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“And the last word is influential. I-n-f-l-u-e-n-t-i-a-l,” spelled Ms. Overstreet. “Now mark the papers. Fewer than two incorrect gets an A. Two to five incorrect gets a B. Six to eight incorrect gets a C. Nine or ten incorrect gets a D. And if you got between eleven and fifteen incorrect, you have to take the test again.”
I glanced over at Mark in the desk next to mine. Everyone in the class had to swap their test with someone else for grading, and Mark had mine. He sure had used his pencil a lot. How many did I get wrong?
“Pass them up front, please.”
Everyone handed their corrected papers over each other’s shoulders until they were within easy reach of Ms. Overstreet’s hands. “Mark?” she asked, looking pointedly at the only kid in class who hadn’t passed up a test yet.
“Just a second,” Mark said. “I’m still counting mistakes.”
I dropped my head on the cold desktop.
“Whose are you correcting, Mark?” asked Stacy.
“That’s none of your business,” Ms. Overstreet reprimanded.
At last, Mark finished and passed it forward. It went past four sets of eyes before reaching Ms. Overstreet. As a teacher, she could have gone to Mark and taken it, knowing everyone was curious. She could have thought about sparing the feelings of the person who’d done so dismally on the test. Apparently, she didn’t think that courtesy was necessary. Too bad since one of those sets of eyes belonged to Jackie.
“It’s Heidi’s,” Jackie whispered loudly so everyone could hear as Ms. Overstreet walked back to her desk.
“Figures,” said LaQuita.
“Yeah,” Kirk agreed.
I raised my head. “What do you mean, ‘figures’? What figures?”
“Everyone knows you’re a Special Ed-head,” Jackie said.
“I’m not in Special Ed,” I shot back. “I get really good grades most of the time.”
“Sure you do.” Stacy rolled her eyes, and the rest of the class laughed.
“There’s too much noise in here,” Ms. Overstreet said, looking up from the tests. The laughter stopped but only long enough for Ms. Overstreet to say, “Heidi, what happened here?” She waved the test paper near her face like it was a fan.
“I just didn’t get a chance to study this weekend is all. I had a lot of stuff to do at home.”
The laughter began again. Nasty whispers joined in. “Brain-damaged.”
“No. Dame Bramaged. Ha ha!”
“Totally retarded.”
Even Cathy had something to say. “I told you.”
“You were right.”
That was Jackie.
I raised my hand.
“Yes, Heidi,” said Ms. Overstreet, who seemed oblivious to all the talking.
“I don’t feel well,” I said. “Can I go to the nurse?”
“Do you have a fever? You look flushed.”
“I just need to go home.”
“Have the nurse take your temperature.”
I left the insults and went to the nurse’s office. Because I didn’t have a fever, the nurse wouldn’t let me go home. Still, I pretended to be really dizzy when the nurse had me stand up, so I didn’t have to go back to class for another hour while I “rested.” That was well after lunch.
P.E. that afternoon was highly unusual for me. I got picked last during line-up. Last. After the kids who stank at sports had been picked. And we were playing soccer. My absolute best sport. Didn’t anyone remember that I’d won a pin for excellence?
It was Kirk, of all people, who was the team captain who wound up with me on his team. “Man,” he whined to Tom. “You know the Program kids reek at sports.”
I bit my lip. It was hard not to tell him off, but I decided that it would be better just to show him. Show them all. I could whip the pants off anyone in my class at soccer—even the boys. They were about to see it.
I chose not to pass very much during the game, like I normally would. I was afraid that if I passed the ball, I wouldn’t get it volleyed back to me. So I dribbled it through the grass with all my might, dodging classmates to my best ability. Sometimes I took chances that weren’t likely to pay off. Still, I made three goals within the first ten minutes or so, enough goals for my team that some of the kids in the class began rooting for me—at least those who didn’t care so much about what the inner circle said about me.
Then came a moment I couldn’t pass up. Jackie had the ball. She wasn’t only popular for her ability to manipulate everyone she met. She was a tall girl, taller than most were at our age. She could really run too. As halfback, I backed way up until I mingled with the fullbacks and let Jackie plow down the field toward me.
I knew her pattern. We’d been playing this game every Monday since the school year began, so I’d gotten to know everyone’s strategies. Jackie could run, but she would slow down to shoot. That would be my chance.
Slow. Slow. Bam! I ran up and kicked the ball right between her feet. Rubber soles squeaked as they collided with Jackie’s high-top boots. She fell without even having been tripped by me. Legal or no, I could hear Jackie screaming at me as she pulled herself off the ground. I didn’t stop to listen. I ran after her ball, snaking it away from anyone who approached. Stacy and LaQuita, who normally stood near the side of the field where the action rarely passed, ran into the fray. The three of them—Stacy, LaQuita, and Jackie—wanted more than the ball.
“Pass it to me!” I heard someone calling to me.
To the side of me, I could see that Kirk had a clear shot to the goal. With Jackie moving in fast, it made the most sense to pass. It was just that I didn’t want to pass to Kirk.
Anyone else?
Cathy was in the clear too, but I doubted that she could make the goal to save her life. Best to just try it myself. I slid into the ball and aimed it for the goal.
The ball left my foot, but I didn’t watch to see where it went. Jackie’s foot collided with my skidding thighs, tripping me while causing a searing pain to shoot up my right leg. From the grass, I looked up. Jackie was pulling herself to her feet. Mud and grass stains streaked her designer skirt and matching vest. A sly smile crossed her face, though.
Over at the goal, I saw the ball firmly in the hands of the goalie.
“Man,” Kirk groaned to me. “You’re so stupid.”
Ms. Overstreet blew the whistle to get everyone to line up. I followed the class to the double lines by their classroom door. My whole body ached. I didn’t think I’d ever played so hard in my life. Plus I had this enormous, throbbing pain in my thigh from where Jackie had kicked me. Still catching my breath, I heard Cathy’s voice just in front of me.
“Hide, you shouldn’t have tripped Jackie.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“That’s not what she thinks.”
I brushed a sweaty string of hair out of my face. “I guess I don’t care what she thinks.”
“You should.”
“Why?”
Cathy fidgeted a little as if she were tattling. “She’s not inviting you to her party.”
“Oh! Like I’m surprised.”
“And I think she’s planning on getting you back.”
“Cathy,” I said in all seriousness, “I don’t care what Jackie does. I know you all think I’m stupid now, but I’m not. In my opinion, you’re the stupid one for hanging out with her. And Jackie’s stupid because she’s too busy caring about herself to notice that she might be wrong once in a while.”
Cathy shook her head at me. “I don’t know why I bothered to say anything to you at all.”
“Neither do I.”
I turned my back to Cathy and looked out at the empty schoolyard until Ms. Overstreet ushered us inside. The day was almost over. A couple more nasty notes and some name-calling at the bike racks, and that would be that. I can handle it, I kept thinking over and over. I can handle anything they give me.
But the next day I stayed home sick.