Real Carol Cujec (if you liked this book txt) 📖

Nothing but net.

She shoots, she scores . . . for the other team.

A collective “Awwwwwwwww” came from the crowd. I could not look at my cheering section.

“You idiot!” Darcy spit words at me under her breath, and yelled, “Get her outta here, Coach!”

Coach’s cheeks puffed up. “Darcy, you take orders from me, not the other way around. I’m keeping her in.”

Oh, no. He cannot be serious.

The ref blew the whistle again. Grace grabbed my hand.

Run. Run. Run. Turn. Run. Run. Turn. Run. Run. Run.

In front of the basket, Grace got the ball and handed it to me. “Shoot, Charity.”

Do not screw this up.

Throw and a miss.

Darcy caught the rebound and aimed for a shot. She tossed the ball toward the net.

I cannot explain why, but all of Dad’s lessons on lay-ups popped into my head at that moment.

Page 17: Bison can jump six feet high.

Run. Jump. Reach.

I charged the net and jumped, right as Darcy’s ball floated above it—perfectly timed to knock her shot away.

The other team grabbed the ball and scored a three-pointer in less than five seconds.

Darcy’s mom howled. “Get that girl off the court!”

Thank goodness Coach let me return to the bench. My three minutes of play felt like three hours.

I sat next to Dad for the final minutes of the game chewing my knuckles and avoiding the evil stare of Mrs. Bling-Bling.

We lost by two points.

Least valuable player—Charity-Case Wood.

Darcy wiped her wet face then flung her towel on the floor. “We had this game till she came out and wrecked it for us.”

“Hey!” shouted Coach. “You need to work on your sportsmanship, young lady, or I will be happy to bench you for an entire game.”

Jaz rolled up to me. “Don’t stress about it, Charity. I mean, you did score two baskets in your first game.”

“Yeah, it’s just game one,” Grace said. “We have a whole season to get into our groove.”

Dad helped me respond.

Will try not to score for other team next time.

A bald man in a dark suit charged up to Coach George, his whole face inflated with anger. Darcy’s mom stood next to him with folded arms. She nodded at everything the man said.

Grace whispered, “Darcy’s parents are pretty extreme. They shelled out some serious coin to the school. Sometimes they act as if they own us.”

Watching her parents have a meltdown over a basketball game, I felt sorry for Darcy.

From Coach’s expression—kind of like my dog, Hero, when Mom catches him chewing her shoe—I could tell he was losing the argument.

Would I get to play in another game?

Probability: low.

Hornet Sting to the Head

“To deny education to any people is one of the greatest crimes against human nature.” These words, written by Frederick Douglass, filled me with courage as I sat in English class waiting to begin our weekly reading quiz.

Frederick Douglass was the subject of the quiz, and I had been preparing all week. I did not tell Mom about my dream of reaching the honor roll. I kept it my secret wish.

Facts from the readings floated in my head.

Douglass was born a slave in 1818. He was not allowed to learn to read, so he had to learn in secret. After years of abuse, he escaped and then fought hard to gain freedom for other slaves. He understood how important education was to freedom.

Frederick Douglass was officially my new hero.

I jumped a little when Mason slipped into the chair beside me. He pointed to his phone, which he held in his lap so no one could see.

“It’s that dumb gossip app again,” he whispered. “Something’s going down, so watch your back.”

How could I watch my back when I could barely walk a straight line?

He angled his screen so I could see. Sassygirl72 wrote, “No retards playing basketball” in one post. In another, Sassygirl wrote, “11 am fetch rover.”

“I have no idea what that second one means, but it’s almost 11.”

I glanced up at the clock—10:50. What was coming?

Mason returned to his seat. I stared down at my puzzle pieces, my hands too shaky to pick one up.

Ana sat next to me. “Are you okay, Charity?” She held up the keyboard, but I sat frozen. “Do not be nervous about the quiz. You know this material.”

Sassygirl had to be Darcy. I glanced over at her. She sat at her desk, skimming the textbook.

Was she messing with me so I would fail?

What would happen at eleven? I scanned the room. No one was looking at me, no one whispering. A few students were sneaking texts as usual.

My body rocked back and forth, back and forth as Ms. Beckett passed back last week’s homework.

The clock ticked forward . . . 55 . . . 56 . . . 57.

Finally, Ms. Beckett handed out the quiz—five simple multiple-choice questions. Easy-peasy, as Dad would say.

Ana steadied my arm to begin typing. The clock ticked to eleven, and I held my breath.

Nothing happened. I was jittery for nothing.

Then it hit.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

A hornet sting to my head. The same piercing noise I heard before. This time twice as loud! I slapped my ears.

Smack, smack, smack, smack.

I screamed.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Ms. Beckett ran over. Ana knelt beside me.

I hit my forehead on the table.

Bang. Bang.

Someone gripped my shoulders. I wiggled away.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Then silence. It stopped.

I opened my eyes to see Ana’s worried face. I could not hear her voice. Her lips asked, “Are you okay, Charity?”

The class had gathered around me.

I could predict what was coming next as clearly as if I had a crystal ball. Ms. Beckett would send me to the nurse’s office. Mom would take me to the doctor to get examined. Celia would call to say that someone complained about the disruption. And on and on until Jergen pulled me out of regular classes for interfering with learning.

Ana supported me to stand.

“Come, Charity. Let’s get you to the nurse’s office,” she said.

And so it begins.

“Wait a minute.” Mason stood up. His face was red and stretched as if he was in pain. Then I realized . . . these were the first words he ever spoke in front of the