The Art of Taking Chances Read online

  Peter

  We peeked around the corner of the hallway, Barry above me, and Hunter and the twins below, like we were in a spy movie or something.

  Directly in front of us, to the right, was the main office. Across from the main office, was Principal Mann’s office. The chemistry lab was at the end of the hallway, on the right.

  Our target.

  Xavier pulled back. “I don’t know about this. What if we get in trouble? We could go to jail.”

  Xander craned his neck back to glare at Xavier.

  “Quit being a baby,” Xander hissed. “Besides, we’re too young for jail—they’d put us in juvie.”

  I heard Xavier swallow behind me. I swallowed too.

  Yes, I’d been the ringmaster this whole time, but I still felt nervous. If we got caught, I’d be in detention for the rest of my life, if I was lucky. If I was not so lucky, I’d be expelled. Maybe even arrested. And not just me, but my brothers and friends too.

  I looked above me, then below. I was willing to risk everything for Wendy, but I didn’t want the others to suffer for it.

  “Look.” I stepped back along the wall and faced them. “This is dangerous. If we get caught, our lives will be over. If you want to back out, I won’t hold it against you.”

  Xavier spoke up quickly. “I want to back out.”

  Then, Xander socked him in the gut, making the sound of a fist hitting flesh, and an “umph.”

  “Shut it,” Xander growled. “If Peter goes down, we go down with him. It’s called being a family, dipwad.”

  “It’s called getting a rap sheet,” Xavier argued, bent over with his hands on his belly.

  Xander shook a finger in his face. “I promise that if you chicken out on me, I’ll tell everyone about you and Adella behind the softball fields.”

  Xavier gasped. “She said I couldn’t tell anyone.”

  “That sucks.” Xander pulled his phone from his pocket. “What’s her dad’s phone number again? It’s in here somewhere.”

  “Fine. Fine. I’m in.”

  “Me too,” Barry said.

  “And me,” Hunter chimed in. “But if we get caught, I’m singing like a canary. Sorry, Peter.”

  I’m not a softy, but this sort of strained, male comradery touched my heart. I nodded and grunted, because I was a guy and this was how we showed gratitude. To hide my face, I peeked back around the corner. The others resumed their spots with me on lookout.

  To our left, Mr. Mann stepped out of his office and locked the door.

  Excellent. With him gone, we could sneak past the main office and head towards the lab.

  No problem.

  “Hey Joe. A word please?”

  Mr. Fish, the swim coach, jogged out of the main office. He caught Mr. Mann three steps from his locked door and starting going on about a boy’s swim team and someone named Michael.

  “Crap,” Hunter said. “How are we going to get past them?”

  I was asking myself the same questions.

  There was no way we could sneak past them. We had to find another way around. I couldn’t have two plans fail in one day. Then I’d definitely be the loser Moira and Angela said I was.

  “We can’t wait here forever,” I said. “We need a diversion.”

  “What kind of diversion?” Xavier asked.

  Suddenly, I knew.

  Xavier was a good kid, but he did tend to snitch a lot. Especially on Xander. Time to put his skills to good use.

  “Xavier, tell them that there’s a fight by the pool.”

  “But—”

  “Do it.”

  Xavier sighed, then, a second later, he took off running, screaming his head off.

  “Mr. Mann, two girls are fighting by the pool! They’re ripping each other’s hair out, and one of them is using flippers. Come quick!”

  And then, without waiting, Xavier turned and shot off down the hallway toward the pool, Mr. Mann and Mr. Fish hot on his heels.

  Nice job, Xavier. I’d have to give him kudos about the flipper thing—if I ever saw him again, that is.

  “He’s an idiot,” Xander said. “But he’s a good idiot.”

  That was man-speak for: Xavier’s bravery and loyalty will be held in our hearts forever.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  When Mr. Mann and Mr. Fish were out of sight, we hurried past the offices, slid to a stop in front of the chemistry lab, pushed the door open, and ran inside.

