him. “But he’s still a jerk.”
“Even at school,” Kenny said, shaking his head. “I said hi to him yesterday and he just kept walking.”
“I tried to be nice, too,” I told the guys. “But he just stares back.”
“Maybe something’s wrong with him,” Colin suggested. “Maybe he’s really dumb.”
I thought about whether I should spill the beans and decided it was better for them to hear it from me than someone else. “He’s actually a genius,” I sighed. “Well, in Math, anyway. He’s kind of going to be my tutor.”
“No way!” Kenny gasped.
“Yes way,” I told him. “Starting tomorrow.”
“But you don’t need a tutor.”
“Not as much as you do, Kenny.”
“Thanks a lot,” he said, elbowing me.
“Mum knows I’m having trouble with Math, so —”
“That’s brutal,” Colin said, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Your Mum must be pure evil.”
“Dude, she makes him eat multigrain bread,” Kenny told him. “She’s vicious.” He quickly glanced at me. “Sorry, Nugget. You know what I mean, though, right? She can be —”
“Actually, I like multi —” I started, but Colin cut me off.
“Tutored by the guy who wants to steal your position,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it.”
The truth was, I could hardly believe it myself.
Chapter Seven
After school, I walked home with Kenny but didn’t waste any time yakking on the corner, since I had work to do. The Red Wings game would be on at seven, so I only had a couple of hours before dinner to study for the trivia contest at eight and get my homework done. It was going to be tight.
After what he said at the water fountain, I’d decided that if Eddie Bosko wanted to be a jerk about my Math skills (okay, lack of Math skills), there was no reason I should give him extra ammo. And that meant trying to figure out as much Math as I could before the first tutoring session, which was scheduled for the very next day.
I poured myself a glass of milk and grabbed a couple of carob brownies from the Tupperware snack tub before heading upstairs to my room.
Trivia, then Math?
I sighed.
Nope. Math, then trivia.
Of course, I wanted to be ready for Big Danny Donlin’squestion of the night, but even I knew Math was more important right then, so I focused. And focusing meant I worked so hard and for so long on number crunching that I thought brain sweat was going to start leaking out of my ears.
It took me an hour to get through the first page of the Math assignment and my gut feeling was that I only had about half of the answers right again.
Nuts.
I took a break to go downstairs and refill my milk glass, figuring my brain could probably use the protein.
Back in my room, I turned to the second page and got to work. I wasn’t sure when Math had started to get so hard for me, but I wished I’d been paying attention when it did. Most of the other kids understood it, but I’d always been too busy thinking about other stuff in class. Like hockey.
I started to reach for
Shoot! Third Edition
, but stopped myself. I had to stick with Math.
Me and what was left of my melting brain were super relieved when Mum called us for dinner.
“Awfully quiet up there,” Dad said, handing me a bunch of cutlery so I could set the table.
“Homework,” I said, with a shrug.
“They’re really piling it on this year, eh?” he asked, grabbing some napkins and following me into the dining room.
“Kind of.” I scooted around the table, putting knives and forks in place while Mum and Wendy brought dinner out from the kitchen.
Mum had made meatloaf, and even though that’s the kind of thing most kids hate, hers was awesome.
“Mum,” I told her, in between mouthfuls, “this is sogood they could serve it in the school cafeteria.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Wendy asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Jonathan,” Mum said, raising her eyebrow.
Great, the language police were on duty. When did my dinner
“Even at school,” Kenny said, shaking his head. “I said hi to him yesterday and he just kept walking.”
“I tried to be nice, too,” I told the guys. “But he just stares back.”
“Maybe something’s wrong with him,” Colin suggested. “Maybe he’s really dumb.”
I thought about whether I should spill the beans and decided it was better for them to hear it from me than someone else. “He’s actually a genius,” I sighed. “Well, in Math, anyway. He’s kind of going to be my tutor.”
“No way!” Kenny gasped.
“Yes way,” I told him. “Starting tomorrow.”
“But you don’t need a tutor.”
“Not as much as you do, Kenny.”
“Thanks a lot,” he said, elbowing me.
“Mum knows I’m having trouble with Math, so —”
“That’s brutal,” Colin said, his sandwich halfway to his mouth. “Your Mum must be pure evil.”
“Dude, she makes him eat multigrain bread,” Kenny told him. “She’s vicious.” He quickly glanced at me. “Sorry, Nugget. You know what I mean, though, right? She can be —”
“Actually, I like multi —” I started, but Colin cut me off.
“Tutored by the guy who wants to steal your position,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t believe it.”
The truth was, I could hardly believe it myself.
Chapter Seven
After school, I walked home with Kenny but didn’t waste any time yakking on the corner, since I had work to do. The Red Wings game would be on at seven, so I only had a couple of hours before dinner to study for the trivia contest at eight and get my homework done. It was going to be tight.
After what he said at the water fountain, I’d decided that if Eddie Bosko wanted to be a jerk about my Math skills (okay, lack of Math skills), there was no reason I should give him extra ammo. And that meant trying to figure out as much Math as I could before the first tutoring session, which was scheduled for the very next day.
I poured myself a glass of milk and grabbed a couple of carob brownies from the Tupperware snack tub before heading upstairs to my room.
Trivia, then Math?
I sighed.
Nope. Math, then trivia.
Of course, I wanted to be ready for Big Danny Donlin’squestion of the night, but even I knew Math was more important right then, so I focused. And focusing meant I worked so hard and for so long on number crunching that I thought brain sweat was going to start leaking out of my ears.
It took me an hour to get through the first page of the Math assignment and my gut feeling was that I only had about half of the answers right again.
Nuts.
I took a break to go downstairs and refill my milk glass, figuring my brain could probably use the protein.
Back in my room, I turned to the second page and got to work. I wasn’t sure when Math had started to get so hard for me, but I wished I’d been paying attention when it did. Most of the other kids understood it, but I’d always been too busy thinking about other stuff in class. Like hockey.
I started to reach for
Shoot! Third Edition
, but stopped myself. I had to stick with Math.
Me and what was left of my melting brain were super relieved when Mum called us for dinner.
“Awfully quiet up there,” Dad said, handing me a bunch of cutlery so I could set the table.
“Homework,” I said, with a shrug.
“They’re really piling it on this year, eh?” he asked, grabbing some napkins and following me into the dining room.
“Kind of.” I scooted around the table, putting knives and forks in place while Mum and Wendy brought dinner out from the kitchen.
Mum had made meatloaf, and even though that’s the kind of thing most kids hate, hers was awesome.
“Mum,” I told her, in between mouthfuls, “this is sogood they could serve it in the school cafeteria.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?” Wendy asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Jonathan,” Mum said, raising her eyebrow.
Great, the language police were on duty. When did my dinner
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