you’ll need to get started on your research and find out if your theory is true.”
Then Mr. Oliver moved on. Although Mellecker hadn’t chosen a war veteran like I expected, Beez and some other guys in our class made up for it. Corporals, captains, cadets. I stopped listening. There were only five kids to go before my turn.
No blushing
, I chanted to myself.
No blushing
.
I could feel the air in the classroom turning thick with suspense. Of course everyone had been waiting to see what I would say.
Two more kids to go.
One more …
I took a deep breath and licked my lips and squirmed in my seat.
“Linc?” Mr. Oliver called.
That’s all it took. In a split second my face felt hot enough to melt.
“I’m hoping you were able to complete yesterday’s assignment?”
I gave a quick nod. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mellecker and Beez angling to get a better view.
“Well?” Mr. Oliver asked, shifting his weight impatiently. “Would you care to share with us who you chose?”
I nodded again and then made my announcement, but the words didn’t come out the way I had planned. I had thought maybe if I said my answer loud enough, no one would notice the quiver in my voice. So I ended up bellowing by mistake. “The Black Angel!” I practically shouted.
The room went still.
Sylvie was the first one to recover from her surprise. “Wait!” she called out, flapping her hand at Mr. Oliver. “I thought you said the Black Angel was off-limits!”
“Well, not exactly,” Mr. Oliver said carefully. “I remember saying that I wasn’t going to allow any more discussion about superstitions and legends. But maybe Linc has a different approach.”
“I do,” I insisted, forgetting to be nervous for a few seconds. “I want to find out the facts, like who’s really buried there and what happened to them, so I can prove there’s no such thing as the Curse of the Black Angel.”
“Sounds intriguing,” Mr. Oliver said. “But do you mind my asking what the professor thinks of your plan?”
I pretended not to notice all the whispering and kids trading looks across the aisles. “She really likes the idea,” I lied. “She told me I’d be doing this town a big favor if I could show, once and for all, that the Black Angel legends are nothing but a bunch of bull.”
Mr. Oliver’s bushy eyebrows climbed higher on his forehead.
The truth was I hadn’t even told Lottie yet. I had wanted to tell her last night—right after I apologized for that tirade up in my room. But she didn’t get home from work until after dinnertime, and when I had wandered downstairs to talk, she said she was exhausted from her trip and needed to go straight to bed.
Sylvie was still complaining. “It’s not fair,” she grumbled to no one in particular. “I bet you anything he’s gonna get his mom to help him.”
“What’s wrong with that?” somebody across the room shot back. I stared in confusion. It was Mellecker, and it sounded like he was taking my side. “She’s an expert on graveyards,” he said to Sylvie. “Wouldn’t you ask her for help if she were
your
mother?”
Sylvie slouched back in her seat with her arms crossed over her chest. I kept gawking at Mellecker, wondering whether I had heard him right. But before I could figure out for sure, Mr. Oliver raised his hand for quiet. “I’m sure Linc will rely on his mother for advice and nothing more,” he said, turning to me with a pointed glance. “We’ll look forward tohearing the truth about the Black Angel when you deliver your report in November.”
Cliff flashed me a quick thumbs-up sign from the next row. I smiled back at him, feeling a tiny surge of triumph and relief. My turn was over, and so far American Studies class was going a lot better than I had expected.
Then I snapped back to attention. Mr. Oliver had just called on the new girl, Delaney, and she was talking in that dreamy, sipping-lemonade-on-the-front-porch voice of hers.
Then Mr. Oliver moved on. Although Mellecker hadn’t chosen a war veteran like I expected, Beez and some other guys in our class made up for it. Corporals, captains, cadets. I stopped listening. There were only five kids to go before my turn.
No blushing
, I chanted to myself.
No blushing
.
I could feel the air in the classroom turning thick with suspense. Of course everyone had been waiting to see what I would say.
Two more kids to go.
One more …
I took a deep breath and licked my lips and squirmed in my seat.
“Linc?” Mr. Oliver called.
That’s all it took. In a split second my face felt hot enough to melt.
“I’m hoping you were able to complete yesterday’s assignment?”
I gave a quick nod. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Mellecker and Beez angling to get a better view.
“Well?” Mr. Oliver asked, shifting his weight impatiently. “Would you care to share with us who you chose?”
I nodded again and then made my announcement, but the words didn’t come out the way I had planned. I had thought maybe if I said my answer loud enough, no one would notice the quiver in my voice. So I ended up bellowing by mistake. “The Black Angel!” I practically shouted.
The room went still.
Sylvie was the first one to recover from her surprise. “Wait!” she called out, flapping her hand at Mr. Oliver. “I thought you said the Black Angel was off-limits!”
“Well, not exactly,” Mr. Oliver said carefully. “I remember saying that I wasn’t going to allow any more discussion about superstitions and legends. But maybe Linc has a different approach.”
“I do,” I insisted, forgetting to be nervous for a few seconds. “I want to find out the facts, like who’s really buried there and what happened to them, so I can prove there’s no such thing as the Curse of the Black Angel.”
“Sounds intriguing,” Mr. Oliver said. “But do you mind my asking what the professor thinks of your plan?”
I pretended not to notice all the whispering and kids trading looks across the aisles. “She really likes the idea,” I lied. “She told me I’d be doing this town a big favor if I could show, once and for all, that the Black Angel legends are nothing but a bunch of bull.”
Mr. Oliver’s bushy eyebrows climbed higher on his forehead.
The truth was I hadn’t even told Lottie yet. I had wanted to tell her last night—right after I apologized for that tirade up in my room. But she didn’t get home from work until after dinnertime, and when I had wandered downstairs to talk, she said she was exhausted from her trip and needed to go straight to bed.
Sylvie was still complaining. “It’s not fair,” she grumbled to no one in particular. “I bet you anything he’s gonna get his mom to help him.”
“What’s wrong with that?” somebody across the room shot back. I stared in confusion. It was Mellecker, and it sounded like he was taking my side. “She’s an expert on graveyards,” he said to Sylvie. “Wouldn’t you ask her for help if she were
your
mother?”
Sylvie slouched back in her seat with her arms crossed over her chest. I kept gawking at Mellecker, wondering whether I had heard him right. But before I could figure out for sure, Mr. Oliver raised his hand for quiet. “I’m sure Linc will rely on his mother for advice and nothing more,” he said, turning to me with a pointed glance. “We’ll look forward tohearing the truth about the Black Angel when you deliver your report in November.”
Cliff flashed me a quick thumbs-up sign from the next row. I smiled back at him, feeling a tiny surge of triumph and relief. My turn was over, and so far American Studies class was going a lot better than I had expected.
Then I snapped back to attention. Mr. Oliver had just called on the new girl, Delaney, and she was talking in that dreamy, sipping-lemonade-on-the-front-porch voice of hers.
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