  Hunter leaned against the now closed door, holding onto his chest. His pale cheeks flushed red from the run.

  “Okay, we’re here,” Hunter gasped out. “What do we do now?”

  “I need a match,” I said.

  “A match?” Barry asked. “For what?”

  “I need to start a fire.”

  Three sets of eyes gawked at me. This wasn’t the first time I’d talked them into doing something daring. They should have been used to my antics by now.

  “Your plan is to burn down the school for this chick?” Barry asked.

  “No, I just need to set off the fire alarm.”

  Barry pushed up his glasses. “What are you setting off the fire alarm for?”

  I threw my hands in the air. “Look, you’ll see. Just find me a match.”

  Barry shook a finger at me. “I’ve heard ‘you’ll see’ before. The last time you said it, I ended up covered in poison ivy.”

  “In my defense, that was last summer, and if you’d worn sneakers like I said, not timberland boots, you wouldn’t have fallen out of the tree. And,” I gesture to the room around me. “This is a chemistry lab. There’s no poison ivy here, so you don’t have to worry about it.”

  He snorted. “When it comes to your plans, I always have to worry about it.”

  I wrapped an arm around Barry’s shoulder. “You love my plans. Now”—I shoved him towards the supply cabinet—“Come on. We have to find a match.”

  Barry muttered about “jail” and “YouTube,” but he opened the supply cabinet and started digging for matches.

  Xavier kept lookout by the door while Barry, Hunter, and I combed the room. A few minutes later, we came to the same conclusion: there were no matches in the entire lab.

  I cursed under my breath.

  Xander pulled at his light brown hair. “How could there be not one match? It’s a chemistry lab. Don’t they do stuff with fire all the time?”

  Hunter looked like he was going to be sick. “Maybe this is a bad idea. We should all just go home and watch TV or something.”

  I ignore Hunter’s comment. I was running out of time, and his whining wasn’t helping things.

  Barry spoke up next. “We could pull the fire alarm.”

  I shook my head. “We’d have to break the glass first. Plus, it’ll only sound the alarm. Then the detention kids will go out and come back in like two minutes. It’s not enough time.”

  “Enough time for what?”

  “For my big reveal.”

  Hunter crossed his arms over his chest. “Just text this girl. There’s no need to go to prison over it.”

  “No, I won’t ‘just text this girl,’” I replied. “First off, I don’t have her number. Second off, texting is so impersonal. It needs to be face to face and not during school hours when she’s distracted.”

  Xavier chuckled. “You’re not going to talk him out of it, Hunter. He has a whole speech prepared. I heard him practicing it this morning.”

  I shrugged. “There may be a speech-like structure of words involved, but most of it she already knows from the letters.”

  Ah, the letter. I had written Wendy a letter every week back in ninth grade. Then tenth grade. And again, in eleventh grade. Every Monday morning, I’d slip them into the slats of her locker in a clean, white envelope.

  I’ve been patient, waiting for her to say something about them or to approach me. I signed each letter, so she had to know it was me who put them there. But it’s been three years, and she still hasn’t looked in my direction. I’m a patie
nt guy, but I think that three years should be more than enough time for a girl to make up her mind. Hence, my attempt to step up my game.

  I scanned the room again. This time, something caught my eye. The silver of the Bunsen burner in an open cabinet door beckoned me, and I raced over to it, holding it high over my head like a prize fighter’s trophy.

  “Dude, are you sure about his?” Hunter asked. “Now we’re talking about messing with the gas and—”

  “Screw the matches. I need a flint.”

  I passed by an unhappy looking Hunter and handed Barry a red hose. He attached it to the gas line at the end of the row, and I attached my end to the valve at the bottom of the burner.

  Barry wrung his hands. “We’re going to get the chair for this.”

  But I was too far gone to listen to Barry and Hunter’s complaints now. I was so close. There was no stopping now.

  I turned the barrel of the burner clockwise which closed the air inlet most of the way, then opened the gas valve. A faint hissing filled my ears.

