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Authors: Matt Christopher
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rewrote parts of it — until finally he
was finished. Half an hour had passed.
He stood up and handed his paper to Ms. Collins. “Here it is. Every single word of it is mine.”
Ms. Collins nodded. “Care to stick around while I correct it?”
Jeff sat down again. For the next few moments, he sat tensely as Ms. Collins’s green marker moved above his paper. He couldn’t
tell how many times she used it to make a mark, but she seemed to be examining every letter with extreme care.
That’s what I should be doing, Jeff thought. Only the paper I should be checking over is that phony composition. If it hadn’t
been for that, I’d be over at the skating rink by now!
He pulled out the green ink–filled page and looked at it closely for a third time. And that’s when he saw them.
They were faint, but they were there. Little red check marks down the side of the margin.
This wasn’t the paper he had turned in. This was the first draft of the composition!
Hold on, he thought. That draft is still in the front pocket of my notebook, isn’t it?
He whipped through the pocket quickly. He found an old science test, the start of a letter to Eric Stone, and some doodles,
but no first draft.
Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead.
Slowly. Don’t jump to any conclusions. Take another look.
He forced himself to be very careful as he turned each page again.
There was no doubt about it. The paper Beth had corrected was missing. Somehow or other, it had found its way onto Ms. Collins’s
desk.
But how?
No, not
how,
Jeff thought suddenly.
Who.
Who would have known that I had a draft ofit in my notebook and why would he have swapped the two? And is it the same person who left that note for Kevin?
Suddenly, Jeff recalled the time he had found Sam squatting over his duffel bag. He had taken Sam’s explanation of mistaken
identity at face value then. But now he wondered. The compositions had been in his duffel that day. What if Sam had seen them,
taken the draft for some reason, then tampered with it? They did play the same position, after all, and what had happened
to Jeff the year before when he had failed English was common team knowledge.
I’d do just about anything to get on the squad.
Isn’t that what Sam had said?
His thoughts were interrupted by Ms. Collins.
“Well done, Jeffrey,” she said, beaming. “This is excellent work. It shows a great deal of promise. I knew you could do it.”
“Is it — is it good enough to give me a passing grade?” Jeff asked nervously.
“Definitely. As a matter of fact, what are you doing lingering here? Don’t you have a practice this afternoon?”
“I sure do! Thanks, Ms. Collins! Thanks a lot!”
19
J eff raced to the locker room and suited up in record time. He didn’t bother snapping the rubber runners onto his skates, he
just dashed into the rink, ready to join the others on the ice.
To his surprise, everyone was seated in the stands. Coach Wallace had obviously called for a break.
“Well, nice of you to join us,” the coach said, looking at his watch.
“Didn’t Kevin tell you I was going to be late?” Jeff held his breath while he waited for the answer.
“He mumbled something about your being delayed by your English teacher,” said the coach. “Since you’re here, I guess that
means you didn’t lose your eligibility.”
“No, I definitely did not. Despite what certain people may think, I am still on the team!”
A few heads turned in his direction. Jeff returned their looks straight on before shifting his gaze back to the coach.
Coach Wallace cleared his throat. “Well, glad to hear it,” he said mildly. “Now then, Blades, let’s run a few more drills
before we break down and scrimmage.”
As the boys clambered off the benches to the ice, Jeff caught up to Kevin.
“Thanks for delivering my message,” he said.
Kevin shrugged.
“Listen,” Jeff continued. “Do you still have that note? I’d like to take
was finished. Half an hour had passed.
He stood up and handed his paper to Ms. Collins. “Here it is. Every single word of it is mine.”
Ms. Collins nodded. “Care to stick around while I correct it?”
Jeff sat down again. For the next few moments, he sat tensely as Ms. Collins’s green marker moved above his paper. He couldn’t
tell how many times she used it to make a mark, but she seemed to be examining every letter with extreme care.
That’s what I should be doing, Jeff thought. Only the paper I should be checking over is that phony composition. If it hadn’t
been for that, I’d be over at the skating rink by now!
He pulled out the green ink–filled page and looked at it closely for a third time. And that’s when he saw them.
They were faint, but they were there. Little red check marks down the side of the margin.
This wasn’t the paper he had turned in. This was the first draft of the composition!
Hold on, he thought. That draft is still in the front pocket of my notebook, isn’t it?
He whipped through the pocket quickly. He found an old science test, the start of a letter to Eric Stone, and some doodles,
but no first draft.
Beads of perspiration formed on his forehead.
Slowly. Don’t jump to any conclusions. Take another look.
He forced himself to be very careful as he turned each page again.
There was no doubt about it. The paper Beth had corrected was missing. Somehow or other, it had found its way onto Ms. Collins’s
desk.
But how?
No, not
how,
Jeff thought suddenly.
Who.
Who would have known that I had a draft ofit in my notebook and why would he have swapped the two? And is it the same person who left that note for Kevin?
Suddenly, Jeff recalled the time he had found Sam squatting over his duffel bag. He had taken Sam’s explanation of mistaken
identity at face value then. But now he wondered. The compositions had been in his duffel that day. What if Sam had seen them,
taken the draft for some reason, then tampered with it? They did play the same position, after all, and what had happened
to Jeff the year before when he had failed English was common team knowledge.
I’d do just about anything to get on the squad.
Isn’t that what Sam had said?
His thoughts were interrupted by Ms. Collins.
“Well done, Jeffrey,” she said, beaming. “This is excellent work. It shows a great deal of promise. I knew you could do it.”
“Is it — is it good enough to give me a passing grade?” Jeff asked nervously.
“Definitely. As a matter of fact, what are you doing lingering here? Don’t you have a practice this afternoon?”
“I sure do! Thanks, Ms. Collins! Thanks a lot!”
19
J eff raced to the locker room and suited up in record time. He didn’t bother snapping the rubber runners onto his skates, he
just dashed into the rink, ready to join the others on the ice.
To his surprise, everyone was seated in the stands. Coach Wallace had obviously called for a break.
“Well, nice of you to join us,” the coach said, looking at his watch.
“Didn’t Kevin tell you I was going to be late?” Jeff held his breath while he waited for the answer.
“He mumbled something about your being delayed by your English teacher,” said the coach. “Since you’re here, I guess that
means you didn’t lose your eligibility.”
“No, I definitely did not. Despite what certain people may think, I am still on the team!”
A few heads turned in his direction. Jeff returned their looks straight on before shifting his gaze back to the coach.
Coach Wallace cleared his throat. “Well, glad to hear it,” he said mildly. “Now then, Blades, let’s run a few more drills
before we break down and scrimmage.”
As the boys clambered off the benches to the ice, Jeff caught up to Kevin.
“Thanks for delivering my message,” he said.
Kevin shrugged.
“Listen,” Jeff continued. “Do you still have that note? I’d like to take
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