I Just Got a Letter from Allyson Pringle Page 10

  “Yeah . . . but . . .”

  “Well, as far as I know there are no other Kendall Archers in this class or in any of my other classes.” He pointed to the lefthand corner of the paper at what was sure enough my name in what appeared to be my handwriting. “Here you go.” With that, he patted the test back down on my desk and walked away, smirking at his cleverness.

  As Mr. Thorndike continued returning the exams, my eyes scanned the test. It was my name at the top all right, exactly as I had written it, but that was just about all that looked the same. The spaces I’d left blank were no longer blank. Even the incorrect answers had been crossed through and correct responses scribbled neatly and boldly in handwriting very similar to mine, but not mine. I glanced around the room until it struck me where I should be looking. Sure enough, those sitting around Alysse were full-blown grinning in my direction. Alysse had her head down and her lips tucked in at the corners.

  Without smiling I turned forward and blinked, leaving my lids lowered for an extra second as I recognized what I should have immediately guessed. In slow motion, I pulled out my binder, my mind racing. Okay, now what do I do? The grades would already be recorded in Mr. Thorndike’s computer, including this A I hadn’t even come close to earning. On the other hand, there was nothing Mr. Thorndike would relish more than to have something on the girl who even now was wearing a headband of bells. I opened my lips slightly and blew out the air I’d been holding in.

  After class I didn’t move from my seat for several seconds as I continued trying to decide what to do. Under normal circumstances there would have been no hesitation whatsoever. But now, leaving the test sheet in my folder, I rose slowly, then placed one foot in front of the other until I found myself out in the hall.

  The light from the adjacent window hit my face with a wallop, but when my eyes adjusted, I saw that Alysse had already been whisked away by her friends on the drill team. She grinned at me from well down the hall, motioning me to join them.

  I raised my palm in response, and, since the sun was still in my eyes, might have looked like I was smiling. But I wasn’t smiling. “Hey, Kenny!” It was Patrice again. “You heading to AB hall? I’ll walk with you!”

  “No, I’m heading to the main hall,” I said, not sounding all that sorry about it. “Catch you next time.”

  “Kenny here just got the high on the history test,” Molly teased, swinging her black and white bag. “Sorry, Patrice, he probably thinks he’s too smart for everybody now. Right, Kenny?”

  I huffed out a sound of some kind, something between a grunt and a sigh.

  After school, Arnold, who’d been stuck like melted wax on the fact that a friend of his had actually been nominated for the Spirit of Hollenda award, mentioned it for about the trillionth time. “You don’t look very happy for someone who could easily be voted Mr. Spirit of Hollenda soon,” he said, out of breath as usual. “What’s wrong, mate? I’d be kicking my heels together if I were you.”

  “Alysse has really done it this time,” I said, craning my neck as I looked around. Even though Lexie wasn’t at her locker yet, the girl could sneak up on you.

  “What’s she done this time?” Arnold lifted his upper lip and got ready to snicker. When he saw that I wasn’t looking even a little amused, his smile faded.

  “Remember how I told you I flunked the surprise test in Thorndike’s class yesterday?” I asked him quietly.

  “I remember you said something about flunking something, but you’re always saying stuff like that.”

  “Well, this time I know for sure I flunked the test because I left a big bunch blank and then I hardly got any right that I guessed on.”

  “Been there, done that,” said Arnold, sounding unimpressed.

  “So now take a look.” I leaned my backpack against my locker door, pulled the test from the folder, and handed it to Arnold, who looked up in confusion.

  “I thought you just said you left a whole bunch blank.”

  “I did.”

  “Then I don’t get it. How . . .” Arnold’s mouth rounded into a small circle and he looked back down at the test, then up again. “Uh-oh. Allyson corrected this?”

  I nodded with lowered lids. ”I don’t know how she managed to get my test, but somehow she did.”

