“No, I’m serious,” Erin says. “Who decided that once you get to junior high, you have to sit at a desk all day?”
Delman crosses his arms. “We’re not going to get into this right now. Please take your seat.”
She doesn’t.
“Did you know,” she asks, “a recent study found that walking can greatly improve creativity? And a different study found that when students take breaks and move around, they stay focused and actually perform better?”
Delman narrows his eyes. “Miss Marcus. This isn’t the time.”
“Yes, it is!” She looks around the room, then waves her arms. “Get up, everyone! Remember the sit-ins from the sixties?”
People look confused, and like they don’t want to get into trouble.
Erin stamps a foot. “Come on! We learned about them last year in social studies! The lunch counter in North Carolina? Well, this is a stand-in! A real protest. We should have a voice.”
Brian goes, “Yeah!” and jumps up. Then Zoe does too. They both stand next to their desks.
I stare at Erin.
“Ethan,” she says, “get up! This is for you!”
It’s like she’s me and I’m her. Is this really happening, or is it a movie where we magically switched places?
She smiles. “Tomatoes.”
I nod. Tomatoes. I push myself out of my chair and stand. One by one, everyone else in the room stands too. Not one kid is sitting. I have to say, it’s pretty amazing.
“Should we do the rap?” Brian cracks, and someone goes, “Yeah, do it!”
“All right,” Delman says. “Enough. If you don’t sit at your desks right now, I’ll have no choice but to write all of you up and send you to Mrs. D’Antonio’s office. Is that what you want?”
Erin holds up the short story we’ve been reading. “No. We want to express our opinion, Mr. Delman. We’re taking a stand. Like in this story, when they went on strike for better working conditions. I don’t believe we’re asking for too much here.”
If Erin runs for president one day, which I have no doubt she’ll do, I’ll vote for her.
Delman’s silent for a few seconds. He looks around like he’s weighing his options.
I clear my throat. “Okay, I think we’ve made our point.” I sit in my chair and motion for everyone else to sit too. They do. Everyone except Erin.
“Are you willing to listen to us?” she asks.
He sighs. “Come and talk to me after class, Miss Marcus.”
Erin nods, then sits and pushes up her mechanical pencil like it’s any other day.
Delman loafer-taps down my aisle, like it’s any other day. “Now, let’s get back to the story at last. Who can summarize the overall theme?”
Erin’s hand shoots up. No one else is volunteering.
Delman smiles. “Yes, Erin, I’m sure you have a thought.”
She clasps her hands. “I do. See, the two sides started out very far apart. Different things were important to them. They were different. They didn’t understand each other. I mean, isn’t that why people don’t like each other? But then, once they started talking, and negotiating, they had more in common than they realized. Each side had to compromise before any real work could be accomplished.”
“Excellent,” Delman says. “I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
I raise my hand.
“Ethan? You have something to add?”
“Uh, yeah, I just wanted to say that Erin really helped me get this story. So, thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she says. “Anytime.”
Delman looks at her, then me. “Okay, let’s continue.”
Like it’s any other day.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Rin
ERIN
As soon as class ends and everyone clears out (except for my brother, hanging around by the bulletin board), I approach Mr. Delman. He starts to speak, but I hold up a hand. “If I can explain.”
“Certainly,” he says. “Go ahead.”
“If you need to give me Reflection for starting the stand-in, I’ll accept it with no arguments. But you said yourself that we’ve done badly on the last few quizzes and the unit test. I mean, not me, but many others.”
“That’s correct.”
“So what would it hurt to try something different? Think outside the box. See if standing, or moving, or taking stretch breaks even, can improve students’ performance. If not, then no harm, go back to the old way.”
He tips his head. “Are you planning a career as an attorney, Erin?”
“Oh, I haven’t decided. There are many careers I’m considering. I’m good at a lot of things.” I turn to Ethan. “Anything you’d like to add?”
He grins. “I think you covered it.”
Mr. Delman picks up his briefcase from the floor and starts putting papers into it. “Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll take this under advisement.”
“What does that mean?” Ethan asks.
“It means I’ll give it some thought.”
“Thank you,” I say, then motion to Ethan. I go out and he follows. You have to know when to make your exit. That’s crucial.
