Our Stories by Marion Dane Bauer

Author:Marion Dane Bauer [Bauer, Marion Dane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

The Proving Project

"Elyse never got in trouble. Why do you?"

"Elyse never got D's. Why can't you be more like Elyse?"

I don't know why my parents are so surprised on report-card day. By now you'd think they would be used to my failing grades. I've only been getting them for the past three years.

I picked up my bookbag and headed to Carly Haven's house. Carly has been my best friend practically forever. We had gotten a big Social Studies assignment, and I was going to work on it at Carly's house. Mrs. Haven is an artist, and she has a ton of supplies.

Usually, I don't get too involved in schoolwork, but this one wasn't just for the grade. I was finally going to prove that I was not Elyse Bennett.

"Yo, Josey!" Roy called out. He lives a few houses away from Carly. He and a bunch of boys from my class were sitting on Roy's front steps.

"What?" I asked, jogging up his lawn.

"Want to play football with us?" Roy asked.

"Nah. I've got to start my family tree," I answered.

"Josey, are you feeling okay?" he asked skeptically.

"Yeah," I replied.

"But you always play with us," Randy joined in. "You said yourself you'd rather hang out with us than do school stuff."

"I know. But this is different." I gave a quick wave and dashed off.

At dinner that night I tried not to act unusual. When my mother asked how school was, I gave the usual remark. "It stunk." I patiently listened to Elyse brag about how well she was doing in her senior year and how she was positive she would graduate at the top of her class.

"Mrs. Haven called before. She said something about a family-tree project. How's it coming?" my mom asked.

"It's not coming. I'm not going to do it," I replied.

"Why am I not surprised?" my father mumbled to himself.

"That's your choice," my mom said. "If only you were—"

"More like Elyse." I finished her sentence. "May I be excused?" I asked.

The next afternoon, I went over to Carly's house to work on my project. When she answered the door, I could tell something was up. When she told me that her little sister, Hannah, had spilled apple juice all over my project, I could have killed her.

"What?" I hissed, not wanting to believe what she had just said.

"It was an accident. Hannah just wandered downstairs."

I didn't want to lose my best friend, so I just said, "Fine. Take a deep breath, count to three, and walk away." I turned around and started to walk home.

"Weird," Carly muttered. She shook her head and closed the door.

I walked home, depressed. It was just my luck. I finally get involved in a school project and it gets ruined. My last chance to do this stupid project was to stay after school every day and work on it in the after-school program.

The next afternoon, I worked by myself, plotting out, sketching, drawing, erasing, and starting over. By the end of the afternoon, I had put on the finishing touches and was ready to hand in my masterpiece the next day.

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