  Arnold filled his cheeks up with air and let it out in one large guffaw.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “Sorry, mate,” he said. “I didn’t mean to do that. I can see why you don’t think it’s funny, but it’s just that it’s so like something Alysse would do. You know, outrageous.” He stuffed the test into my backpack pocket.

  “Yeah, it’s vintage Allyson all right,” I said, relocating the test to the inside side pocket with some of my other tests. “Except what am I supposed to do now? I can’t accept an A on a test I flunked.” I swung the backpack around.

  Throwing his huge yellow bag, which looked like it had half the county in it, over his shoulder, Arnold said, “Hack into Thorndike’s web site and change the grade?”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “I’m kidding.”

  “I know.” My friend often said I’m kidding when he didn’t need to.

  Carefully studying my face, he asked then, “You’re not thinking about turning in Alysse, I hope? Because you really can’t do that. You get Allyson Pringle in trouble and the whole school will be down on you. The yell leaders would be doing a cheer that goes something like ‘Kick Kendall Archer! Kick Kendall Archer! Karate chop! Karate chop! Kick Kendall Archer!’” Arnold’s bag slid from his arm and he had to catch it with one hand as he swung the other arm with full impact, his light red hair flying straight up as he did. It wasn’t a bad impression of a one-armed yell leader, and I couldn’t help laughing a little. But then my cheeks tightened across my cheekbones.

  “Of course I don’t want to get Allyson in trouble. I’d probably be doing a cheer like that myself about somebody who fouled up Alysse. She’s a good friend and I’d never want to do anything that would mess her up. That’s what’s making this so hard to figure out.”

  Fully expecting Arnold to make some crack again about Alysse being even more to me than just a good friend, I readjusted my backpack, slammed my locker shut, checked the lock, and leaned down to pick up my trombone case. Don’t say it, I willed him silently. I really, really didn’t want him to say the words I was afraid might be true.

  I’d spotted Lexie and Bernard and several others at the end of the hall at this point, and I pulled Arnold in the direction of the stairs. “Here’s the problem,” I said soberly. “A couple of months ago I would never have guessed so many people knew I was a member of the Church. In fact, I thought nobody even knew who I was, period. But I found out this semester that people do seem to know, for whatever reason. And if they didn’t know it before, they do now that Alysse has been sailing it out there like a flag.” I’d already told Arnold about my group at the dance all “acting Mormon,” or at least thinking they were acting Mormon.

  “And now that you’re getting nominated for everything,” Arnold interrupted. “Don’t forget that.”

  “Everything? I was nominated for one thing.” I shook my head at his exaggeration. “Hey, believe me, Arn, they know you’re LDS, too.”

  “I tell everybody,” said Arnold. He had a point. Arnold was always happy to share the gospel, even with those who didn’t particularly want to hear it. “But where are you heading with this?” Arnold lifted his hand and called out a hello to Ross somebody and Millie, a buddy of Dora’s, who were on their way down the stairs. They raised their hands back.

  “And hi, JJ and J,” Millie called, practically singing the words, her large eyes blinking.

  “Hi there,” I said, lifting my chin. I watched the girls reach the top, then returned my attention to Arnold.

  “Okay, my point is, even if I didn’t mind being dishonest personally—and it happens that I really do—having people think Mormons cheat wouldn’t do much for the Church or the missionary ef
fort, now, would it? We’re a small minority here at Hollenda. We’re the only representatives: you, me, your sisters, and Sist—I mean Mrs. Carru. Basically we’re it in the school.”

  Arnold shrugged and nodded. “Okay, that could be true. We’re the Church at Hollenda. You and me and Ella and Bella and Mrs. Carru. But look at it this way: Having everybody in the school hate you because you got their favorite person in trouble wouldn’t help the Church’s image much either, now, would it?”

  What he’d just said made sense, and I plodded along next to him with heavy feet.

  As we headed into the heavier traffic near the front hall, Arnold got caught a few people behind me. He screeched to a halt so he wouldn’t run into a girl carrying what looked like a couple of cardboard smokestacks, excused himself cheerfully, and, lifting his arms, caught up with me again. “I say you’d definitely better just forget it and accept that A. Besides, there’s the award you’re up for. No way will you win if you turn in Alysse.”

