Read Online Cheating Lessons: A Novel by Nan Willard Cappo - Free Book Online Page B

in the protest companionably.
    Mr. Malory watched them with lifted eyebrows. One by one the objections petered out. By Wednesday everyone had rearranged their schedules. The Classics Bowl was an American institution their teacher took very seriously.

    Bernadette turned the key in the ignition. Nothing
    “Oh, no.” This was the Suburban’s revenge on her for all the mean things she had said about it. “You’re a good little truck,” she crooned. “You’re not old and smelly at all. I’m proud to be seen in you.”
    She turned the key again. From deep in the bowels of the engine came a tiny protesting whine, followed by a silence of pure malice.
    “Be that way, you sorry piece of junk.”
    She stared at the dashboard clock. Her parents were at a church meeting. She’d have to call someone on the team.
    In the kitchen she grabbed the phone and cursed Mr. Malory for holding this first meeting in Ann Arbor. It was forty-five minutes away, for Pete’s sake. But he’d reserved a private conference room at the university library, with multiple copies of the books they’d need, plus temporary borrowing privileges. Courtesy of the Classics Contest research committee, whose chairwoman taught at U. of M. The perfect setup, he called it.
    Would Pinehurst be there, Nadine wanted to know. Her new Korean-English dictionary had taught her how to say “your fly is open,” and she wanted to spring it on Glenn Kim.
    Mr. Malory seemed glad someone had asked. No, Pinehurst had declined. Their coach had been offended at the suggestion that a university library might be superior to the Pinehurst collection. The ironic look that accompanied this sent a unifying ripple of disdain through the Wizards.
    But now, frantically dialing Nadine, Bernadette didn’t think Pinehurst so dumb. If the meeting had been at her own school she could have jogged there.
    Nadine had left an hour ago, Mrs. Walczak said, sounding surprised. “She said she had to stop at McDonald’s. I thought she was meeting you there, Bernadette.”
    “Nope, not tonight.” Bernadette felt a flicker of annoyance. Nadine might at least have mentioned it.
    She leafed through the school directory.
    David, too, had already left. To pick up Anthony.
    At the Besh’s she got Lori’s voice on the answering machine.
    Her blood pressure rose. She would rather take an extra semester of gym than miss this meeting.
    She dialed a number she knew by heart, though she’d never called it. It answered on the second ring. “You’re there!” she said in a squeak.
    “I live here, Bernadette.”
    He knew her voice! “I meant, I thought you’d have left by now. The thing is, my car won’t start. I can’t make it.”
    “I’m just out the door,” Mr. Malory said crisply. “Where do you live?”
    Bernadette gulped and told him. She grinned fiendishly at the refrigerator. Wait till Nadine heard.

    The carpeting in the little car had been freshly shampooed. Brown leather seats gleamed with recent buffing. Bernadette sniffed appreciatively. Mr. Malory’s car smelled as good as he did.
    She could have stretched out her left arm and touched the driver’s side window. The thought of what else she might touch made her dizzy.
    “What kind of car is this?” She practically had to yell over the engine roar. She saw Mr. Malory’s disbelieving glance. In Michigan, kindergartners knew Chryslers from Fords.
    “I know it’s a Porsche,” she said quickly. “I meant what kind of Porsche.”
    “Oh,” he said. “A ’75 911 Carerra. My first major purchase in America, I’ll have you know.” He patted the leather-wrapped steering wheel affectionately. “What do you think of her?”
    “She’s fast.”
    He laughed, but they didn’t slow down.
    He wore jeans tonight, and a plain black shirt that turned his skin paler and made his eyes greener. No seat belt. Probably considered them sissy. But they were going at least eighty-five in a sixty-five zone and that was zippy even for Detroit.