it?” asked Ted.

“I don’t know, kiddo,” his mom replied. “I can only speak for me.” She checked the rearview mirror. “Speaking for me, though, I think it might help.”

“You do?”

“I do,” said his mom. “You can’t change what you did—”

Not again, anyway, thought Ted.

“But you can show her that you care, and that your heart is in the right place, even if your brain wasn’t,” she said, shooting him a look. “That might not go a long way with her, but it certainly does with me.”

They pulled up in front of the school.

Ted turned to her and, letting his backpack fall to his feet, leaned over and gave his mom a huge hug.

“Thank you so much, Mom. I love you.”

“I love you too, Teddy.”

“I promise never to do this again.”

She smiled down at him and ruffled his hair. “Good. Now get out there and make this right, or as close to right as you can.”

“I’ll try.”

* * *

Ted’s early start meant that Jenn and Adam were not yet in their usual places—they weren’t waiting by the front door of the school, and when he glanced down the hall at Jenn’s locker he didn’t see them there either.

He couldn’t tell if he felt relieved or not. He had to admit, though, it was weird not seeing them.

Ted took the long way to the history classroom. He passed the door once, and then looped back around to get a sip of water from the drinking fountain before class. As he bent down to the spigot, he felt someone’s eyes on the back of his head.

Turning, he saw Nina waiting for a turn at the fountain. Okay. Be cool, Ted, he thought. Everything is fine. Ordinarily, he would’ve awkwardly shuffled aside without saying a word. But today he decided to try something new. “Hey, Nina,” he said. “How’s it going?”

She looked surprised—which was understandable since he’d never spoken to her before. “Uh, hey, Ted. Just gonna get a drink of water.”

“Right. Of course. All yours.”

He stepped out her way, his whole body humming with nervous tension. Okay, that didn’t go so bad—

“Have you been sick? I noticed you weren’t in class yesterday.”

Nina Alvarez had noticed him? Or at least the absence of him? This was a breakthrough.

Or would’ve been, under different circumstances.

“Uh, yeah, I . . .” Somehow she must not have heard what had really happened. It occurred to him that he could easily lie—say he’d had a stomach bug or something—but he didn’t want his first-ever conversation with Nina to be a dishonest one. Instead he said, “Yeah, I got an in-school suspension for cheating on the history test. Not my proudest moment.”

Nina pursed her lips. “Seriously? You cheated in Stevenson’s class? That’s so messed up.”

“Agreed,” he said. “Temporary lapse of judgment. But I’m a changed man now.”

“Okaaaaay,” Nina said. “Whatever.” She leaned down to take a gulp of water, and Ted realized she was probably done talking to him.

“Well, see you in class,” he said with an awkward wave, turning to head off down the hallway. He exhaled and ran his hands through his hair.

All right, he thought. That was awkward and embarrassing, but I guess I deserved it.

* * *

Following in twos and threes, his classmates entered the room and took their seats. Ted drew a vine snaking around the edge of his notebook. His hands were clammy on his pencil as he watched the door, half-hoping that Adam and Jenn would show up and half-hoping that they wouldn’t.

Just before the bell rang, the door swung open. Adam and Jenn strolled in, laughing about something.

Ted tried to swallow the lump of jealousy in his throat when he saw that they had matching bottles of iced tea from the vending machine.

They sat down.

“Good morning, everyone, and happy Friday!” said Ms. Stevenson. “Please open your textbooks to chapter five.”

Ted felt a soft poke on his back, and then a folded paper square landed in front of him on his desk.

He opened it.

You didn’t answer my texts last night, read the note in Adam’s handwriting. Fighting with you feels weird. We lost our cool and said some messed up things. We were embarrassed that we got caught cheating, and we shouldn’t have taken that out on you. Can we rewind and skip what happened?

The corner of Ted’s mouth twitched. Going back and changing things hadn’t exactly been a winning strategy in the last few days.

Ted stared down at the paper, thinking. Then he pressed his pen to the paper and drew a little remote with just one button, which he decorated with two small triangles.

Thanks for apologizing. We can’t really go back, he wrote, but I think we can probably get past it. If you promise to go easier on me and other people, we could fast forward to things being cool again. If you want.

He tossed the note back over his shoulder.

After a minute or two, Adam flicked it back onto Ted’s desk.

Deal, Adam had written. I’m going to pay attention now. Oh, and don’t worry about Jenn. She’s stubborn, but she’ll come around.

Well, thought Ted, she’s not the first person to be mad at me this week.

He glanced over to his left, at Jenn’s desk. She stared at her paper, taking notes on what Ms. Stevenson was saying. It was a safe bet that there would be no folded paper squares coming from her direction.

At the front of the room, Ms. Stevenson pointed to a map of the United States.

“We really can’t talk about this time period without talking about railroads,” Ms. Stevenson continued. “In fact, the California gold rush helped pay for the western part of the first transcontinental railroad. Now that California was connected to folks here in the middle of the country, as well as out east . . .”

Ted leaned over slightly. “Five bucks says this unit is on track to go better than the last one,” he whispered.

Jenn rolled her eyes. “Really, Ted?”

Ted waggled his eyebrows. “You’re not all aboard for train-based humor?”

She tried to hide a half smile. “This just really isn’t the . . . platform for it.”

“If the two of you don’t shut up,” Adam whispered, “I’m going to lose my train of thought back here.”

Jenn chuckled.

They tuned back in to what Ms. Stevenson was saying, taking notes in a comfortable silence instead of an awkward one.

