If I Ever Get Out of Here by Eric Gansworth

Author:Eric Gansworth [Gansworth, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2013-06-28T04:00:00+00:00

Toward the end of summer, we got our schedules mailed to us. I was still an Eight-Three, still among the smarties. I called George right away to confirm that we were in the same section.

“Of course, Shoe, where else? Stacey and Artie too.” He laughed, and it was great to hear his voice. It was the first time we had talked since the end of July, and for once this gap had nothing to do with my saying or doing something stupid. He and his parents had gone to Germany for a week to visit relatives, and then he had spent another week camping with Stacey’s family. All of our classes were the same except the final period, when he had Choraliers.

I didn’t recognize any of the teacher names on my schedule, so I took my yearly trip down the road with my slip of paper to show my cousin Innis, who was in high school. He told me about which teachers to watch for, and then I pointed to one line on my schedule.

“Hey, do you know why they call Boys Chorus ‘Music’?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Innis asked. Where it should have said, “Boys Chorus,” there sat “Music,” with the name Miss Ward and a room number. Miss Ward was my homeroom teacher as well.

“That’s not chorus. I’ve taken Music,” Innis said, doing the slow nod and cocky grin. He liked passing knowledge on, particularly if it was a little unsavory. “It’s, you know, like history, periods of music. I had Miss Ward. That woman’s nuts. She left and then came back to the school when I was still there. The older kids called her Miss Mental Ward. Guess she had some big flip-out and her classes had to be subbed for the rest of the year.”

“How do you get away with that? How come she didn’t get fired?” I asked. That’s what happened to anyone I knew who didn’t show up for a job when they were supposed to — mostly my dad.

“Don’t know. I heard a couple teachers talking about it in the hall. They were calling it something, like expensive leaves. She does bring in a synthesizer and let people play with it,” he added. “Pretty much everyone just makes sound effects. You know, it’s music class. If any of us knew what we were doing, we’d be in the band or the chorus.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. He nodded, and we went out to shoot some hoops.

Less than a week later, Innis was proven right. In eighth period, the kids in band, Choraliers, and the Girls Chorus, including George and Stacey, all stood up in our homeroom and gathered their things to leave. I approached Miss Ward with my schedule as she set her grade book and other materials on the desk.

“Miss Ward, there seems to be a mistake here,” I said, holding the slip of paper out to her. “I was supposed to be in Boys Chorus, but my schedule says I have Music here with you.

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