Chapter 2

"Watch it, Gripling!" Carl hissed at Blake Gripling, Lucky Jr. High's "rich boy," when he tripped poor Hoodsey with his wooden walking stick.

"Yeah! What he said!" piped in Hoodsey, as he tried to regain his composure. He blushed slightly at the girls who were laughing at his clumsiness. Hoodsey was never the type to care what girls thought of him. Since he entered junior high school, though, he at least attempted to look less like a fool in front of others than he did in elementary school.

"Well, maybe you and your chubby self should be more careful!" replied Blake in his usual snobby tone. Hoodsey was starting to look uncomfortable now. If there was anything he did not like to be teased about, it was his weight. He started to retort, but Carl was faster.

"You say that again, Gripling, and I'll-"

"Boys! Boys!" Mrs. Zorski clapped her hands to catch the boys' attention. She sighed to herself. Ginger never caused any ruckus like this… "Now, can the three of you please sit in your seats and settle down?" Carl forced himself to keep quiet, as he wasn't in the mood to fight anymore. But still! The injustice! That brat didn't even apologize to his best friend!

"Really, Carl" whispered Hoodsey to Carl, seeing that he was still fired up. "I'm okay now." Carl, however, fought to hide his scowl.

"Whew. Now that we're all focused, I'd like to show something to you," said Mrs. Zorski. "I've been pushing this for years, but only recently has Principal Milty agreed. Starting this year, Lucky Jr. High's seventh grade students, as in you, will be participating in an annual writing contest. Every year, the judges choose a vague topic for students to expand on in an essay. This year, the topic is What I am Passionate About. I expect each of you to participate and hand in these essays by tomorrow. And the prize…Well, I'll tell you about the prize after you hand the papers in just to give you even more motivation to do well. Yes, Brandon?" A hyper boy in a knitted vest with far-too-neat hair responded quickly.

"Can the essay be about a pet monkey, by any chance?" Carl rolled his eyes. Of course he was going to write about Mr. Licorice.

"Anything you want, Brandon. These judges are looking for something special. And who knows? A pet monkey may just be that. What is it, Carl?" Mrs. Zorski hesitantly called on Carl, for she was about ninety percent sure that the question would not be about his enthusiasm for the project.

"Yeah, as you know, Ginger really has inherited all the writing skill genes in the family. So that would mean that the other Foutley child, I, am left with none. Could I perhaps just turn in a blank page?" Mrs. Zorski was dismayed by Carl's statement.

"Did I mention that I am to receive a separate copy of the essay? Meaning that even if you do not try at your fullest potential, which I know all you students are capable of, I still see your work. This will be a third of your quarter grade. Therefore, if you fail this assignment, you will not be setting yourself up for a nice report card." The bell rang, signaling that next period was about to start. With that last statement, plenty of students, Carl included, were groaning about the assignment.

"Great. Just great, Hoods. I-"

"Carl Foutley? May I speak to you for a moment?" Carl whipped around to Mrs. Zorski's voice. She sat at her desk, as if she had something really important to say. Carl mouthed to Hoodsey "See you later" and approached Mrs. Zorski's desk.

"Now, Carl. What's all this about not wanting to write the paper? You are not the type of student to be handing in blank pages. I know you. You're better than that. "

"Well if you must know, Mrs. Zorski. I have many ideas swimming around in my head for the paper, but they would not be worth writing down for the contest." Mrs. Zorski frowned in disappointment and in confusion.

"Could you explain, Carl?" Carl sighed. How was he to explain that adults like her would not be interested to learn about things that interest boys like him.

"You heard about that story in which I snuck out a frozen crawfish from the Mrs. Gordon's science class?" Mrs. Zorski inwardly winced, suspecting that she knew where this conversation was going, but kept a poker face. "Well, you see, the reason why I do those things is because frozen bugs and oddities fascinate me. I can't help it. Now how do you suppose these judges would react?" Mrs. Zorski sighed.

"Like I said before to Brandon, anything is possible. So as long as it's written well, I don't see why not. Look, how about this. If the judges are really offended by what you have written, I'll tell them that it was my fault. And from what you tell me about the topic, I don't see why it would cause an uproarious reaction," In a last somewhat desperate attempt, he added something else before he headed to his next class.

"There's also the fact that I'm not much of a writer. Like Ginger, that is."

"Just be yourself, Carl," Mrs. Zorski replied. Carl headed outside of the classroom, knowing that he wouldn't be able to back out of this one. He was going to have to sit down and write this paper, whether he wanted to or not.

Later that night, Carl stared at the ceiling in his doghouse, dreading the essay. Usually, words did not come easily to him, especially when it was for school. Also, a well written essay in one night was a real hefty order, even for Mrs. Zorski. But his mother was already angry at him for clogging to kitchen sink with dog mucus the last week. How would she react if he brought home an F for the quarter? Besides, he figured, Mrs. Zorski was probably expecting something decent after their conversation this afternoon. He pulled out a ratted cardboard box full of clean enough lined paper and found a pen from a random shelf.

"Okay, Mrs. Zorski. Be myself, huh?"

And he started to write.