“Whoa,” he says, and I put my finger over my lips. Mr. Delman could still hear us. Ethan and I can talk later. We quietly walk down the hallway toward our lockers.
I didn’t plan this, if that’s what you’re wondering. Not until the moment I overheard Ethan asking Mr. Delman if he could use the desk-evator in class. Then I knew I had to do something to help him. I mean, I wanted to. And also, I knew if I pulled it off right, I wouldn’t get in trouble.
Even if I did, it would’ve been okay. There’s a first for everything. And besides, this was important. In so many ways.
ETHAN
So that’s how you work within the system. That’s how you get rules to change.
Erin looks at the time on her phone. “Oh, I’ve missed the bus! And it’s an hour until the late bus.”
“So you’ll walk.”
“It’s cold out.”
“It’s fine.”
“You’d still be wearing shorts if Mom didn’t make you wear jeans.”
“True.”
We open our lockers, grab our backpacks, load them up, and walk out the front doors together. Erin pulls on a knitted hat and gloves, then wraps a scarf around her neck.
“Seriously,” I say, “it’s not that cold.”
“What are you talking about! It’s freezing!”
After we cross the street and we’re in the park, I say, “Thanks, Rin.”
She looks at me and smiles. “You’re welcome.”
Rin. My first word.
Mom likes to tell random strangers how I didn’t talk for the longest time when I was little and they were worried about me. Then one day I just said my sister’s name. Or part of it. Which assured them I was brilliant, and besides, it was so cute. People usually have a story about their own kid or someone else’s, who also didn’t talk and is now an astrophysicist or something. So maybe my future is bright, who knows.
“That was amazing,” I say. “A stand-in? Only you would come up with that.”
“I know.” She laughs. “Just kidding. Sort of.”
“I can’t believe you did that. Stood your ground and protested. Got everyone else to do it too. Then explained it all rationally to Delman.”
“Hey, I can live on the edge if I want to.” She pulls down her hat, then stuffs her hands into her pockets.
“You sure can.”
Yeah, that’s my sister, living on the edge, bundled up with only her eyes and nose showing. The kind of edge that gets things to happen.
“Can I ask you something?” I say.
“Okay.”
“When you told me you didn’t think I could do it—make the desk-evator—that I didn’t have what it takes—were you saying that because you wanted me to keep trying?”
She peers at me from under the hat. “What do you think?”
“I thi
nk yes.”
“We’ll leave it at that, then.” She strides ahead.
We’re almost through the park when I realize Wesley’s sitting on the bench where the seagulls usually are, but there aren’t any. They’re gone. He’s by himself. I can only see his profile, but he looks different. Not as scary.
Then, I just know. I don’t know how, I just do. It was him.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Spaghetti, Take Two
WESLEY
The day before Mom left, she dropped one of the little flowered plates when she was dusting it, and it broke into a bunch of jagged, sharp pieces. She started crying. She couldn’t stop crying. It was just her and me in the kitchen. And I said, in this mean voice, “It’s just a plate, Mom, get over it.”
I didn’t know. I thought she was crying about the plate.
For a long time, I thought that her leaving had something to do with what I said. But I guess it’s what Gilardi explained—Mom wasn’t happy with her life here. Maybe it didn’t have as much to do with me as it did with her.
Dad, Brett, and I are in the kitchen for what Dad’s calling “Spaghetti, Take Two.” He brings a bowl to the table. “Here we are,” he says.
Here we are is right. This is it. This is how it is and how it’s gonna be from now on.
Dad takes some garlic bread from the oven, slices it, then puts the pieces on a tray and brings it to the table. Brett’s bent over his dish, shoveling spaghetti into his mouth. He doesn’t talk when he eats, and there’s sauce on his chin. That’s how it is too.
“How does it taste?” Dad asks Brett.
“Not as crunchy.”
Dad laughs as I try the spaghetti. “Well?” he says.
“It’s pretty good,” I say.
Dad glances at Brett, who’s attacking a piece of garlic bread like it’s an opponent he’s ripping to shreds. Dad looks at me and shrugs, like he’s saying the same thing. This is how it is and how it’s gonna be. I get this feeling he’s telling me he agrees it sucks that she left, but we gotta find a way to make it work and be okay.
