Dumb Luck by Lesley Choyce Page B

history test, my mood started to darken as I realized I had not done the readings and I’d paid little attention in class and, at the end of the hour, I was handing in a blank piece of paper. Another F that would not look good. In the past, I had occasionally struggled and earned D s and been given gifts of a C or higher by some teachers. But lately, I had lost all interest in schoolwork.
    Mr. Poirier must have taken a look at my test soon after I handed it in because, before the day was over, I was being summoned back to Mr. Carver’s office. He was not a happy camper.
    â€œBrandon,” he said, holding up the history test with my name on it. “What is this?”
    â€œA test,” I said.
    â€œYour test. Where are the answers?”
    I shrugged.
    â€œI took the liberty to check in with your other teachers.”
    â€œAnd?”
    â€œ D s and F s. This does not look good.”
    â€œI guess I’ve been distracted.”
    â€œTo that I would add preoccupied, bemused, negligent, indifferent, lackadaisical, cavalier, derelict, slothful, and careless.”
    â€œThat’s a long list.”
    â€œBoy wins three million dollars. Boy stops doing schoolwork. Boy flunks out of school.”
    â€œIs that what’s going to happen?”
    â€œIf you don’t get straightened out.”
    â€œBut I don’t think I really need school.”
    â€œYou’ve said this before. And I don’t know much about rich people, but it seems to me there are two kinds. Smart rich people and stupid rich people. No, let me not be so crass. There are actively intelligent rich people and intellectually challenged rich people.”
    â€œSeems to me that people are either born with brains or they aren’t. I was never one of those kids with much in the way of brains.”
    â€œIt’s not just what you’re born with. It’s how you use your brain. Now, you could use yours—or at least part of it—to do your schoolwork. I know that doesn’t sound all that exciting, compared to life in the fast lane. But it will pay off. The smart rich people hang onto their money and even make more. But the ones who don’t use their brain tend to lose the money—or, worse yet, it gets them into trouble.”
    â€œListen, Mr. Carver, I know you’re trying to help, but I’m seriously thinking of quitting school,” I blurted out.
    Carver’s eyes widened. He looked not only shocked but angry. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve heard you say yet.”
    â€œWhy should it matter to you?”
    â€œIt matters. I don’t like to see talent wasted.”
    â€œWhat talent?”
    â€œEveryone has talent. I don’t know what yours is, but it’s there, waiting to be developed.”
    â€œLook,” I said, “I’ve had one good bit of luck in my life. And I’m going to capitalize on it.”
    â€œBig word. Capitalize.”
    It was a word my father often used. “I know what you’ve been trying to say to me about luck and lotteries and all that money-is-the-root-of-all-evil routine. But those are your opinions, not mine.”
    He looked like he was about to jump across the desk and grab me by the throat. I was almost scared but I was also getting angry. I felt my heart pounding and I was breathing hard. I felt like he was pushing me hard and I didn’t like it. He let out a sigh. “Go back to class,” he said, sounding defeated. “Or don’t go back to class, if you choose. Just think about it, please. Use your brain.”
    My meeting with Carver kept bugging me for the rest of the day. At noon I ate lunch with Kayla. I didn’t care what the other kids would say about that. She seemed to be doing much better today. I told her about my meeting with the VP . Kayla told me not to even consider dropping out of school.
    Later on, during my free period, when Taylor latched onto me again, she said she had an