Page 27 of Atticus
“If my dad hears about this—”
“Oh, so you’re going to hide behind your dad now?” I counter. “Like you think Pearl hides behind hers?”
His cheeks flush red, and he frowns. “I’m nothing like her.”
“Prove it.” I shrug. “Be better than her. I know you can be. Make anyone who doubts you eat their words. Best way to get back at a world determined to keep you down.”
Jack snorts. “Why bother? It’s not gonna change anybody’s mind about me.”
“You don’t do it for them,” I reply. “You do it for you.”
Jack falls silent, clasping the strap of his sleek backpack. For once, he doesn’t seem to have a witty retort, but that defiance of his is muted.
He’s thinking. Mission accomplished.
“Do you read, Jack?” I ask.
He stares at me like I’ve just spoken in another language. “Do I look like someone who thinks books are fun?”
“What if I could change your mind about it?” I ask, opening my tote bag and pulling out a thick leatherbound book.
He peers down at the title skeptically. “The Iliad? Looks boring. It’s not digital, either. Does it have any pictures in it, even?”
“A few illustrations, yes,” I say. “It’s a book I loved as a kid.”
“So, what, some kinda book about fairy princesses or something?”
“No, actually.” I place it in his hands, and he balks. He wasn’t expecting it to be so heavy. “This book may be bloodier than any video game you’ve ever played.”
“Yeah right.”
“I’m serious. Two hundred grisly deaths across the Trojan battlefields are described in this book,” I reply. “It’s not for the faint of heart. Think you can manage it?”
“If you read it,” Jack says, tucking it at his side, “then I bet I should be fine. What do I get?”
“What do you mean?”
“If the book sucks,” Jack replies. “What do I get?”
I consider this. “What do you want?”
Jack doesn’t respond right away. “I get to borrow Atticus. For...a week.”
Hesitant, I shake my head. “Jack, Atticus is technically school property, and I’m responsible for his safety. He’s a very expensive piece of equipment. I can’t lend him to a student.”
Jack appears disappointed, but then he tries again. “Fifty bucks?”
“That, I can do.” I laugh softly. “But if you enjoy the book and I win this little bet, you readThe Odyssey.”
“What’s that?”
“Another Greek epic filled with bloodshed and mayhem.” I smirk, leaning forward with my arms folded over the desk. “Think of these books as like sneaking into R-rated films but in the ancient world. Except you won’t get in trouble for reading it, because it’s considered a classic.”
“All right.” Jack appears sure of himself, with the way he squares his shoulders and lifts his chin. “Bet.”
“Bet,” I agree. Eighth graders begin to file in and take their seats. “Now, then. Better head to your next class.”
* * *
