discovering some things about what it means to be Korean.â
The one-minute-until-youâre-late bell rang, but Mrs. Peroutka kept going. âI think the circumstances justify my giving you a second chance. Your makeup essay can address your ethnicity and other aspects of your identityâincluding your adoption, if you want. It doesnât have to be about your blood relations,â she added, wiping chalk from her hands.
âThanks, Mrs. Peroutka,â I said. âI meanâ¦well, for listening to me.â
I owed her that. Sheâd given me a do-over when she couldâve sliced the you-flunk guillotine on my neck.
âOne more thing, Joseph,â she called as I started to leave. âYour revised essay is due next Tuesday. And while I enjoy your storytelling, I expect nonfiction this time.â
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I stood in the express checkout lane that night feeling half-and-half, like the cream Mom sent me in for. I felt half relieved that Iâd made my confession, and half crummy that the truth was out. Rumors were spreading at school that Iâd bought an essay over the Internet and tried to pass it off as my own. As if. Weâre not even online at my house.
Just as I put the cream, bread, and Capicola ham on the conveyor belt, Kelly walked into the supermarket.
For a second I pretended not to see her, what with all the talk going around about me. But no, Kelly and I were friends. Sheâd understand. So as soon as I paid the cashier, I walked over to her in the floral section. We hadnât talked since sheâd asked me about playing miniature golf, and I wondered if we were still on.
I tapped her on the shoulder. âWhatâs up, MVP?â
âNothing,â she snapped back without looking at me. Her arms were crossed, and she kept staring at the bouquets on the $5.99 display rack.
âWhatsamatta?â I rested the grocery bag on the floor.
âYouâre a big liar, thatâs what. I heard about your fake essay. And to think I fell for your âIâm adopted and writing letters to my birth familyâ story.â
She kept staring at those flowers. I felt like jumping up on the display just to get her attention.
Dad told me once how President Nixon lied and had to leave the White House in disgrace because of a scandal called Watergate. Looking at Kellyâs scowling face, I realized that I was caught up in Essaygate.
âI wasnât lying, Kelly. I am adopted. And if I wanted to impress you, I wouldâve come up with a much better story. Trust me.â
No response.
âListen, I couldnât write the essay because I donât know my birth family,â I said, staring down at my sneakers. âMy parents donât know anything either, and I panicked.â
Finally she looked at me. âYou told me you were writing back and forth with your family in Korea,â she said.
âI want toâ¦I mean, Iâm going to. Itâs complicated.â
âI donât respect dishonest people,â she declared. And she walked past me so fast that I felt a breeze.
That was when I felt my blood really starting to boil, as Aunt Foxy says. How dare she suggest Iâm dishonest! Last year I found five dollars wedged in the seat on the school bus and I turned it in to the bus driver.
Besides, Kelly didnât have a clue what it was like being adopted. Not a clue.
I marched right up beside her, next to a giant cactus. âKnow what, Kelly? I donât respect golden girls who rushto judge others without checking the facts. And by the way, Iâll pass on miniature golf this weekend. Iâve got commitments.â Then I picked up the grocery bag and headed toward the automatic exit door.
Like Dad, I mixed metaphors, but I got my point across.
Then the door shut behind me. On Kelly and any wish I had for us to go to the Farewell Formal together.
Comic Relief
N ash and I locked our bikes in front of the comic book
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham