Class Dismissed by Allan Woodrow

Author:Allan Woodrow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic Inc.
Published: 2015-09-04T04:00:00+00:00

On Monday, Kyle strolls into class with a big, blockhead grin. He looks exactly the opposite of how I feel. Last night I dreamed I was Chicken Little. But in my dream the sky was falling and no one listened to me. Which is most definitely not how the story goes.

Over the weekend, Mom and I talked about our Harvard trip. She told me we could still change our plans and head somewhere more fun. I told her I still wanted to go, but I know, in my heart, that it doesn’t really matter. Harvard won’t admit me when they discover I’m a liar and a failure at directing plays and at leading blockheads.

I’m a blockhead, too. I’m probably the biggest blockhead of all. My future was so bright, but now it’s shrouded in so much pitch-black darkness, I need a flashlight to see it.

“Do you need any help?” Paige asks me. Lacey stands behind her.

“I’m quite fine, thank you,” I say, but I say it louder and with a more irritated tone than I intend. They turn and walk away and I wonder, for a fleeting moment, if I should call them back. I feel bad, but then Kyle strolls up with a thick pile of stapled papers. My chance to smooth things over with my friends vanishes.

“It’s done,” says Kyle.

“What’s done?” I stare at him blankly.

“The play,” he says. “I wrote it. Stapled, collated, and ready to roll.”

I raise my eyebrows. The play is typed. It’s complete. And—fit for hundreds of parents to watch? I’m stunned, but dubious.

Dubious means I’m doubtful, uncertain, and cannot believe a Neanderthal like Kyle came through for us.

My spirits lift a little. Just a little, though.

This is goofball Kyle we’re talking about.

“It’s a musical,” he says. “Everyone loves a musical, right?”

I nod slowly. Musicals are whimsical, bouncy nothings. The American Revolution was not whimsical, bouncy, and certainly not nothing. My slightly elevated spirits start to plunge back to their sub-basement level.

I stare at the title page: Let Liberty Fall: A Musical about Teeth and Freedom.

“A musical about teeth?” I ask, puzzled.

“Sure. You know, I call it Let Liberty Fall because of our town name, Liberty Falls. That’s pretty clever, right? But then there’s George Washington. He had wooden teeth, right? That was a huge part of the American Revolution. Along with Ben Franklin’s superpowers and all the tea parties everyone had.”

“Um, I don’t think so,” I mutter. My spirits plunge back into a pit of total black doom. “Did you spend a lot of time writing this?”

“Of course. I mean, I guess it sort of depends on what you mean by ‘a lot.’ ” He laughs, but I don’t join in his merriment.

I keep one copy of the script and hand the rest of the pile back to Kyle to share with the class. I read the first page, and any remaining hope I had shrivel up into a bitter and stomach-churning seed of despair. I shake my head.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

I continue reading,

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