Read Online The Life and Times of Benny Alvarez by Peter Johnson - Free Book Online

so maybe Sara isn’t a neutral. Maybe she’s been turned to the Dark Side.

Samuel Morse
    I t’s hard to say when Claudine and I became enemies, but obviously our fates are linked, because she’s been in my classes since first grade. She’s taller than everyone, and unlike the rest of us, who are always slouching, thinking someone’s making fun of us, she has the posture of a figure skater or gymnast. Also, she has so much confidence when she talks that she’s very intimidating. You would think most kids would hate her, but girls buzz around her like she’s the queen bee, and she usually ends up president of the class. She never gets the boy vote, but there are enough guys who are either scared of her or so used to her winning, they just don’t care.
    Why don’t the boys like her? Probably because she’s always waiting for us to say something dumb, so she can pounce on us, proving her point at our expense. I imagine her staying up all night, eyes as big as Ping-Pong balls, anticipating some bonehead guy’s response to the day’s lesson, so she can get in his face. I should admire what Ms. D calls Claudine’s “determination,” but the Book has taught me there are other words for “determination,” like “pushy, obnoxious, egotistical, bullheaded, intolerant, tyrannical”—well, you get the picture.
    Claudine and I wouldn’t battle so much if I zoned her out the way most guys do, but one of my traits is that I don’t like being bullied or seeing others bullied. Another one of my traits is that I can argue you to death. You want to argue that the cafeteria pizza is great, I can counter with a hundred reasons why it isn’t, even if it’s my favorite meal. This so-called negative characteristic drives my mother nuts, but it’s like I can’t stop myself. I always see the other side of an argument. My mother thinks I’m going to be a lawyer. My father says I’m going to be a huge pain in the neck, though that’s not the word he uses, and you don’t need a thesaurus to guess it.
    So, in a way, Claudine and I had no choice but to be enemies from day one, and school was our battlefield. I had my breakthrough in fifth grade. The teacher, Ms. Bright, assigned us a two-paragraph report on Samuel Morse. I already knew he had invented the telegraph, but I discovered he’d been a pretty good painter, too, so I wrote about that, thinking it would be more interesting. When my time came, I proudly recited my report, and right as I finished, Claudine’s hand shot up. She’s a sly one. Teachers would hate her if she said, “Benny’s report is dumb because he missed Samuel Morse’s most important contribution,” or if she was smirking and sighing and shaking her head disgustedly as I spoke. But not Claudine. Even then, she had perfected this fake look of interest, a whole routine where she compliments you first before lowering the boom.
    That day she said, “Benny makes many good points, but a man’s real accomplishment is judged by how many lives he has changed, and certainly the telegraph and Morse code are more important than mediocre paintings.” It was the way she emphasized “certainly” and “mediocre” that sent me over the edge.
    â€œWhy wouldn’t painting be important?” I asked, surprising myself.
    Fake concern again. “It’s not unimportant. It’s just not as important as the telegraph.”
    â€œSo you’re saying if I give a hand to some old guy who’s fallen down and no one sees me, that’s not as important as helping a hundred people on national TV?”
    She was a bit baffled by that, and I was waiting for the teacher to interrupt, but Ms. Bright seemed to be enjoying the conflict. After a long pause, Claudine said, “I would be glad you helped someone, but helping a hundred people is better.”
    â€œWhat if