  In an effort to avoid the stairs, I turned quickly and led him out the side door, where I pulled to a stop because this was getting ironic now. “So, what you’re saying is I’d have a better chance at winning a values award if I accepted a grade I didn’t earn?” I puffed out my cheeks. “Something’s wrong with that picture.”

  “Okay, okay, you’re right, that doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.” Arnold raised his free arm. “Hey, I don’t claim to have all the answers. But sometimes there isn’t a good choice, if you know what I mean. Sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do and move on. I say in this case you’ve gotta forget it.”

  I sighed because my good friend was completely right about the part that there didn’t seem to be any good choices here. “Hey!” Dee Dee had spotted me, and Caleb raised his hand as well. “Are you coming to the stairs, my bro?”

  “Save me a seat for tomorrow. I need to head out.”

  What I really needed was to think.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dad had miraculously succeeded in convincing Mom to go to New York with him and it was quiet at our house—just me and the dog.

  The phone rang several times, but I ignored it as I paced from the kitchen to the living room, downstairs to the computer room, and back upstairs again, Lucky Duck right at my heels as ever. Maybe I felt that if I paced long enough and thought hard enough I’d come up with a solution. There had to be one. Wasn’t there always a solution? Well, if there was, I sure wasn’t thinking of it, and I plopped down on a kitchen chair and put my head on the table. As I half sat, half lay there, rehashing everything, I actually began to believe that my quirky friend Arnold, who liked to fake an Australian accent and had recently bought himself an outback hat, just might be right.

  Regardless of what was the honest or right thing to do, regardless of how wrong it felt to accept a grade I didn’t earn, I couldn’t risk getting Alysse into trouble with Thorndike and the school. Not only was she much more vulnerable than anyone would ever have guessed but, despite what certain teachers were convinced of, she was a fantastic human being. Sure, too often she stepped over the zaniness line, but the good she did far outweighed the crazy, impulsive things she also did. Thorndike didn’t know what she was really like. Filling in the answers on my test had been wrong, yes, but from her viewpoint it had just been a big joke, and possibly even a not-too-well-thought-out favor for a good friend. Well, Thorndike wouldn’t interpret it as a joke. I knew this teacher would interpret what Alysse had done as some kind of a criminal act. Oh, how I wished she didn’t act so over the top sometimes. Why did she feel so compelled to do that?

  Then I thought about how this same zaniness drew people out. I thought about what she’d done for Charlotte, for instance, who looked healthier than I’d ever seen her in the months since she’d been crowned homecoming attendant. I thought about all Alysse had done for me and what a good time we’d had all year and the amazing time we’d had at that dance that I would remember forever.

  Ever since the dance Alysse had even made it a point to say hi to Arnold and joke around with him a little, which thrilled him, of course. No wonder he didn’t want me to turn her in. How many other kids at our school felt lifted up because of her? Besides, hadn’t Christ told us not to throw the first stone at someone who’d made a mistake? Getting Alysse in trouble would be like throwing that stone. People came first, didn’t they?

  I really started rationalizing then. This was, after all, one little test we were talking about, almost a quiz. What did it matter? Everybody cheated. The last time Mrs. Cavanaugh had left the room during an exam, half the kids in English had whipped out their books or compared answers. Kids in our school sneakily text-messaged answers to each other even when teachers were right there in the room. Cheating had become about as commonplace at our school as ordering pizza for lunch. I was making a big deal out of something kids did constantly. Anyway, it wasn’t as if I’d asked for or had wanted Alysse to do this. I’d had nothing to do with it. I needed to remember that. I also needed to remember that I tended to be way over the top when it came to conscientiousness.

