you.”
Matt, Zach, and Claire were the AP kids. They were all friends, but as they got older they were starting to realize only one of them could be valedictorian and get into Harvard. Helen stayed out of the competition, especially because she had started liking Zach less and less the past few years. Ever since his father had become the football coach and started pushing Zach to be number one both on the field and in the classroom, Zach had become so competitive that Helen could barely stand to be around him anymore.
A part of her felt bad for him. She would have pitied him more if he wasn’t so combative toward her. Zach had to be everything all the time—president of this club, captain of that team, the guy with all the gossip—but he never looked like he was enjoying any of it. Claire insisted that Zach was secretly in love with Helen, but Helen didn’t believe it for a second; in fact, sometimes she felt like Zach hated her, and that bothered her. He used to share his animal crackers with her during recess in the first grade, and now he looked for any opportunity to pick a fight with her. When did everything get so complicated, and why couldn’t they all just be friends like they were in grade school?
“Mr. Brant,” Mr. Hergeshimer enunciated. “You may use impertinent as your word if you wish, but from someone of your mental faculties I shall also be expecting something more. Perhaps an essay on an example of impertinence in English literature?” He nodded. “Yes, five pages on Salinger’s use of impertinence in his controversial Catcher in the Rye by Monday, please.”
Helen could practically smell the palms of Zach’s hands clam up from two seats away. Hergie’s powers for giving extra reading to smart-ass students were legendary, and he seemed determined to make an example out of Zach on the first day. Helen thanked her lucky stars Hergie hadn’t picked on her.
She’d rejoiced too soon. After Mr. Hergeshimer handed out the schedules, he called Helen up to his desk. He told the other students to speak freely, and they immediately launched into excited first-day-of-school chatter. Hergie had Helen pull up a chair next to him instead of making her stand and talk across his desk. Apparently, he didn’t want any of the other students to hear what he was going to say. That put Helen a little more at ease, but not for long.
“I see you decided not to enroll in any Advanced Placement classes this year,” he said, looking at her from over his half-moon reading glasses.
“I didn’t think I’d be able to handle the extra workload,” she mumbled, tucking her hands under her thighs and sitting on them to keep them still.
“I think you’re capable of much more than you are willing to admit,” Hergie said, frowning. “I know you aren’t lazy, Helen. I also know you are one of the brightest students in your class. So what’s keeping you from taking advantage of all that this educational system has to offer you?”
“I have to work,” she said with a helpless shrug. “I need to save up if I want to go to college.”
“If you take AP classes and do well on your SATs, you will stand a better chance of getting enough money for school through a scholarship than by working for minimum wage at your father’s shop.”
“My dad needs me. We aren’t rich like everyone else on this island, but we are there for each other,” she said defensively.
“That’s very admirable of you both, Helen,” Hergie replied in a serious tone. “But you are reaching the end of your high school years and it’s time to start thinking about your own future.”
“I know,” Helen said, nodding. She could see from the worry puckering his face that he cared, and that he was just trying to help. “I think I should get a pretty good athletic scholarship for track. I got much faster over the summer. Really.”
Mr. Hergeshimer stared at her earnest face begging him to let it go, and finally conceded. “All right.