  Hunter held out a flint to me, but he didn’t let go. “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.” I said.

  Hunter’s lips grew tight, then eased, and he released his grip.

  “You’ve never lead us wrong, Peter,” he said. “I trust you.”

  “What about my poison ivy?” Barry demanded.

  “Well, except the poison ivy thing,” Hunter said.

  “Guys, hurry up!” Xander called from the door.

  Hunter released the flint, and I clicked it a few times over the top of the burner. A small flame sparked to life.

  I picked up a nearby chemistry text book and hold the corner of the pages over the flame until they ignited. Then I pulled out a chair and positioned it in the center of the room.

  “I’m sure,” I whispered, more to myself then to anyone else. “I’m sure.”

  I held up the quickly burning book to the alarm, and waited.

  One second. Two seconds. Three.

  Suddenly, the fire alarm sounded. A second after that, the sprinklers burst to life, spraying water all around the classroom and extinguishing both the flame in my hand and the flame on the Bunsen burner.

  “Let’s get out of here!” Xavier cried, swinging the door open.

  Barry and Hunter were already sprinting to the hallway.

  I jumped off the chair and slipped in a forming puddle.

  Xavier pulled me up by my underarms.

  “Dude, let’s go!” he screamed over the wailing fire alarm.

  When I was once again steady on my feet, I followed Xavier out of the room.

  “Guys, go out the back door!” I cried. “I’ll find Wendy out front.”

  They nodded and sprinted one way down the hall, while I raced down the other.

  Once I made it around the curve, I’d be okay. I’d find Wendy, and tell her that I was in love with her. Then we’d live happily ever after.

  I just had to make it to the front door.

  I rounded the corner of the hallway and slammed into a hard chest. My foot slipped on the wet floor, and I went flying backwards. My head cracked against the floor, and I saw stars.

  Then, I saw Mr. Mann’s mocha cheeks flushed with anger, his jaw trembling. “Peter Swift. Where are you running off to?”

  “I, uh, heard the fire alarm,” I said. It wasn’t a lie. I had heard the fire alarm. Heck, I was probably the first one to hear it.

  “There are no afterschool programs at this end of the building. So, I ask you again, where are you off to so fast?”

  Water ran down his face and soaked into his suit. It ran down my face too, puddling beneath my aching head.

  “Mr. Mann, I—”

  “Me and you are going to take a walk. Then you can tell me all about your recent whereabouts.” He pulled me to my unsteady feet, then turned me around and escorted me down the hall, outside.

  Where I wanted to go anyway.

  A firetruck wailed, and a fireman raced past me.

  Through the haze of my aching head, I started to realize exactly what I’d done. I’d triggered the sprinklers. Who knows how much damage I caused the school. Books, clothes, electronics—everything was probably ruined.

  In retrospect, this was a very bad plan.

  Mr. Mann pushed me ahead, making me stumble through the crowd of kids staring at the school. I felt sure they were waiting for flames to shoot out of the windows and the roof to blow off like it’s an action movie or something. They were going to be very disappointed when they found out it was just a love-sick dude with a Bunsen burner.

  Then, by some miracle, I saw her. Wendy Darling. She was three feet from me, to my right.

  She too was staring at the school, her eyes wide, mouth slightly agape.

  I’d done all of this for her, and now I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. Heck, I may never see the inside of St. Mary’s Academy again. That meant no prom. No track team. No choosing ceremony. And most of all, no Wendy.

  Some crazy hope infused me, and I decided to do the one thing I’ve wanted to do for three years.

  “Wendy.”

  She turned her beautiful blue eyes to me, and, unable to stop myself, I took her hand. My words tumbled out of me like a waterfall. “I’m probably going to get expelled, but you’re so beautiful, and I was wondering if maybe I can come over, or you can come to my house or wherever and we can talk, because I—”

  Wendy’s knee connected with my groin, knocking the wind out of me.

  Our hands unclasped, and my stars returned.

  “Pig!” She sneered. “Go find another girl to drool over!”

