The Dare Read Free

was gray and growing darker. I wondered if it was cold enough to snow. I hoped not. I remembered that I had lost my red wool gloves somewhere, and I didn’t have any money to buy another pair.
    When Mr. Northwood clicked off his little tape recorder and slid it into his pocket, I sat up straightand began shoving my Trapper Keeper into my backpack.
    â€œDismissed,” Mr. Northwood said in his reedy, thin voice.
    I jumped to my feet, straightening the bottom of my white cotton sweater, pulling it down over my faded denims. I left my backpack on the floor, told Margaret I’d meet her in the hall, and started to the front of the room.
    I had to ask Mr. Northwood a question about the paper I was writing about Charles Lindbergh. I didn’t know if he wanted me just to write about Lindbergh’s career, or did I have to write about the kidnapping of his baby too?
    I had started to the front when I saw that Dennis Arthur had gotten there first. Mr. Northwood said something to him, and Dennis reacted angrily.
    I stopped short as they started to argue.
    The room had emptied out. I took a step back, then another, lingering against the wall.
    â€œI
told
you why I can’t take the midterm exam!” Dennis cried shrilly. He was gesturing excitedly with his hands. Even from the back of the room, I could see his green eyes flash excitedly. I could tell Dennis was really upset.
    â€œMy family always goes to the Bahamas in February,” Dennis said, crossing his arms in front of his navy blue sweatshirt. “What am I supposed to do, Mr. Northwood—stay home so I can take your exam?”
    Mr. Northwood shook his head. The lines in hisface seemed to grow deeper. “Have a good trip,” he said dryly. “Send me a postcard, Dennis.”
    â€œWell, I don’t see why you can’t give me a makeup test when I get back,” Dennis insisted, leaning over the teacher’s desk, challenging him. “Or give me a test I can take along with me.”
    Mr. Northwood shook his head, his colorless lips forming the word
no.
    â€œWhy not?” Dennis demanded.
    â€œIt would be unfair to your classmates,” the teacher replied softly, stooping his head, as always, as he gathered his books and papers together.
    I was starting to feel embarrassed listening to this. I mean, I didn’t want Dennis to think I was deliberately eavesdropping or anything.
    But I don’t think Dennis even knew I was in the room. And I really did want to ask Mr. Northwood my question.
    So I stayed, leaning against the wall, thinking about how great-looking Dennis is, imagining what it would be like to be Caitlin, his girlfriend, and listening as the argument grew really intense.
    â€œIf I get an F, do you know what will happen to me?” Dennis cried. He didn’t wait for Mr. Northwood to answer. “I’ll lose my eligibility on the track team.”
    â€œI feel bad about that,” Mr. Northwood replied. As Dennis got louder, the teacher’s voice became softer. “I really do, Dennis.”
    â€œBut all my other teachers are giving me a break!” Dennis exclaimed. “They know I’m going to be all-statethis year. They know I could get an Olympics tryout. I could be a national star, Mr. Northwood. I really could.”
    â€œI hope so,” Mr. Northwood replied, turning his head to glance up at the clock.
    â€œGreat! Then give me a makeup test. Give me a break, okay?” Dennis pleaded, staring hard into the teacher’s watery eyes.
    â€œIn my opinion, you get too many breaks,” the teacher replied quietly. He began shoving books into his worn leather briefcase. After a few moments he stopped and raised his eyes to Dennis. “Give me one good reason why I should give you special treatment.”
    â€œBecause I
asked
you to!” Dennis replied without hesitating.
    The room suddenly grew darker as the storm clouds lowered over the sky. One of the overhead