Cheat
|
|
Orca Book Publishers, 2010. ISBN: 9781554692743 (paperback) ISBN: 9781554692750 (hardcover) |
It's hard to find a place for yourself when you're walking in the shadow of a school legend. That's the problem fifteen-year-old Laurel Quinn has faced every day of her school life. She loves her brother, Jack -- a jock, a brain, and one of the most popular guys in school -- but she's tired of being known only as his little sister.
In an attempt to establish her own identity, Laurel becomes a reporter for the school paper. After months of invisible articles about school activities, she finally gets a break, writing an article that gains her the recognition she's been seeking.
Then she stumbles upon a major cheating scam and -- convinced exposing it in print will win her even more accolades -- Laurel sets out to dig up the dirt. Little does she know it's going to fall all over her.
Excerpt from Chapter 6 ...
That's when I knew I had to check out Mr. Draper's classroom. I had no idea what it was going to tell me -- maybe nothing. It didn't really matter. I just needed to get a feel for the scene of the crime.
According to the class lists, Mr. Draper taught math in room 132, which was connected to the biology lab by a small office. When I got there the door was shut. I peered through the window. The classroom was empty. I knocked. Nothing. I grabbed the doorknob and turned, fully expecting it to resist. It didn't. The room wasn't locked. So I turned the knob all the way and pushed open the door.
"Mr. Draper?" I called.
My words hit the walls and slid to the floor. Mr. Draper wasn't there, which was a good thing, because if he'd actually answered me, I would probably have peed my pants. I took a deep breath, peered up and down the hall, and tiptoed into the room.
It was nothing special, just another grungy, end-of-the-day classroom. There were scraps of paper on desktops and crumpled paper balls on the floor. Beneath my runners, I could feel the accumulated grit of eight periods of kids tracking in dirt. A whiteboard took up two long walls and was covered with math equations scribbled in red, blue, and green marker. At the front of the room was Mr. Draper's desk. It was heaped with textbooks and binders, except for one dinky little corner where a coffee-stained mug and a tin can of pencils clung to the edge. I couldn't help wondering how many times Mr. Draper had gone for a gulp of coffee and ended up with a mouthful of writing utensils instead.
Across from the doorway where I was standing was a wall of windows with the blinds pulled down -- probably to keep kids from looking outside. Teachers are always shutting out the day. It makes you wonder why they bother putting windows in classrooms in the first place. Between the windows and Mr. Draper's desk was a filing cabinet. On the other side of the desk was a door that opened into a tiny glass-walled office.
I tiptoed over to it. Cupping my hands around my eyes to cut out the glare, I squinted through the glass. The only furniture was a chair, another filing cabinet, and another desk mounded with books and papers. On the far wall a second door opened into the biology lab.
I tried the doorknob. This one was locked. Why? Was the answer key in there?
I wandered around the classroom. There wasn't a lot to see except a notice on the corner of the whiteboard announcing an upcoming test. Another opportunity for the cheating scam to kick in? I made a mental note of the date.
Though I was skulking in a strange classroom uninvited, I couldn't quite bring myself to snoop through the stuff on Mr. Draper's desk or rummage through the drawers. So when I'd learned as much as I could from walking around -- which was almost nothing -- I decided to leave. But just as I headed back to the door, I heard footsteps in the hall. They were really close -- and getting closer -- so I quickly looked around the room for a hiding place. I didn't want to have to explain what I was doing there -- to anyone -- not even the custodian. Whoever was out in the corridor might walk right on by, but I didn't want to take the chance.
The only thing that offered any cover at all was the filing cabinet, so I squeezed in between it and the wall of windows, scrunching down so that my head didn't show.
Almost immediately, I regretted my decision. I'm not good in small spaces at the best of times, and being wedged into a crevice barely big enough to hold a flip chart -- which was already there -- I was more than a little cramped. My arms and legs were going in different directions, and I felt like one of those distorted figures in an Ancient Egyptian painting.
Then suddenly I wasn't alone. I could hear the soft padding of feet. And then the scraping of wood on wood as the desk drawer was dragged open. There was a jangling noise and then the footsteps moved away.
Was it Mr. Draper? I wished I could see. I needed to move, but I didn't dare. My legs were aching with the strain of being bent, and my arms felt like they'd been shoved into their sockets backwards. The more I thought about how uncomfortable I was, the worse I felt. If I didn't distract myself, I was going to go nuts. A picture of me jumping out of my hiding spot like a jack-in-the-box popped into my brain.
I shut my eyes to make it go away. Then I forced myself to focus on listening instead. There was that jangling sound again and then rattling. Keys! Whoever was in the room was unlocking the door to the little office. The keys must have been in the desk. I listened harder. There was a metallic rolling sound. Probably the filing cabinet drawer being opened. I was just getting set to straighten my legs -- I so needed a break -- when the metallic drawer rolled shut with a bang.
I froze. My legs were now shaking, and I knew they weren't going to hold out much longer.
The office door thudded shut, and the keys clinked in the lock. Then they landed with a crash back in the desk drawer. Slam! That banged shut too. Silence. I strained my ears to the limit. Could I hear footsteps walking away? Or was it just that I wanted to hear them?
I tried to be patient, but I couldn't. I was dying. My legs were killing me! I absolutely could not stay crouched in that cramped hole another second. In one motion I stepped out of the crevice and straightened up. Instantly the ache in my legs drained out through my feet, and suddenly the bigger issue became Was whoever had been there gone. That's when I realized my eyes were still squeezed shut.
I opened them a crack and peeked through my eyelashes. Then I heaved a huge sigh. I was the only one in the classroom. I was safe, but I was also majorly curious. I wanted to know who'd just left. I hurried to the door and poked my head into the hall. It was empty except for a teenage boy walking away. I put a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp and ducked back into the classroom.
Like I said before -- I'd recognize that back anywhere.