Ted smiled, feeling almost happy again. Almost. There was still one more thing that he had to do.

* * *

History class ended. Adam and Jenn put their things in their backpacks and stood, ready to leave.

“Why aren’t you packing up, Ted?” Jenn asked.

“I’m going to stay back, actually,” said Ted. “I just have to take care of something. I can catch up with you afterward.”

“All right,” Jenn said with a shrug. “We’ll see you later.”

He waited until most of the other students had left the classroom and then went up to the front of the room with his open backpack.

Ms. Stevenson was quietly reshuffling papers on her desk.

She sighed and looked up. “Is there something I can help you with, Ted?”

“I, um, just wanted you to know that I thought about what you said yesterday, about history and learning from your past mistakes.”

Ms. Stevenson looked surprised. “You did?”

Ted nodded and then took a deep breath. “Cheating on the test was a mistake. I was having trouble with this unit, and I was embarrassed about it, but I should have just come to you for help. I know I let you down. You have been nothing but nice and helpful, and I blew it. I’m not great at a lot of things, but I . . . I really like to draw. I know this doesn’t make up for what I did, and it can’t, but I looked over the notes that I had and I made this last night to show you that I do care, and that I’m really sorry.”

He took another deep breath and handed her what he had made.

“The Misadventures of Fred: A California Gold Rush Story,” Ms. Stevenson read out loud from the front cover. She looked back down at him. “You made this last night?”

He nodded. “It’s a comic book about, um, a California gold rush prospector named Fred. He’s also based on the material for the test. Basically, he hears about gold out in California and he decides to go out there and try to strike it rich. He convinces his wife to help him sell most of their stuff so that he can afford the trip. He promises to find a ton of gold, get rich, and then send for her and their kids. But, just like we talked about in class, by the time he gets to California, there isn’t a lot of gold left for him to easily find. He gets stuck there, and he doesn’t know what to do.”

Ms. Stevenson opened the comic book. “Oh my,” she whispered.

He watched her take in the panels of Fred, with a big brown hat and a round belly held in place by mining trousers and suspenders.

Ms. Stevenson’s fingers paused on the panel on the next page where Fred, thin and leathery from long days in the sun, finally sat down in his tent under the California stars and wrote a letter to his wife.

“Fred makes a mistake, owns up to it, and then makes the best out of the situation,” said Ted. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “That’s what I want to do, Ms. Stevenson. I know my grade is basically in the toilet now, and I deserve that, but from here on out I just want you to know that I’m going to do my best.”

“Ted,” said Ms. Stevenson, “I’m touched.” She turned another page of the comic book, shaking her head slowly. “You clearly put a lot of effort into this. The art is fantastic, and I can tell that you drew on what we talked about in class. These details . . . I mean, just look at the pan Fred uses when he goes panning for gold . . . and these masts in the ships stranded in the San Francisco harbor.” Her eyes widened. “Oh, and look at the buttons on those Levi Strauss mining trousers! This is really wonderful.”

Ted didn’t realize he was holding his breath. “Thank you, Ms. Stevenson.”

“No, Ted, thank you.” She flipped the comic book closed and clasped it to her chest. “I wasn’t planning on doing this . . . but I think you have earned it. How would you feel about a do-over?”

Ted nearly dropped his backpack.

“Another chance, I mean,” said Ms. Stevenson. “To save your grade. I can’t give you an actual do-over of the unit test—the school policy on cheating says that I still have to give you a zero on that—but you could at least take it again to earn some extra credit.” She smiled. “What do you say? Here at lunch on Monday?”

Ted grinned. “I say thank you. That sounds awesome. I’ll be there.”

“You’re welcome, Ted. Thank you again for this comic book.” She paused. “I’d like to show this to the school art club, if that’s all right with you.”

“We have an art club?”

Ms. Stevenson nodded. “I’m the staff sponsor. I’m surprised you aren’t in it, actually. You should think about joining us. We meet on Tuesday afternoons after school.”

The warning bell for second-period classes rang.

“I need to get ready for my next class now,” said Ms. Stevenson, “but I can ask the art club student president to tell you more about the club, if you’d like. It’s Nina Alvarez—she actually sits a few rows ahead of you in class.”

He gulped. “Um, yeah. I would like that very much.” Maybe he could start fresh with Nina too. Maybe knowing that they had something in common would make it easier for him to talk to her—actually get to know her, like Jenn had said.

Behind him, the seats were filling with a second round of history students.

“You should go get ready for your next class, too, Ted,” Ms. Stevenson said, gently.

“Oh, right,” he replied. “Yeah, I should get to gym. I’ll see you on Monday!”

Ted stepped out into the hall, standing a little straighter and feeling a little lighter than he had before. He could barely believe it. He was going to actually get to know Nina, and he was going to get a do-over of the test—a real do-over, one that he had earned, not gotten from some weird text.

Maybe, Ted thought, the best second chances are the ones you make for yourself.

He floated down the hall, picturing the look on his mom’s face when he told her about the test. Picturing spending his Tuesdays drawing with Nina and Ms. Stevenson. Picturing hanging out with Jenn and Adam.

The locker room was empty when he got there; everyone had already gotten dressed and gone out to the field for class.

Ted barely noticed. He changed into his gym clothes as if he were in a daze and then headed outside.

It was a beautiful October morning. Sunlight streamed down over the field and everyone on it, as bright and clear as what lay ahead of him. Ted smiled.

He wouldn’t change a thing.