  The pain is so bad I can barely think. I can barely breathe. All I can do is keel over and roll into a ball on the ground.

  A single thought runs through my mind like a marquee.

  This day is not turning out the way I planned.

  Three

  Wendy

  To some, being grounded for a month was a prison sentence. But for me, it was the easiest time I’d ever do.

  Well, maybe not the easiest.

  I re-read page 113 of The Blue Mermaid by Tabitha Browning for the fifteenth time. I still didn’t know what it said. The book was interesting, but I couldn’t focus. My mind kept replaying James Hawking’s face as I kneed him in the balls so hard his grandfather probably felt it. That instant when my knee connected with the seam of his jeans was the moment I took my life back. I reclaimed my body, and it was invigorating, freeing, and oh-so worth it.

  James Hawking had made my life a living nightmare for far too long. He’d sneak up behind me and wrap his arms around my waist and whisper dirty things in my ear or get handsy when I didn’t want him to.

  At first, I thought it was just him being a guy. I told myself it’d be stupid to start a fuss over it. After all, he was the captain of the lacrosse team. What would my speaking out do to his position in the team? What would it do to the school? What would it do to my reputation?

  When he grabbed my butt in the lunch line today, something broke inside me. In that moment, I didn’t care about the school or the lacrosse team or even my reputation. I just wanted him to stop. I wanted him to never put his hands on me ever again. I wanted him to know the same violation and humiliation I’d felt for the last four months. So, I kneed him in the balls, and it was the single best decision I’ve ever made. James thought he could treat me any way he wanted, and I’d just have to take it. My knee had shown him, and that other boy, otherwise.

  I put down my book and leaned against the headboard.

  Thirty days without electronics or social media. How would I know what was happening in the world? How much would I miss? Would anyone miss me? How would Moira and Angela react to my online absence? Don’t get me wrong, I loved them like sisters, but they were the kind of people whose self-worth depended on their social media following. They called it “staying relevant.” I called it a digital addiction.

  Would being disconnected on social media m
ake Angela and Moira feel disconnected to me in the real world?

  I didn’t know, and not knowing scared the crap out of me. Yes, I wanted to stand up for myself, and, in some small way, for women everywhere, but if I’d known that it would come at the cost of my friends, I might have shown a little more restraint.

  Maybe.

  I clicked off the light switch, plunging the room into darkness. Above me, pearl moonlight cut four long lines into my ceiling. I watch the strips of light for a few minutes, then flipped onto my stomach.

  I was bored, and right then, I felt totally alone. I couldn’t talk to my friends, go online, or watch television. As the seconds crept by, my loneliness wrapped around my heart like a boa constrictor, squeezing tight and making my entire boy ache. It was only eight o’clock, and it seemed like I’d been stuck in this room for years. I wasn’t even tired enough to go to sleep.

  I clicked on the light and wrapped my arms around myself. I needed something to occupy my mind. Something that I could sink into. Something that would make me feel a little less alone. Something like…

  Suddenly, I knew exactly what I needed.

  I yanked open the top drawer of my white nightstand and pulled out a stack of letters.

  They were wrinkled, and the pen marks had started to fade on the older ones. Some of the edges were dog eared, and there were creases from where I’d folded them the wrong way. Still, the letters were the most precious things I owned.

  In the pages of these letters, the writer proclaimed his love for me in a hundred different ways, but each time I read his words, I heard him say it a bit differently. Like a love song that still makes you cry, even though you’ve heard it a million times.

  For three years, I’d slowly fallen in love with the man on the other side of these letters. He’d seduced me with words and pen marks and loose-leaf paper. I wondered if he knew I wait for my small deliveries every Monday morning. That I keep them next to my bed and read them over and over until I’ve memorized every word.

  I hoped he knew.

  My favorite letter rested on the top of the pile, and I read it, muttering the familiar words to myself:

  Dear Wendy,

  I want you to know how proud of you I am. Your kindness and grace give me hope that there is still goodness in this world.