find the equipment to get the job done. To these poles he had strung taut razor wire, borrowed on permanent loan from a local prison, from skinny pole to skinny pole. Neither the poles, nor the wire, could be seen by the troublemakers until it was far, far too late. The Jet Skis would be found, he knew, at some point, and when the polícias showed up, he would just scratch his head. “I have been away,” he would say. “I have been visiting my son in São Paolo. Do you know that town?”
The class clapped. A couple of people cheered. Nicole stared at Danny with an inquiring glance. And the wrinkled whale of a teacher craned his head and set a beady eye on Danny as he made his way back to his seat. “See me after class,” he said, his whale noise a thin piping hiss, like he was expelling air through an invisible blowhole.
The guidance counsellor, a serene woman named Mrs. Rowcliffe, clad in jeans and a cotton shirt, a faded hippie from another era, smiled, even when telling Danny that he seemed “troubled.”
“And yet, Danny, I personally didn’t see anything wrong with your story. I thought it had impact.” She emphasized the last word. “ Impact .”
“Well, that’s what I was aiming for,” Danny replied with a sigh. He knew Mrs. Rowcliffe would call his parents, but he also knew that they were more than likely to give him credit for being, in his mother’s words, “at least somewhat creative.”
As he was leaving the guidance counsellor’s office he reached into his back pocket to check for his house key and found a scrap of paper, a note. In neat script, in purple ink, it read, “You are a troubled and strange person.” There was that word again — troubled — but this time it didn’t seem so bad. The note finished with, “I think you are different, deep, and wonderful .” It was unsigned but there was a heart at the end, carefully filled in, in purple:
He knew, somehow, it had to be from Nicole. In the rush between classes, she must have slipped it into his pocket. Wonderful . He’d never heard that from anyone before.
As he had expected, Danny was told, first by the guidance counsellor, and then by Dr. Feinman, that community service would be a “good thing” to do. Mrs. Rowcliffe had practically put him to sleep with her lecture, but something she said struck a chord.
“Have you ever heard of someone named Dale Carnegie?” she asked.
“Who is she ?” Danny said. The only Dale he knew was a distant cousin of his mother who lived in Moose Jaw. And that Dale was a woman. Mrs. Rowcliffe gave him a strange look.
“Dale Carnegie was a he . He once said, ‘When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.’ In other words, make the best of a difficult situation. He wrote a book called How to Win Friends and Influence People .” She passed Danny a soft cover book. A bland-looking man wearing glasses, his arms crossed in front of his chest, peered out from a photograph on the cover. He looked like ancient history, and lame — Danny had little doubt about that — and his time, Dale Carnegie’s time, was obviously some big, long gap of time before even Danny’s own father was born. Maybe his grandfather knew who this guy was. But still, Danny liked the sound of the quote. “You can hang onto this,” the guidance counsellor said.
Danny took the book home and read a big chunk of it that night. He liked another quote in it: “If you believe in what you are doing, then let nothing hold you up in your work. Much of the best work of the world has been done against seeming impossibilities. The thing is to get the work done.” Suddenly the bland man seemed to be making sense. He worked his way through a few more chapters.
Get the work done .
The next day, Danny went over to the church. Long Shot padded along beside him. Father Rivera was outside, surveying the fenced-in area that was going to be used by the children in the church daycare very soon. The playground was an expanse of grass and
The class clapped. A couple of people cheered. Nicole stared at Danny with an inquiring glance. And the wrinkled whale of a teacher craned his head and set a beady eye on Danny as he made his way back to his seat. “See me after class,” he said, his whale noise a thin piping hiss, like he was expelling air through an invisible blowhole.
The guidance counsellor, a serene woman named Mrs. Rowcliffe, clad in jeans and a cotton shirt, a faded hippie from another era, smiled, even when telling Danny that he seemed “troubled.”
“And yet, Danny, I personally didn’t see anything wrong with your story. I thought it had impact.” She emphasized the last word. “ Impact .”
“Well, that’s what I was aiming for,” Danny replied with a sigh. He knew Mrs. Rowcliffe would call his parents, but he also knew that they were more than likely to give him credit for being, in his mother’s words, “at least somewhat creative.”
As he was leaving the guidance counsellor’s office he reached into his back pocket to check for his house key and found a scrap of paper, a note. In neat script, in purple ink, it read, “You are a troubled and strange person.” There was that word again — troubled — but this time it didn’t seem so bad. The note finished with, “I think you are different, deep, and wonderful .” It was unsigned but there was a heart at the end, carefully filled in, in purple:
He knew, somehow, it had to be from Nicole. In the rush between classes, she must have slipped it into his pocket. Wonderful . He’d never heard that from anyone before.
As he had expected, Danny was told, first by the guidance counsellor, and then by Dr. Feinman, that community service would be a “good thing” to do. Mrs. Rowcliffe had practically put him to sleep with her lecture, but something she said struck a chord.
“Have you ever heard of someone named Dale Carnegie?” she asked.
“Who is she ?” Danny said. The only Dale he knew was a distant cousin of his mother who lived in Moose Jaw. And that Dale was a woman. Mrs. Rowcliffe gave him a strange look.
“Dale Carnegie was a he . He once said, ‘When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.’ In other words, make the best of a difficult situation. He wrote a book called How to Win Friends and Influence People .” She passed Danny a soft cover book. A bland-looking man wearing glasses, his arms crossed in front of his chest, peered out from a photograph on the cover. He looked like ancient history, and lame — Danny had little doubt about that — and his time, Dale Carnegie’s time, was obviously some big, long gap of time before even Danny’s own father was born. Maybe his grandfather knew who this guy was. But still, Danny liked the sound of the quote. “You can hang onto this,” the guidance counsellor said.
Danny took the book home and read a big chunk of it that night. He liked another quote in it: “If you believe in what you are doing, then let nothing hold you up in your work. Much of the best work of the world has been done against seeming impossibilities. The thing is to get the work done.” Suddenly the bland man seemed to be making sense. He worked his way through a few more chapters.
Get the work done .
The next day, Danny went over to the church. Long Shot padded along beside him. Father Rivera was outside, surveying the fenced-in area that was going to be used by the children in the church daycare very soon. The playground was an expanse of grass and
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