  It wasn’t until about six o’clock that I finally stopped pacing and sat down at the computer so I could enter some business data I’d promised Dad I would get to. Next I made it back to my room, dragging my backpack behind me. Around seven, I went upstairs to scrounge up something to eat. After I popped a couple of mini pizzas in the microwave, I checked my messages to see who’d called. Along with more people at school who wanted me to hang out—some I didn’t even know—my sister Lynette had left a message, asking about the bridesmaid dresses. Mom had asked me to run them over to her so the seamstress in her ward could finish them up. I quickly pushed her number. “Is tomorrow night okay for me to bring over that stuff?”

  “That should be fine,” Lynette said. “Sister Mackintosh said she wouldn’t be starting on them until first thing Saturday anyway. Can you stay for tacos when you come?” Then she added sheepishly, “And do you think we could talk you into tending for a couple of hours?”

  Judging by the degree of screeching in the background, I figured Lynette could probably use the break. The Skipper tended to get grumpy at night. Just the same, it soothed me to be around the little guy. And maybe I needed the change of scenery. “Sure, I could do that,” I said. I hesitated then, wondering if I should bring up my dilemma and get Lynette’s input. But then again, maybe I didn’t want her input. Maybe I was afraid she would try to change my mind when I’d pretty much already made my decision. The little guy was really crying now. “Oh, shoot, Skipper just fell off the step stool,” Lynette said, and quickly excused herself.

  Arnold called as soon as I hung up. He pretended to be calling to see if I could give him a ride to the holiday concert on Saturday night that we were both participating in, but I knew he was really calling to see what I’d decided to do about the situation with Allyson. “You know what, mate,” I said, “I’ve been thinking about that situation with the test and Alysse, and I’m thinking you’re probably right that I just need to go ahead and accept that grade.”

  “Yeah, there’s nothing else can you do.” He sounded relieved.

  After I hung up from talking with Arnold, I opened the fridge to see if there was anything else worth eating in there, but then shut it because for some reason I didn’t have much of an appetite—a first for me. I plodded back downstairs, Lucky Duck right behind me again, and pulled open my backpack, then opened my English notebook and began working on alliteration. But I couldn’t seem to concentrate. Why didn’t I feel better about my decision when I knew full well there just really was no other route? I won’t think about it, I decided. I closed the notebook, then opened my history textbook and thumbed through our last chapter for the fourth time. Finally I shut the book, exhaled, leaned back in my chair, and stared down the hall. Monica’s wedding gown, which Mom had insisted she would finish herself, was hanging on the back of the sewing room door.

  It was really hard for me to envision my
sister, who could spike a volleyball like nobody I’d ever seen, actually putting on that dress and getting married. But it looked like that was exactly what was going to happen—and soon. She’d called just a couple of days before to find out from Mom what to expect in the temple interview appointment with the bishop, and I’d given her a bad time. “I sure hope you repented of that time you painted the bathroom with magic marker,” I teased her.

  “Oh, gosh, I totally forgot about that,” she played along.

  In person I could always tell when she was kidding by the way she held her mouth, but now I wasn’t sure. “Hey, not really,” I said. “Good grief, you were four or five years old!”

  “Gotcha,” she laughed. “I’m kidding too. Like I can worry about what I did that long ago.”

  We’d chuckled about it at the time, but afterwards I had wondered if teasing someone about a temple interview would be considered light-minded. Well, I wasn’t laughing now. I’d be going through that same interview myself in not that many months, and then I’d be heading out into the field to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ—the gospel of truth. “So what do I tell the bishop if he asks me if I’m honest in my dealings?” I asked my dog quietly. “Do I say I’m honest except for once in a while when I accept grades I don’t deserve?”

  Lucky Duck tilted his head and let out a little woof. Not much of an answer. But he was a dog, after all—a really good dog, yeah, but still a dog. So why was I having a heart-to-heart with a dog? I realized then who I should be talking with, and it wasn’t my dog.

  I slid down from my desk and onto my knees. I really needed confirmation that what I was thinking of doing—or should I say not doing—was okay with Him. Basically I needed some peace.