The Taming Read Online Free

of Chinese kids and an occasional African kid whose father was on a diplomatic mission, but they’d stood out in a sea of faces so white they looked like a blanket of new-fallen snow. Here I was pretty much in the minority. I guess, actually, everybody was in the minority. Black, Asian, brown and white … interestingly they weren’t sitting in any perceivable pattern. They were sort of mixed up. In all of my old schools the few “ethnic” kids usually clustered together—maybe because they shared a language or culture. Maybe, though, they sat together just for safety—at least for emotional safety. It wasn’t as if anybody was going to hit them. Violence wasn’t something that lurked in the hallowed halls of the schools that I’d attended. I wasn’t so sure that was the case here.
    “Okay, let’s get settled in and start being dramatic!” Ms. Cooper called out.
    The noise level settled down and she walked into the centre of the circle.
    “ ‘A classic is a book which people praise and don’t read,’ ” Ms. Cooper said. “Does anybody know who said that?”
    Who didn’t know who said that?
    Nobody’s hand went up. Were they just being unco-operative, or did nobody actually know the answer?
    “Anybody … come on. Somebody has to know,” she prodded.
    Again, no response. It was now obvious that nobody knew.
    “How about if I sweeten the pot. If anybody can guess the right answer it will be worth five marks, and I’ll dismiss the class early so you can have an extra-long lunch.”
    Kids sat up straighter in their seats. She now had their attention, but she still didn’t have anybody volunteering an answer. Bribes can’t produce answers if the answers aren’t there.
    “Come on, somebody make a guess,” one of the students pleaded.
    “Tell you what,” Ms. Cooper said, “I’ll give you three guesses, so make sure you make them good ones.”
    “William Shakespeare!” one of the girls yelled out.
    “Great guess!” Ms. Cooper exclaimed, and the kids burst into applause. “But wrong.” That silenced the applause.
    “Dr. Seuss?” one of the boys joked.
    “Wrong again. And that’s two guesses.”
    The class collectively groaned.
    “I was just joking!” he protested.
    “Too bad. A guess is a guess,” she said. “You’d better think about this, talk it over before you make any more bad guesses or—”
    “Samuel Clements,” I said.
    “No!” somebody screamed out. “No more guesses!”
    Ms. Cooper smiled. “Do people want it to count?”
    “Is he right?” that same girl asked.
    Ms. Cooper just gave a bigger smile in response. “I’m not telling you if he’s right or wrong. You have to decide as a class: do you trust your new classmate?” She turned to look at me, as did every eye in the room.
    “I’m right.” I said it confidently. I was right.
    “Has anybody even heard of Samuel … Samuel … whatever he said?” the Emo-boy asked.
    “Clements,” Ms. Cooper said.
    There was more mumbled conversation as people were trying to come to some decision.
    “It’s the right answer.” I paused. “Trust me.” I flashed my best smile.
    “I believe him,” a girl said—a very pretty girl. “I say we trust him.”
    I did have a way of getting pretty girls to trust me … at least in the beginning.
    “That would be wise,” Ms. Cooper said. “It is in fact Samuel Clements, a.k.a. Mark Twain. Thanks to Evan, we will be dismissed early for lunch!”
    There were cheers and hoots, and the guy two seats away leaned over and slapped me on the back.
    “But first let’s accomplish a little bit of work. We are going to start reading one of the classics. It was written by arguably the greatest writer in the history of the English language.”
    Oh, great, we were going to be reading Romeo and Juliet or Hamlet or—
    The door opened. It was Danny!
    “Good morning, or is it already afternoon?” Ms. Cooper said.
    “Come on, I’m only slightly late,” Danny