Brett does this multilevel burp, thumps his chest with his fist, then looks up. “What?”
Dad grins.
“What’re you lookin’ at me for?” Brett says. “It had to come out.”
“More spaghetti?” Dad asks, pushing the bowl in his direction.
“Yeah, sure. You guys are so frickin’ weird sometimes.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I say.
Dad says, “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Last Words
BRIAN
It took me a few days, but I’m over it, I swear. Jamie and Armando are a thing and that’s that. I saw them holding hands. I saw them kissing. I knew she was a long shot for me. Armando’s really tall.
Anyway, we changed seats in math and Veronica Lee’s at my table. We’ve been talking. About math problems, mostly. She’s kind of cute, don’t you think?
She’s also not Polish. Please don’t mention that to Gram. Because she keeps asking Mom if I’ve set a date. She also accused me of stealing her socks.
I must’ve told her I didn’t take them, like, ten times.
Finally she seemed to believe me. “Well, if they’re gone,” she said, “it must be a blessing in disguise.”
“Gram,” I answered. “I think everything is.”
ZOE
I worked up my courage and asked Ethan if he wanted to go to a movie with me this weekend. He said, and I quote, “Okay.”
Okay!
OKAY!
Did you ever hear such a stupendous word in your life?
WESLEY
This time, when Dad offers me the phone, I take it.
It’s good to hear her voice.
ERIN
I’m preparing a report and PowerPoint for Mrs. D’Antonio on the sitting/standing/desk issue. I think she’ll find it very informative.
And I think we can really make some changes at McNutt.
I would’ve been fine with the way things were, but okay, I’ll just say it. It’s not always about me.
ETHAN
“Just as the little boy had known it would.”
With a little help from his sister.
The sister part isn’t in The Carrot Seed.
That’s in my story.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I HAVE NEVER INVENTED ANYTHING, unless you count the retainer I made out of a paper clip when I was in middle school. (My best friend had gotten a retainer, which I thought was very cool, and—what can I say—I wanted to be cool too.) But even so, I believe that inventors have something in common with writers. We both begin with the same thing—an idea. When you first come up with it, you don’t quite know if it’s brilliant or ridiculous or crazy. Depending on the day or the angle of the sun, you might think one of those, or all three.
I have many people to thank for loving the idea for this book (and not thinking it was ridiculous or crazy): my patient and wise agent Alyssa Eisner Henkin, who kept the faith with me through eleven drafts and never let me give up; my perceptive editor, Fiona Simpson, and the team at Aladdin for their support, guidance, and insightful advice; and Laura Lyn DiSiena and Hugo Santos for their terrific cover design. Gracias to Gillie Adler for the Spanish assistance. And to my friends and family—especially Ben, Rachel, Sam, and Cassie—you continue to amaze me with your unending encouragement and love. A book doesn’t become a book without these essential ingredients. My last thank you is for you. Readers simply rock the world. But you knew that, didn’t you? Rock on.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MICHELE WEBER HURWITZ is also the author of two middle-grade novels: The Summer I Saved the World . . . in 65 Days and Calli Be Gold. Both have been nominated for several state reading awards. She lives in the Chicago area with her family. Visit her online at micheleweberhurwitz.com.
ALADDIN
Simon & Schuster, New York
MICHELEWEBERHURWITZ.COM
VISIT US AT SIMONANDSCHUSTER.COM/KIDS
Authors.SimonandSchuster.com/Michele-Weber-Hurwitz
This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division
1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, New York 10020
www.SimonandSchuster.com
First Aladdin hardcover edition September 2017
Text copyright © 2017 by Michele Weber Hurwitz
Jacket illustration copyright © 2017 by Hugo Santos
Jacket designed by Laura Lyn DiSiena
Author photograph by Sadie Teper
All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.
ALADDIN and related logo are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.
For information about special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected].
The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event.
For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.
Book designed by Laura Lyn DiSiena
This book has been cataloged with the Library of Congress.
ISBN 978-1-4814-8925-6 (hc)
ISBN 978-1-4814-8927-0 (eBook)
-filter: grayscale(100%); -ms-filter: grayscale(100%); filter: grayscale(100%); " class="sharethis-inline-share-buttons">share
Ethan Marcus Stands Up Page 14